The Kindness of a Corsair.

By: Beregond

 

• Title: Kindness of a Corsair
• Author: Beregond
• E-Mail: Beregond5@yahoo.gr
• Rating: PG-13 (for violence and angst)
• Summary: Post RotK. Legolas and Gimli are on their way to Minas Tirith when they come across trouble and the Dwarf goes missing. Now Legolas has to seek help from the most unlikely person imaginable, if he’s to save his Dwarven companion.
• Disclaimer: 1) All known characters and places belong to Tolkien Estate as well as New Line cinema. No copyright infringement is intended. 2) Anything else that is not instantly recognised as part of Tolkien’s mythology, is a mix of imagination and speculation from my part. In consequence, the OC and all other un-familiar characters and story elements are mine 3) Beta-read by a good (and English-speaking) friend. Any possible remaining mistakes are mine.
• Author’s note: One of the things that fascinates me most in Tolkien’s writings is his use of made-up languages, which give an air of believability and history. That’s why I try to use some of his languages - mostly Elvish - in my fics as well. However, I realize that it’s frustrating for a reader to try and read between the lines, or, even worse, to translate the phrase of a language he’s not familiar with word for word, since the flow of the reading is disrupted. That’s where this little trick comes along: Every word or phrase, which obviously belongs to another language, is in italic font. If you place the cursor of the mouse over those parts, the meaning of the phrases and even what language they are should appear in a separate box. Hopefully, this will make things quite easier… :)

 

˜   Prologue   ™

 

Legend tells of a race of Men, descended from Elven blood, which lived to the West on an island beyond the borders of Middle-Earth; so close to Valinor, the almost magical realm to which all souls pass that seek peace and oblivion, that one was able to see its white shores from the highest mountain in a fair weather. The island was named Númenor, and there all Men co-existed in harmony, praising the name of the Valar and Ilúvatar, the One.

 

But then dark days followed, when the kings became too proud and greedy, soon to be drawn to the heathen ways in search for greater power and longer life. Sauron the Deceiver, who hated all Men and especially the Númenóreans, saw at that time the chance to make them suffer the most. Feigning defeat, he let himself be taken captive by Tar-Pharazôn, the most corrupt of the kings that ever sat on a throne and the last destined to reign in Númenor. Under the influence of Sauron’s poisonous words, cloaked with seductive talk of glory and immortality, Tar-Pharazôn built great ships to sail west and challenge the ones that had benefited his people the most throughout the ages: the Valar themselves. Enraged, the Valar caused great waves that destroyed the ships and then sank the island of Númenor, so all the corruption drowned with Tar-Pharazôn and his people. Even though glad for the destruction of the Men through his malice, Sauron himself came to his own ruin, and with his life-force weakened, he had to return to his old haunts of Mordor, waiting for years until he grew strong again.

 

The fall of Númenor, however, didn’t mean the end of all the Númenóreans. A few Men, loyal to the Valar and foreseeing that the days of their homeland were numbered, sailed to safety before any harm came to them to the only place they could go: Middle-earth. These people were led by Elendil and his sons, Anárion and Isildur, whose bloodline was meant to be bound forever after to the fate of Middle-earth.

 

And yet, even amongst them, remnants of the corruption still lingered. And soon a small part of the kind leader’s men became estranged, drawn to Sauron once more despite what he had done. They were the Black Númenóreans, who spread across Middle-earth, becoming chiefs of scattered men and turning them to forces of dread, always at war with the men of Elendil’s bloodline. The most feared and formidable were the Corsairs of Umbar, whose black sails meant only plundering and looting wherever they went. These were finally destroyed by Aragorn, Isildur’s descendant, who attacked their harbour, captured their ships and sailed them to the aid of Minas Tirith and victory against Sauron’s armies. After Sauron’s own defeat and downfall, it would seem that the Corsairs were scattered forever. Yet evil, no matter how small it may seem and in what form it might be, remains evil… much like kindness.

 

Chapter 1: A Village Under Attack

 

The calm waters of the great river Anduin were only slightly disturbed when the lithe but strong form of a blond Elf, naked but for his leggings, dived in. Legolas resurfaced with a broad smile, pushing back some wet hair that found its way in front of his eyes; then started swimming with natural skill along the river. Being the end of February, the sun hadn’t warmed the water much, but Legolas didn’t mind, since his kindred didn’t feel the cold. For him it was merely the perfect time of year: the last remnants of ice finally melting and new life emerging from underneath it. He could clearly see the first green patches sprouting apprehensively wherever he rode with Gimli on Arod; and even Fangorn Forest, which they visited four days ago, looked particularly lovely, despite its many millennia of existence. So it didn’t surprise him much when Gimli admitted that he indeed liked the place and that the visit was worthwhile.

 

‘Speaking of which…’ he thought; and, as an idea formed in his mind, he swiftly swam back to find the Dwarf, who was sitting a pretty good distance away from the river on a tree-stump, tending to a fire.

 

“Come, Gimli!” cried the Elf to his Dwarven friend. “Will you not wet your feet for a while?” He dearly wanted a companion to his water games, and Gimli was the only one around. Not to mention that Legolas considered him one of the best friends one could possibly have, despite his race.

 

The only answer he got back was a very indignant: “No, thank you, and you very well know why!”

 

“The water is quite nice,” insisted the Firstborn in a coaxing manner. “Do you not want to find out that it is wrong of you to fear the water so much? Fear does not become you…” he added, aiming for where Gimli didn’t wish to be doubted: his pride.

 

However the Dwarf knew Legolas better than the latter thought. Even though Gimli flared up at first, he quickly realised that for some reason the Elf was trying to get him into the water and was using whatever means possible to do just that. So he relaxed once again and even smiled.

 

“If you think that with that you will get me into the river, I can tell you to stop wasting your breath from now on. I’m not getting close even to the riverbank, do whatever you like. And weren’t you supposed to hunt for our luncheon today? What am I preparing the fire for? Stop fooling around and find us something to eat!”

 

Legolas’s cerulean orbs darkened momentarily as he felt that this wasn’t working quite the way he wanted. But Gimli wasn’t aware just how stubborn the prince could prove: now that he had set his mind into getting the Dwarf in the water, he intended to see it through, one way or another. And now he was motivated by other reasons as well: he wanted to punish Gimli a bit for thinking only of his stomach while there were so many things that one should watch around him; and also for accusing him of ‘fooling around’.

 

“All right… what do you want to have?” he asked, sighing in mock defeat.

 

“Anything, as long as it’s meat and edible!” said Gimli, feeling his mouth watering at the prospect of a fine roast.

 

‘Oh, this is too easy,’ thought Legolas, restraining a sly smile at how he knew Gimli well enough to expect that kind of answer. And then, startling him, he disappeared underneath the water.

 

The Dwarf remained agape for a few moments, trying to set his mind straight on what had just happened.

 

“Legolas?” he called out, but he didn’t get any answer, something that made him more than a little nervous. After all, the Elf sank too quickly for his comfort, and now he even started thinking that for some reason Legolas was forced to sink in. He waited for many long moments, hoping that his friend would resurface soon and assure him that everything was all right, but that never happened. Soon much more time had passed, and now Gimli was more than certain that something was terribly amiss and Legolas was probably in desperate need of help, while he was just stalling on the shore. How was he supposed to get into the river though? He hated the water!

 

It was then that the thought of Legolas possibly drowning that made him put aside whatever reservations he had. Discarding helmet and armour, he quickly rushed into the water and, making sure that he always stepped on firm ground while straining his neck to be able to see over the surface, he tried to find any sign of Legolas. His eyes darted in every direction, but it was of no use: the Elf was nowhere to be seen.

 

“Blasted Elf, where in Aule’s name are you?” he shouted, on the verge of tears, feeling even the slightest chances of rescuing Legolas before it was too late slipping away.

 

Just then, he saw something jump at him and land in his hands, feeling cold and clammy. Such was Gimli’s surprise and fright that he was ready to drop the fish into the water but for Legolas’s cheerful voice stopping him.

 

“Careful, Gimli! You should not let our luncheon get away!”

 

Gimli froze momentarily and then he finally realised that he had been tricked.

 

“Very funny!” he growled, annoyed.

 

“Oh, I find it quite funny from here!” grinned Legolas. Like all Elves, he could stay under water for a considerable amount of time, so he merely had waited at the bottom of the river till Gimli finally decided to wade into the water to make his appearance and show him the prize he caught in the meantime. He regarded the Dwarf carefully and, making a face of feigned shock, added: “So I did get you in the water!”

 

“I thought you were drowning! Serves me right for worrying about an Elf!” answered the Dwarf and, with many a huff, he walked out of the water. “And what’s this supposed to be anyway?” he added, holding the fish with two fingers from the tail in sheer disgust, “I said…”

 

“You said ‘As long as it is meat and edible.’ Fish qualify as such,” Legolas interrupted him with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

 

Gimli let out a loud groan.

 

“Deer is meat and edible; rabbits are meat and edible; partridges are meat and edible! Did you have to go after the one that stinks of water?” he cried in exasperation, dropping the fish by the fire.

 

“I take it then you do not want it?” asked the Elf innocently, with a tinge of sweetness in his voice.

 

All the Dwarf did was sit again on the tree-stump, arms crossed, his back to the fire, the fish, and the very amused Firstborn.

 

“I suppose not,” concluded Legolas. With a slight smile still tugging his lips, he picked up the fish to prepare it for cooking.

 

¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯

 

“Are you sure you do not want any? It has turned out quite tasty,” repeated Legolas, now fully dressed and eating another morsel of the now-roasted fish.

 

“I think I said no,” growled Gimli once more, although Legolas noticed that some of the Dwarf’s determination had died down. The Elf knew it wouldn’t take long before Gimli broke.

 

“As you wish,” replied the Firstborn. “A pity though. Who knows when we will have such a nice meal again.”

 

“I do,” replied Gimli, “and after today’s… events, I can’t wait till we reach Minas Tirith. I’m sure that there won’t be any fish at the anniversary festivities of Sauron’s defeat!”

 

Legolas laughed heartily.

 

“We are a good week’s ride from Minas Tirith yet, not to mention that the banquet will be even later! Can Dwarves stay without food for so long?”

 

“If they’re to avoid eating fish, yes!”

 

But the truth was that Gimli’s stomach was grumbling so hard by now that he was ready to accept even that kind of meal. The smell had become too tantalising for him and he could swear that he sensed whenever Legolas was swallowing another tender piece of fish. With a lot of hesitation, he turned his head ever so slightly before he mumbled a soft: “Legolas?”

 

No more words were needed, the pleading was as clear as day. Legolas merely handed Gimli his plate, already filled with his share from the fish and even clean from any fish bones and skin.

 

“Thank you,” murmured the Dwarf, turning now to face his companion as he started eating.

 

“You are welcome,” replied Legolas. “So… how do you like it?” he asked curiously.

 

“It’s pretty… decent,” remarked Gimli, never intending to admit that he thought it was actually delicious. However the Elf didn’t fail to notice how swiftly the morsels disappeared from the plate, something that made him shake his head with a mild chuckle flowing from his lips.

 

“Dwarves…” he murmured good-humouredly.

 

“Elves…” retorted Gimli, a smile visible underneath his beard.

 

Legolas rose and sat beside his companion.

 

“Are we all right?” he asked, nudging his friend playfully.

 

“Aye, we’re all right,” Gimli assured him, patting the Elven shoulder.

 

It was in that moment that a woman’s scream cut through the air, making both Elf and Dwarf jump off their seats.

 

“That was a cry of help!” exclaimed Gimli.

 

“And close to here as well,” added Legolas, his hands reaching for his bow and quiver. Before Aule’s creation could blink, the Elf had started sprinting towards the direction the scream had sounded from. “Hurry!”

Gimli didn’t have to be told twice. Grabbing his axe and ready to use it at need, he rushed behind Legolas as quickly as his feet could carry him.

 

¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯

 

Her feet barely touched the ground as the frightened woman ran for her life, pushing out of her way whatever branches or bushes happened to block her path. And yet it seemed that no matter what she did, her pursuer was only one step behind her, his hand ready to grab her hair as it flowed loose over her back.

 

“Now I got you!” shouted the man triumphantly, grabbing the woman with both arms.

 

“No!” she screamed at the top of her lungs, earning such a strong slap on her face that she fell to the ground. Not daring to rise, she quickly backed away and glued herself against a tree, facing the stocky, sun-tanned form that was now towering over her.

 

“My, my, aren’t you a pretty one,” remarked the man as soon as her eyes locked on his own. He unsheathed his scimitar, and pointed it toward her.

 

“It’s a pity that our captain said we’re to take no prisoners,” he continued on, letting the blade of his weapon brush against his prey’s cheeks. “I’ll just offer you some of my valuable moments, but then,” and at this his blade found the woman’s graceful neck, resting on her life-vein, “I’ll have to cut your throat.”

 

The defenceless woman knew that it was no use pleading for her life. Sobbing, she closed her eyes, letting the tears trickle down her face, and waited for what was to come next.

 

It was to the sound of a bow twanging that she opened her eyes again. The man was still standing above her, but now there was an arrow protruding from his chest. He certainly never saw that coming, for in his coal-black eyes there was nothing but confusion as the lifeless body fell in a heap right before the woman. She remained still for a few moments, willing her mind to register what had just come to pass; then slowly turned apprehensively to see who had saved her, hoping that she didn’t just escape from one danger only to land in another one.

 

The strikingly handsome and youthful features, which surpassed the measure of Men, were what the woman first noticed as she watched the one who had shot her attacker approach her. But it was not that which made her gape in awe, but rather the inward light which seemed to emanate from the archer, brightened by the kindness that was imprinted in his cerulean eyes. That sight alone gave her an indescribable sense of calmness and security. It was then that she also understood that she was looking upon an Elf. The woman had been told since childhood that the Firstborn were beautiful, yet strange and mysterious creatures, so one should be wary of them. However, now that an Elf was actually standing before her, it seemed that there was nothing for her to fear.

 

“Are you hurt, lady?” asked Legolas, eying the woman closely to make sure there were no visible injuries.

 

The woman shook her head no, disregarding for the time being her bruised cheek, such was her enthralment at the presence of the creature. A loud voice calling out made her flinch momentarily, but the Elf clasped her shoulder reassuringly.

 

“Fear not, he is with me.”

 

At that very moment Gimli appeared out of the woods, panting slightly. The very first thing to see was the dead Man, the arrow still buried in his chest. The Dwarf actually groaned in disappointment as such a sight.

 

“I told you I had him!” he rebuked Legolas.

 

“Awfully sorry,” replied the prince teasingly.

 

“Bah!” exclaimed the stout creature, waving off the answer. “I’ll just check what I’ve missed.” While he was examining the body, Legolas helped the woman to her feet. Just then, Gimli cried out again.

 

“Legolas! This one was a Corsair!”

 

The Elf turned and looked at the dead Man. He was dark-skinned, apparently after many years under the relentless rays of the sun, and the clothing was light to allow free movement – and on it there were the colours of the city of Umbar. This struck as strange to Legolas, because he was with Aragorn’s forces when Umbar was destroyed and the Corsairs were dispersed. So what was such a man doing in these parts of the world?

 

“There are others as well,” said the woman, finally recovering her courage.

 

Both Legolas and Gimli faced her, waiting for her to tell her story.

 

“I’m Shoneen. My village is by the river a little to the south from here. It’s neither large nor rich, its people being content in peace and quiet. However, we were always attacked by the Corsairs, looting us of everything they could lay their hands on. Even our children were taken away, for the Corsairs were always in need of more crewmembers on their ships. It seemed that after we heard news of their defeat during the war two years ago we had been finally freed from such a menace; but today a ship with black sails appeared, catching the sentries napping, and started on its usual plundering. My husband and my father gathered all the men to fight back, though none of them are trained warriors, while I and the rest of the women and children tried to flee to safety. As for him,” she said, at that moment pointing at the dead Corsair and her tone saddening, “He saw me as I was running away and gave chase. I don’t know what happened to the others, and yet I’m afraid to go back because of what I might find there.”

 

As soon as she finished her narrative, Legolas and Gimli exchanged a look, the same thought flashing into both their minds. The Elf immediately let out a long, melodious whistle, which was answered by a joyous neigh.

 

“Perhaps it is not too late, lady,” said Legolas, answering Shoneen’s confused look, “and I am sure that the men will welcome a bow and an axe by their side.”

 

“You will help us then?” exclaimed the woman, her face brightening despite the abuse it suffered. “Oh, thank you! Thank you both so much!”

Just then a proud horse appeared, jumping over some bushes, and quickly stood in front of Legolas, nuzzling him in greeting. Legolas patted Arod’s neck and, without losing any more time, he climbed up and helped Gimli settle behind him.

 

“What can I do?” asked Shoneen, as the warriors were ready to set off.

“Find the other women and make sure that they stay safe,” suggested Legolas.” If we should have any tidings about the village, we’ll come to find you. Where will you be hiding?”

 

“There are some caves east of the village where the Corsairs don’t dare go. They don’t know the paths through the caverns and they’re afraid of getting lost.”

 

“Then we shall meet there.”

 

“I say we’d better go,” pointed out Gimli impatiently, “before it gets too late!”

 

Legolas nodded his understanding and, with a soft command near Arod’s ear, they galloped away, leaving Shoneen behind.

 

¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯

 

Another villager fell down as the scimitar of a Corsair ran through him. The wicked man cried out his victory and quickly entered the house closest to him to find whatever valuables happened to be in there. In a few moments he was out again, only to come across the tip of a blade, inches from his face.

 

“You won’t defile these things with your foul hands!” said the sword’s wielder, a grey-haired yet muscular man, his eyes piercing the Corsair with loathing; and with one swift movement that barely betrayed his age, he slew his adversary. After dealing with that foe, Dírhavel rushed to join the other militia. Just then, he heard his son-in-law’s voice:

 

“Release your arrows!”

 

Without much error, all ten men fired, shooting the incoming tide of Corsairs down.

 

“Nock arrows!” Arminas cried out again. While he was placing an arrow on his own bow as well, another wave of Corsairs approached dangerously close. However, even though Arminas wasn’t a warrior, he had a good advantage: improvisation. Before any of the scimitars fell on the archers’ heads, he cried at the top of his lungs:

 

“Second half, release!”

 

True enough, ten more men that were a few feet behind, shot their own arrows, slaying all the Corsairs that were unfortunate enough to be on the first line, giving Arminas’s men the time to fire once more, killing the men of the second line also. After that significant damage to the Corsairs, all the archers threw down their bows and unsheathed their swords, taking down every foe face to face.

 

“That was a good move, lad!” cried Dírhavel, who had now come by his son-in-law’s side. He quickly punched an attacking Corsair before cutting him down.

 

“And yet more are coming!” replied the young man above the clash of armour, as he parried another of their attackers and stabbed him with a small knife. “And now they are setting the houses on fire!”

 

“Cut your way out! We must stop them!” commanded Dírhavel. Their houses were almost everything they had and they weren’t willing to let the Corsairs burn them down.

 

Without losing any time, every villager charged with all the strength they had, killing any Corsair who had a torch in his hand. Arminas was quickly disposing of another seaman that dared approach his own home no less, when one of the Corsairs stabbed him treacherously in his side. Such was his pain that the young villager quickly doubled over and fell to his knees.

 

Dírhavel watched this scene unfolding before him in horror. The lad was like a son to him and, more importantly, he was his only daughter’s husband, a person whom both men loved dearly. With a new fire burning in his chest, he grabbed a spear that had fallen on the ground and threw it against one Corsair before lunging against the other. However, Dírhavel was no challenge for the giant of a man that stood before him, for his sword was old and rusty, soon to be broken by one swing of the Corsair’s, while his strength was quickly failing him. But then, as if by some sort of enchantment, his adversary froze, blood trickling from his lips, and then crashed on the ground, face down, to reveal a hatchet buried on his back. And yet what really caused Dírhavel’s amazement was the sound of a hearty laughter.

 

It was in that instant that Legolas and Gimli appeared, still riding on a cantering Arod.

 

“This time I was quicker!” cried the Dwarf in triumph.

 

“I was not aware that this was a speed contest,” retorted Legolas with a small roll of his eyes.

 

“It was from the moment I threw my hatchet,” replied the stout creature smugly, jumping off the steed to land in front of a very surprised Man. After all, seeing either an Elf or Dwarf alone would be considered a rare thing, let alone both together. Legolas alighted as well and addressed himself to the villager.

 

“I’m Legolas of the Woodland Realm and this is Gimli, son of Glóin. A woman by the name of Shoneen told us of your trouble and we came as quickly as possible.”

 

“How it was that my daughter found you I don’t know, but your assistance is most welcome,” said Dírhavel. “You couldn’t come at a better time too. The men are getting tired while the Corsairs just keep attacking.”

 

Arminas now rose at the sight of the strangers, clutching his bleeding side with one hand and his sword in the other.

 

“Dírhavel, we should keep fighting…” he said weakly, but the middle-aged man shook his head no.

 

“You’re in no condition to continue, Arminas. This wound is too deep.”

 

“But… I must…” He never finished his sentence, because at that moment he swayed on his feet. Dírhavel quickly offered him his support.

 

“I’d rather see you somewhere in safety. Shoneen’s heart will break if she loses you because of your stubbornness!”

 

“If I may, I suggest he rides Arod,” said Legolas just then, pointing at the proud horse. “He will carry him without error to the caves to the east, where the women took refuge.”

 

“I gladly accept your advice, wise Elf,” said Dírhavel, bowing his head. They helped Arminas onto Arod, who stood patiently till the wounded man was comfortable enough on his back. The steed listened then to the Firstborn’s word on taking the man to the caves to the east and quickly cantered away in obedience. As Arod was disappearing into the woods, Legolas faced Dírhavel again.

 

“How many are the Corsairs?”

 

“The ship that unloaded them is a schooner, so I reckon they are about a hundred of them, more or less.”

 

“Only?!” exclaimed Gimli with a broad grin, “We can take them single-handedly, Elf!”

 

The Man gaped, hardly expecting this.

 

“Their weapons and fighting skills are much better than ours,” he faltered, “and you’re only two!”

 

“Yet me and Gimli have faced much worse, I assure you,” answered Legolas.

 

“Aye, we have! So I don’t see why we should linger here any longer!” said Aule’s creation. Not wishing for an answer, he quickly grabbed his hatchet and, wielding his axe, rushed to the battle. 

 

“Gimli, wait!” Legolas tried to cry out, but it was too late. “Crazed Dwarf…” he muttered and ran with long strides after his companion. By the time he had reached by his friend’s side, Gimli had hewed two of the foes and was now fighting a third one. The Elf easily disposed of him with one of his arrows.

 

“Ach, so you finally came!” cried Gimli with a broad smile.

 

Legolas didn’t have any time to spare for an answer, however, for at that moment some Corsairs cornered a few villagers and were ready to slay them.

 

“We will have to separate! I shall handle these!” shouted the Firstborn to the Dwarf, while hurrying to the men’s aid, his arrows already hitting the Corsairs one after the other.

 

“See you when the battle ends!” answered Gimli. He wasn’t sure if Legolas heard him or not, but he was so quickly absorbed in the battle that he didn’t give much significance to that anymore. Swinging his axe to the left and the right, the Dwarf rapidly hewed the Corsairs one after the other, finishing off with one mighty blow whomsoever still attempted to rise. Soon he found more militia and aided them in fighting off their own adversaries.

 

The Corsairs had already encountered some difficulty with the villagers, since they didn’t expect them to fight back with such efficiency and organisation. And now that two strange creatures, which seemed to be able to shoot and hew everyone that happened to simply stand in their path in the blink of an eye, had joined the villagers as well, they were quickly dismayed. So, as it became clear that this was a battle not worth fighting anymore, the horn of the retreat was soon sounded and the Corsairs started heading back to their ship.

 

As soon as they saw the backs of their enemies, the villagers started cheering at their victory and quickly gave pursuit to make sure that none of the Corsairs remained close to their homes any longer. Gimli also went with them, swinging his axe threateningly at a couple of seamen that tried to run away from him. But such was his battle frenzy, that he didn’t notice that the rest of the villagers quickly gave up on their chase and that he was soon left alone. Gimli looked around for any sign of a friendly face but there was none. Still, he felt that his task was done. He had made sure that his share of the enemies was taken care of, so for him the battle was now over. He started marching back to the village, eager to find Legolas and tell him of his battle accomplishments, when a large shadow covered his own. Sensing immediately that somebody was trying to sneak up on him, Gimli turned around, swinging his axe.

 

Even though he hit the Corsair that attempted to attack him squarely on the face, he found out to his dismay that another one quickly took his place, wielding a great mace. The Dwarf blocked the weapon before it harmed him, but before he could manage his deathblow, a pair of hands caught him from behind, forcing him to the ground. In a matter of moments, his axe was thrown aside and Gimli was held down firmly by three Corsairs, while the fourth one was ready to crush the Dwarf’s head with his mace. Just then, a hoarse voice boomed behind the Corsairs.

 

“Stop!”

 

The wicked Men immediately froze as though stung and lowered their heads in submission. Not understanding what the meaning of this was, Gimli turned his head in curiosity and saw a burly man, clothed in black, his long grey beard tied in beaded braids. His piercing eyes that only reflected a cold, ruthless soul seemed to look through his men and filled them with sheer terror. It didn’t take a great mind to understand that this man could only be the captain of these lowly crooks.

 

Gimli wasn’t the only one who studied his adversary however. For indeed the captain eyed the Dwarf from head to toe, raising an eyebrow slightly. He sat on his heels, his gaze locking with the short creature’s threatening one, a strange glint that no one noticed shimmering in his eyes.

 

“Well, well, what have we here?” he finally asked, not aiming his question to anyone in particular, much less to Gimli. “A Dwarf away from the safety of his mountains?”

 

“He was fighting alongside the villagers, captain,” said a tall man. “It’s because of him and his Elf-companion that we were forced to retreat.”

 

“Like these miserable fools weren’t able to fight you back on their own, Ramandur!” rebuked the cruel seaman. “You think I didn’t watch how you made a mess out of things? He just cut the battle short.”

 

“I suggest we kill him, captain!” said one of the men nearby. “It will be a small satisfaction in this defeat, but it will be a satisfaction nonetheless.”

 

“You might suggest, but I command, worm!” growled the captain, “And I command that we take him aboard the ship.”

 

Although all the crewmembers looked utterly surprised by this order, no one seemed to have the courage to question it. On the other hand nobody seemed ready to comply with it, something that made the captain narrow his eyes to a slit as he stared at each and every one of them.

 

“You dare defy me?” he said softly; yet there was so much venom in that gentle tone that even Gimli shuddered unintentionally.

 

“Captain, if I may,” finally replied Ramandur, “Apparently none of us see the purpose of dragging a Dwarf into the ship.”

 

“And this is why you’re only second-in-command and not a captain!” snapped the bearded Corsair. “You’ve obviously never heard of the legendary treasures that Dwarves mine and hide in their cities under the earth, where no one can reach them, keeping them only to themselves to hold and cherish! Well, it’s high time they shared some of it with us! I’m sure they’ll pay a handsome sum of jewels and gold to see one of their own walk free from the hands of some ‘nasty’ Corsairs,” he added with a smirk of satisfaction at the cleverness of his plan.

 

“That will never happen!” shouted then Gimli, not taking this anymore. With a swift movement, he had wrenched himself free from one of the two Corsairs that held him by his hands, punching the other so as to get away. However all four of the wicked Men quickly lunged at him before he managed to sprint to safety and pinned him on the ground, their daggers threatening to cut his throat if he so much as dared to move again.

 

“On the contrary, Dwarf. It will happen. Otherwise we’ll just have to find some amusing way to kill you and make up for the trouble we got into because of you,” the captain corrected him, towering above him, the smile that hardly concealed his cruelty never leaving his face. “Tie him up and take him to the ship!”

 

“No! No!” cried out Gimli, struggling to fight back against his captors, but it was of no use. The Corsairs had quickly tied his legs and then his arms behind his back, and they were now carrying him towards the ship. A mixed sense of fear and anger coursed through the Dwarf as he saw the great ship getting closer with every step, and he knew he had to escape. He fought with his bonds constantly but without success. In the end, when they were ready to lock him on the lower decks, Gimli screamed the name of the only one that he wished by his side and aid him in his predicament:

 

“Legolas!”

 

But the crash of the closing door drowned even that desperate call for help and he was left in darkness.

 

Chapter 2: Missing

 

Legolas had watched the backs of the last Corsairs vanishing from view and listened to the sound of cheering from the villagers. Now he was offering his help to anyone who needed it, whether it was a wounded man or a group that was trying to put out whatever flames were still burning close to the houses. From what the Elf could see around him, the village had not taken that much damage, despite the fierceness of the Corsairs’ attack. Some of the huts had been burned down, but, on the other hand, they were far easier to build and repair than an entire village. What saddened him the most were the dead men that were now gathered in the clearing. He gazed at each and every face, his heart beating sorrowfully for the ill fate that they encountered.

 

Dírhavel was telling one of his men to run to the caves and tell the joyous news to the women there, when he noticed the Elf looking intently at the bodies. He sent the messenger on his way and stood by the noble creature.

 

“You haven’t seen death before?” he asked, for he was aware that the Firstborn were immortal beings, never touched by the burden of time no matter the number of years that passed by.

 

“I have, during the War of the Ring no less. That does not mean I enjoy it though,” said Legolas softly. And it was true. He felt that, had these people been warriors, then it would have been the fate destined for them, fighting and clinging to their swords, as is appropriate. But they were only villagers. Their lives should have been among those they loved, growing old by the side of their wives, raising their young, the plough and the shovel the only thing that their hands would wield.

 

Dírhavel nodded, understanding what was on the Elf’s mind.

“Our love for our village has always been a powerful weapon to fight back whatever foes attack us. It was not always enough, but it was and will be ever present, unlike swords and bows.”

 

“And I am sure that, because of it, your village will never fall,” replied Legolas, a small smile tugging on his lips, feeling respect for the elderly Man.

 

“I have to admit that this time it was touch and go,” confessed Dírhavel. “I’m glad that you and your friend came to our aid; and I thank you from the bottom of my heart.”

 

Legolas bowed his head courteously, even though he felt slightly uncomfortable by these words.

 

“We only did what we felt should have been done, nothing more, nothing less, I assure you. And Gimli will agree with me on that,” he said modestly. It was then that he realised something was amiss. He looked around apprehensively.

 

“What’s the matter?” asked Dírhavel, not understanding what had alarmed the Elf.

 

“Have you seen my friend? He said to me that he would meet me after the battle was over.”

 

The grey-haired Man looked around too, puzzled.

 

“No, I haven’t. In fact, I haven’t seen him at all since you first came,” he admitted. “Peleg!” he cried to one of his men.

 

“Aye, sir?” answered the militiaman.

 

“Did you see the Dwarf at all?”

 

“He was chasing the Corsairs away when I last saw him, sir. I thought that he had come back by now.”

 

“Well, he didn’t. Do you remember where he was going?”

 

“He was heading for the river, sir. That way,” replied the villager, pointing in the right direction.

 

“I had better go find him!” exclaimed Legolas.

 

“I’ll gather the rest of my men and help you,” said Dírhavel.

 

“Thank you,” was the Elf’s grateful answer; and then Legolas hurried ahead to find his comrade. Soon, he found himself in a clearing beside the river. But there was no sign of the Dwarf to be seen.

 

“Gimli!” shouted Legolas, his keen eyes looking frantically around. “Gimli!” he called out again.

 

There was no answer. Now the prince of Mirkwood was aware that, even if there was a remote possibility that his friend had neglected to find him after the fighting was over, the Dwarf would at least have answered to his calling by now; and that made him more than a little nervous. It meant that, for some reason, Gimli couldn’t answer him back. Could it be that he was hurt then? Or… dared he think it? Dead? If that had been the case, then he would have found his body somewhere nearby.

 

‘Gimli, I swear, if you are only trying to get back at me for that prank at the river…’ Legolas thought in choking frustration, even though a part of him wished that this were indeed a mere – if tasteless – trick of the Dwarf. However, as the moments passed, that slight hope grew smaller and his worries only multiplied.

 

“Gimli, answer me!!!” Legolas shouted again, feeling his heart contracting. Such was his distraction, that he didn’t sense a pair of dark brown eyes watching his every move.

¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯

 

The young Corsair still watched the strange creature as it continued shouting, feeling his own frustration growing. He wanted the Elf to leave as quickly as possible so that he could continue with his own search for his comrades. They couldn’t be too far away. After all, he couldn’t have been unconscious for too long a time, could he?

 

His throbbing head reminded him once more of his impact with that rock that one of the villagers had thrown at him. His hand felt again the deep gash near his temple and he quickly held back a hiss of pain. He knew that he had to tend the injury, but he had nothing with him to serve that purpose; not to mention that, as a Corsair, he wasn’t supposed to mind of such things. His main concern now was to find his captain and the rest of the crewmembers: the people that he had come to accept as part of himself so very long ago.

 

“Oh, no… Gimli!” sounded the voice of the Firstborn again.

 

The rogue’s eyes locked again on the Elf, who was now holding in his hands an axe that he had picked up off the ground. The brightness of intelligence that was clearly reflected there was replaced by the frost of cold-heartedness; for the young Corsair realised now that, if he was to find his comrades, he would have to do away with whatever stood on his path, even if it meant killing a Firstborn. He was actually quite nervous about that option, since he had been told how dangerous such creatures could prove. He had heard of a single Elf killing about fifty of his own people and even taking over a ship on his own, unaided, when the Númenóreans attacked the city of Umbar during the War. His captain’s ship had been away from that destruction, but the tale reached his ears nevertheless and, even though he didn’t know just how much of it was true, it still served as an important lesson that Elves were not to be trifled with.

 

Just then, he saw the blond creature crouching down, his eyes clearly scanning the ground before him. The Corsair understood at that moment that the Firstborn was still looking for whoever he was calling out to, which meant that he would be too distracted to expect any attack from behind. He waited patiently for a few more moments; then, as soon as the Elf had completely turned his back on him, he unsheathed his sword and, swiftly but stealthily, made his move against Legolas.

 

Despite of all the stories the Corsair had heard about the Elves, none had warned him about their incredible sense of hearing or their cat-like reflexes. Legolas had heard somebody hurrying toward him quite clearly and so turned around in a heartbeat, using the end of the axe to knock the sword away from his attacker’s hand. If the young Man was dismayed by this, he never showed it, for he charged against the Elf once more in an attempt to tackle him. In a flash, the Mirkwood prince had grabbed the Corsair by the waist and pushed him down instead, his silver blades already in his hands before the Man had even landed on the ground. The Corsair quickly rolled on his feet, his hands now reaching for the knives that were attached at his belt of cloth. He threw them against the Firstborn at great speed, but Legolas parried them skillfully and lunged against the attacker, forcing him to the ground once more.

 

“Where is he?” he asked, his knives resting on the Corsair’s neck. If anybody could tell him what had happened to Gimli, it was definitely him.

 

But Legolas’s adversary wasn’t to be put off that easily. Being in his twentieth year of life, he was full of energy, which was pumped up by his natural stubbornness of not wishing to give up even when the fight was in vain. Not to mention that, unlike the Uruk-Hai or the Orcs, he would display cunning instead of brutal force. So, not caring for the knives that threatened to cut his skin, he grabbed some dirt which he threw at the face of the Elf, stunning him long enough to kick him in the stomach and push him away, knocking the knives out of the Elven hands. Before Legolas had enough time to compose himself and wipe the dirt from his eyes, he found himself threatened by yet another of the Corsair’s weapons: a small crossbow.

 

Legolas froze instantly. His face didn’t betray any emotion, but within him he knew that it was probably time for Mandos to claim him, for he was aware that he would never be able to avoid the projectile, despite his Elven speed. He clenched his hands into fists and waited for the Corsair to strike.

 

The Man didn’t shoot however. He had seen what his opponent was capable of doing, so he was certain that the Elf was ready to counter-attack somehow. For all he knew, that creature was probably getting prepared for some sort of trick. Hadn’t he heard of Elves performing magic? Now that he saw that the Elven way of fighting wasn’t pure legend, he felt that even that kind of tale wasn’t far from the truth. So he also stood frozen, regarding the Elf, trying to figure what his next step should be.

 

Legolas looked keenly at the Corsair with a raised eyebrow, unable to understand what was going on in the latter’s mind. He didn’t wish him dead then, but only prisoner? Could that be what happened to Gimli too? That would surely explain why he found only his friend’s axe.

 

His Elven eyes locked again on the Man, embers of defiance shining through them.

 

“What are you waiting for? If you are not to kill me, then take me to your ship!” he said in the hopes that, if he were taken aboard, he would be able to find Gimli there. An insane plan, but it was the best he had for the present, considering that his options were quite limited.

 

The Corsair stared at the blond creature in disbelief, for these words were the last ones he had expected to hear. He thought, even wished, that the Elf would beg for his life, calling on his pity and mercy. Then at least he would have shot him without much thought, knowing that he was just another weakling, not worthy of living. But now… this strength of character to face death or captivity, a fate in many aspects worse than death, surprised him and even puzzled him. It was at that moment that he considered the choice of running away and letting the Elf live. After all, he only wanted to get back to his ship. The Firstborn wouldn’t try to stop him from that if he still had the impression that his life was threatened. Without realising, he took a few steps back, his crossbow always directed at Legolas. It was then that he noticed the bow and the fully equipped quiver on the Elf’s back and another thought occurred to him: that the Elf could just as well shoot him as he tried to run away. No, he couldn’t take any risks: the Firstborn had to die.

 

Legolas, in the meantime, was still looking at the Corsair, watching him taking one backward step after another, feeling no less puzzled by this kind of behaviour. What was the Corsair trying to do anyway? He saw the face, how it betrayed confusion. And it also came across his mind that nobody had joined the Corsair yet, nor did the young Man try to call out for anybody either. It was at that moment that Legolas understood what had happened. The Corsair was probably left for dead and the rest had already sailed away on the ship, not caring for his fate - which meant that Gimli was gone too. Legolas knew now that he had to get himself out of his predicament and go after the ship. But how was that supposed to be done? Just then, he saw something slithering near the Man’s right foot. His keen eyes instantly recognised that something for what it was.

 

“There is a snake behind you.”

 

The Corsair glared at Legolas threateningly, thinking now that he had probably overestimated his opponent. Well, resorting to lies wouldn’t help the Elf, since he didn’t intend to fall for that. He took another step back, bringing himself closer to the snake. Legolas shook his head, understanding that the Corsair didn’t believe him.

 

“I am not lying, there is a snake behind you,” he said again calmly.

 

The young Man only sneered. He stepped back once more, his heel brushing against the snake. Startled by the touch, the creature bit deeply into the Corsair’s ankle. The Corsair screamed in pain, his hands accidentally triggering the crossbow, but sending the arrow in a harmless direction.

 

Legolas seized the opportunity and, after grabbing both his blades and the axe, he quickly ran away, feeling that there was nothing left for him to do but try to find Gimli. And yet, he soon found himself slowing his pace and turning around to see the Corsair slip as he tried to fight off the snake, hitting hard on the ground and rendering himself unconscious. Legolas stood hesitant for a few moments, his eyes locked on the lying form and his mind clearly in turmoil. Gimli was in danger, but what about the Man? He had seen the snake quite well and recognised its kind. Its poisoned fangs would kill any victim swiftly if left unaided.

 

He stood still for a few more moments, knowing that he had to make up his mind quickly, and yet uncertain as to what he was supposed to do. In the end, with one last glance at the river, he hurried to the poisoned Corsair, hoping that his decision wouldn’t cost Gimli’s life.

 

¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯

 

“Set course for North! And let me not catch any of you slacken!” cried the captain in a growl at his men. The crewmembers did immediately as they were told and then Sador (for that was his name, though he never allowed any of his men to address him as that) turned to his second-in-command.

 

“Bring the Dwarf to me.”

 

Ramandur inclined his head in obedience and went to his errand. Sador leaned on the wooden rail of the ship, gazing at the crystal clear waters of the river Anduin as they reflected the golden rays of the sun. For more than thirty years he had been sailing these waters and he had come to know them well, always taking him to the richest towns, where he and his men could pillage everything, or to the poorest villages whenever he was in need of apt pupils: children which he deprived of their homes and trained personally, turning them to bloodthirsty and ruthless rogues, obeying at his command without hesitation. This small force was his pride, if anything could be called by that name, for they were well known even among the other Corsairs for their efficiency in destruction and pain they always left behind wherever they went.

 

And yet he now felt that, after so many years aboard the ship, he still had gained too little to quench his thirst for wealth. It was true that he scattered whatever riches he gained in low pleasures, like all his men did, but he couldn’t do away with those either. Now his one wish would be to find a chance to obtain such great treasures that would suffice him for the remainder of his days, without having to suffer himself to command a ship ever again. He had grown tired of sailing and, moreover, difficult days were approaching as well. The King of Gondor had destroyed almost all the ships of Umbar and the towns and houses of the realm were too well protected now. Whatever threat the Corsairs could be perceived as was no more. He was one of the last of the Corsairs that remained, and he still intended to make the most out of it. So he actually considered it fortunate to capture the Dwarf. The treasures that these creatures held were the greatest that one could possibly imagine, every stone they mined out and worked on bigger and more valuable than the last. If he could lay his hands on even a quarter of that wealth, then he would lead a very happy life indeed.

 

“Captain,” he heard Ramandur saying, cutting him off from his pleasant musings. He saw the Dwarf forced on his knees, his hands and legs still bound, glaring at both Men with unhidden loathing.

 

“You hate it being here, don’t you, Dwarf?” asked Sador with a smirk. “Don’t worry, you won’t have to stay forever… as long as you answer my questions.”

 

Gimli remained silent, waiting with suppressed rage to see where was that fiend getting with this.

 

“I know of your kind. I know of your love for anything valuable and how you strive for years on end to shape all your treasures to what they are. I’ll do anything to get my hands on anything that will content my heart as well. I simply use other means.”

 

“Your means are called murdering and stealing in my parts!” growled Gimli scornfully, but that only caused Sador to chuckle softly.

 

“In this case it doesn’t have to be either,” the captain corrected him. “Tell me to which clan you belong; what’s their wealth; and, after we make a small but profitable trading – your life for a sufficient fee – I’ll let you go and you won’t hear from me again.”

 

“Like I’ll ever tell you!” exclaimed Gimli. Just then, he felt a sharp blow on his back.

 

“Thank you, Ramandur,” said Sador, as his right-hand man placed his club back on his belt. He faced the Dwarf once more, his face calm, but his eyes reflecting his annoyance at the defiant answer he had received. “Are you ready to reconsider?”

 

“What I’ll reconsider is how I’ll kill you if I get my hands on you!” shouted Gimli, beside himself with wrath now, something that earned him another painful hit, this time on the back of his head.

 

Gimli shook off his light-headedness quickly and darted his full-of-anger eyes on the captain, who was now regarding his captive with the superiority he felt he had over him.

 

“Do you persist? Just tell me what I want to hear and Ramandur will stop at once.”

 

“You can beat me to death for all I care, but I’ll still say nothing!” cried the Dwarf, his stubbornness proving a most valuable ally at strengthening his already stout heart.

 

Ramandur was about to strike the impudent captive with his club again, when Sador stopped him by raising his hand. The lowly Man looked at his captain troubled, as the latter commanded one of the crew to take Gimli back to the lower decks. With that done, Sador leaned towards his right-hand officer confidentially.

 

“Make sure he doesn’t get any food or drink for the remainder of the day. Tomorrow at dawn, bring him before me again. We’ll see then just how brave he’ll be,” he said, grinning maliciously.

 

Ramandur grinned back, understanding now his captain’s plan, and went to see that all would be arranged accordingly. As for Sador, he walked slowly towards the prow, making plans with his mind. He believed the Dwarf when he said that he wouldn’t talk if they beat him. So he was aware that he had to break him first to get the information he wanted and get the wealth he so desired. It would simply take him more time, a sacrifice he was willing to make if he was to be rewarded so sweetly in the end. Smiling slightly, he stood at the bow, thinking of all the treasures that would soon become his.

 

¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯

 

Gimli’s eyes adjusted quickly to the darkness of the storeroom he was shoved into. He looked at the rats that eyed him curiously and then at the small puddle of water that had formed by the ship’s hull, wetting his armour.

 

‘Apparently the schooner, or whatever they call these dratted things, isn’t in the best shape,’ thought the Dwarf, rolling his eyes. Despite his bonds, he pushed himself on his knees and moved himself with difficulty away from the puddle, towards a crack in the beams from where he could take a glimpse of the outside world and feel his heart lifted, if only a little. Even though he had spent most of his life mining in Erebor, the kind of darkness to which he was enclosed now dampened his spirits to no end. At least in his homeland he was free and among his people, whereas now he was alone, tied up and held by fiends who were ready to slit his throat at the first opportunity.

 

It was then that his mind strayed to Legolas, his companion and best of friends that he had been fortunate to have the last few years, and his heart sank even lower than before. Did the Elf find out what had happened to him? Was he looking for him? And even if he was, how would he be able to find him, when even he didn’t know the direction that the Corsairs had taken? The only thing that made him still hope was the faith he had in Legolas. Gimli knew that his comrade would do anything within his power to find him and help him, in spite of whatever difficulties chanced to be laid before him.

 

“Well,” murmured the Dwarf, “if the Valar will have it, Legolas, I hope you’ll find me soon. I don’t know how long these crooks will put up with me, but I don’t plan on going easy on them!”

 

He closed his eyes and rested his head against the beams, chanting a song that he used to sing whenever he was mining, trying not to listen to the sound of the water as the ship still sailed onwards.

 

Chapter 3: A Lesson In Kindness

 

The young Corsair woke up again slowly, his head feeling heavy and throbbing in pain. He couldn’t understand at first why he should feel so bad, but in a few moments he remembered all that came to pass, like that he had hit his head… again. If his comrades ever found out about that one they would never give him a moment’s peace with their mocking remarks!

 

It was then that he remembered the serpent that bit his ankle. He quickly glanced at his bitten limb and, to his immense surprise, he saw that it had been bandaged with his own cloth belt. He willed his hands to examine this strange thing, only to realise that they were tied to the trunk of a tree. He checked himself in disbelief, he tried to force himself free, but it was of no use: even though the bonds weren’t tight enough to hurt his wrists, they were still tight enough to hold him in place. He muttered a slight curse, figuring who could have been responsible for this. His eyes searched for any sign of the Elf but there was none to be seen. Just when he thought that he was abandoned, left to the mercy of the wild creatures that could roam about in the wilderness, he heard voices of people, coming closer by the minute.

 

“Are you sure about this, noble Elf?”

 

“I am afraid the signs say so only too clearly.”

 

“This is most ill news. Why would the Corsairs take your friend captive?”

 

“I do not know. Nevertheless he is their prisoner.”

 

It was at that moment that the tied up man saw the Elf and a small group of villagers appearing to his right. The Corsair rolled his eyes a bit, thinking in indignation that the Elf probably had decided to make his predicament a sight to be gloated at. It wasn’t that which made his heart pound hard in his chest however, but rather what was to follow after the gloating. After all, he was among the pirates that had attacked the village only a few hours ago, putting it in flames and slaughtering its defenders. He understood quite well that none would show him any mercy and, after a facsimile of a trial, they would hang him from the tallest pole for the carrion birds to feast on him, warning thus any other Corsair that would pass through there. That’s what he would do were he one of them, anyway...

 

Dírhavel quickly glanced over to the young Corsair with a mixed feeling of disdain and curiosity.

 

“Do you think he knows? What happened to your friend, I mean,” he asked Legolas in a confidential tone.

 

Legolas shook his head no.

 

“He was quite confused when I first saw him. I fear he was left behind for dead and so didn’t see or hear anything.”

 

Another man, who happened to hear the conversation, unsheathed his sword.

 

“Well, let’s make sure that their assumption wasn’t wrong!” he said and approached the Corsair threateningly. However, Dírhavel quickly grabbed him by his arm and stopped him.

 

“No, Gelidor! This isn’t our way!”

 

“And what of it? Did they consider that when they murdered my brother?” retorted the man in exasperation. “The only thing they know is to draw a sword and kill!”

 

“And yet that is what you’re about to do now…” noted the wise man softly.

 

“Because it’s the only language they understand!” shouted Gelidor. “They are nothing but crooks and cutthroats, all of them! The world will certainly not miss this one!”

 

Dírhavel tried to reason with him, but then more people started shouting that the Corsair should die and be an example to anyone else that would set a mind to attack their village. Soon everybody was shouting at everyone, arguing about what should be done with the tied Man, when another voice sounded above the uproar.

 

“Quiet!”

 

Legolas’s cry was neither loud nor angry, but it had such a commanding quality in it that every Man quieted down and stared at the fair creature in wonder. Even the young Corsair had lifted his head once more to look at the Elf and, strangely enough, he waited patiently to hear what the Firstborn had to say in the matter.

 

“I understand your anger against the Corsairs,” started Legolas. “Their cruelty and malice has scarred your village time and time again, even though you always tried to stop them. How many times did you have to grieve for your loved ones whenever your foes wished to satisfy their hunger for booty? How many times did you have to rebuild your lives, only to see them crumble again by their fires? And how many times did you wish to put an end to this, one way or another? And yet, this time you have won a great victory against them. I bid you to use it wisely; for although there is honour in defeating a powerful enemy, there is no honour in beating an already defeated one. There have been enough deaths for today. What you should be doing now is not to fill your hearts with hate for this man,” and at that he motioned his head toward the young Corsair, “but to fill them with love remembering those that died trying to defend the village. Let the victory you gained be enough warning to make any of your enemies hesitant to attack again. For, trust me when I say this, from now on any Corsair will be certain that you will be prepared for him.”

 

Everyone listened to Legolas enthralled, seeing the wisdom in his words. After the Firstborn had stated his argument, Gelidor bowed his head in shame, realising now what he was about to do. Dírhavel placed his hand on the man’s shoulder, hoping that in this way he was assuring him that he did the right thing, and then turned to Legolas once more.

 

“So what do you suggest we do with this one?”

 

Legolas faced the tied up man, who only returned the gaze with defiance. But, even though he tried not to show it, the young Corsair was also intrigued by what he heard from the Elven lips… and a bit apprehensive. A part of him was glad that he was spared, but the other, darker part of him warned him that this meant nothing: that the Elf probably had something else in store for him. He had to admit though that he couldn’t discern any hidden messages in the words the creature had uttered. It was true that he considered such talk about love ridiculous, to say the least. However, he couldn’t understand why they sounded so right even to his own ears and, stranger yet, touched his heart. He immediately shook such thoughts from his mind. After all, an enemy was still an enemy, no matter how fairly he talked.

 

Just then Legolas spoke again.

 

“I will take him with me.”

 

Dírhavel and everyone else’s eyes actually widened at this.

 

“You’re sure of this?” asked the grey-haired man. “The ship is heading North, that much is known, since there’s no other course it could take without us noticing. What more do you need him for? He’ll only slow you down.”

 

“He has vital information for me if I am to help Gimli; like the speed of the ship, the number of men in it, the shifts at night and day and when it is more vulnerable. Information which I do not have the luxury of time to gain by just sitting here, waiting for him to talk.”

 

“But he might not say anything at all.”

 

“That is why I will take him with me. If he speaks on the way, all is well. If not, at least then I will go for Gimli without losing much more time, my task becoming only more difficult.”

 

“I understand what you intend to do,” replied Dírhavel. “And I’d have agreed with you if I didn’t know that the Corsairs are always too numerous to be able to sneak onto their ships. As for fighting them, that is out of the question.”

 

That had Legolas thinking hard, acknowledging that Dírhavel was right. But his face brightened again when he figured a solution.

 

“Can you afford to send a fast man to Minas Tirith?” he asked with a tinge of hope in his voice.

 

“Of course,” said the wizened man. “But why?”

 

“He will carry a message to the king of Gondor: a message saying that Legolas Thranduilion, Prince of the Woodland Realm, asks his help to save Gimli, Glóin’s son, who has been taken captive by remnants of the Corsairs that were placed in disarray only two years ago during the War of the Ring. He will know what to do.”

 

“Everything will be done as you ask,” Dírhavel assured Legolas, something that made the Elf smile.

 

At that moment, a happy neigh was heard, followed by a very eager Arod, gladdened to find his master at last. After he had carried Arminas to safety, he had suffered the company of the women that tended the injured man. That is, until he missed the Elf too terribly and wished to gallop away. Shoneen, who had been instantly at her husband’s side, understood the horse’s anxiety; so she brought forth the packs of the warriors that had helped her, which she had found abandoned by their camp, as well as the horse’s saddle and bridle. After placing them all carefully on the noble steed, she let him go, trusting that his natural instinct and his sense of smell would help him find the way. And now Arod was happily nuzzling the Elf, who, in turn, patted his proud neck.

 

“He arrived just in time,” noted Dírhavel with a grin, looking admiringly at the loyal creature.

 

“Arod is a remarkable horse,” agreed Legolas and then whispered softly into the steed’s ear: “You will help me find our friend Gimli, will you not?”

 

The horse snorted his understanding and compliance, earning a smile from the Elf.

 

“Well, then,” said the Man, “all that is left for me to do is wish you good luck on your quest.”

 

“Thank you kindly, Dírhavel,” said the prince with a slight bow of his head. “Cuio mae.”

 

Dírhavel inclined his head as well, and led the rest of the people back to the village, leaving Legolas, Arod and the tied up Corsair alone. Legolas walked over to the young captive and placed his hands over the latter’s bonds.

 

“I will untie you now,” the Firstborn informed the crook, “but do not even think of escaping: you have seen both my bow and my speed.”

 

The Corsair didn’t bother himself with an answer. He merely glared at Legolas, showing quite plainly his feelings toward his captor. Nevertheless, he didn’t cause any trouble, but remained passively still for the Elf to untie him from the tree and then to have his hands bound behind his back. He didn’t even struggle to wrench himself free when Legolas pushed him up on Arod, something that surprised the Firstborn.

 

Arod’s eyes, however, shone momentarily with apprehension as the stranger settled on his back, something that Legolas noticed. Indeed, it didn’t take an Elf’s natural connection with any living thing to understand that Arod was in distress. The steed’s muscles twitched involuntarily for a moment, while his whole body had stiffened. He did nothing more though, except remain frozen.

 

Noting with fondness how Arod’s faith in his judgement kept the horse from going into a tantrum and trying to shake off the Corsair, Legolas leant close to the kind beast and whispered words of assurance, gently stroking his mane. Quickly enough, Arod had relaxed and was now waiting patiently for his master’s command, something he didn’t have to wait for long.

 

“Aphado nîn,” said Legolas softly in the Elven tongue and he started walking ahead of the horse, who obediently started following.

 

It was then that it happened. Seeing his chance for an escape, the Corsair kicked Arod’s sides with his heels in the hopes that he would make the horse bolt. The noble creature raised its head with a jolt in surprise at this. However, he was an intelligent animal and he quickly understood his burden’s intent. So he still walked, ignoring the Corsair’s kicks and remaining stubbornly close to the Elf.

 

As much as this surprised the Corsair, he didn’t mean to give up that easily. He kept kicking the horse until Arod had grown so weary of such a mistreatment that he neighed gently in complaint to Legolas. Legolas stopped with concern and saw what the Corsair was up to. The prince’s brows furrowed a bit in indignation at this and he quickly walked up to Arod’s side, grabbing the Corsair’s leg and holding it firmly with his hands.

 

“Do not trouble yourself, he will not obey you,” said the Elf, adding with a soft, yet clear tone of warning: “And I suggest you stop kicking him before I forget the politeness of the Elves and break both your legs.”

 

The Corsair stared proudly at Legolas for some moments in defiance. However, whether it was the Elf’s warning or the realisation that the horse wouldn’t run away no matter what, he didn’t try to kick Arod again. Legolas nodded a bit in begrudging approval; then started walking again northwards, always followed loyally by Arod.

¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯

 

Legolas looked up at the setting sun as he and Arod were still walking and sighed. They had been travelling for several hours, and yet the Elf was dismayed that he couldn’t see any sign of the ship and, what was worse, he would have to stop now for the night, unable to carry on in the darkness. It was true that Legolas’s powerful Elven sight wouldn’t have daunted him in the least under different circumstances, while Arod could easily depend on his sense of smell to keep following the Elf. What worried Legolas the most was the Corsair himself. He didn’t want his only connection with the ship to jump off the horse and run away, taking advantage of that very same darkness.

 

The Mirkwood prince sighed as his thoughts strayed again to his quest, and how he was forced to put it off, if only for a few hours. He had hoped that the Corsair’s ship wouldn’t have gained so much distance on him, since it had to travel upstream and the wind wasn’t in the pirates’ favour; but now the prince had to admit that his hopes were proved false. The only thing that kept his heart from despairing was that the people sailing the boat were much fewer now after the damage they had taken from the villagers’ counter-attack, which meant that the ship’s pace was slowed even more. It was true that the young Corsair he held captive didn’t make his own venture to find the ship any easier, but it was better than nothing. For one thing, the young Corsair didn’t try to cause any more trouble while he was on Arod, at least for the time being; while the horse itself did his best to keep a good pace despite his burden, understanding his master’s need for haste.

 

The Elf looked into the sky again to see the first stars twinkling, Eärendil glimmering the brightest of all, and decided that they should set camp before it became too dark to go by. Telling Arod to stop, he pulled the Corsair off the steed and, after tying his legs, placed him on the ground. Making certain that the young Man wouldn’t be able to move away, Legolas went in search of wood and game while the horse was free of saddle, bridle and packs to treat itself to some tasty grass. Furthermore, Legolas searched the ground for any healing plants, because a quick look at the Corsair as he was tying him up showed the Elf why his captive hadn’t made any attempt to escape.

 

The Man’s eyes had a feverish gleam to them and a thin film of sweat covered his face. Legolas’s sensitive sense of hearing also picked up the captive’s laboured breathing. The Firstborn was dismayed to see that, despite his quick reaction, he hadn’t managed to draw out all the snake’s poison from the ankle and now it made the young man sick. It was certainly too little an amount to kill the Corsair, but he felt that there was no need for him to suffer needlessly either. Not to mention the fact that Legolas felt today’s pace was too slow to afford any slackening. So he welcomed the stop, for it was a chance to see to the Corsair’s leg again as well as his other mild injuries.

¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯

 

The young Corsair leant his head against the ground, feeling it heavy, and tried not to think of the throbbing pain in his ankle. He shivered involuntarily, not so much because of the cold air that brushed his form, but mainly because of the cold that he was registering within his body. The young Man was intelligent enough to understand that the poison was to be blamed for his current condition, nevertheless that didn’t stop him from thinking ill of the Elf again: and just when he thought he could respect him for his pride and strength of will too. In fact, it would seem in his feverish mind that he had found at last why the Firstborn stopped the villagers from killing him: the creature intended to watch him suffer as he was slowly succumbing to the snake’s poison! But then reason would shake him out of such thoughts and make him question why his leg was bandaged then and where the Elf had gone, if indeed he wanted to have such loathsome entertainment.

 

He shook his head in resignation, something that made him wince inwardly. His headache was only getting worse and such complicated musings didn’t help matters much either. If anything else, they left him more confused. So he closed his eyes, hoping that upon waking up he would feel better once more; and, soon enough, all thoughts about his captivity were forgotten in a dreamless slumber.

 

The night had settled in when the Corsair opened his eyes again. As soon as his consciousness returned, he was surprised to feel a pleasant sense of warmth surrounding him and his ankle not hurting anymore. He quickly checked himself and he discovered a most curious sight: he was covered in a blanket and the bandages around his leg felt tighter, a sign that his limb had been tended again. Even though he welcomed the blanket and was relieved that he wasn’t in pain, he couldn’t help but feel puzzled as well. He tried to will himself to raise his head in the hopes of finding out what had happened, but without success. He only let out a deep sigh of weariness and let his head drop again to the ground.

 

“So you have awakened,” said a by-now-familiar voice, surprisingly quite close to him.

 

The Corsair’s eyes instantly darted upwards and found the form of the Elf beside him, sitting close to the flames of a bright fire, roasting some meat, the blue orbs locked on him.

 

“Are you feeling any better?”

 

The Corsair didn’t answer. Although he had to admit that he actually felt a lot better, he wasn’t willing to say that to the Elf, for he believed that this ‘touching’ concern of the Firstborn for his health shouldn’t be trusted. He had overheard the Elf talking to that villager how he was planning to make him betray his comrades. And now that his head wasn’t running in circles because of the fever, the Corsair had everything, as he believed, figured out.

 

For one thing, he was now certain that the Elf was only taking care of him until he got the information he was looking for. Once he did, then his captor would either kill him or abandon him in the middle of nowhere, letting the beasts make a feast out of him. Judging by the way the Firstborn was able to command the horse to his will, the Man thought that an Elf commanding any animals of prey against him for sport didn’t seem such a far-fetched possibility either. On the other hand, the Corsair had to acknowledge the fact that the Elf could have resorted to other, much more blatant, means to gain the information he needed and not treat him in such a courteous manner.

 

Still, the young Man didn’t intend on making things easier for his foe or lead him to his people. “Never say anything to an enemy” was one of the first rules he had to learn under the captain’s guidance. In fact, because of this, he planned to not speak to his captor at all. After all, they were supposed to hate each other, not exchange cordial words. So he remained silent.

 

Legolas, however, needed to see what the Corsair’s condition was, so to know if the plants he had picked and used on the sick Man as he lay unconscious were indeed working. So he moved his hand to feel the captive’s forehead for any unnatural heat. That only made the Corsair’s eyes widen in fright and exclaim:

 

“Bâ kitabdahe!”

 

Legolas had learnt enough of the languages of Men in his travels to understand what the Corsair said. In spite of that, he still attempted to place his hand on the Human’s forehead. The Corsair actually tried to move himself away from the Elven hand, but Legolas proved more determined, for his other hand grabbed the back of the Corsair’s head, thus forcing him to remain still while he examined him. The young Man grew rigid immediately at the touch and he relaxed only when the Elf released him.

 

“There, now that did not kill you, did it?” asked Legolas once he found that the Man’s temperature had dropped to normal and so let him be. It was beyond him why the Corsair reacted like that. If he didn’t know any better, he would say that his captive was actually afraid of him.

 

Little did Legolas know just how right he was in his assumption. For, as a matter of fact, the Corsair had feared that the Elf meant to hurt him for not answering his question. Didn’t Sador do just that upon not receiving any answer whenever he was training new children as crew? He himself had felt the back of Sador’s hand more than a few times when he was a boy and so an instinctive fear of abrupt movements was always there; something that, especially in this case, made him angry with and ashamed of himself. If anything, it proved to him how weak he could be at times, when Corsairs weren’t supposed to be. He sighed, feeling that he probably seemed like a poor sight to the Elf now. He was hoping that he could show him the strength of character a Corsair had, only to see that he failed miserably.

 

The Man looked again in the Elf’s direction, half expecting to see him casting a look full of contempt on him. However, Legolas was merely too busy with the meat and didn’t pay attention to his captive watching him. But what surprised the Corsair the most was that, when the meal was ready, the Firstborn cut the meat into two equal shares, then untied him and offered him one of them. The Corsair just stared at the Elf and then at his plate, expecting some kind of trick.

 

Legolas noticed the young Man’s bafflement and raised an eyebrow of curiosity.

 

“I doubt you do not wish to eat because the meal is not to your liking,” he noted.

 

The Corsair remained silent, his mind in turmoil as to what he should do. The smell of the roast made his mouth water and there was nothing he wanted to do more right now than start eating. On the other hand, it was food offered by his captor and his pride wouldn’t let him be fed out of pity like some stray dog.

 

Legolas’s eyes rolled a bit at the captive’s indecisiveness. There were times like this that made him consider the race of Men quite hopeless indeed.

 

“Whether you eat or not is no concern of mine,” he pointed out to the Corsair with a distinct tone of firmness, “but it will be yours when you keep swooning from hunger. And I assure you that you will not prove to me a superiority of will, but rather a foolish way of becoming unnecessarily weaker in your already sickened condition. The choice is yours.”

 

The Corsair gaped at the Elf, hardly believing his ears. The way that the Firstborn offered him a choice as to what he should do was a thing unheard of for him. In the ship he was never allowed to do anything except obey the captain’s commands or face the whip. In fact, if it were Sador before him now and the young Man dared not touch the food, the captain would have knocked the plate out of his hand, have him stripped and leave him with no more food for two days. Furthermore, the Elf didn’t threaten him the way Sador did, but made a reasonable argument. The Corsair had to confess to himself that this was actually a welcome change and that his captor’s words even made sense. So, finally making up his mind, but still with caution, he sank his teeth into the meat.

 

Legolas watched the Man eat, nodding slightly. ‘At least he listens to reason,’ he thought and started eating his own share, his mind trying to figure the best way to help Gimli once he found the ship. However, an uncomfortable feeling of being watched made him look towards the Corsair again. Indeed, the young crook’s eyes were locked on the Elf’s form, even though he didn’t stop eating for a moment. There was definitely a question forming in his eyes, but Legolas could only guess what kind of question it could be.

 

“Well?” said the prince. “The question is already gnawing your mind, so why do you not just ask it and get it off your chest?”

 

The Corsair stopped eating, but he didn’t speak, even though Legolas waited patiently for him to say something. When the Firstborn let out a sigh of resignation and was ready to return to his food, a murmur made him look back at his captive:

 

“Why?”

 

Legolas cocked his head.

 
“Why what?”

 

“Why are you doing this?”

 

Legolas eyed the captive firmly. The Corsair wasn’t making things easier for him the way he circled the subject.

 

“I have done a lot of things in my already long life and I plan to do many more things as well. Could you be more specific as to what you are referring exactly?”

 

The Corsair’s eyes lowered momentarily, but he plucked up courage once again. After all, from what he could tell, the Elf had always been straightforward with him; he could risk being straightforward too.

 

“Helping me,” he said in a stronger tone. “I know you will say that you need me to find the ship, but there’s more to it. You took care of the snakebite on my ankle and took me away from the villagers, which I can justify if you wanted me to stay alive and give you the information you wanted. But you made me climb on the horse and so rest my aching leg when you could have tied the end of my bonds to the saddle and dragged me along while you rode on; you obviously took care of me while I was unconscious, so I’m not feeling sick at all now, when you could have let me suffer in my fever; you covered me with a blanket when you could let me freeze; and now you’re offering me food! What’s your purpose in all this?”

 

“Should there be a purpose?” asked Legolas.

 

“There’s always a purpose!”

 

“Then let us just say that a snake bite is a fate that I do not wish for anyone. That is why I took care of you; that is why I placed you in the saddle and offered you the chance to rest; that is why I did not wish you to feel sick or cold; and that is why I am offering you food so your body can strengthen,” answered Legolas.

 

“But I’m your enemy!” exclaimed the Man incredulously. “My people have your companion and I was ready to kill you!” 

  

“It is not my place to judge those who need my help, whether they are enemies or not,” retorted the Elf. He didn’t want to tell the Corsair, but there was another reason that he didn’t wish for anyone to die like this. His own mother died by snake’s poison, when he was still only an Elfling, and her graceful form lying on the grass while her eyes remained closed was a pain-filled memory that still haunted him at times.

   

“Even if you aren’t sure that they’d do the same for you?” came the Corsair’s question, cutting him off from his musings.

   

Legolas actually laughed at this.

   

“I was sure that you would not do the same for me. That is where we are different.”

   

“Different?” sneered the Corsair, flaring up at what the Elf had just said. “You can be different all you like, Elf, but this world won’t be any better of a place. It’s a world full of dangers and for one to survive, he has to look after himself first!”

   

“Like your ‘comrades’, who left you for dead?” asked Legolas softly.

   

The Man’s eyes widened with realisation. He and the rest of the Corsairs had often left people for dead whenever they boarded their ship after their looting. He had always thought that it was a necessary evil in order for the rest to survive. But now he had to confess that, after seeing things from the perspective of the one left behind, he regarded such a tactic quite cruel. He remained silent, feeling strange as to how these words sounded so correct in his heart.

   

It was then that his darker side revolted. Now he was actually letting the Elf lecture him? He didn’t survive all these years because he was kind to anybody; he survived because he killed before he got killed! Mercy and pity were inventions of the weak, the ones that were just too afraid to draw a sword and so hid themselves behind those words!

   

He raised his head to address the Elf and say just that, only to notice that Legolas had left his seat and had settled on a nearby rock, his back on the Corsair. The Human saw now a quite remarkable chance: his hands were still untied, so all he had to do was untie his legs as well and run away. It was then that he thought of his ankle. He wouldn’t have managed to go too far away with his leg in such a condition. So that idea was out of the question.

   

But there was something else troubling him as well: did he really want to leave? Aboard the ship he faced nothing but threats and punishment, from his own people no less, as well as death and destruction wherever they sailed. And all that for nothing else but a small share of plunder – if Sador didn’t keep it all for himself, that is. It was remarkable, but he felt that, despite his bonds now, he was freer than he had ever been among the Corsairs. On the other hand, he was still captive and he was still at the Elf’s mercy, a notion that he didn’t like at all.

   

He shook his head in confusion, feeling that he was probably still too weak because of the poison to ponder things any further. He lay down with the intention of making whatever plans tomorrow. After all, he knew that his situation couldn’t be any worse by then, and his head would be much clearer.

   

He sighed a bit and closed his eyes. The last thought that crossed his mind before sleep claimed him was that it was a bit odd that the Elf would be so foolish to give him such a chance of escape, even though he himself never took it.

   

However, unbeknownst to the Corsair, Legolas was always on the alert even if he didn’t have his eyes on his captive, for his ears were ready to pick up any sound from the Human’s direction and so react instantly. He only wished to be alone with his thoughts for a while. For one thing, there was something about this rogue that made Legolas ready to give him the benefit of the doubt. He could feel that the Man’s soul was in turmoil now, which, in a way, was understandable: the Corsair just saw an alternative way of treatment, much better than the one he had known on the ship and, even though it puzzled him, it seemed to draw him as well. After all, if the Corsair had disregarded it at once, he wouldn’t have questioned his own captor about it. And he was young, still untouched by the grimness and impassiveness that often came with age in the case of Men. Was there a chance for him to be reformed then? Legolas highly doubted it. But then again, he had seen a lot of things happen in this world and the thought seemed nice anyway.

   

He cast a glance again at the Corsair, who was by now fast asleep, and then resumed again with his watch, waiting patiently for the sunrise.

 

 

Chapter 4: The Meaning of Mercy

 

As the first light of day illuminated the waters of the Anduin, showering them with a bright golden hue, Sador came out of his cabin and barked at Ramandur to come and receive his orders. All signs of slumber vanished from the first mate’s eyes as he rushed to his captain and stood before him, ready to obey any command.

   

“I think it’s high time to break a Dwarf,” said the grey-bearded Man, his eyes glistening in satisfaction with what he had in store for his captive. “Bring him here and, while at it, tell one of the men to bring also a bucket and a brush.”

   

“Aye, captain,” Ramandur answered quickly and then hurried to his errand. In a matter of moments, the crook brought with him a cursing and struggling Dwarf and placed him in a kneeling position in front of Sador. As soon as Gimli touched the floor, he kicked Ramandur hard on his shin, making the latter cry out in pain and surprise. The captain, however, only laughed at this.

   

“Still trying to prove your worth, Dwarf?” he asked mockingly. “Well, rest assured that I’ll show you your place quickly enough.” It was then that a crewmember brought the bucket and the brush Sador requested. “Untie his hands, Ramandur… and do mind those legs of his!”

   

Being cautious in case the Dwarf tried to hit him again, the rogue cut Gimli’s bonds and then held the creature’s hands fast behind its back. Gimli watched through eyes full of anger as the Captain pushed the bucket closer to him with his foot and dropped the brush on the wooden boards.

   

“The planks are dirty, Dwarf. They need cleaning,” said Sador, full of meaning. “Start scrubbing.”

  

Even though his hands were quickly released, Gimli made no motion in compliance. He merely glared at his captor proudly and with a barely hidden loathing. Did that lowly sample of a captain really think that he would actually obey?

  

“I said… Start scrubbing!!!” shouted Sador, the menace in his voice so intimidating that it made everyone on the ship jump.

   

But the stout creature hardly flinched. He gazed at the captain for a few more moments and then, his eyes never leaving the form of the crook, grabbed the bucket and the brush. Sador stroked his beaded beard with a smile, for he assumed that his captive was going to kneel before him like the worm he felt he was and comply without further objection, thus defeating the Dwarf’s spirit. The last thing he expected was for Gimli to throw the contents of the bucket at him, making him dripping wet. And before he had time to register what happened, Sador had even received a well-weighted hit on his head with the brush.

  

“It’s your ship, you scrub it!” declared Gimli, laughter shining in his eyes. The look that he saw on the captain satisfied him to no end and he didn’t bother to hide it.

   

Gimli was not the only one amused by such a sight however; several of the nearby crewmembers saw what had happened and gaped in surprise at the boldness of the short creature. And some of them, as soon as they saw the state their captain was in and before they were able to control themselves, actually burst into laughing fits.

   

That didn’t last long though. For at that very moment, Sador grabbed a club and hit the Dwarf squarely on the head, knocking him out cold. Then he glared at each and every one with such wrath that the sailors’ mirth vanished from their faces at once, to be replaced by fear of the punishment that would certainly follow.

   

“Back to your posts,” commanded the captain, his voice trembling with suppressed rage that was soon to be released with a very loud: “NOW!!!”

   

At that scream, the men snapped out of their confusion and rushed to their work. But Sador was far from finished, for he quickly turned to his second-in-command.

   

“Take the Dwarf to the lower decks. You will give him no food and water and you’ll bring him before me again at dusk.”

   

“Aye, Captain,” answered the first mate. He had already picked up the unconscious Dwarf and was on his way down when Sador stopped him.

   

“Did you see all the men who laughed?”

   

Ramandur nodded on the affirmative, not really understanding what was on his superior’s mind.

   

“Gather all those insolent fools and make sure they get twenty lashes each. I’m sure they’ll find that just as amusing.”

   

“Aye, sir,” replied Ramandur simply, and then went to see the captain’s orders were carried out. As for Sador, he walked up to the rail of the ship and leaned against it with clenched fists, soon to be lost in thought.

   

It was true that he was angry with his men. But, in fact, he was angrier with himself, for he made the inexcusable mistake of underestimating his captive. He wasn’t handling any frightened child now, taken away from its home, but a proud and accomplished warrior. Well, that was a mistake he wasn’t willing to repeat. He meant to break the Dwarf, and he would see to it that he succeeded. If he had learnt anything throughout the years it was that everyone, no matter how brave or strong-willed they claimed to be, had a weak point that made them vulnerable.

   

It was then that his eyes lit up. He had heard of the Dwarves’ treasures, but at that moment he remembered something else that concerned the particular race: something that served like a soothing balm to his hurt pride and made him smile inwardly. Yes, Sador would surely make the Dwarf pay for the humiliation that he, the terror of Anduin, had suffered. And he knew now just how to do that.

 

¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯

 

Always tied and mounted on Arod, the young Corsair’s gaze was locked stubbornly on the Elf, who was walking ahead. Even though he suspected that the Firstborn was aware of his persistent stare, he didn’t care. What mattered to him now was that he had to find a means of escape. Staying captive was simply not an option, although he had to admit that he had been treated more than quite fairly. After all, he knew that bonds remain bonds, even if they are made out of the purest gold or the softest silk.

   

On the other hand, the Man had also made up his mind not to return to the Corsairs, because he felt that he wouldn’t be able to stand being under the command of such a man as Sador was again. As a matter of fact, another hope had formed in his mind and he intended now to see it through. The Human believed that, if with any luck he managed to get away from his captor, he would be able to arrive in an inhabited area, be it village or town, where he would see what he could do. He’d probably find some kind of work near ships, since he spent a large part of his life on one. It seemed strange to him that he would have to make an honest living, but it was still much better than having to watch his back the whole time, haunted by enemies… or guilt.

  

The young Corsair shook his head immediately, not daring to remind himself of things he hadn’t thought of since childhood, and focused again on figuring a means of escape. It was then that an idea formed in his mind.

   

“Elf,” he cried to Legolas, “it’s been too long a ride for me. I need to stretch my legs.”

   

The prince turned his head and, still walking, faced the Man, raising an eyebrow.

   

“You had all night to stretch them.”

   

“Hey, I’m a seaman; I’m not accustomed to riding horses,” answered the Corsair innocently. “Besides, I can hardly call last night a stretch since you didn’t untie my legs for me to walk!”

   

“Your ankle was in too bad a state for that kind of thing.”

    

“It’s not now. Come on, I want to walk for a while. Your horse will certainly like to have me off his back!”

   

Legolas finally stopped and eyed the Corsair intently. All his instincts cried out that this sudden interest of his captive to stretch his legs couldn’t be good. And yet the last thing he wanted now that he had to think about Gimli’s rescue was hearing the Man’s continuous lamenting and requesting. So he went up to Arod’s side, helped the Corsair down on the ground and stooped to loosen the bonds. He was almost done, when the Human quickly grabbed the bow that was on Legolas’s back and run off.

   

“Let’s see how you plan on shooting me now!” cried the Corsair triumphantly and he disappeared through some thick bushes.

   

Legolas, strangely enough, didn’t try to catch the Man. He only watched him go, shaking his head and his face hardly betraying any emotion. Arod witnessed how his master merely stood with his arms crossed over his chest and that struck him as quite odd. He nuzzled against his master, snorting softly in a tone of puzzlement.

   

“Why am I not going after him?” said Legolas in answer to the horse’s question, a small, sly smile appearing on his lips. “Because I know something that our ‘friend’ has forgotten: a seaman may know his way on a ship, but on dry land, he’s as hopeless as a fish out of the water. You do not know where we are, do you, mellon nín?”

   

Arod remained silent, his eyes showing the Elf the clear answer.

   

“We are in a vast area that most people wish to avoid; not because there are not parts of it that are truly beautiful, mind you, but mostly because it’s infested with unexplored swamps that claim the lives of many people who dare travel through them. In fact, the only thing that prospers here are the insects, which are always happy to feast on the blood of anyone unfortunate enough to come to such an ill-favoured place. And now the Corsair is heading exactly to one of the most dangerous parts of the whole area.”

   

At this Arod whinnied loudly.

   

“Yes, I know that I should go find him exactly for that reason, but, truth be told, I am quite annoyed at his stubbornness and mistrust in me and I want to teach him a lesson. Once he realises that it takes two to face the threats of the land and that he needs my help, whether he likes it or not, then – and only then – I will go after him.”

   

It was then that a wail of help, which both Legolas and Arod knew belonged to the Corsair, echoed in the air.

   

“Now I can go,” stated the prince in a matter-of-factly manner. “Dartho sí, Arod,” he commanded the horse with a reassuring pat on its neck, then rushed to the Corsair’s aid.

 

¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯

 

The Human let out another scream. Only a short while ago he was knee-deep in the sandy death trap that he’d stepped into his haste and he now saw, to his horror, that he had sunk up to his waist. He frantically tried to swim to the edge of the quicksand and pull himself out, but it was of no use. It seemed that a great weight was tied to his legs and was drawing him closer to his slow, choking death by the minute. The Corsair didn’t know what to do anymore. He had expected all kinds of deaths: to be slain in a skirmish, to take an arrow through his heart, even to drown in the water; but certainly not here and like this! He cursed the moment that he had decided to take this direction after running away from his captor and he wished he had never left the Firstborn’s side. If anything, he would at least be alive and safe.

   

“Help!” he shouted again amid his sobs of frustration, even though he believed in his heart that it was in vain. The Firstborn had every reason to let him drown, especially now that the young rogue had tricked him. And yet he couldn’t bring himself to wait quietly for his death either. No sane man would do such a thing.

   

He shuddered violently and his eyes opened wide in terror when he felt the sand reaching up to his chin like a blanket that was ready to offer not the comfort of warmth, but the coldness of eternal darkness. Realising that in a few moments he would face his death, he let out one last cry that it seemed to reach up into the sky.

   

It was in that moment that he heard a calm voice near him.

   

“Reach out for the branch.”

   

The Corsair turned, feeling utterly relieved to see the Elf, who stretched out a long branch in his direction, his eyes full of assurance. Without realising it, the Human opened his mouth to utter his gratitude to his captor, but Legolas silenced him.

   

“No time for that,” he said in a, to the Man’s ears, soothing tone. “Grab the branch and hold on to it tightly.”

   

The seaman didn’t have to be told twice. Pulling his hands out from the bog, he knitted his fingers around the only thing that stood between his death and his life while Legolas started pulling hard. Even though the prince’s strength surpassed the human’s, he still faced a lot of difficulty in his task because the Corsair had sank too deeply by the time he had found him. Nevertheless, he didn’t intend on giving up on the twenty-year-old lad, so he kept stepping slowly but surely back, dragging his captive with him, until the Corsair was once again safely out. Legolas watched how the man collapsed onto his knees, the fear he’d been through finally taking its toll.

   

However, when he collapsed, the Corsair didn’t stop to think that he had let go of the branch too suddenly. The Wood-elf found himself plummeting violently backwards, his eyes widening as he sensed how strangely soft the ground where he fell was. It was when Legolas tried to push himself up to his feet that he realised exactly where he had landed: more quicksand.

   

The Firstborn stopped struggling at once, knowing that this would only make him sink more quickly. Instead, he tried to remain completely still, stretched on his back. However, Legolas knew that he was merely postponing the inevitable. If he wanted to escape this certain death, he had to be pulled out of the bog. At first he thought of whistling to Arod and so use the horse’s reins to aid him in his predicament, but he didn’t want to risk the loyal steed’s life. In the end, he had to resort to the last idea that had formed in his mind - and the one he wished most to avoid.

   

“Corsair,” he said simply in a stiff manner. It had been always difficult for him to ask the help even of a friend, wishing to face everything on his own. But now that he had to ask it of an enemy it was just impossible.

   

Even though he was still in a daze, the young Man quickly pricked up his ears the minute he heard the Elf’s voice calling to him. Not daring to rise to his feet yet, for fear that the ground would still sink underneath him, he went on his hands and knees towards Legolas. He gasped when he saw his captor sinking as well. Their eyes, dark brown and bright cerulean, instantly met, reflecting the thoughts of both Corsair and Elf: the one in shocked indecision, the other in stoic patience. At that moment, Legolas sank a little more. Forgetting momentarily his upbringing as a warrior and a prince, he breathed in sharply and his eyes shone with fright.

   

It was then that the Corsair shook himself out of his numbing confusion. Glancing one last time at the Elf, he quickly jumped to his feet and ran off. Legolas shut his eyes and clenched his jaw, believing that his captive had taken advantage of the situation to get away, not caring for the one that he left behind. However, after a few moments, he heard the Corsair’s voice again.

   

“Elf.”

   

Legolas opened his eyes; and he was more than glad to see his bow extended in his direction.

   

“Luckily, I remembered where I threw it,” said the rogue with a small smile. “Grab it, Elf.”

   

With a ghost of a smile appearing on his own lips as well, Legolas reached out and let the Corsair drag him out of the treacherous bog. The Firstborn was light, as all Elves should be, but the grip of the quicksand was powerful. The young Human had some difficulty finally getting Legolas out and, as soon as the prince was safe, they both collapsed on the ground, breathing heavily.

  

Neither of them spoke for a long time. Finally, it was Legolas who broke the silence.

   

“Thank you… Corsair,” he said softly and with some hesitation.

   

To the prince’s surprise, the Corsair answered back.

   

“It’s Erthang.”

   

“What?” questioned Legolas, not really understanding.

   

“That’s my name. Why call me simply ‘Corsair?’” answered the young Man, smiling.

   

The fair Wood-elf actually raised an eyebrow at this, but, in the end, a small smile tugged on the corners of his lips.

   

“Thank you, Erthang,” repeated Legolas. “Although I must admit that I actually thought you would abandon me.”

   

“Believe me, the thought crossed my mind,” confessed the Corsair, “but when I saw you in that pit, I realised what you meant about not wishing for one to face a certain fate, even if he’s an enemy. You didn’t show it, but I knew that you were terrified, just like I was. And, strangely enough, I didn’t want you to go through that terror the way I did.”

   

“And now you know what mercy is about,” commented Legolas.

   

Erthang looked at the Elf, confused.

   

“Not to take advantage of an unfair situation, simply because you can,” specified the wise creature.

   

As soon as these words were uttered, Legolas’s smile disappeared from his lips and he looked hard at the Corsair.

   

“And now, I am sorry to say, I have to take you with me… without any more breaks for stretching.”

   

The Corsair didn’t protest at all, even though Legolas had thought he would.

   

“I know,” he said, “and I promise I won’t try to run away again. It’s just…”

   

Erthang didn’t continue. He merely sighed and bowed his head, thinking that carrying on would be futile.

   

“What?” asked Legolas, intrigued.

   

“You’re going after Sador. He’s the captain of Agannâlô,” answered the young Man. “And I don’t want you to go to him with me along. You showed me a much different way of treatment than the captain would ever care to show anyone and I thank you for it; for now I know I shouldn’t return to the Corsairs ever again. But I can’t betray the people with which I was raised either.”

   

The Elf didn’t say anything, waiting for his captive to explain matters better.

   

“I was taken from my parents long ago, that much I found out. I don’t approve of what Sador did, and I admit there are times that I long for my kin. And yet it was because of him that I learnt how to fight and look after myself, how to be strong and unafraid of everything, to survive in this world.”

   

“But what was the price for that?” asked Legolas again, his bitterness easily discerned. “You killed people that never harmed you in any way other than standing between you and their treasures. And do not say that they had enough to spare, for no treasure is worth being stained with an innocent man’s blood. And what about the children that your people took away from their families? You said that you learnt to survive, but you should also remember the pain you suffered when you were separated from the ones you loved. I will not mention the grief that the parents had to go through after the loss of their offspring as well, a part of their own self torn from them. Quite a reward indeed for the loyalty you offer to such men.”

   

“They were the only family I had,” said Erthang lamely, feeling the merciless yet true words whipping his very soul.  

   

“A family that teaches cruelty is not a family,” retorted Legolas softly, rising.

   

The young corsair’s eyes widened when he heard that phrase, but the prince spoke again, not letting him respond.

   

“We should go. We have lingered here too long and we need to wash ourselves too.”

   

Erthang nodded slightly in acknowledgement and then rose slowly. Soon enough they had found Arod, who had been stomping his feet in worry and impatience till his master came back. Legolas patted the steed’s neck in reassurance and then dug out from his pack some extra clothes to wear after he had cleaned himself up. The Corsair also washed in the nearby pond that the Elf had quickly located, but the prince couldn’t help noticing how thoughtful and quiet his captive – that word seemed somehow quite inappropriate now – had become.  Nevertheless he didn’t worry himself about that for long, knowing that the Corsair could be merely pondering their discussion.

  

Once both Man and Elf were ready, they set off again. And this time Legolas didn’t have to tie Erthang, for he held on to Arod and followed obediently.

 

¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯

   

The sun had set once more. While Legolas was making arrangements for the night, Sador was getting restless aboard Agannâlô. He called Ramandur and ordered him to bring the Dwarf to the upper decks immediately, knowing quite well that he was conscious again; possibly with a splitting headache after the way he’d hit him. And yet he didn’t regret his treatment at all. As a matter of fact, now he was ready to make his prisoner suffer much more than a mere lump on that thick head of his. Turning to his crew, he called to two of his men.

   

“Prepare some rope and tie one end to the rail of the ship. When you are done, bring the richest food we have on board and set the table right where I am! And then bring the others here too!”

   

Both the seamen rushed to obey their captain’s command, even though their backs were still throbbing from the punishment Sador had arranged for them after laughing at him.

   

The table had already been set and all the rogues had gathered round, when Ramandur appeared with Gimli, who was again tied tightly. The first mate had a face that would curdle milk as he was dragging his task by the collar, but Gimli’s eyes shone with immense satisfaction. All who were able to see the second-in-command’s bleeding hand understood what probably happened. Even though they had taken away his hatchets, the Dwarf could still prove quite dangerous to anyone who dared approach him.

   

Sador looked at the Dwarf intently and then turned to the table, watching the latter’s reaction closely.

   

“Well, well,” he commented, grabbing some cold meat with his knife, “Looks to me that you decided to have a taste of Ramandur, since you can’t have anything else. I doubt he was any good though.” And with that he started munching at the meat slowly and with purpose. “Come, Dwarf. You know what I ask from you. Tell me and you’ll have as much to eat as you wish.”

   

Gimli, on the other hand, felt his heart still burning with indignation and hate for his captors. But that was the only thing that kept him determined, for his body was slowly failing him, begging for anything to fill his stomach with. He watched the meal slowly disappearing before him and he felt his mouth watering, even though he knew quite well that that was Sador’s plan. He couldn’t help himself though. Being held here was something that he couldn’t bear much longer: his soul ached to be free again. All this water around him and the rocking motion of the vessel was wearying him and he wished nothing more than for his feet to tread on ground once more.

   

It was then that, to Gimli’s surprise, he remembered the last time that he had been aboard a ship, after Aragorn had led him, Legolas and the Rangers of the North against Umbar. He had felt sick back then, and it was with a relief that he accepted the Dúnadan and the Elf’s comfort. And to think that he had promised himself that it would be the first and last time aboard a ship! He would have actually smiled at the remembrance if he wasn’t aware of where he was. He watched Sador, who was smiling in triumph, obviously seeing that his prisoner was hungry, and let out a small growl. At that moment Gimli’s resolution grew strong again: the captain should not lay a finger on the wealth of his people, no matter what. And, more importantly, he would not break him, Glóin’s son.

   

Now it was Sador’s turn to let out a growl of dismay as he saw the Dwarf’s wavering look grow stern again. Well, that pig-headed creature wouldn’t get away with this so easily!

   

“All right, have it your way,” said the captain through his gritting teeth. Turning his back on his captive, he addressed his men. “You know what to do. Be careful though: Dwarves can’t swim all that well!”

   

Gimli’s eyes widened, hardly believing his ears. Had the captain just ordered his men to…? By Mahal, anything but that!

   

Just then several pair of hands grabbed him.

   

“No!” Gimli shouted at the top of his lungs again and again, but it was of no use. In a matter of moments, while the sailors laughed and sneered, he was tied up by his waist with the rope that was hanging from the rail and thrown overboard.

   

It was fortunate that the rope held Gimli up near the surface, for his heavy armour could have easily made him sink to the bottom of the river in a heartbeat. And yet, as the ship was still sailing, the water was splashing over his face repeatedly, hardly giving him time to breathe. He writhed about, trying to fight against the element, while the crewmembers only cheered on.

   

“You were thirsty! Here’s all the water that you can get!” shouted a rogue tauntingly.

   

“Is it cold enough for you, Dwarf?” cried out another.

   

“Fancy bait, don’t you think, lads?” remarked a third.

   

“I wouldn’t count on it! The fish will never be able to find anything edible, what with all that hair!”

   

The sailors roared with laughter, but Gimli didn’t pay any attention to them. He was focusing all his efforts on keeping his head above the water, though he was quickly getting tired. When it seemed that he would finally let himself sink, he heard Sador shouting at the men to pull Gimli up.

   

As soon as he was brought on board again, Gimli coughed out all the water he had swallowed and collapsed, exhausted by his fighting and his fright. However, Sador wanted to have the last word. Grabbing the Dwarf by his wet beard, he looked into his eyes, almost piercing him through with his merciless stare. 

   

“On this ship, the only king is me! And it’s best not to anger a king, since he’s in control of your life! Remember that, and don’t dare oppose me again!” he declared with a hiss. “I’ll give you one more chance! One more chance, mind you, and then, if you refuse, it’ll be on your head!”

   

With that, he let go of Gimli violently and signalled to Ramandur to take him away. Ramandur complied at once, carrying the shivering, drenched Dwarf down to the lower decks. As soon as he placed his burden down, he kicked Gimli hard in the stomach.

   

“Not so tough now, right?” smirked the seaman before leaving, locking the prisoner in darkness. All Gimli was left to do was curl himself on his side as much as his bonds allowed him, attempting thus to lessen the cold he was feeling, and hope dearly that Legolas was coming for him.

 

 

Chapter 5: Catharsis

   

The first teasing light appeared from the East, bathing the world in shades of grey. Nothing could be seen in the still of the dawn as nature kept sleeping, waiting for the rays of the sun to stir everything back to life; the only thing to be heard was the slight groan of the wooden boards of Agannâlô as it swayed gently, the water stirring at her passing.

   

Aboard the schooner itself everything seemed serene and peaceful, there was hardly a creature stirring yet. However, there was one man that paced up and down his room restlessly, his gaze so piercing as he was lost in thought that it seemed a hole would open in the boards at any minute.

   

Sador was getting quite weary of the Dwarf and that was a fact. He tried to make his captive talk more than once, and yet the latter wasn’t willing to give up! All his punishment and torture seemed to have been in vain as that fool kept denying him repeatedly. This wasn’t the way it was supposed to happen! After all, he was the Terror of Anduin, a name that he justly earned, and he wouldn’t allow a petty Dwarf oppose him in such a way. For one thing, he desperately wanted to get his hands on the booty that would ensure his retired life and he saw that chance slipping away more by the hour.

   

But there was something else that concerned Sador more. He feared that he was losing face to his crew. Whenever he interrogated Gimli, he was in fact having a match with him, a test of each other’s strength of will, which every member of the crew watched with interest. If the Dwarf won that match, then the men could easily assume that their captain was becoming weaker, resulting in mutiny against his person, a fate Sador wasn’t willing to accept. Even if his captive refused to comply in the end, he would make sure to show everyone that he could still prove cruel and ruthless.

   

Sador looked outside from the small window and saw the sun rising in all its glory. It was now high time to see what the captive’s intent was: to co-operate, or face a slow and painful death. So, he went outside and spotted one of his crewmembers sleeping nearby, exhausted from his night watch.

   

“Get up, you lazy sea-rat, and fetch me the Dwarf! Now!” barked Sador, kicking the rogue hard.

   

The pirate woke up instantly with a small cry and, still trying to sort his thoughts after his slumber and rubbing the sleep from his eyes, went mechanically to his errand. When he returned with Gimli, the captain was leaning against the rail, holding the whip he usually used for punishing his crew.

   

“Well, Dwarf? What do you plan on doing?” asked Sador, his face serious and threatening. “You’ve seen how I treat those that dare stand up against me; I can assure you that this is only a sample of what I’m actually capable of doing! Tell me the name of your clan and I promise you the suffering will end. Otherwise, once I’m through with you, you’ll wish you had never been born.”

   

Gimli looked up at the captain through weary eyes, his face looking haggard. He had hardly been able to rest because he had started feeling sick again after so much time aboard the schooner. He was even glad that he hadn’t eaten anything for the last couple of days, for his stomach was churning violently and it took him all his will power to disregard it, just the way Legolas had advised him to the previous time he had been on a Corsair ship. On the other hand, it was with great difficulty that he registered what his captor was telling him, since his head felt as though it was swimming and he could hardly think straight. But there was something that he still knew deep in his heart: one cannot have dealings with the enemy. So he cried out defiantly and with finality:

   

“I’ll never tell you!”

   

Sador shouted out his rage at once and slapped the Dwarf hard. Aule’s creation was feeling so weakened at that moment that he didn’t even put up a fight, but landed in a heap on the ground.

   

“You just condemned yourself to death,” growled the captain and then turned to the crewmember who was still standing by. “Tie him to the middle mast. The way you were tied yesterday!”

   

The seaman understood at once what was on his superior’s mind and, not wishing to receive more lashes, he grabbed Gimli and saw to Sador’s command. As soon as the Dwarven prisoner was tied securely, the captain shouted for all the men to come and witness the captive’s punishment.

   

Gimli felt all the crewmembers’ eyes locked on him and yet he couldn’t bring himself to bother about it. He leant his head against the mast tiredly, shuddering only slightly as Sador unclasped the Dwarven armour and tore the shirt that was hidden underneath to reveal Gimli’s back. It was then that the lashing began.

   

The stout Dwarf immediately bit his lower lip to drown the cries of pain that threatened to leave his lips every time that the whip cracked on his back, and yet his torment was too much to bear for long. His hands had quickly clenched into fists and his whole form trembled. Soon enough, Gimli felt something trickling down his back and he knew that it was his blood. It took him a great effort, but he didn’t shout once, for he wasn’t willing to give that fiend of a captain that kind of satisfaction.

   

Finally, Sador stopped, looking pleased with the red marks that marred the captive’s back. But that was not enough to satisfy his cruel soul. He signalled his men to untie the Dwarf, who, as soon as he was released, collapsed onto the wooden boards.

   

“Is that the best you can do?” Gimli asked hoarsely, grinning weakly. He wanted to have the last word, his stubbornness still strong.

   

The Corsair actually laughed, something that puzzled Aule’s creation. Just then, Sador sat on his heels and forced his captive to look up at him.

   

“On the contrary, Dwarf. This is merely the beginning of what awaits you!” he hissed near Gimli’s ear. Even though his tone softened at the next words, what he had to say was most terrible.

   

“Do you know what happens to anyone that stays under the sun? Of course it is pleasant at first. Warmth cloaks you and acts as a soothing balm to your pained muscles and bones. But that warmth changes slowly to discomfort. You sweat, your body trying to fight the heat and yet it’s not enough. Your breathing gets shallower in your attempt to rid more heat, but this only results to your mouth drying and your slowly cracking lips begging for a little water to quench the thirst that now starts tormenting you. And then it starts: your skin becomes red and it feels like burning, while the slightest of touches can cause great pain. However the rays of the sun continue to shower you relentlessly and soon the first blisters start to show. The wounds in your back ache as though you’re stabbed repeatedly and yet there’s nothing for you to do, but try to shout your pain, only to see that your throat is too dry to do even that. But wait, the sun will have to come down, surely? The heat will become less and so the torture will be over, right? Oh, no… it’s then that the insects appear. Care to feel their sting?”

   

Gimli shuddered at this, his blood freezing in his veins as he understood what the captain’s intent was. Sador, however, ignored his captive’s look and turned to his men.

   

“You know what to do, scum! Put him up on the mast!”

   

Several pair of hands grabbed the Dwarf’s broken form and started tying his hands, while others swiftly climbed up the mast with the rest of the ropes that would hold the captive up. As they climbed down, they dragged the ropes with them so they could lift Gimli more quickly. They tied the end of the ropes around the base of the mast and they left the creature hanging, exposed to the fiery element of the sunrays.

   

“One last thing, Dwarf!” shouted Sador up at his captive. “You will remain there, suffering the same fate every day till your last breath; even though it will please me to hear you begging me to end your torment, I’ll never offer you that pleasure!” With that final word to the short creature, he turned to his men. “Turn the ship around! If we can’t have any Dwarven treasure, we’ll settle for the cities’ coffers in the South!” the cruel Man barked, then left for the lower decks.

   

Gimli watched the captain disappear and then looked at his bonds. He knew he wouldn’t be able to free himself, not even if he was in his best shape, which wasn’t the case now. What was worse, the sun was already fairly up, so the rays proved merciless as they fell on his back. Soon enough, he couldn’t take it any more.

   

“Legolas…” he murmured, just before blackness surrounded him and he fell to a swoon, his last thought straying to his companion and friend. However all his hopes of being saved were now almost gone.

 

¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯

   

Legolas awoke with a start as a cry pierced the air. He sat up at once and quickly spotted Erthang, who was thrashing wildly in his sleep. In an instant, the Wood-elf rose and rushed to the Corsair’s side.

   

“Erthang…” he said, grabbing the young Man by the shoulders and shaking him in the hopes of waking him up. But that only made the lad shout again at the top of his lungs the same cry his lips let flow out before:

   

“Déor!!!”

   

“Corsair, wake up!” shouted back Legolas, shaking Erthang more violently. He didn’t like to startle the Man that way, but there didn’t seem to be any other choice left.

   

Erthang snapped his eyes open, clearly in confusion until he met the Elf’s calming gaze.

   

“You were only dreaming,” said the Firstborn in an assuring tone, answering the Corsair’s puzzled look. “There is nothing for you to fear.”

   

Legolas watched how the lad sat up, his eyes sparkling with realisation. And yet, strangely enough, there was no relief discerned there, only utter sadness.

   

“I wasn’t dreaming,” said Erthang, his voice hoarse with emotion; and before he could control himself, he hid his face in his hands and started weeping bitterly.

   

Taken aback by that reaction, Legolas watched the Corsair, baffled, until in the end he did the only thing he could think of: he wrapped his arms around the Man’s form in comfort, something that Erthang didn’t fight against, and indulged him to let out his grief; the rising sun being the only witness to this unusual scene.

 

¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯

   

A few moments passed before the Corsair seemed to have finally calmed down, but Legolas didn’t let him go. He still stroked the Man’s back gently in comfort, like he would have done to his little brother had he one. After all, he’d had his own share of grief in the past and he didn’t like to watch others suffer in that way if he could help it.

   

As for the Human, he didn’t seem to mind that kind of attention at all, surprisingly enough. As a matter of fact, he was now resting his head on the Elf’s chest, his eyes half-open and savouring as much of that embrace as possible. A few days ago, Erthang would have been ashamed of this display of weakness. However, all he wanted now was to feel comfortable and safe, just like he had felt in his mother’s arms when he was a child; for the ice that had shielded his heart from such feelings all these years was finally melting.

   

“You remind me a lot of him, you know,” he finally said, “even though I didn’t wish to believe it at first.”

   

“Who?” asked Legolas.

   

“Déor,” answered the Corsair, gently pulling himself away from the Firstborn’s arms and sitting a bit further away. “Not so much in appearance, mind you, but more to his notions and actions.”

   

The Elf’s gaze locked on the Man, raising an eyebrow in mild curiosity.

   

“He was kidnapped by Sador, at about the same time I was taken away too,” explained Erthang. “He was two years older than me… although I suppose there isn’t much difference between the ages of eight and ten. And yet, there was something different about him, especially in the eyes. The only way I can explain it now, at this age, is that it seemed they didn’t sparkle with the care-freeness of youth but with aged wisdom. Back then though, he seemed as a vague mystery to me: not in any dark manner, but as something full of light. I was drawn to it like a moth and I wanted to be at his side, despite the fact that the other children avoided him. And it wasn’t long before we became good friends, even comrades. I don’t know what made him see in me a companion; nevertheless I was glad he did, for I saw in him the brother I never had.

   

“Still, Déor wasn’t happy aboard the ship and that was a fact. Even worse, he never tried to hide his loathing from Sador, something that the captain was aware of. He tortured Déor the most because of that, even for mistakes that the other children happened to make. Until one night, Déor decided that he would bear it no more. He woke me up, we grabbed some food and we tried to get off the ship, in the hopes that we would have swum away to safety before we would be missed. But luck wasn’t on our side. The clouds that protected us from the eyes of the lookout moved away and the moonlight betrayed us just when we were ready to climb off the rail. Before we had any chance to dive, the men had captured us and brought us before Sador, who had just the right punishment for us.”

   

“What did he do?” asked Legolas.

   

“He gave us a knife each and ordered us to fight each other to the death, his men that circled us forming an arena for the tasteless sport that was to follow. Under the vigilant eyes of everyone, there was nothing left for us to do but attack. Déor was calm, but I wanted so desperately to burst into tears that my vision was too blurred to hit anything but thin air, while Déor avoided my knife swiftly and surely.”

   

“And yet you won, apparently,” noted the Firstborn softly.

   

“No! That’s just it!” exclaimed Erthang, a new set of tears breaking forth. “I got pinned on the ground, but he just threw his knife away! It was then that I pulled my knife and killed him. I can see his face when he got stabbed, even now, whenever I close my eyes, because the moon still shone on him when he fell!”

   

Legolas’s heart wrenched violently at the terrible story that the Human told him and at that moment he felt truly sorry for the Corsair.

   

“You are young and back then you were even younger. You wanted to live. Nobody can blame you for that…” he said, trying to comfort the Man.

   

“Nobody can blame me for living at someone else’s cost?” replied Erthang with a wry chuckle. “To cut a long story short, in the end I managed to make myself believe that I lived because Déor was weak, just like Sador told me after my ‘victory’. But you helped me remember that it’s not true. Déor was stronger in heart not to betray his beliefs and ideals. Not to betray our friendship while I…” Erthang paused, not daring to continue. He only added with a sigh as he bowed his head: “I’m a monster.”

   

That actually made Legolas place his hand on the lad’s shoulder and lock his cerulean gaze on the brown one.

   

“No… you are human,” he corrected Erthang, a small, assuring smile tugging on his lips. “And do you want to know what I think? It seems to me that Déor had faith in you and that is why he wanted you to live, even if it meant his own death. He cared for you so much that he wanted for you to find the opportunity to do something with your life and make amends for the wrongs you have done.”

   

“Judging by the fact that I’m still a Corsair, I’ve wasted that opportunity.”

   

“Did you?”

   

Erthang looked at the Elf, puzzled. But, as he understood what his new companion just told him, he nodded slowly, his face set in determination.

   

“I’ll help you find your friend. You won’t have to mourn him, I promise you.”

   

Legolas smiled broadly at that oath.

   

“And I will help you rebuild your life. Minas Tirith is a great city, but I am sure its king will accept one more man who is ready to offer his services.”

   

“Thank you,” said the Corsair, deeply touched. Just then, he remembered himself. “We have to set off soon.”

   

“We set off now,” said Legolas, rising on his feet. “Pour water on the ashes of the fire, I will call Arod.”

   

And with no other word, they both made all the arrangements and started their pursuit once more, this time as a team.

 

¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯

   

Both Elf and Man never slackened their pace, not even when the sun went down, for such was their haste. Too much time was lost amid the stops and the trouble the young Corsair had caused, and now that time had to be recovered if Gimli was to be saved. Legolas ran ahead, his Elven sight proving most valuable now; Erthang followed closely behind, running without error, his once-injured ankle now forgotten; and last was Arod, loaded with the Firstborn’s pack. The moon had risen high up in the dark sky, illuminating everything in its silver light, when, all of a sudden, the Wood-Elf froze in his tracks.

   

“What is it?” asked Erthang, also stopping.

   

Legolas didn’t answer at once, but crouched behind some bushes and signalled to the Corsair to come close to him. The Man complied at once and turned his gaze to where the Firstborn pointed. He gasped as he saw a ship anchored near the western shore, not too far away from where they lay hidden.

   

“It’s Agannâlô,” he finally said.

   

“Are you certain?” asked Legolas.

   

“I’d recognise that fine, sturdy outline of hers anywhere. What troubles me is,” replied the lad, “why does the prow point southwards? I could have sworn I heard in your conversation with that old man that she was heading to the north.”

   

“That is what Dírhavel said,” argued the Firstborn, his hands clenching into fists. “It seems the Valar are on our side this time. They have even stopped sailing for the night.”

   

It was indeed quite a fortunate chance for the two pursuers. Sador had ordered that the ship could drop anchor every night, since the Corsairs were no longer in the haste they were before. Moreover, the rogues were once more approaching the realm of Gondor and extra caution was necessary for any patrolling enemy ships. So they had found a secluded point at the riverbed with the intention of resting and setting off again by dawn. In fact, with the exception of three crewmembers that kept watch, everyone else was sleeping. Legolas could clearly see the three Men pacing back and forth, and he pointed them out to Erthang.

   

“I saw them too,” the lad said.

   

“Do you know where they could possibly keep Gimli?” asked the Elf, when his sharp eyes caught a most pitiful sight, which made his heart miss a beat.

   

Up in the middle-mast of the schooner was the Dwarf, the ropes still holding him in place and his beard swaying gently at the whim of the night’s breeze. Gimli’s form, however, wasn’t moving at all.

   

“Ai, law…” breathed out Legolas before he could help it.

   

Erthang looked at the Firstborn in wonder and then towards the bound Dwarf. Understanding what the fair creature feared, he clasped his Elven shoulder reassuringly.

   

“He’s alive,” he said, “I don’t know what your friend did to receive the worst punishment one can get upon Agannâlô, but I know Sador would never leave him up there dead.”

   

“There is no reason to leave him up there,” replied Legolas, still abhorred by what he saw.

   

“I know. That’s why I have a plan.”

   

“A plan?” echoed the Elf incredulously.

   

“Do you trust me?”

   

“What?”

   

“You heard me. Do you trust me?”

   

The Mirkwood prince pondered on the question for a few moments before he finally answered.

  

“I must trust you for Gimli’s sake.”

  

Erthang smiled.

   

“It’s a good enough answer for me,” he said. “Now listen carefully.”

 

¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯

 

The lookout went up to the prow, yawning widely. There was nothing to be seen or heard on such a peaceful, moonlit night, so it was beyond him why the captain insisted on the watches. Still, orders were orders and he didn’t want to face Sador’s wrath if he so much as thought to disobey him, especially after what had happened to that Dwarf.

   

A plank creaking under some weight made the pirate almost jump. He grabbed his knife and looked around nervously.

   

“Who’s there?” he demanded as bravely as possible. To his surprise, somebody chuckled heartily.

   

“For shame, Morleg! Is that how you greet another Corsair?” said a voice mirthfully and a form stepped out of the shadows.

   

“Erthang?” exclaimed Morleg in a surprised tone. “I thought you were dead! How did you get here?”

   

“No time for that. I’m afraid there’s some bad news. It seems your ‘prize’,” and at that Erthang nodded in Gimli’s direction, “will bring you more trouble than you think. His friend, an Elf, is planning on reclaiming him.”

   

“An Elf? How did you--?”

   

“Wait, there’s worse,” interrupted the young Corsair, stepping closer, “That Elf has already found the ship and he’s ready to climb aboard.”

   

“But how do you--?” started Morleg again.

  

“And you want to know what’s the worst of news?” said Erthang once more. What followed next happened in a heartbeat. In the blink of an eye, the twenty-year-old lad had punched Morleg in the stomach, leaving him without breath, and then wrenched the knife out of the latter’s hand, only to use it to cut the lookout’s throat.

   

“I’m helping him,” he finally said tonelessly, watching his adversary’s life ebbing away. In moments, the young Corsair had tied his former comrade’s body in a rope and lowered it with a gentle splash into the waters of the Anduin, just as he had done with the other two watchers.

   

With that done, he rushed to the rail and looked for the anchor rope; on the end that disappeared beneath the water he could discern Legolas, waiting just under the surface. Using his knife and the moonlight, he signalled to the Firstborn to climb on board quickly and then they both went up the mast to Gimli’s side. Seeing the lad climbing with an ease that could only be compared to an Elf’s made Legolas understand how well adapted Erthang was to the life of the sea; and he was certain that Aragorn would be able to find a good position for the defector on the Gondorian ships. Erthang’s knowledge would prove most valuable.

   

When they finally reached the top of the mast, Legolas bit his lower lip in order not to exclaim his sadness and pity. The Dwarf’s face and chest were red and felt hot to the touch, whereas his back and shoulders was marred with whiplashes, covered with dark blood-crust.

   

“Gimli…” whispered Legolas to his friend, but there was no answer. His heart contracted violently, he helped Erthang to cut his companion’s bonds and lower him to the deck. As soon as they were down again, Legolas wetted a piece of cloth with a gourd the Corsair gave him, and gently wiped Gimli’s face. At that moment, Aule’s creation stirred and lolled his head sideways.

   

“Lu… lu…” he moaned, but Legolas grabbed his friend’s hand in assurance.

   

“It is me, Gimli,” he whispered near the Dwarven ear. “Please, open your eyes.”

   

Slowly drawn out of his unconsciousness and with a great effort, Gimli complied. He had recognised that voice even in his current state and he needed to know that he wasn’t dreaming. As soon as his tired orbs focused on his Elven comrade, he actually smiled, despite the pain his cracked lips caused.

   

“What… took you so long?” he asked, his voice coming out with a rasp.

   

“I had a small problem to handle,” admitted the Wood-elf, looking meaningfully at Erthang. Gimli was ready to protest at the Corsair’s presence, but Legolas added quickly: “Everything is all right now.”

  

The Dwarf nodded wearily in a sign that he understood, but then looked around as if in search of something.

   

“What?”

   

“Armour… and hatchets.”

   

“I’ll get them,” volunteered Erthang immediately and, turning to Legolas, he said: “And then we leave as quickly as possible. We’ve lingered here long enough.”

   

“Agreed,” replied the Firstborn. “We will wait for you here.”

   

The Corsair nodded a bit and rushed to the schooner’s storeroom, for he was certain that he would find the Dwarf’s belongings there. He picked them all up swiftly and immediately hurried to find the Elf, who was still kneeling beside Gimli.

   

“I got them. Let’s move out!” said the young Man. But at that instant he noticed how tense Legolas was and how protectively he held his friend against him.

   

“What is it?” Erthang asked in wonder, but the tip of a dagger suddenly resting dangerously close to his throat was more than enough answer. Looking around, he saw more men in the shadows, already aiming at the Firstborn with their crossbows, and among them was Sador, clearly displeased with this turn of events.

   

“I never expected to see you again,” he said, walking up to the defector. “Much less helping our enemies.”

   

“Surprise,” came the grim answer. That only earned Erthang a backhanded slap from the captain.

   

“Is this how you repay me?!” screamed Sador at the top of his lungs. “Turning against your own people?!”

   

“Just against the one who made me what I am.”

   

The cruel Man turned and glared at Legolas.

   

“What nonsense did you fill his head with, pointy-ears?”

   

“Nothing that was not already there, if only drowned by your malice,” answered the prince defiantly.

   

“He made me remember, Sador. Nothing more, nothing less,” seconded Erthang.

   

“Really?” said the captain scornfully, drawing his own crossbow and pointing it directly at Legolas’s head. “Let me remind the two of you how easily an immortal can die!”

   

Legolas hardly flinched, but awaited the hit to fall patiently. However, at that very moment, one of the Men cried out: “Ship closing in on us!”

   

All the crewmembers turned around in their surprise to see a great battleship sailing towards the schooner at great speed. The Elf’s sharp vision quickly identified the banner of the attacking ship: it was the White Tree of Gondor, crowned with seven stars.

   

“Aragorn…” he whispered, scarcely containing his joy.

   

It was indeed the King of Gondor sitting by the prow of the battleship and ordering his men to fire the ballistae.

   

The aim was without error and Agannâlô shook at the hit in protest. She was no match for the Gondorian ship and that was a fact.

   

“At your posts, maggots!” cried Sador. “Pull down the sails and manoeuvre in the direction of the wind!”

   

The men rushed to comply at once, their captives forgotten. As another hit broke the ship’s hull, Erthang seized the opportunity and ran to Legolas.

   

“We’ll have to jump,” he cried, “or else we’ll go down with her!”

   

Legolas had nodded his understanding and started carrying Gimli away when the Dwarf cried with whatever strength was in him: “Behind you!”

   

Sador, seeing his foes ready to escape and blinded by vengeance, had fired his crossbow. Legolas crouched protectively over Gimli, expecting the arrow to land in his back at any minute. It was at the sound of two thuds that he raised his head in surprise to lay his eyes on a sad sight: he saw Erthang on his knees, the projectile sticking out of his chest. Sador was lying flat on the deck, already dead, the lad’s knife still in the cruel man’s heart.

   

“He taught me well,” murmured the Corsair bitterly, his breath coming out in gasps.

    

“Erthang…” started Legolas, extending his arm to the defector. The young Man’s pained look stopped him though. They both knew it in their hearts that this wound couldn’t be mended.

   

“Go,” whispered Erthang.

   

“What about your life as a free man?” asked the Firstborn, his eyes glistening in sorrow.

   

“I’m already free,” the Man assured him, a ghost of a smile appearing on his features. “Go.”

   

Legolas smiled back weakly, nevertheless, he didn’t move yet. He remained frozen, watching Erthang’s eyes losing their sparkle of vitality. In a matter of moments, the young Corsair’s kind heart had ceased to beat, and his lifeless body had collapsed on the deck too.

   

“Hiro le hídh ab ‘wanath,” whispered the Mirkwood prince sorrowfully, saying in this way his farewell. He picked up Gimli’s belongings and then the Dwarf.

   

“I can walk,” the stout creature tried to protest.

   

“Only we will not walk,” replied the Elf. “I am sorry, Gimli.”

   

“For what?”

   

“For this!” answered Legolas, jumping instantly into the water. Such was his speed that his companion’s exclamation of surprise came out underwater.

   

But swimming proved more difficult for Legolas than he thought. Gimli’s things were slowly sinking him lower, while the Dwarf was becoming desperate for air. The noble Elf did his best to swim to the surface and breathe into Gimli’s mouth some of his own air, but it was of no use. Just when things were turning for the worse, the Firstborn’s eyes saw a rope, thrown from the battleship. He grabbed it without hesitation and soon he felt himself being pulled up.

 

¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯

   

“All the survivors of the sinking ship are to be placed in the lower decks,” commanded Lord Elessar to his first mate, who swiftly went to see to his lord’s order. At that moment, another of the sailors approached the King of Gondor.

  

“Sir, we fished out something mighty strange: an Elf and a Dwarf, who claim that they know you. In fact, they wish to speak with you.”

   

Aragorn’s eyes shone brightly at this.

   

“Take me to them.”

   

“Aye, sir.”

   

And so it was that Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli, the Three Hunters, were re-united. Lord Elessar, as the Man was known now among his people, put aside his kingly demeanour and hurried to his friends, who were equally glad to see him as well. Aragorn saw the bad shape that the Dwarf was in and he carried the sunburnt creature with Legolas to his quarters, where the king could tend to him personally.

   

“I am glad you found us,” said Legolas, while the Man was placing some cooling salve on Gimli’s body. “I feared you would not get my message in time.”

   

Surprisingly enough, that made Aragorn chuckle in amusement.

   

“I never got it,” he said, answering his companions’ puzzled look.

   

Legolas and Gimli actually gasped in surprise.

   

“Then how did you…?” they both cried, dumbfounded. But they never finished their sentence, since Aragorn quickly started explaining.

   

“I received news from one of Gondor’s outposts that a Corsair ship was roaming on the river three days ago. So I prepared Galaearon and the very next day I sailed to find out matters for myself. On my way northwards, I came across a village that was attacked by the enemy schooner, the one that you two had helped in fact. Upon asking, a man by the name of Dírhavel told me what had happened to you, and so I knew there was no time for me to lose. Having faith in Galaearon’s speed, I sailed on, keeping my eyes open for the schooner or you, Legolas. Just when I was ready to lose hope, one of my men saw Arod by the river bank – we brought him aboard and he is anxious to see you, mellon nín – and, soon enough, we came across the Corsairs too. You both know the rest, more or less, although I would like to hear your tales also.”

   

Gimli told his story first, followed by Legolas. When the Elf had finished, both the Dwarf and the Man shook their heads sadly.

   

“I am sorry he had to die. He sounded like a truly penitent man,” said Aragorn.

   

“Aye, I wish I had come to know him better,” seconded Gimli.

   

“Here is an idea,” stated the king. “I will send people to enquire about Erthang, to see if his family can be located. If it all goes well, we will go to his village and place an honorary tomb there, lest he is forgotten.”

  

“And if nothing is found?” asked Legolas.

   

“Then we will come back and build the tomb here.”

   

The Mirkwood prince smiled, approving of the idea.

   

“I am sure Erthang will appreciate this, wherever he might be.”

   

Lord Elessar and Aule’s creation smiled back, but Aragorn grew serious once again.

   

“You both need your rest, you have been through enough. I should let you sleep.”

   

“Frankly,” commented Gimli, “I’ll feel better once I do this.” And with that, he quickly cuffed Legolas on his arm. “Ow!” he cried out, and instantly held his hand protectively. He had forgotten his sunburn.

   

“What was that about?” asked Legolas, raising an eyebrow. This was the last thing he had expected Gimli to do.

   

“For dragging me into the water, of course!”

   

At this, both Aragorn and Legolas laughed out loud heartily, and soon their Dwarven companion joined them too, as Galaearon sailed towards Minas Tirith, bathed in the golden rays of the rising sun.

 

The End.