[Orual]

Jemennan wrapped the deep slash on his right arm tightly with a bandage. He impatiently wiped the perspiration off of his forehead, and winced at the effort. Curse his carelessness! He should have seen that young guard coming for him. There was no telling how long his arm would be out of commission--and worse, he was right-handed. Scowling and swearing, he tore off the excess from his bandage and tied it in place.

"Nice move, Jem," Airan snapped, her curly hair matted with blood. She wiped off her curved blade as she spoke, cutting her finger through inattention and swearing viciously. "The Valar only know how long it'll take you to get over that. I applaud your good sense and excellent reflexes. It took a master of bungling to let that little boy bite you."

Jem bowed sarcastically. "My thanks for your vote of approval, Lady Airan," he said icily. "I can see that you took care of yourself as well."

Airan looked down at the wound on her left leg, then back at Jem with contempt. "It's not very bad, it won't put me out," she replied. "I can walk...and fight, which is more than I can say for some others in the crew."

Jem drew his sword with his left hand, hesitating a little as he situated himself. He was not ambidextrous by any means, but he had learned somewhat to use his left hand in battle to leave his right for when it counted. Unfortunately, in the heat of the battle, he had forgotten this custom. "I can still fight, and better than you can," he said arrogantly and incorrectly.

Airan laughed and slapped his arm in a gesture of mock-friendship. He winced, but bit his tongue so as not to cry out. "Whole and uninjured you could never fight like me, dear." She patted him on the shoulder; he was not very much taller than she was. "I'm going to clean off and see if Yr Saladan needs me. He'd have no use for a broken toy soldier, of course, so you might as well stay here." She turned and left, leaving Jem alone.

After she was out of earshot, Jem kicked the nearest rock and shouted curses at the sky. Curse Airan and her arrogance! Who did she think she was? Just some sulky little girl running away from her father, wishing that she had what it took to be a corsair of Umbar. She had nothing. Nothing.

He would show her what Yr Saldan wanted. Jem had come gone into Saldan's service when he was a young lad, no older than nine, orphaned and starving, as a cabin boy. He'd done odd jobs until he came of age to earn his keep by fighting. That was loyalty; ten years in the service of the corsairs was loyalty. He would do anything for Yr Saldan, the man who saved his life, who saw a boy who would become a man where everyone else saw just another starving urchin.

Then why had he been so reluctant to fight during this raid?

Because that wound wasn't really from lack of attentiveness. He always knew when someone was coming after him, and the fact that he had fewer scars than most proved it. (Not to say that he had none; he had one running down the length of his forearm from his second fight. He remembered that fight with fondness; it was then that he had become a true blood brother of the corsairs.) Most people who came after Jemennan son of Tarmennan from the back paid for it dearly, as dearly as Jem could provide. His boyish appearance, with his chestnut brown hair and surprisingly innocent grey eyes, belied his viciousness in battle.

And yet he'd let his guard down.

Was it because he was in Gondor, the land of his birth? No, he had no ties to these people, who had shunned him when he was in need, refused to give him food or shelter. They were nothing to him, as he had been nothing to them. Was it because he was recovering from an illness? No, it had been a mere head cold, and he had left battles unscathed after stepping off death's doormat. There was no reason for his behavior. Except maybe those screams he had heard, the same screams that haunted his dreams at night ever since his days on the streets: the screams of a child's terror.

He shook his head to clear it of these thoughts, and went up to Yr Saldan. "My arm is all right, sir. What can I do?"

[ March 01, 2003: Message edited by: Orual ]