[Envinyatar]

Pelladal’s report from the market place only confirmed what Gaeradan had pieced together from his informants in the city. Eärnil was in danger. The episode with the cart had been no accident, and what worried him the most was the fact that it had been pulled together so hurriedly, and had almost been successful. He grimaced at the thought of what might have happened had the family come at their announced time. How much more skillfully might the plan have been executed then.

Gaeradan slept hardly at all that night. At his desk, quill in hand, he bent over reports he had received from his sources in the south. Falastur’s hold on the coasts of the Bay of Belfalas was in the process of being secured, and then he would turn his attention to the lands further south of the mouths of the Anduin. Looking as he did so toward bringing the region around Umbar under the control of Gondor. Gaeradan, in fact, had just locked in a long term timber contract with their northern suppliers, and was expecting that Falastur would soon begin building another large fleet of ships using his newest design.

The political atmosphere in Umbar and Harad had heated up with the push of Falastur’s ships beyond the regions of the bay toward the Haven. It was only a matter of time until that unrest erupted into a full scaled assault on the King’s fleet as the Southrons pushed back against their age old enemies. He feared that this botched attack on Eärnil was just a small misfired salvo in what would erupt into a fully engaged conflict.

Outside his door, he thought he heard the sound of feet passing in the hall. Rising from his desk, he peeked out and saw Caeran changing places with Megilwë. Eärnil’s door was closed, and Caeran took up his place in from of it, listening for a moment as the other man gave a brief report.

Gaeradan returned to his desk, satisfied that the heir would be safe. He returned to his perusal of his stack of letters and documents. In the late watches of the night he rose several times from his work to look out his door and down the short distance to Eärnil’s door.

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Sleep eluded him that night, and he rose just before the day’s first light. Yawning, he made his way to the kitchen. Cook would be there and up already – the making of breakfast well under way. He hoped to grab a quick meal and talk to Cook. The small family dinner would be this evening, and he wanted to iron out any problems beforehand.

Gaeradan stepped into the already busy kitchen and looked about for cook, His eye fell on several new helpers whom he had not seen before. Olive skinned, he noted, and dark haired. Where had they come from, he wondered . . .

[ August 05, 2003: Message edited by: Envinyatar ]