[maikafanawen]

Wren left her room, her pack over her shoulder, and walked down the carpeted hallway towards the exit to the stables. She stopped at the top of the stairs and took a deep breath.

“Ah why not!” She turned on her heel and headed to the room a few doors down from hers going the other way. It wasn’t locked, so she opened it completely, allowing its occupant to see who stood in the doorway, and allocating the melodious music from his fife to drift into the hallway.

“What?” asked Turthôl. Wren shrugged.

“Oh, just wanted to see what you’d do if I walked into your room.” The ranger rolled his eyes slightly.

“Ye going somewhere?” he asked, looking at her riding garb and the pack she held over one shoulder.

“Harlond. We’re going by ship to Harad. Talked to Rangar this mornin’.”

“Oh,” Turthôl nodded his head and resumed playing his fife..

“Want to come?” Turthôl’s hand slipped, causing a short shrieking note to burst into the air.

“Why would I want to come?” he asked, shocked at her change of behavior.

“Fine, ye don’t have to.” She turned around and walked down the hall back towards the stairs.

“Wait!” he called, following her. “Give me a few minutes. There’s nothing I really have to do here.” Wren smiled, her face turned away from his. But she wiped it away as she spun slowly to face him.

“Ye sure?” He nodded. “Meet me at the stables in a few minutes,” she said. “I’ll get the horses ready.” Turthôl began to pack away his few things, and Wren went down to the stables.

In a little less than half an hour the two companions were mounted and on their way to the port city of Minas Tirith and Rangar & Co. were to follow them a little while later and meet them at the Crown Dagger Tavern. Wren knew the innkeeper there, Rauos, from many previous visits with her parents. He was a stocky young man with a bulbous red nose and a circular face. He had thick muscular arms, and legs, though he isn’t very athletic on account of his very large midsection.

“Wren! S’marvelous ta’ see ye again!” called Temeav, the innkeeper’s wife as she ran to greet the noblewoman and her companion. “What brings ye around ‘ere? Ye’r parents aren’t with ye are they?” Wren shook her head.

“No. I’m delivering a letter from my Father to Aragoss, the dock master. More mercantile problems wouldn’t ye know it?” Temeav nodded and began to lead them to a table for a drink and an early afternoon meal, but Wren objected.

“No, sorry my good lady, but we’ve got to attend to things right away. We’ll be back before dark though and able to enjoy your cooking then. Thank you.” Making sure their horses were tended to, they began to walk down the road to the docks.

A few blocks down, Wren signaled that they should make a turn into a street of fanciful townhouses owned by the wealthiest merchants and their families.

“Where are we going?” asked Turthôl glancing back towards the docks and the harbour master’s little shack of a house.

“To see someone who can help us get to Harad.” Wren skimmed the numbers on the house and then looked down at a small piece of paper in her hand. “Here we are, number 47.” She walked up to the large cedar door and knocked using the leaf shaped knocker engraved with elvish letters.

“Elvish?” asked Turthôl just before a young servant opened the door.

“Ah! Wren!” she cried hugging the noblewoman’s waist. “So good to see you!! Come in, come in!” the excited child led them into the house which was tastefully decorated in antique tapestries, and earthenware.

“Any time you’d like to fill me in would be very nice and thoughtful,” Turthôl said out of the corner of his mouth, taking in his unexpected surroundings. The child servant left them in the parlor and ran up the flight of stairs shouting for her mistress. In only a few seconds, a beautiful elven maiden appeared at the top of the stairs dressed in a light green, Mirkwood-elvish styled dress with gold embroidery of leaves on it. Her feet were bare and her hair hung down her back, woven here and there with feathers, braids, and leather straps. A stylish belt was tied about her slender waist and her feet were bare. The elf’s appearance suggested that her manner was equally as elegant and similar to the idiosyncratic grace of the elves, but acquaintances and most of all, friends, knew her to be quite otherwise. However, when she picked up her skirt and ran down the length of the steps two at a time, tripping slightly on the last one, to embrace Wren in a tight hug, Turthôl’s mouth hung a bit open in shock. (Though he quickly closed it before the elf saw). After the friend’s quick exchange of ‘How are you’s and ‘What are you doing here’s, Wren introduced the she-elf to Turthôl.

“Turthôl, I’d like you to meet Ani Dao, elf of Mirkwood and a dear friend of mine,” the ranger bowed and greeted her in elvish, to which Ani Dao replied in like tongue. “Oooh, I like him,” she whispered back to Wren.

“Now, in order to explain everything so that you can understand it, I say we either go somewhere for lunch or—”

“No, no. I’ll set up for us to have something here,” interrupted Ani Dao. “Sytia!” the child servant came bustling down the stairs, dumping the pile of sheets in her arms into a basket and setting it under the stairs for later washing. “Will you be so kind as to prepare a lunch for our guests and boil some tea?” Curtsying, Sytia disappeared into the kitchen as Ani Dao led them to the sunroom in the back of her townhouse. She gestured them to sit, and opened the windows, allowing the breeze from off the river to air out the sunroom.

“Now,” she said, folding her hands in her lap, an excited twinkle in her eyes. “Tell me everything.”

* * *

The sun was descending the sky, and the air had gotten considerably cooler by the time Wren was finished explaining everything to both Ani Dao and Turthôl. Empty plates and half drunk teacups (on their fifth round) sat on the small sunroom table.

“This is exciting,” said Ani Dao, leaning back so that Sytia could clear their dishes. “Let me sum up then for my understanding. We’re to go see Aragoss, with the note from your father that says you are selling the ship? Selling it too—him,” she pointed at Turthôl who nodded. “He will be dressed in the finery you’ve brought as an equally wealthy nobleman of Gondor: a friend of your fathers. Right, now, we’re to tell him the money has already been exchanged and what not and that Turthôl, who will be Edhar Havvano, has full rights to the ship and will be sailing out late this week?

“That is how we come by the ship, now actually setting out with full crew and provisions will be the more difficult part. As I understand it, we need a crew of twenty able-bodied men that know the ropes, are loyal to the captain and can fight. Sounds like you’re asking for elvish corsairs to me,” she smoothed out a wrinkle in the tablecloth before continuing. “As for provisions, I know where to get them. Your father sent you the money to get them all?” Wren nodded. “Fine. We’ll have to make sure we can load them straight onto the ship after purchasing or else it’ll be too much of a hassle.” The she-elf clicked her tongue in thought, and then stood. “Well, let’s be off! The sooner the better!”

“One more thing,” said Wren standing, a hopeful and enigmatic smile on her face. “We still need a captain.”

* * *

Turthôl looked very handsome in the finery, if he didn’t have an exasperated scowl on his face and continued to itch at every place the fabric touched his body.

“You’ll pay for this one,” he hissed before disappearing inside Aragoss’s shack. He came out fifteen minutes later with the log of the Silver Wyrm and a glare on his face. “That man’s a fake. Doesn’t know what he’s talking about at all. I could have told you more about ships than he could have, and I’ve never even been near one!” Wren laughed and returned back to the Crown Dagger with Turthôl so he could change. The company was there too, and Wren quickly told Rangar of their success.

“Now all we have left to do is get the supplies and the crew.”

“Crew’s done,” said a voice from behind. Ani Dao approached them wearing her green sea-captains coat and matching hat. “Nice to meet you Rangar, I’m Ani Dao of Mirkwood. At least I was in Mirkwood a few years ago, fifteen, twenty, but now I’m here, so guess I’m Ani Dao of Harlond. Any road, I got the crew. Men I’ve sailed with before. All but a few that is. However, they seemed trustworthy enough. A bit daft too, ruling out the possibility of them being in cahoots with your man Barodin, but they know the ropes and their way around with a sword. I’ve got the twenty two men aboard the Silver Wyrm now, checking everything over. If we get the supplies tomorrow, we’d be good to sail in two or three days.” Ani Dao winked at Wren who smiled inwardly. There, thought the noblewoman, I was of some help at last.

“We have a captain too then?” asked Rangar, looking from Ani Dao to Wren. The elf looked at Wren who was suddenly very interested in her muddy boots.

“Yes we do,” Ani Dao straightened and saluted. The noblewoman’s head shot up and she gave the elf a quick hug.

“Ha! I knew ye would!”

“Fine, fine. Well, if there’s nothing else, I’ll move a few of my things into the captain’s quarters and see to it that the men will be paid for their services aboard the Silver Wyrm. Goodnight, gentlemen, Wren.” With that, the elf turned and left the inn.

[ June 08, 2003: Message edited by: maikafanawen ]