[Regin Hardhammer]

Marreth slurped his fish soup with a grin plastered over his face. Night was falling fast and the Elven ship had made its way out of the Bay and into the open waters. The time had come to begin his escape. Those Elves were foolish if they thought that Marreth could be contained in their simple prison cell. He had escaped from far more dire situations: once, he had slipped away right under the noses of a crowd of Gondorian soldiers. After he got off this wretched ship, he vowed to hunt down that traitorous scum Castamir and slice off his head. If it weren’t for Castamir and his agent Jynne, both Diera and Jarlyn would still be alive. Marreth vowed never to work in the service of anyone else again. From now on Captain Marreth would venture under his own flag and for his own benefit.

Finishing his evening meal, Marreth fingered the key that dangled from a metal chain around his neck. He had been waiting patiently in his room for three days until the Elven guards had slipped into a simple routine, and no longer paid much attention to him. Marreth knew that the Elves generally posted only one guard at the very end of the hallway. This guard brought Marreth his meals twice a day. Breakfast normally consisted of an apple or orange, a slice of stale bread, and a hunk of old cheese. Dinner was often some sort of fish soup or baked fish with a piece of bread just as stale as the one he got for breakfast. Marreth could not help but wonder with longing what scrumptious meals the officers ate......probably roast beef with buttered beans, or ham glazed with honey and steamed carrots. The only drink he ever got was a cup of tepid water. Marreth could have killed for a mug of ale, and if his guard had ever been carrying one when he delivered Marreth’s meals he probably would have.

Carefully he removed the key from around his neck, keeping his bowl in the other hand, and then unlocked the door to his cell. As he slowly turned the key, Marreth heard a soft click and pushed the door slightly ajar. He peaked his head outside and glanced down the corridor. At the end of the hallway he saw a solitary Elf, eyes closed and in deep concentration.

Marreth had once read in the scrolls at the library in Umbar about the Elvish power of communicating by thought over long distances. He wondered if this was what the guard was doing now. Perhaps he was talking to his family about the successful voyage and his speedy return home. Well, he would give him something to remember!

Marreth slunk towards the preoccupied Elf and swung the large stone bowl at his skull with all of his strength. The Elf’s expression turned to one of complete surprise as he fell over unconscious. Marreth made a mental note to reward Hilde handsomely for supplying him with the key if he ever saw her again. That was twice she had saved him. “Just in case you ever find youself locked in a cell somewhere on that awful ship,” she had said with motherly concern in her voice. Of course he had never believed that he would use it, but evidently fate had dictated otherwise. Quickly Marreth swiped the guard’s two-handed broadsword from its scabbard, eager to avoid anyone else who might be passing by.

Then Marreth snuck up on deck. It was empty except for a lone sentry on the far side of the ship; the remainder of the crew must be resting in their quarters. Marreth reached the railing and cautiously lowered one of the lifeboats into the water. Then with a nimble leap, he hurdled over the side and landed in the smaller vessel before the guard even realized what was happening.

Marreth had decided not to return to his ship back in the Bay. For one thing, all of his most trusted officers were dead and he could not trust anyone else from the crew. He wondered if Castamir had any other agents still on board. For another thing, the Lossoth might attack him as soon as he got back, and it was not worth starting a battle. No, the ship and crew held nothing for him now. As Marreth started to row, many uncertainties still plagued his mind: when e would get another ship, how he would make it back to Harad, and just where he would find his next meal. But amid the confusion, one thing remained clear. Marreth would find out where Castamir was and extract bloody vengeance upon his head: vengeance for the Palantiri, vengeance for his fallen officers, but most of all, vengeance for his own betrayal.