[Mithadan]

In the back of his mind, the nagging feeling of darkness and nearby evil continued to plague Mithadan. The brief meeting with Ancalimon did little to dispell his disquiet. He wondered briefly if he might build a mental wall against it before beginning the day's tasks.

In the small armoury below decks, he took a rapid accounting of available weaponry. Each member of the landing party, whether they liked it or not, would be armed. There were a number of knives, both long and short, which would be suitable for the Hobbits. He set aside throwing knives for Piosenniel. There were additional swords available, as well as light armour and leather jerkins, but none were Hobbit-sized. He set three large leather shirts aside to see if they might be altered to fit the Halflings. Joining these were stout wooden staffs which could be shortened and reshod. The bows required restringing, he noted, but there were arrows aplenty as well as several quivers.

He carried a bundle to the main deck and sorted the arms which required mending or alteration. Taking a saw and other tools, he set about shortening the staffs. Soon, he was sweating heavily in the bright sun. He paused and wiped his brows with a slight smile, remembering Pio...Tule's comment several days before about his need for a bath.

Looking up at the helm, he saw Pio standing alongside Veritas. Her dark, curly hair seemed almost to glow in the sunlight. She moved with Elven grace as she spoke, gesturing to the north. He looked on for a moment, then blinked and looked away. Shaking his head, he resumed his work.