Narwen held her staff tightly as she and specially picked men from her ships slid through the darkness of Harlond's quiet streets. The blade of her first mate's cutlass shone in the moonlight as he leaned closer to her to whisper. "Orders Captain? Where should we strike first?"
"Patience Fhaaraz. We will strike at the warehouses. They should be filled with valubles. Bear in mind however, that killing should be kept to a minimum. Understood?" The burly man nodded. She raised her voice, continuing her instructions, as she broke the men up into groups. "Vilja, take twenty men and comb the first tier. Xivker, you can take the second tier. Fhaaraz and I will lead a group to the third tier. Understood?" The men nodded. "And as little killing as possible. This is imperative! Any disobedience, and you will feel the lash upon your backs." Departing into the night, the strike began.
* * *
In the third tier, Narwen's group approached the first warehouse. Motioning a man from her group to her, she whispered to him, "Dlass, you were a thief, were you not? It is time to put your skills to use. This door needs to be opened. Do so." The man nodded, and came to the huge doors of the warehouse. From his pouch, he produced a rag and a small vial of liquid, which turned out to be oil. Spilling the oil onto the rag, he carefully oiled the first hinge. Narwen watched in appriciation.
Soon, the hinges were oiled. Next, Dlass produced a set of lockpicks, ingeniously stowed in a small, slender wooden box. He held one up in the moonlight and inspected it. Inserting it into the lock, he gave it a jiggle. Nothing caught. Another jiggle. Nothing. He selected another pick. "You're certain you can open this thing?" Fhaaraz asked him. Dlass nodded. "Of course. Just a few moments. Locks are delicate things." Pushing the next pick in, he jiggled it. Narwen watched with baited breath. The pick caught. With a small click, the lock was opened.
Motioning the men forward, they pushed on the door. The well oiled hinges gave narey a squeal as the great doors swung slowly inward. As the crack widened, Narwen darted through. In the shadows of the door, a guard waited, poised to strike. But her sudden rush startled him, and with a sharp crack on the head from her staff, he sank to the floor. "Gag and bind him," she told Fhaaraz. Moving forward, the man did as he was told.
Inside the warehouse, all was black, except when a coin or jewel caught the moonlight and flashed with sudden brilliance. "Load the packs, but don't get overly greedy, you won't be able to get back to the ship if you're so burdened down that you can't move." Moving forward, the men proceeded to fill the packs. Narwen inspected the riches that they were plundering. Gold coins, jewels, goblets, bangles. Gondor was rich indeed. But unvigilant, as proved by the easiness of their ingress.
[ March 30, 2003: Message edited by: Hirilaelin ]
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