[Marileangorifurnimaluim]

**** Harad/Umbar ****

Ethar
Ethar watched stunned as Garlin tumbled and, using his own weight, sent the flailing Rhunian soldier sprawling into a line of guards. They poured over and around the bellowing man, but Garlin had disappeared. Ethar felt a flash of anger and confusion as he searched about. First Garlin saves his neck. Then he leaves, without even a glance back. Ethar scrambled while the irate guards swarmed after Garlin, and escaped his own way. He stood and slid behind a few onlookers. Then he turned and gawked with the rest. It would have worked but for the forgotten sword cut across his face.

**********

Gormack
Gormack turned at the commotion in the tent city below, the sound of steel on steel was unmistakable. A sword fight! He couldn't tell which tent held the guilty parties.

But there was no need - the night guard was already alerted and moments later a tent billowed with scattering people, while torches marked where more onlookers gathered. Several figures ran and Gormack noted the direction of those, but one in particular caught his eye: a flash of light skin in dark-skinned Harad. Gondor! Gormack stopped himself. Why would Gondor send a spy? And one who stood out so. Gondorians were cruel and heartless, but he had never heard they were stupid.

He marked the place where the stranger hid himself, and patiently waited. He would not leave his post unless there was certain need. If the guard were still searching for someone, they would come. And if this was one they sought, he had him.

Not two hours later a cluster of guards gathered at the guardpost. A hand pointed in Garlin's direction, and they fanned out. They found the boy asleep, and hauled him out like a kitten by the collar as his eyes flew open.

**********

"Gondor gutter rat," the guard said in the common tongue. He spit and shoved Garlin ahead of him, and the lad staggered nearly into the big guard in front. "In the war I killed dozens like you."

Two other guards laughed. They wouldn't harm a man who was disarmed, bound and helpless. But having a Gondorian captive tried that principle to its breaking point. The defeat of Pellenor was etched into their memories. They themselves had stood - or knew someone who had stood - on that field of victory, only to find their own ships captured by sorcery and turned against them.

"Spy." another soldier growled. The others nodded and drew dangerously closer.

"I'm from Dale," Garlin said flatly in Haradric.

"Never heard of it." the guard answered, though this time he spoke his own language. The big guard opened the door to a long stone building and Garlin was roughly forced inside. He heard a familiar voice.

"But he has to be at the counting house. His rooms are right above it - "

"Ethar - !" Garlin and one of the guards - the big man - spoke at once, and then stared at eachother in surprise.

"Gormack, thank the gods it's you!" Ethar spoke to the big guard, his chains rattling as he moved. "They can't find Gramil, and they won't let me go!"

**********

Gramil
Gramil explained as he continued to walk, gesturing for Jarl to follow. At the first sentence Jarl turned on a dime.

"We have word of your assistant. And mine. It could be trouble. I'm not sure how bad. The messenger is outside still I believe - This way, it's faster."

Gramil moved as quickly as he spoke, on long strides. His voice was calm and low, and only the speed and his worried frown gave away his concern.

Jarl nodded and together they dodged cooking trays and startled servants, and then outside, attractive but rather obstructive vines. The two of them caught up with the messenger on the front steps. Gramil ignored guests who turned towards them curiously. Jarl paid them even less heed.

Ethar was injured, no one knew what the charges were against the two but they had been lucky: one of the guards was Gramil's own, and he had sent word to the owner of the Lion's Den. Tarve had spoken for them, and had them moved to Jarl's quarters.

At the Lion's Den, Tarve and Gormack met them in the front hall. The lads were asleep upstairs, but Gormack filled Gramil in. Gramil made the exhausted man sit. Hadn't he stood duty at the counting house the day before also?

Relieved as he was the boys were okay, Gramil cringed as he heard the details of the damages and ire among the denizens of the bazaar. He glanced at Jarl, who sighed heavily and stared thoughtfully at the back of his hands. Yes, he grasped the gravity of the situation. He was growing to respect this man.

Strange as it may seem, the true power of the city was there, in the bazaar. They would pay for the damages and the boys would apologize, of course. And Gramil would speak various key if seemingly unimportant persons, seed the bazaar with the true story. Once they knew all that happened. But it was probably best neither of the boys were seen there for a while. Only Tarve was cheerful.

"Boys are boys, eh?" he laughed, "nothing but trouble, I always say. Maybe you two, you send them to the plantation - work with their hands will do them good. Too much energy, not enough sense these boys!"

Gramil commented drily, "The king did mention Nurn as part of our tour." Then it suddenly seemed like a good idea. He turned to Jarl questioningly, eyebrows raised.

Tarve declared, "Ah! And have the boys do the shopping! A month's expedition supplies? A merchant will forgive them anything." Everyone chuckled. Except Gormack, who was fast asleep.

[ October 06, 2002: Message edited by: Marileangorifurnimaluim ]