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Old 01-29-2004, 03:55 PM   #85
Ealasaide
Shadow of Tyrn Gorthad
 
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Join Date: Sep 2003
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Sting

As the banquet drew to a close, Airefalas actually felt optimistic for the first time since his arrival in Umbar. With the banquet that he had dreaded so fiercely all day long fading into a safe and rather uneventful past tense, he found himself in reasonably good spirits for the first time in days. Unaccustomed to idleness, he had enjoyed the working part of the evening, dickering with Umbar's merchants, seeing what they had to offer, both in the way of goods and skill at bargaining. Both were, for the most part, not disappointing. Unfortunately, his good spirits were not to last. No sooner had he and Mithadan left the banquet hall than he saw the familiar faces of Seft, Raal, and Mahat, their guards, waiting to escort them back to their rooms. Instantly, his old sense of foreboding settled back into place. Airefalas walked back to their rooms in a stony silence.

Later, after he and Mithadan had gone over the business of the evening, the two of them sat down for a final glass of wine before retiring. Mithadan commented on his eagerness to leave and, without thinking, Airefalas let fly with some kind of sarcastic rip about the guards. Frankly, he was tired of them, tired of Umbar, and well ready to see open ocean again. Apparently, so was Mithadan.

Airefalas’ jaw dropped in surprise as Mithadan responded with a colorful curse regarding the likely parentage of the guards. Then, as Mithadan drained his cup and slammed it back down on the tabletop, he growled, “May the Valar protect us from our protectors.”

“Hear, hear,” murmured Airefalas and drained his cup as well. It was the first time he had seen Mithadan even come close to a display of ill temper since arriving in Umbar and it did nothing to set Airefalas’ mind at ease. In fact, it had been Mithadan’s composure and confidence that all was going at least somewhat according to expectation that had given Airefalas what little sense of security he had. Mithadan’s loss of patience, he thought, was not a good sign. For a long instant, Airefalas frowned at the table top. Then, coming to a decision, he looked at his captain.

“We do have a plan, don’t we?” he asked.

Mithadan, who had been deep in thought himself, glanced up. “Excuse me?”

“If Falasmir decides to spring the trap he’s set,” persisted Airefalas. “We do have a plan for our defense, eh? As it currently stands, we are at his mercy to be seized at any moment. I, for one, don’t fancy spending the rest of my days rowing.”

“I have taken some precautions,” answered Mithadan, not evasively, but still looking as though his mind was occupied elsewhere.

Remembering Mithadan’s instructions to Saelon regarding the purchase of extra lamp oil, Airefalas nodded. “Well, that’s something, I suppose. Any chance of letting me in on it? I’d breathe easier and I’d certainly be of more value to you if I knew what we were about a little in advance. Right now, I feel like I’m sitting in an enemy camp with a sack over my head.”

He reached out and poured himself and Mithadan each a fresh cup of wine, thinking to himself, well, now I’ve put it all out on the table. He’s either got to trust me or not.
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