[Lalwendë]

Tarn stood impatiently stamping his feet to keep them warm as Nilak fumbled with the keys to the warehouse. Igal had supplied him with a bunch of large brass keys, and had informed him that there were several locks. None of these keys were marked in any way and it took Nilak some time to find the correct one for each lock. The snow was still falling and now that night had fallen, the temperature had plummeted.

When Nilak finally managed to open the door, Tarn bundled him in quickly.

“Let’s light a brazier before we start on this work”, he said, shaking out the fur he wore over his coat. The snow which had frozen to it flew out in a flurry as he beat the fur on the side of some crates. Thynne was still full of excitement about throwing the snowballs filled with stones and he could not keep still. It was beginning to irritate the two older men who had several hours work ahead of them and were cold and tired after the long walk from the market place.

“Thynne, go out and find some more coals for this brazier,” snapped Tarn, as he stooped, rubbing his hands in front of the meagre flame he had just sparked into life. “Trust Igal not to leave enough coals to warm an ice hut”, spat Nilak. Thynne asked for some money to buy coals with, but Tarn raised an eyebrow at the suggestion and the lad clearly got the message that he was to steal some.

Once they had warmed up, the men began to inspect the goods they were supposed to be packing for transportation to the Elven ship. Some produce was already packed, as Tarn found when he opened a cork on a large flask of wine. He dipped his finger in and tasted it, but did not drink any. His experiences with the drunken uncle who had taken over as elder of his clan had been enough to warn him off drink from a young age. “Here,” he said, handing the flask to Nilak with a knowing wink. “If this is any good you might like some. Drink it or sell it.”

The warehouse was quite a large structure by Lossoth standards and the light from the fire was not strong. Tarn saw large shadows looming up in the dim red gleam against the walls and looking in their direction, spotted the immense barrels which were to be loaded with goods for the Elves. Hefting one onto its side, he inspected it and found that the wood was strong but light; together with the great size of the barrel, a man could comfortably be concealed within.

The goods that the men were supposed to be packing lay along the opposite wall, clearly labelled. Tarn smirked as he saw them. Coils of rope, packages of canvas, an assortment of tools, spare blades for knives, nails and lengths of wood. Some of these things could easily be smuggled out of the warehouse and hidden, just enough to create space in the barrels to hide the Corsairs. The canvas, he could see, would make useful padding to muffle any suspicious noises from inside the containers, as they were sure to get a bumpy ride when loading the ship. As he saw Thynne come back in through the door, Tarn suggested to Nilak that the lad’s task should be to carry the goods out of there while they prepared the barrels.