The fellowship had decided to celebrate their victory in a nearby sea side pub, none the wiser of the pirates the establishment was brimming with. As they approached, they could hear music and singing, walking into the pub, they are greated with a crowd surrounding a table and singing sea shanties as a lady dances above them, singing along. Leading the songs, really.
What shall we do with a drunken sailor?
What shall we do with a drunken sailor?
What shall we do with a drunken sailor?
Early in the mornin
Way hay and up she rises
Way hay and up she rises
Way hay and up she rises
Early in the mornin
Shave his belly with a rusty razor
Shave his belly with a rusty razor
Shave his belly with a rusty razor
Early in the mornin
Way hay and up she rises
Way hay and up she rises
Way hay and up she rises
Early in the mornin
Put him in a long boat till he's sober
Put him in a long boat till he's sober
Put him in a long boat till he's sober
Early in the mornin
Way hay and up she rises
Way hay and up she rises
Way hay and up she rises
Early in the mornin
Put him in the bed with the captains daughter
Put him in the bed with the captains daughter
Put him in the bed with the captains daughter
Early in the mornin
Way hay and up she rises
Way hay and up she rises
Way hay and up she rises
Early in the mornin
That's what we do with a drunken sailor
That's what we do with a drunken sailor
That's what we do with a drunken sailor
Early in the mornin
Way hay and up she rises
Way hay and up she rises
Way hay and up she rises
Early in the mornin
Way hay and up she rises
Way hay and up she rises
Way hay and up she rises
Early in the mornin
The woman on the table dances briskly, freely, and they can't help but stare at her. Red hair wrapped in a head scarf, poofing out slightly at the back into a mess of curls. Her eyes were closed as she threw her head back and spun, tapping the table with her boots and jumping gracefully. As her eyes snap open, they are a shocking green, a clear emerald sort of color.
Her way of dress and the sword on her hip gave away her status as a pirate, if not the brand on her wrist. Her red painted lips curl up at the sight of them, sending a smirk and a wink before returning her focus to the music. The song had changed to a more upbeat version of a song the dwarves were familiar with, the story of the Misty Mountains. The woman continued to dance, changing the style as she went, occasionally hopping from table to table or doing tricks and flips. The fellowship remain at the door, simply flabbergasted.
Once more, the song changes to the tale of a siren who was caught in a fisherman's net, and who agreed to a deal rather than killing him flat out. He would set her free, and then leave and never come back, in this way, she will spare his life. But the man, enraptured by the siren, returns once more to see her, and she and her sisters see that his kind could not be trusted on their word and she kills him. And to this day, his bones remain burried in the sand beneath the waves. The fellowship are varying degrees of unsettled, some swallowing thickly to try and calm their nerves.
As the song ends, the woman stops dancing and the surrounding pirates go back to their business. She approaches the fellowship, a grin spread on her face as she steps closer. "Well, hello there gentlemen, what can I do ya for?" She speaks with an accent, not all too unlike a dwarves, but with an extra touch that sets it apart.
YOU ARE READING
The Fellowship Meets The Crew
FanfictionThe fellowship decide to celebrate at a pub, encountering a pirate woman, who they soon discovered to be the fearsome captain of the Lady Loyal, a famous ship of mysterious origins.
