[maikafanawen]

Corac was cursing violently in the shadows outside the Snifter and Song. Indeed Devon had not come this way. Certainly then, where would he have gone!? Some other inn? Most likely, it was noon after all. Or maybe the stables to meet his friend Callath. It seemed reasonable. Even though they probably didn't make such a chore of meeting each other for lunch everyday, during this time of dire circumstance, Devon would surely go to his friends.

The tail moved out of his place then and onto the street. He takes an alley and blends in well with its dark occupants and is off to the stables. He arrives just as the others are leaving and he stamps his foot in exasperation. He hadn't a clue of what they've said. Information Doran would probably be curious for. Corac lets it go and tails Devon back to the embassy. But as he looked around the stables before leaving, he saw no sign of Wilsard, Callath's tail.


Later that evening, Corac was waiting for Devon who exited the embassy and this time made way for his pub of choice. The corsair finished off the jerky he was chewing and followed inconspicuously.

* * *

The Snifter and Song kept its business well amidst the helter skelter of the goings on in Umbar. There were less nobles to be sure and more new attendees, but their purses were heavy so Mr. Rheels greeted them warmly. Devon entered and hung his sword up on a peg near the door, following the no weapons policy most of the high inns enforced. Then he took a seat at one of the square booths hugging the farther most wall to wait for his friends.

The musician in the corner plucked away at a guitar, his rich voice stringing chords of somber notes together into a dismal ballad of treason and forbidden love. Devon's head hung low over his folded hands on the table as the music filled the room. Scattered talk drifted his way and he learned of the dangers of economic collapse for Umbar. Traders from the South were unwilling to stop here to transfer their goods so they spent the extra leagues it took to get to Dol Amroth or Harlond. The merchants had all but stopped anchoring in the southern-most Gondorian city.

"An ale then Mr. Thrann?" a thin, young waitress asked. Devon nodded without looking at her and she moved through to the bar to get his drink. She was back in a minute and he gave her the 10 and 5 cp piece for his drink. His mind was so absorbed in dread that he hadn't even thought to tip her. But when the girl didn't move the young man remembered and gave her a couple of single copper pennies. She stuffed them in the pocket on her apron and went away without so much as a slight curtsy.

"I'll not tell you again, Mr. Avershire." Rheels's voice was raised over the music and chatter. Devon turned to see. The pub keeper was talking to a man who had just entered. He had the coloring of a corsair and he wore a rich-looking captain's coat, a crisp white shirt and-- A captain's coat! At his side stood probably one of the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. She had sin-dark hair that was curled and wrapped into a half-bun at the back of her head. The rest fell down to her waist and complimented the black embroidery on her plain but elegant looking fuchsia dress. Her face was taught and her hand was rigid where it rested in the crook of her escort's elbow.

"He want to see Captain Doran this morning," she said evenly. "He gave him his pardon and said that he would see to it that he's not bothered. Mentioned something about a list I believe, didn't he love?" She looked up into the stormy eyes of the man called Avershire who nodded. "And he gave you a form, didn't he?"

"That he did, Meri. Hopefully kind Mr. Rheels here will comply after he takes a look over it." He reached into the breast pocket of his coat and pulled out a piece of paper folded in fourths. Devon choked. There was no way Mr. Rheels was able to read whatever it said. He was proven right when he saw the blank look on the keeper's face as he looked over the letter. The ambassador's son got up and walked casually over to where the three stood and bowed.

"Allow me Mr. Rheels." Devon extended his hand and the man gratefully handed the paper to him. Devon read it aloud. "It reads: 'I, Captain Jythralo Doran, Council member to the Umbarian under Gondorian Government, hereby grant waiver to Captain Kent Avershire for the newest laws against the Corsair Peoples and assert that he be treated as a Gondorian Citizen and permitted the rights and privileges thereof in his retirement from service to the Gondorian Navy.' and is signed 'Captain Jythralo Doran.'" Devon did well to veil his disappointment and hand the letter back to Rheels. Avershire smiled mock-graciously to Devon and tipped the corner of his hat forward.

"All right then Captain, take a table for you and your lady and I'll send someone out to serve ye."

"Thank you sir," the captain said sincerely, "I do appreciate it." And as though there had been no problem and no tempers had been tested, Avershire seated Meri and then himself and the two were immediately engrossed in common discussion of the pleasantries of each other's day.

That's when Calnan and Callath walked in, and to Devon's surprise, so did Telson. But of course Telson would have come. He beckoned them to his table where he'd abandoned his mug of ale and they took a seat, ordering once the same scrawny waitress appeared again.

The talk was scarce but this gave Devon time to think. Mr. Rheels had addressed the man as Captain Kent Avershire. Captain... And retired from his services to the Gondorian Navy... So here was a man, a retired Naval Captain sitting a few tables away, enjoying a meal with his woman. Devon had to do something. So he quickly told his friends what had happened just before they arrived and who the man was. Recognition was apparent on Telson's face when Devon spoke the man's name. The dark Gondorian looked past the young man and blinked. His mouth formed silently words that Devon couldn't catch.

"You know of him?" he asked.

He nodded. "Indeed. He was a great naval captain during and after the War of the Ring. His help in purging the seas of pirates was invaluable and his loyalty to Gondor surpasses many nobles today."

"Sort of young to be retired isn't he?" Callath noted. Telson nodded again slowly.

"He was dismissed. Someone who didn't care much for his excelling in the sea business unveiled his corsair infested past and handed him over to the law. Unfortunately, the evidence was so heavy, the council members who held trial for him could do nothing to keep him in the navy. Most of his medals traded in saved him from imprisonment, and his oath from exile, but Avershire was dismissed from his captaincy aboard naval ships and instead of finding other work, he decided to retire. So he relocated himself here." They were all throwing random looks over their shoulders to the broad-shouldered man laughing with his dark haired woman.

"What about her?" Callath asked. "She's no corsair."

"His first mate," Calnan said. They all looked at him in surprise. "I've just remembered. In my education I learned much about politics, law and the methodology of trials. One that we studied was Avershire's case. His woman is named Meri, she's his first mate." They were quiet for a moment and then Devon spoke.

"So how do we ask him if he'll help us." Callath looked at him as though he was crazy.

"The man is of corsair lineage, retired with his woman, he was given a bloody pardon by Doran, what makes you think he's going to get back into this mess?" But Devon was remembering stories from his childhood of captains, their ship, and the sea. It was completely their life and no sort of retirement or new life would let them forget. No, Devon was sure, that if Avershire was the sort of captain Telson talked about, the man would give his right arm to commandeer a ship yet again.

"He will if given the chance," the ambassador's son says determinedly.

"So go ask him," Callath says sarcastically. "'Excuse me, my name is Devon Thrann and Captain Doran has more or less taken over control of Umbar and is plotting a revolt of great complexity and size and the only chance to stop it is if I can get a captain, ship and crew together by the end of the week and I was wondering if you're up for the job. Oh yeah, and I can't pay you a single bloody cent, don't have a ship, don't have a crew, and the chances are we're all going to die!" Devon sat staring hopelessly at Callath who shook his head. "Sorry mate," he said, "but things look pretty dank on this end." Devon nodded and looked at both Telson and Calnan in turn.

"I'm going give it a go. Wish me luck." He stands, fingering his money pouch and looking in Avershire's direction.

"Wait," Calnan says touching his wrist. "What are you going to say?" Devon smiled.

"I think Callath summed it about up." He winked and walked over to Avershire's table, bowing politely to Meri and introducing himself to Avershire. His friends heard him offer to buy the two 'retired' seafarers both a drink and they accept, inviting him a chair at the table. In no time they are talking smoothly and their words are drowned out as the musician begins a new ballad, even more depressing than the first but twice as loud.

* * *

"Avershire, you are getting in way over you head," Meri says as they arrive back home. The captain hangs up his woman's coat and keeps his own. Then he turns her to face him, his hands on her shoulders.

"We're going to sail again, love!" His eyes are so alive and bright with excitement that Meri realizes he hasn't heard a thing she's said. He will go back out no matter what she says or does.

"But, Kent! We have to find the whole crew, the ship and everything! There's not even any money involved!" Avershire laughs.

"Love, if we take down Doran and present him to the Gondorian Government in Minas Tirith, I have no doubts that we'll be paid handsomely for it and we'll be having all sorts of servants waiting on us until we're so old all we can do is open our mouths as they secure the straw to our whiskies!" He smiles and spins her around the kitchen. But Meri is stunned. Did he say old? She blinks and sits down at the table. Did he say that they we're going to grow old together? He's never mentioned that before. He must just be excited. She waves the thought away and stands, walking into the living room where she lights an oil lamp and sets the wood on the grate for a fire. Avershire follows her in, his eyes unfocused. Meri laughs herself for she knows that he will not be seeing much of anything for a while except the open sea in front of him, no matter where they end up. They'll be back on the ocean again even if this means the end of them.

* * *

"Read them out to me, Meri," Avershire says. He is standing at the rail of a beachside bar, cradling a glass of whiskey in one hand as he looks out over the street to the harbor. Both of them are garbed in sea-faring clothes and Loliway looks tough as nails with her hair free down her back and a red sash tied around her low-cut, billowy, white cotton shirt. Her booted feet are propped up on a second chair and she is holding a list of names before her of the men they'd gotten so far for their voyage. She calls them out to him one at a time. They've thirty-nine so far. Thirty-nine to command a seventy man ship. And that's if they even got the old sloop. It was in need of repairs when it came in the morning and the captain was so fed up with it that he was carelessly shouted to sell it to the first person who asks for the price of a horse. Avershire had been out 'shopping' that morning for such a price on a boat and turned on his heel withough missing a beat and approached the exasperated owner.

"I'll take her," he announces. The man looks up at him, startled and fumbles around. "But I'll pay you three times as much as a horse to be fair. Say, three gold pieces?" Avershire smiles broadly.

The man tilts his head to the side and considers it. "Ten," he says. Expression unchanging, Avershire offers four. They barter for a while, then Avershire proposes six gold pieces. "Fine," the owner says. "But you get her as it is. I ain't doin' no fixin' to it."

Avershire spreads his hands, palms up, "I understand. So, we have an accord?"

"Aye," and they shake. The two men go to the dock house to sign the papers and Avershire is presented with the log. Then to visit his new ship. After a quick once over he begins to doubt his deal. He employs a quick carpenter and tells him to do whatever he can and he'll be paid 3 silver pennies an hour and considered for hire on his voyage depending on the quality.

After he told Meri, she'd gone to work helping him round up a crew. They contacted everyone, old friends, neighbors, debtors, the jobless, all if they had any sort of experience at sea and enlisted them. They were up to thirty-nine with sixty-one vacancies.

"There's no way we're going to be able to get enough men!" Meri says, tossing the book back on the table. She rubs her eyes with the heels of her palms and looks up at Avershire.

"I should have gotten a damn shipwright as well," he mutters to himself. Meri stands and joins him, swishing the contents of her own tumbler around in the glass.

"You might has well have kept your pennies. We might have done better with horses that mess of a ship."

Avershire grunts and takes a swig. "She'll be just fine," he says, "you'll see."

Meri rolls her eyes. "Hey, what's her name by the way, did you see?"

The man nods. "Her name's the North Wind and her cook said that she's just as fast."

Loliway pauses. "We've got a cook that came with it eh?"

* * *

"It's an 113 ton, 65 ft. sloop, Mr. Telson, with 12 nine-pound catapults and we've got sixty-nine hearty souls aboard, not including you, your friends, and the boy's professor." Avershire watches with a laugh in his eye as Master Pearlle steadies his chubby self on the deck by holding onto the railing and trying not to look at the vastness of the sea. All around the sloop sailors rush securing the lines and reviewing Meri's checklist before they're off. Corac was dispatched an hour ago to tell Doran that they were coming and Devon stood on board, his hand shading his face as he watched the activity of the ship. As a boy he'd always dreamed of such an adventure, but this was not what he'd had in mind and the load he carried was too heavy for him to feel any sort of excitement.

"Avershire, the ship is to be crewed by ninety men. We won't make it two leagues before something's amiss and Doran tears into us!" The captain ignores his words and defends his ability as captain to make the right decision. Finally Telson realized that arguing with such a head strong person was pointless and he returns to help the others get ready for the last stand.