[maikafanawen]

It was early dawn when the great ship pulled into the harbor at Umbar. Manned by twenty-four strong bodied and clever sailors, The Raven’s Nest was a grand ship. Its huge billowing canvas sails were being let down slowly as members of the crew leapt off the sides of the vessel onto the docks, securing the ropes. The ship was about one hundred and twenty yards in length, and twenty-five yards across. The morning watch was busily tightening grommets, and lacing ropes. The ship’s waist and forecastle deck had been mopped clean and the passenger cabins (though empty) were spotless.

Standing at the bow, her black curls blowing in the wind, was Ravenwyn. In her sharp blue captain’s coat, and expensive suede boots, she looked every part he treasure hunter. Jeweled rings sparkled on her delicate fingers, and golden hoop earrings hung above her shoulders. Dark eyes surveyed the port. She had always hated the end of a trip, but somehow, this end was welcoming. The voyage had been successful. Four chests of findings were in the dark hold, chained shut. Ravenwyn guessed that it would pull a good price, which was much needed. The Raven’s Nest had hit a nasty storm and was in dire need of repairs: another reason the docking was wanted.

“Guildhall!” she called to the one of the sailors who had just emerged from the forecastle. Make sure the men know we’re here. I’m sure they’ll welcome greatly our arrival. We’ve been short of ale for about three days now.” She winked at one of her most trusted crewmembers and dismissed him with a simple salute. “And mind that they roll up their hammocks and stow their belongings. I’m going to have this ship cleaned top to bottom while we’re here.” Nodding, the weather hardened man ducked into the sailor’s bunks.

An hour later, The Raven’s Nest was cleared out, and the cleaning crews were at work.

“I want to ship out early, approximately three weeks,” announced the Raven to her men as each stepped off the ramp onto the deck, legs wobbling slightly. “You may get your rooms and your ale for the week at whichever inn you choose, but the third Monday evening, meet me back at the Crown Dagger and we ship out Tuesday. Understood?” ‘Aye-ayes’ echoed among the men and Ravenwyn turned to one of her newer members, “Hannlos? Go easy on the ale, I’d rather not pay for anymore inn brawls, understood?” The man smiled sheepishly and nodded. “Good. And Faruilos,” she called for her first mate. A tall, attractive man with shoulder length blonde hair stepped forward. “keep an eye on as many of them as you can. I’d rather not hire new sailors for our next outing, eh?” Faruilos nodded and the men dispersed down the road, carrying their belongings with them.

“A good bunch those men, eh Raven?” Jem-Tyroan jumped off the ramp and came to stand by the captain. Standing at 5’5”, he was by far the shortest member of her crew, and also the youngest. His job aboard The Raven’s Nest was cabin boy, and was like a son to the Raven.

“Sure Jem.” She snapped her fingers and pointed to her trunk and then to Jem’s. Immediately, two dock workers came and hauled them onto their backs, following the sailors to the Crown Dagger Inn.

“’Morning Raous!” called Ravenwyn to the innkeeper as she opened the door to the musty old pub. A few early customers crowded the tables by the entrance, and some sat at the bar cradling tankards.

“Ah! Morning!” he retrieved two mugs from under the counter and filled one with ale, and the other with a honeyed tea. He pushed them towards the Raven as she took a seat at the bar counter. “For you and Jem there. Welcome back.” She nodded and took a slow sip of her ale, letting the bitter foam ease her rather parched throat. “It’s our best,” added Raous before moving on to another part of the bar, putting down chairs and getting ready for the day.

Suddenly, a cool gust of air blew into the room and a stranger cloaked in black emerged from the shadow of the overhang into the room. The figure strode up to the innkeeper and whispered something to him, gesturing about like he was describing someone. Raous’ eyes flickered over to the Raven for a second and then focused back on the cowl covered face. The innkeeper shook his head. Straightening, the stranger backed away and made for the door again. As he made to open it, he turned again and locked eyes with the captain. Stopping he let the door swing shut and walked up to her, letting down his hood to reveal a clean cut face, and deep green eyes. He had wavy brown hair that was held back in a ponytail. Though his clothing labeled him a wanderer, his accent, and salty smell showed him to be a sailor—of some sort. Reaching the Raven, he dipped into a bow and extended his hand in greeting.

“Good morning Ravenwyn, my name is Tr Dalon.” The Raven nodded, but kept her hand withdrawn. The man took no offense by it and continued, “I was wondering,” he said, pulling up a chair beside her’s, “may I?” Ravenwyn narrowed her eyes as he sat, folding his cloak over his legs. “Ah yes. I have heard of you Ravenwyn, of your success in the…sea business if you will. You are good with treasure hunts? Would you perhaps, be interested in seeking a treasure not of the sea but of the land? Perhaps of the land of the dead?” His eyes gleamed with mooch, and his tongue clicked excitedly behind his teeth. The Raven sighed.

“What are you playing at stranger? I don’t deal with enigmatic fools, thank you.” The captain made to stand, but Tr Dalon’s hand touched her arm, a movement asking her to stay and hear him out.

“I am playing at nothing my lady. I know of a treasure, that lies behind a door unknown but to one man-or should I say-dwarf?” Rolling her eyes in exasperation, Ravenwyn placed two coins on the counter for her’s and Jem’s drinks and stood, practically toppling her chair, and the man beside her. Angry with being ignored, the man rose and firmly grasped her arms, pinning her against the counter. “Listen!” he hissed. “His name is Falin! The treasure is greater than any you can imagine. It is guarded by evil beyond anything you’ve ever read about!” The Raven pushed him away and smoothed out the place where he had grabbed her.

“Perhaps, Tr Dalon, you would prefer to tell me more about this, in private?” Grabbing her coat that she had draped over her chair, she beckoned for Jem to follow her, and she moved to a table in the far corner of the inn. “Now, you were saying?” Tr Dalon went on to explain of the company formed by the dwarf Falin of the Glittering Caves, and the treasure they sought in the Paths of the Dead. He slid a map across the table marking the meeting place and approximate path.

“Why do you tell me?” asked the Raven, thoroughly suspicious of the man before her.

“Because I am too cowardly to go after it myself, yet, I would like to know if the stories are true.” His rejoinder was coated in silky tones. “You are a true treasure huntress, and would have a better chance at it than I. When you return, all I ask is that you tell me of your adventure—”

“And pay you in kind for the information you’ve given me. Is that about right?” Tr Dalon’s eyes flashed with a sudden anger but cleared promptly.

“It would seem, only fair,” said the man, tracing the lines in the table with his finger. “Although it is not the money I am truly concerned about.” The Raven laughed.

“Now that I definitely do not believe.” She folded the map and put it in the inside pocket of her jacket, Tr Dalon’s eyes watching with regret. She leaned forward and took the pale man’s cloak by the clasp and brought him forward so that he could hear every word clearly. “And I am done speaking with you. When you go through that door I recommend forgetting you every chose to speak with me, and find someone else to buy your false proposition minus your map,” she added patting her coat. The man yanked himself out of her grasp and fled the inn angrily.

That night, Jem and Ravenwyn sat around a table playing a game of chance with a few other swarthy travelers.

“This she-captain has uncanny luck with a pair of dice eh?” said one player called Rhag quietly to another. His friend, Barthrol nodded,

“Unfortunate for us.”

“And for her if she beats me again,” added a third. He shook the pair of game cubes quickly in his before throwing them on the table.

“Five?!” he said, glaring at the Raven and her apprentice. Ravenwyn smiled,

“Looks like you’re about two short there Uilan. Care to play again?” Jem snickered and pushed her winnings towards her. Uilan stood and raised his hand to protest when Raous stepped in.

“Sorry Uilan, but I won’t have any of that, and I’d hate to have Rhag and Barthrol here remove you like they did Simk last week. Uilan looked threateningly at Raous before grabbing his cloak and grumbling as he left the inn.

“Phew, good game there Raven,” said Rhag, collecting the dice and chips into a sack and handing it back to Raous. The captain shrugged,

“All in a day’s work.” Barthrol sighed and leaned back in his chair, taking a swig from his tankard.

“You have good business then, eh Raven?” Jem looked sideways at his mother, knowing that she was not one to discuss business maters to publicly.

“Always,” was her short reply, before waving away the topic. “Let’s not talk of money now though, Barthrol. Come now, you were always one for stories. Let’s have one before I decide that my Jem should get beauty sleep.” The two men laughed and Rhag thumped the cabin boy on the back. Barthrol’s eyes lit up suddenly and he jabbed at the table with his beefy finger.

“Yes, Rhag. Tell her about the treasure.” About to take a drink of her ale, the Raven froze and looked towards Jem. Setting down her mug she leaned forward.

“Yes, Rhag, tell us.”

“Well, rumor these days,” began the man, looking around the inn, “in the hushed parts of pubs and such, is of a dwarf that is gathering together a group of specialized treasure hunters that are in search of a treasure of unknown quantity. The trick is, it lies behind a door in the Paths of the Dead. No one’s been able to open it, and not even the haunters of the Paths know it’s there.” His eyes darkened and he lowered his voice. “I wouldn’t recommend taking up on this job Ravenwyn.” The Raven narrowed her eyes when he addressed her by her real name. “The Paths are a dangerous place. Even dwarves are much afraid of it.”

“This treasure you speak of, must be pretty bountiful if a dwarf is the one leading it.”

“Ah,” interrupted Barthrol. “It’s not just any dwarf. His name is Falin. From the Glittering Caves he is, and a tough built fellow.”

“You know him?” asked Jem. The men started at his question, he had been rather quiet all evening.

“Not personally,” said Rhag dubiously, “but we’ve heard tales. He’s got it where it counts,” he added, tapping his head. “He’s quick, and strong. Not one to make enemies with I’d reckon.” The Raven nodded.

“Is there anything else you know about this expedition? When do they set out?” The Raven was slowly growing interested. Not so much in the benefits she would acquire, but the conundrum of this particular mission.

“I’d guess they’ll set out when they have enough people. All I really know is who it’s led by and where it’s going.”

“And that it’s dangerous. Ravenwyn, I wouldn’t suggest it!”

“Stop calling me Ravenwyn. I’m either Raven or Captain to you, understand?” Her tone of voice was serious, and the two men hushed rightly. “I know enough. Thank you.” She changed the subject again to past adventures, and the old friends talked long into the night. It was a bit past midnight when Rhag and Barthrol retired. Jem and Ravenwyn sat a while before the captain spoke.

“What do you think? Interested?” Jem studied her for a while, weighing the events, and both conversations in his hands.

“Yes,” he said slowly. “It sounds…adventurous.” The Raven leaned forward, talking in hushed, excited tones.

“Good, because we’re going. I’ll go find Faruilos tonight and tell him. He can take care of things while I’m gone, and if this little outing takes more than three weeks he can take off Tuesday and the crew will listen fine to him. They all have my trust, and Faruilos’ good-faith.” Jem sat there, arms folded, waiting patiently for her to tell him what to do. “Aren’t you going to say something?” The boy shook his head,

“If you’re going, we’re going. What should I say?” The Raven smiled,

“Good. Get your things, we find Faruilos now.”

*** Three days later***

The sea-captain from Umbar, and her cabin boy sat inside their tent. Jem was sharpening his knives, and Ravenwyn was contentedly smoking her slender pipe. It was custom for all sea-captains to carry them, and just because she was a woman, her father had said, doesn’t make her any different. Shrugging the matter away at the time, Ravenwyn had accepted the gift, and carried it with a pouch of leaf with her. Jem looked up suddenly and whispered,

“Why’d you tell them I was your ‘squire’. You walked in here like you were some queen and made like this was a foolish hunting party.” The Raven let down her pipe, leaned forward and hissed,

“Could you imagine what they’d think if I’d told them you were my son? They’d send you back! The only good you seem fit for is to carry my sword. An odd pair we are Jem, a woman sea-captain and her adopted son. Huh! You better start putting your noggin to better use boy.” She patted out her pipe and emerged from the tent, stretching. The night before, she had conversed with Falin and told them that she was a treasure hunter by sea, and her ship was docked in Umbar. Deciding that it didn’t matter if he knew, she told him also of Jem’s history and his employment aboard The Raven’s Nest. He didn’t think much of it, and nodded politely. She hadn’t met a dwarf before, but had heard that she shared much the same interests as the dwarven folk: good ale, good food, storytelling, and of course, rich treasure.

“Mornin’ captain,” said Falin as he walked by her tent. “Better get that thing packed away. We’re leaving with in the hour.” The Raven nodded.

In a little less than an hour, their company of nine, three dwarves, and six from the race of men were ready to leave.

[ April 25, 2003: Message edited by: maikafanawen ]