[Amanaduial the archer]

Callath fought viciously, working with all he had, but as the battle was wearing on even he had began to tire, the adrenaline beginning to run to simple, pure exhaustion. His dagger had been lost on the deck ten minutes previously, and he was now fighting with his sword in his right hand, half slumped against the mast - one leg had a long slash in it, quite shallow but bleeding strongly, enough to make the boy feel weaker.

In his tiredness though, he was beginning to make mistakes. He hadn't fought so hard before, especially not at sea - literally fighting for his life against much older and burlier men, and with no way to get off the ship and away. But one thing he knew: Callath was damnedn if he would give up his life without a fight. But as he thrust directly at his opponent, the corsair shifted nimbly to the side - the corsairs weren't still weary from the previous fight, and there were more of them than there were Gondorians; this one was far fresher than Callath. As the man ducked, he cracked Callath against the back of the head with the hilt of his cutlass, probably aiming to cut his throat but put off by the fact that Callath, although tired, wasn't utterly brain-dead, and still moved away as a reflex. However, the blow sent him stumbling forward, and his weakened leg gave out beneath him. Gritting his teeth, he swung wildly, desperately - foolishly - at the corsair...and the man, parrying the careless blow easily and stabbing straight down at Callath's right hand.

The youth groaned loudly in pain as the feel of a red-hot poker laying into his flesh point first at the back of the palm caused him to drop his sword. Clutching his bloody hand, he stumbled again as the two ships juddered against each other in the waves, and fell backwards onto the deck. His opponent leered over him, victory in his eyes, and Callath scrambled backwards away, face upwards as his hand grasped behind him for his sword. Finding it, he whirled over and swung accurately to counter the corsair's potentially fatal blow, jarring the man's hand and making him step backwards.

"Join your shipmates now, boy."

The steely voice made Callath glance behind him, despite what common sense told him, and taking advantage of the break his opponent swiped sharply at his wounded hand. The sword fell from his limp hand as it spasmed again with the pain and Callath paled sharply, biting down into his lip. He turned slowly to face the man who had spoken, and the corsair's laugh made him want to punch him.

"Oldest trick in the book. Sure, you're only a child though," he taunted, then snapped, "Get in with the others."

Callath swallowed hard against his anger and pain and, hating himself, complied. But as he passed, he couldn't resist - his proud nature wouldn't let him simply submit. Drawing back slightly, he spat with excellent accuracy into the corsair's right eye.

The man didn't appreciate the gesture though, and neither did he register enough of the expected confusion for it to be of use - after only a second's pause, he was upon Callath as quickly as a snake and as brutally as a panther closing in for the kill. He slapped Callath sharply around the face with strength that made the boy reel, then did the same again. Callath swung the bloody, dead weight of his injured hand at the man's stomach, seeking to wind him...but the more experienced fighter caught it as he did so. Squeezing and twisting to the side brutally, he brought Callath into an armlock.

"Submit," he whispered mockingly into the boy's ear.

Callath, although shaking with the pain, pale and with blood running down from his lip, his hair disheveled and blood over his clothes and skin, shook his head very slightly. "No," he whispered painfully.

The man sent him stumbling forward into the other Gondorians with a hard push and a wicked laugh. "Take them beneath," he called to another, not sparing Callath another glance.