[Arvedui III]

The noise was remarkable.

During the last few days, Telson had lain low, switching inns each night and observing as Umbar sank deeper and deeper into anarchy. If he learned one thing throughout, it was that humans, and the gods knew what else, was capable of making the most incredible noises at all hours of the day, and more importantly, the night. The only way he found to keep himself amused and as agreeable as possible in the mornings was to read the periodical decrees from the ambassador and the high council, sometimes coupled with the posters for a reward regarding information and the whereabouts of a tall, pale, thin, and long-haired foreigner seen at the Low Tide Inn. It was all the more entertaining because it had been so arduous to cover his tracks in the first place.

On principle he overpaid the bartender and his son to keep quiet, but disguising his appearance, especially since it was included in the letter he was to present to the ambassador, proved a much more difficult task. As vain as Telson was when it came to his hair, cropping it was the first step. Next went his clothing. Deciding that, despite his affinity for his worn brown cloak, while he was in Umbar, he should dress as the Umbarians do; So while his normal cloths gathered dust the bottom of his haversack, he now sported simple, and slightly disheveled, black wears, and carried his shortswords were all could see them. The final step, and the one he prided himself most in, was mud. In a daily ritual he caked his face and all parts of his body that showed to the outside world with a light layer of mud, generally gleaned from around the coastline, to make himself look darker.

Originally he berated himself into thinking the idea was absurd, but it worked so well he was acually stopped and charged with being in league with corsairs, twice. This was also one of the more interesting things Telson learned about Umbar: Men whom he noted were friends the day before, turned on each other and writhed like a pack of enraged rooks in a cage, each fighting tooth and claw to escape, not caring who they hurt in the process. Trying to remain cynically amused became increasingly challenging, even for Telson, who was normally a master of black humor. So it stood that Telson sat on a barrel outside his current inn, The Patched Sail, listlessly listening to the overpowering noise on the street. Disturbing talk of ‘greedy, dirty westmen' and pining for older, darker days reached his ears as Telson shook his head in disgust and thought aloud, " Are they truly willing to trade peace for the days of Sauron of old?"

Surprisingly, he got an answer. " They make the mistake of forgetting Sauron, friend. They dream only of the freedom of the sea they once ruled for him." Telson looked up sharply and saw a balding, well-dressed man holding the door handle to the shop on his right. "Pardon, friend," He said cautiously, eyeing the large red "C" on the man's forearm, "How do you know this?" The older man shrugged. "I was to be one of them like my father, but then the war happened and," He let his voice trail off and waved his arm outward in a sign of strain. "They remember Doran, and how he slipped out of Gondor's grasp so often. They think they can do the same, idiots." He spat in revolt.

"Doran?" Telson echoed, having vaguely remembered the name. "Aye, Jytharo Doran. Once a great corsair captain, now puppet-master of Umbar, or at least that's what I hear."He said, furrowing his brows. "Have ye not heard of him?" "Nay, I haven't." Telson replied, eagerly taking the opportunity to get more information. "So, he controls the isle, you say?" "In this," the man said, gesturing toward the street thrashing with chaotic noise, " No one can say."Telson laughed appreciatively and bade the man good day as he entered the store, but then rose to his feet with new purpose. He strode back into his room, washed his hands and face, put on his old cloths, grabbed his letter, and headed back out the door.

Appointment or not, if a corsair was behind all this, he was going to see the ambassador.