A Middle Earth Story: The Corsairs of Oros

Chapter One: A Crew for Captain Oros /Part Three

With the roster rolled carefully away and mood jovial, Fendwall walked down the docks and into Umbar in search of more crew members. Oros had stayed behind to watch over his ship. He rarely joined Fendwall on his search for crew, preferring to let his first mate handle the paperwork and talking involved. With his spirits high and a brisk, cleansing breeze at his back there was nothing that could dampen Fendwall's mood as he walked to a tavern that had proved fruitful on every occasion.

Except for the riot directly ahead.

Fendwall pushed through the gathering crowd, irritation clawing at him. What in the blue blazes did they think they were doing? The people shot him dirty looks as he brushed past then recognized him and moved aside. Fendwall reached the center of the mass and to his surprise saw a red-head locked in vicious combat with a man twice her size.

Well, well, well. Fendwall thought. What do we have here?

Estella saw Fendwall and hesitated for just a moment. Long enough for her opponent to knock her to the ground and hold her a knife-point.

"Whoah," Fendwall said, "hang on, good man."

The man turned to look at Fendwall and sneered.

"Now," Fendwall placated, "I don't know what she's done, but this here lass is a member of my crew."

"What crew?" the man growled.

"Captain Oros'," Fendwall said loud enough for everyone to hear. A few took a step back.

"Cap'n Oros, eh? I used to work fer 'im," the man mused, absentmindedly scratching his beard with his dagger. Estella, wisely, did not move.

"Yer, ah," Fendwall searched for the name. He recognized the man, but couldn't put a name to him.

"Herrick,"

"Ah, Herrick! I remember," Fendwall snapped his fingers. "That was six years ago now?"

"Aye, an' I ain't getting' on another ship ever again," Herrick said.

"Aw, come on, it'll be like old times. I'm looking for a-"

"No," Herrick interrupted, "I ain't joinin'."

"A'right, just let the lady go and I'll leave you be," Fendwall said. Herrick let Estella go with a rough shove. The crowd dispersed and soon left Estella and Fendwall standing in the middle of the street alone. Estella opened her mouth to apologize. Fendwall forestalled her with a hand.

"Don't want to know," he said. "Come," he ordered and headed down a narrow alley. This was the oldest part of Umbar. Here the buildings were covered in a light dusting of salt from hundreds of years of exposure to the sea. Many of them still stood strong, though a few had crumbled to ruins. Even in the light of day the alley was dark. The closely crowed buildings blocked most of the sunlight from hitting the ground.

It stank of putrid water and years of refuse. Estella, following close behind Fendwall, wrinkled her nose in disgust.

"Who lives here?" she asked quietly.

"No one you want to meet in the dead of night or light of day," Fendwall said.

"Then why are we here?" Estella whispered hoarsely. Fendwall didn't answer right away. He waited until they were outside of an unnamed tavern, known simply as; The Ghost. He turned to Estella with a grin. She eyed him dubiously.

"We're here," he thrust open the door, "to find some crew."

"Here?" Estella scoffed. Fendwall ignored her and stepped inside. Immediately the rich aroma of baking meat pies and succulent chicken roasting on spits over an open fire crackling in the center of the room. A quick scan told Fendwall there were ten people in the tavern; two young men in the corner sat in silence, carefully watching Fendwall, a man and a woman with red tatooes covering their faces sat too close to one another, three grizzled older men stretched out on front of the fire, tankards in hand, watching two musicians play a quiet tune, the tenth person was a black shape in the very back. The conversation was muted and the people mostly still except for the musicians.