Torelin:
 At first glance you are only aware of Torelin's most prominant features--his height (well over 6'5"), his bearlike size and his pleasant, boyish face. His apparell is fairly typical of most squires in Dol Amroth, with his white tabald displaying the swan and the ship, overtop his leather armour. What becomes more obvious on a closer inspection is his stern eyes and constant troubled look. It is obvious that his life has not always been pleasant and from the scars on his exposed flesh, he has seen his share of battle for one of only 21 years.

Dric:
        A short young lad catches your eye as he darts about wherever he is. He wears a black homespun shirt half tucked into a pair of black trousers. Though his clothing seems to have been washed multiple times, it still has that little-boy dirtiness about it, the soiled look that comes from too much activity. Polished black riding boots, perhaps a bit scuffed, cover his feet. Blondish brown hair sweeps across his forhead, cut relatively short though it is scraggily and tends to fall down into his eyes. Those eyes being bright, shining, inquisitive-about-the-world blue.
        All of four feet in hight, with his boots on, this young lad makes up or it in inquisitiveness - and speed. He seems, from his build, to be no more than eleven or so, but his eyes place him in more of the thirteen-year range... though it may just be his overly-intelligent shine to his eyes and the lack of hight, which could throw off any judgement. A heavy, dark wood longsword hangs strapped to his back, the sword being almost as long as the boy is tall. It has a rough look to it, but even covered by a pack on his shoulder, the sword does appear well made.

Arras:
 You are looking at a short man, whose blonde bangs are cut to a minimum, revealing all of his forehead. Piercing blue eyes hover below his bushy blondish brows. His cheekbones are high and very boney, whode think this man doesn't eat. He is slim, and his uniform slims him even further. He wears a blue and red tabard over his chain mail armor. Matching blue and red shield is attached to his forearm. A longsword hangs by his hip.
 

The Alcarondas - Fore Deck
The sun is touching the horizon, sending its last rays to kiss the waters of the Bay of Umbar. Everything around you is bathed in the bright colors of dusk.

Here you stand upon the fore deck of the mighty warship Alcarondas, pride of Gondor, and bright shines the sun upon her. The sea opens before you like a blue landscape, shifting and lurching with the rise and fall of the waves, and below you the prow of the vessel cuts through the water like a steel knife. Here the wind is strong and fierce from across the sea, and the air is filled with moisture and mist from the clashing waves; the air holding with it a tang of salt and brine. Rising from the decks like a vast tree is the fore mast of the ship, large around as two men standing abreast and yet pales in comparison to the mighty main mast. Perched precariously above one may find sailors at work in the rigging, furling and unfurling sail, or acting as lookout upon the horizon. And jutting from the prow itself is the bowsprit, but a narrow pole of wood supporting the jib sails to the fore. Brave is he who journeys out upon this narrow perch, and yet men do so daily, heeding little the danger of the swirling seas below.
 

Torelin stands on the foredeck, looking out into the evening at the distant Dol Amroth. He has a look of sadness that could only be one of home-sickness--if not for home, then perhaps just for dry land.

The sun sinks in the sky and falls below the horizon. Nighttime takes over.

Galain has arrived.

A slight, almost imperceptable sound is heard near the bowsprit of the ship, the sound of bare feet pattering on the wood of the ship's deck. Nothing loud, nothing different from the normal sailor who decides to take off his shoes for the day... except the pitter patter is too light, too small to be a grown man. It continues in intervals, starting, then stopping, and starting again.

Torelin stands still, looking out at the sea. The only movement he makes is to straighten out his back slightly and his right hand slowly moves down to rest on his belt.

Galain climbs quickly and fluently down the rigging of the foremast. He drops the last five feet and lands gently. He glances about the deck and shouts out at a few sailors to tighten down the jig sail. He notes Torelin staring out over the bow and heads toward him. He says nothing just stands alongside the man and follows his stare out toward the northeast.

The noise continues, off and on, off and on, pattering quickly, slowly, completly stopping. Every now and again the noise will disapear, or become sloshy, wet, as though a puddle on the deck were in the way of the traveller. Suddenly a voice is heard, a quick and violent cough, which cuts off as quickly as it began.

Torelin turns his head slightly to regard Galain and smiles his usual brief smile. "I can see why you like the sea so much, despite the feeling of being trapped on this wooden boat. It can be quite peaceful here." He makes an imperceptible nod with his head backwards, as if to say that something is behind them.

Galain notes a disturbance on the stern of the ship and nods to Torelin. "Ye are not trapped, ye can always take a dive." He notes with sarcasim not really intended then nods again. "Sorry Torelin, long day, if ye well exuse me." He storms off toward the stern anger trailing behind it seems.

Galain heads to the main deck of the vessel.
Galain has left.

As a man begins to speak near the rail, the sound ceases, and doesn't start again until a few moments after the Sergeant storms off. It seems to come closer, to approach the thinking man, but with a sound so light that is so easily lost beneath the voices of the sailors, distances could easily be confused. Heavy breathing, however, is heard before too long, continuing even when the footsteps stop.

Moving quicker than perhaps one would expect for a man so large, Torelin wheels around, his axe already in his hand and his eyes glare despite the darkness around them. His axe blade finds itself in front of a boy's head, just at the eyes.

A loud gasp is heard from the young lad, and his eyes widen. Taking a careful step back, then another, the boy begins to turn, as if to run from the man with the axe. However, a spark lights in his sky blue eyes, and he bravely steps forward, "Don' 'urt me," the lad begins, his voice that of a child. He eyes the axe carefully, looking about it as it is just at his eye level, which is low, considering the boy has but four feet or so in hight.

Torelin smiles and lets his axe blade drop to better see with whom he speaks. "I won't hurt you whelp," he says chuckling. "You should know better than to try and pickpocket someone who has a weapon." He squints his eyes slightly and regards the youth, "I don't suppose you are allowed to be on this ship, young master, are you? What is your name?"

Galain arrives from the main deck.
Galain has arrived.

Keeping a wary eye on the axe blade, even lowered, the young boy speaks without looking up at the man, "I'm 'llowed t' be anywhere I want, sir," he says boldly, folding his thin arms over his chest and finally looking up towards the face towering above him, "An' you'd better not hurt me... My brother'd kill ye if ye touched me." He spouts off quite bravely for a lad of his size, eyes shining brightly.

Galain walks back across the deck of the ship in an even poorer mood than when he left it seems. he notices Torelin and Dric near the same spot they were earlier and moves torward them. He catches the last part of Dric's claim and glares. "There well be no dispute on the ship, not anymore at least between fellow men. Save it for the Harad." He sighs and looks to Torelin "Sorry I had to leave so abruptly, t'would seem some of the sailors know not how to handle a broken line. Thats what we get for being hastey."

Torelin laughs out loud now, his axe already sliding back into his belt. "It seems you have a young stowaway, Galain. He claims to have an important brother to protect him." He laughs again, letting his body rest on the railing.

Ekroth climbs up from the lower deck.
Ekroth has arrived.

Dric casts the approaching sergeant a hard glare, and takes a step to put Torelin between himself and Galain. He keeps his silence, almost forced as he opens his mouth a couple times, but seems to not be able to get any words out. Keeping his arms folded tight over his chest, the boy glances between Torelin and Galain, puffing out his chest, straightening his posture, and over all trying to look tough.

Galain smiles "The lad is no stow away Torelin, he is Analdins brother I belive. It is with my permission he is here, and with my permission that he shall stay here and out of trouble." He directs the latter to Dric. With that he climbs up the rigging shouting down. "Time for me watch."

Torelin starts at hearing the name Analdin. He looks the boy up and down trying to see if there is a resemblance. "You are far from Minas Tirith and the commander. How did you manage to end up here?" He waits for the boy's answer with his arms folded across his chest.
Ekroth walks up from the lower decks, hobbling slightly. He glances at the other standing around on deck, and at the young boy with the wooden longsowrd. He decides not to get involved in the conversation and steps back, leaning against the side of the ship. He then sees the sailors working on the sails and climbs up to help.

Dric glares at Galain's back as he disapears, muttering something about old people and memory, "Maybe all th' better," he mutters a bit louder, looking back up at Torelin with an innocent-looking, boyish smile, "Told ye, didn' I? I'm s'posed to be here..." the lad does, however, sound somewhat hesitant. At Torelin's question, however, his expression changes to one of worry, and he begins to stutter, "I... I.. that is, I left. Left th' city. Didn' like it an'more. So I left. And got on the boat. Don' tell anyone, people, sir, please..." Nervousness is, perhaps, the most present feature in his voice, the boldness of earlier having completly disapeared.

Torelin shakes his head and frowns. "You're bravado did not last long did it?" He crouches down to look into the boy's face, thinking that he must appear almost a giant to Dric. Torelin looks seriously at Dric and asks, "Do you not think that perhaps Analdin will be worried for you?"

Dric takes a step back, almost tripping on the deck, as the man crouched down, "I c'n be brave when I want to," he states, the nervousness still quite present in his voice, but in his bright eyes ca nbe seen determination to match it. "'E prob'ly is. And the Corp'ral, too. I don' care. I'm big 'nuff to go out by m'self. Don' you give me a lec'ture, sir."

Torelin nods and stares at the boy for a second. "I am not your keeper, young master, that is true. Tell me though, how do Malahir and your brother fare?"

Torelin laughs. "Yes master dric." he says fasciously. He turns his gaze upward to observe Galain shout out orders.

From the Fore Mast > <Galain(#26812)> From the foremast a shout can be heard. "Furl the Flying Jib now." The brief shout echos off into the night and all that remains is the lantern lit decks of the Alcarondas and the reflection of the stars gleaming off the still waters as the Alcarondas slices through the water leaving a large wake.

Dric glares up at Galain as well, the loud shout from teh sergeant ringing in his ears. Turning back to Torelin, he stamps a foot on the deck, causing only a small thud, "Who're you?" he reprats his question, "An' don' call me master Dric!"

Torelin laughs again. "We shall have to discuss this again master dric. There seems to be some stirring amonst the sailors. We shall speak soon." He stands and heads for the main deck.

Torelin heads to the main deck of the vessel.
Torelin has left.

Dric gazes down towards the main deck, and trots quietly after Torelin.

You head to the main deck of the vessel.
 
The Alcarondas - Main Deck
Together with the Bay of Umbar, you now fully entered the realm of night. The stars high in the sky shine over you, and far toward the horizon, a moonshine sled draws from the moon.

Dimly shines the light of the moon upon the Main Deck of the Alcarondas, mighty ship of war. As night has fallen, the deck is mostly deserted except for those sentries and stearsmen who guide her, and the light of many lanterns serves to banish the dark of night. The wood of which this ship has been crafted has been stained a light shade of brown, and the immaculate cleaniness of the planking gives testiment to the time and care given to this vessel. In places here and there one may lay sight of various piles of rope and binding coiled in an orderly fashion and spare sails folded neatly and set aside should they be called for, and yet despite the many obstacles which may hinder the deck, all is set in it's proper place so as to remain inconspicuously out of sight. A sturdy railing lines the perimeter of the ship to prevent the lurching seas from pitching a man overboard, and they too are stained with the same light brown as the rest of the ship, and yet in one place the railing is opened and unenclosed, and nearby lays a long wooden plank which may be set in place upon disembarking from the vessel.

Imrahil walks down the ship and slides between sailors and men. At length he comes upon Torelin, "Torelin, where is your Lord?"

Arras arrives from the fore deck.
Arras has arrived.

Torelin bows to Imrahil and responds, "He is in the brig, my lord."

Imrahil arches a brow and says, "In the brig? What for?"

A young lad follows behind Torelin, quietly, and at not much of a distance from the man in front of him. His bare feet patter on the deck, and he stops short as another man comes up to speak with him.

Torelin shakes his head. "I was not present my lord for what happened. All I know is he was arrested for punching another sailor on board. Perhaps Galain can tell you more."

Imrahil looks about on the crowded deck, "Who is this Galain?"

Galain climbs down the rigging of the foremast and makes his way toward the maindeck which is lightly lit by lanters which sway with the motion of the ship. He bows to Imrahil as he approaches the man and stands silently near the railing of the stern deck.

Torelin points to Galain and steps back.

Imrahil looks to Galain for a moment assessing.

Imrahil looks at Galain and says, "You are the man they call Galain?"

Galain nods to the Prince. "Aye that is me." he raises an eyebrow "be there a reason ye seek me M'lord?"

Dric almost dances, as Torelin steps back and Galain spproaches, to keep out of the way and out of sight, but his bright eyes remain fixed up and on those around him.

Imrahil nods, "Take me to the brig at once."

Galain nods to the Prince "Aye Sir, follow me. Tis to the fore of the ship, and down the stairs." With that he heads off toward the foredeck.

Galain heads to the fore deck of the vessel.
Galain has left.

Imrahil heads to the fore deck of the vessel.
Imrahil has left.

Torelin turns around since his presence is no longer required. As he does he looks out to sea and jumps forward. He shouts out, "Look! Another ship approaches!"

A lad with a mischievous grin appears on the foredeck, his tiny form elbowing his way past the departing crowd. He eyes the open seas, like a kid in a candy store, stutter stepping to the railing. By the look of it, this young man-at-arms probably has never been on a ship at sea before.

Ekroth looks out where Torelin points and mutters to hiself, "Aye, a ship it is. To battle again." he puts his hand on his knife and watches.

Dric watches Galain and Imrahil disapear with some interest, but his attention soon moves on to the others standing about on the deck or doing sailor type things. The young lad bites his lower lip, and sinks back against the rail, as though trying to blend his black clothed form into the wood and remain out of sight.

Imrahil arrives from the fore deck.
Imrahil has arrived.

Beladan arrives from the fore deck.
Beladan has arrived.

Galain arrives from the fore deck.
Galain has arrived.

Imrahil enters from the further deck and says, "What news?"

Galain looks to Imrahil. "I am no Yeoman sir. I am marine sergeant of this ship and would like ye to take notice of the such." His face remains emotionless as he speaks. "I am in charge of the marines aboard the Alcarondas thank you."

Torelin looks about him, unsure of what exactly to do so he resorts to drawing his axe out. He spots Imrahil return and moves toward him. "A ship has appeared yonder, Prince."

From overboard > Ramangoth glides into the bay from the merchant docks of Umbar.

From overboard > Ramangoth has arrived.

Beladan steps forward onto the main deck and shakes his head slowly. Still, no words pass his lips and he simply turns to an inspection of his arms and armor

Torelin wields Silvalrist.

Beladan wields Greatsword.

 Torelin puts on Studded Leather Armor.

 Arras turns around at the shouting of a ship ahoy, and follows his eyes to where Torelin points. His childish anticipation bubbles over, waving his arm into a black clad figure that has found his way beside him, or visa versa. Too Arras, this person was not there a second ago. He turns to him, "Beggin my pardon sir", he offers his hand in greeting.

 Torelin puts on Studded Leather Helmet.

 Torelin puts on Studded Leather Shield.

 Imrahil nods, "Verily the well Sergeant Galain, yet do we not all fight the same battle? If we fall into the folly of pride, titles be meaningless to a man who hath not the wisdom to seek the merit in why such titles were given. Yet here we stand. And there, as my proud brother, the squire Torelin says, a black sail now comes. Now Sergeant, we shall take that vengeance for which we came. Call the Men, prepare for combat."

 Ekroth pulls his fishing knife out of his belt and holds it menacingly.

 Dric watches with wide, almost frightened eyes, as one man calls out about an approaching ship and another speaks of battle. Chewing on his lower lip as though it could keep him from being noticed in the sudden excitement, he leans back against the rail, drawing a wooden sword from off his back. Yet, as he is bumped into, he looks quietly up at the figure, not saying a word.

 Imrahil smiles and says, "Look upon that ship my friends. An easy catch for Alcarondas."

 Galain stares out over at the other ship. "She is a Harad no doubt." He shouts out an order to the marines to be ready and set the remaining sails. He looks back to Imrahil. "Aye we fight the same battles, but there be some who lead them and some who follow to orders. He again shouts out to another marine to prepare sand and the gang plank.

 Imrahil smiles, "Then today, Galain, sergeant of arms! Draw your sword for the Prince!" With this, Imrahil unsheathes his sword and it flashes pale in the light with the cry, "Here is Umbardacil! Avenge ye now the wrongs of old set against my peoples! Come! Who shall fight with me?" The eyes of Imrahil flash and his helm shines as if almost a burning flame.

 Beladan moves silently and quickly across the deck to Torelin. He nods a greeting and quickly looks over his equipment, checking buckles on his cuirass and the strapping of his helm. Satisfied, he steps back and casts a look towards Galain, still not speaking aloud his mind. He moves again on the deck, walking out the cramps of confinment in the final moments, before coming to rest lightly upon the balls of his feet behind, and to the left of the Prince.

 From overboard > Ramangoth swings along the broad reach winds, borne south and east into the Bay of Umbar. Running from the north with a hold full of purloined wine from the Dorwinion merchantman she met just outside Pelargir, she heads deep into the Bay, tacking for home.

 Arras pays close attention to the stranger beside him, looking the nervous little boy whose age and size matches his own. He spots the wooden sword and a smile forms, "Aye matie, the hordes of dark ones will cower before that sword", jumping around and giggling before he stops and overhears the call to battle, "come with me!", he shouts to the boy, "It

 Galain wields his sword. "Aye sir, for the Prince of Dol Amroth." He awaits further word from Imrahil.
 Galain wields Aegis-fang.

 Quietly, yet percievable to all are the words of Beladan. "I will, my Prince."

 Torelin watches with calm interest as the black sailed ship approaches. He turns to Beladan and smiles briefly before returning to his stone-like expression. "Again we meet, my lord," he says jokingly. "For Amroth!" he cries raising his axe high above him.

 Ekroth holds his dagger readily, and awaits the oncoming battle.

 Dric follows Arras only after a good bit of hesitation, sword held carefully in his hands, shaking as they are, "Wha's goin' on, sir?" he asks the other boy, a bit taller than himself, quietly, casting a worried look to the big men around with weapons drawn.

 From overboard > From Ramangoth, Abenar sits in the crows nest, spending more time thinking of the ways he can spend his loot in the Den than he is in watching the horizen.

 From overboard > From Ramangoth, On board the Ramangoth stands her proud captain, Rycars, every bit the definition of a Corsair. His beady eyes scan the decks of his ship, "We're almost home, lads!" he shouts loudly, with a grin of confidence for every man and a cup of those fine takings for sampling in his hand.

 Arras turns, tho on the opposite side of the deck, the shadow of the sails from the enemy ship envelope both boys. In a swift motion, his sword is out, and waving in front of him. He looks over to the lad in black, "we will be fightin now", sticking his chin out and trying to look impressive, "There's no time to hide, just stay wit me and keep my back covered".

 From overboard > From Ramangoth, Leaning against the rail is the massively old Trenchard, his beard braided in a very odd fashion, and his teeth filed even sharped than usual, for just a few days ago he did get a taste of Gondo blood and he enjoyed it much, perhaps overmuch. His white hair whips around him, against the wind. "Home...har har." He says as he spits over the railing.

 From overboard > From Ramangoth, Asida mills about on the deck of the ship, his hair whipping around his face from the strong seabreeze. He looks up towards Rycars and lifts a fist to the sky, answering with a hearty cheer!

 From overboard > From Ramangoth, Derek is leaning against the mast, looking out over the sea towards the land, a smile on his face, but his voice and demeanor subdued.

 Dric nods, eyes wide at the approaching ship, and no longer on Arras... Though he keeps up with the young man, his short legs moving quickly and bare feet pattering on the deck.

 Ekroth sees the face of Trenchard leaning over the railing, and his mouth twists into a frown. he allows the hatred he feels to show, and vows internally to see to it that the man stays at the bottom of the sea where he belongs.

 From overboard > From Ramangoth, Asida begins to pace along the top deck, his hands wringing together in excitement at the thought of finally returning home with the spoils of victory. He heads over towards Derek, and claps him across the shoulder, "Cheer up mate, w'er almost home!"

 Torelin watches with keen interest as the two ships approach eachother quickly. He allows his eyes to wander slightly to look on Beladan and the others next to him. Then, moving his axe to his left hand, he lifts up his shield and readies it.

 From overboard > From Ramangoth, Alaniah sits up on deck, leaning against the rail, looking towards land with an obvious longing. She looks back at the sea, and makes a face back towards where the ship has come from. "Been at sea too long this time," she says, looking back towards land, a smile taking over again.

 Arras leads Dric to the battle line that forms on the main deck. Many of the men stand stoic and await the enemy quietly, as the jeers from the opposite ship are like volleys. Arras elbows his way into the line and looks back to Dric, "Ahlright, this is real fun. We can yell at them now, insult their anciestry if you want. There's plenty of things to insult, here, take a look at them", he offers Dric a space in the battle line to see the approaching Corsairs.

 From overboard > From Ramangoth, Derek's grin becomes wider as he nods towards Asida, "Aye, but I'll feel all the better once I feel the solid earth b'neath me boots again."

 From overboard > From Ramangoth, Kalmir paces restlessly, his eyes averted to the deck at his feet. He shakes his head, muttering, "I wil'nt be happy until we reach the shore."

 Ekroth looks at one of his fellow sailors and says to him, "Youn think I could borrow a knife from ye? I lost my sword in our last raid, and I doubt I'll survive with naught but one knife." His friend nods and pulls out a knife, handing it to Ekroth. "Here ye go, I'll not be needing it."

 From overboard > From Ramangoth, Trenchard overhears the conversation of Derek and Asida, and being the senior most corsair on this voyage, feels it his his duties, "Har! Landlubbers is what ye are! Why, I were ye, I'd be loathin' ta get back to the bloody dock, with all them no account merchant puppies there, ya never know what'll happen to ye. Probably get killed or somethin'. Har." He spits over the side once more, at the mere thought of merchants.

 From overboard > From Ramangoth, Though his wit be clouded by a good portion more than a fair share of the wines Captain Rycars hears the cry from the crow's nest. "A Gondo ship!" the man cries from far above. Down on the decks of the Ramangoth Rycars sputters and spits his wine out, spinning to face the oncoming vessel. "Full sails, fools!" the Captain cries loudly.

 From overboard > From Ramangoth, Sigmar leans against a mast, sharpening his blade. He chuckles at those talking around him, but his attention is on his scimitar.

 From overboard > From Ramangoth, Sigmar unsheathes his scimitar, the blade glowing slightly as he does so.

 From overboard > The raider Ramangoth continues on her line, running now south-southeast and nigh straight into the wind. She swings now to the east, now to the south in order to keep her sails filled. But sailing into the wind, she loses much of her speed... and unlike the Alcarondas, she has no oars.

 From overboard > From Ramangoth, "Bah..." Zanna laughs, and pulls her boot dagger, idly picking at her nails with it.

 From overboard > From Ramangoth, In an idle moment, Abenar tries to see if he can spit on the heads of those on deck from his perch in the crows nest.

 From overboard > From Ramangoth, Asida chuckles good naturedly at Derek, his arms folding across his chest as he glances out towards the direction of home, "Aye, t'will feel good to walk on..." He suddenly looks up, his good humor changing to a look of deep concern at the call coming from the crow's next, "GONDO SHIP?!?!?"

 Dric snickers softly, a small grin forming across his face, "Sounds lik fun, sir," he says, swiping a vangrant strand of light hair from his face, standing up straight and looking towards the ship, having ot squint to catch sight of anything more than the sails flying above, and taking his place beside Arras.

 From overboard > From Ramangoth, At the shout of a Gondorian vessel, Derek jumps up from his leaning against the mast, and runs over to the rail, his heavy boots clopping on the deck. "A ship? Here? Aye, it'd hafta be now, with just the perfect timing," he says, shaking his head.

 From overboard > From Ramangoth, At the shout of "Gondo ship", Alaniah looks back over her shoulder to the other side of the vessel, where the ship is coming in from. She runs across the deck, cursing under her breath, "Not now, not now..."

 From overboard > From Ramangoth, Sigmar quickly forgets about sharpening the blade, and brandishes it instead. He holds it out with one hand, eyes on the ship now in clear sight. A grin crosses his lips, happy that Gondo blood will be shed on this day.

 From overboard > From Ramangoth, S'kobedu comes out his own stupor at the cry of his Captain and jumps into action. He moves to the railing to see for himself, his scummy cloak caught by the sea breezes. "It sure ain'ta one o' ours..," he says as he feels something wet on his head.

 Imrahil calls, "This shall be easy! She is laden with the spoils of Gondor! Let us avenge ourselves. Can we prepare a volley of arrows?"

 From overboard > From Ramangoth, Asida darts over towards the rail behind Derek, his fingers latching onto the wooden railing, his knuckles turning white at the sight of the Gondorian ship which is rapidly closing the distance.

 From overboard > From Ramangoth, Derek smacks his fist on the rail, cursing to himself. He runs back clumsily to the sails, and starts pulling on the rope, bringing them to fool. "Come on then, lads, we've got to get home, don't we?"

 Torelin smiles and bangs once his axe on his shield. He moves forward and stands next to Beladan, eyes fixed on the slow moving ship.

 From overboard > From Ramangoth, Zanna jumps aside as a glob of spit lands on the deck next to her, and looks up into the crow's nest. "Aye.. do that again, I'll learn ya well!" She raises her hand in a rude gesture, but her gaze is drawn to the side and the approaching ship.

 From overboard > From Ramangoth, Abenar immediately begins shouting "Gondos! Gondos! To arms! To arms!" Trying to make it appear that he had raised the original alarm, as the watch in the crows nest should have. He quickly slides down a line of the rigging to the deck.

 Arras looks greedily at the enemy ship, activity upon it begining to bustle. He looks over to Dric, "D'you know how to fight?", he asks just before being shoved asdie as a line of archers move to the forefront.

 Imrahil stands on the near deck and looks upon the vessel of the Corsairs, "Now! Prepare the archers!"

 Beladan's hands close firmly over the haft of the weapon he carries. His demenour is solemn and he is silent, taking the time before the battle ensues to focus and centre himself. He notes Torelin's approach with the same resigned quietude and moves slightly forward to flank the Prince.

 From overboard > From Ramangoth, S'kobedu has never realized he was spit upon -- he'd not much care at this point as he moves to help pull upon the ropes holding the sails. "Bah.. to arms. We'll be takin' theirs.. and legs too," he hisses as he puts full weight into his task.

 Ekroth watches the enemy ship as the Gondorian ship quickly gains on it. He holds his two knives readily, eager to get onto the ship and gut the sharp-toothed old man.

 From overboard > From Ramangoth, Asida steps back away from the railing a few feet, his hand going to the sword at his side which he quickly draws, his hand tight on the weapon's hilt, ready to try and prevent the hooks from taking hold.

 From overboard > From Ramangoth, "Steady lads, they are only Gondos!" cries the Captain of the Corsairs between curses. Rycars ducks down and watches the Gondo ship from the ladder leading below decks, where his blade was left.

 From overboard > From Ramangoth, Asida looks over his shoulder, screaming to the others in their futile attemps to outrun the other ship, "Give up, our only chance is to repel the boarders, we're bloody dead if we don't!"

 From overboard > From Ramangoth, Sigmar walks closer to the port side, his grin growing with each step. Finally he shouts loud, a taunting tone, "Gondos! Die like the worms ya're!!" He thrusts his blade into the air, calling the Gondos to meet their death.

 Dric struggles to keep out of the way, ducking and dodging as much larger men elbow him out of his position, "'Course I know how to fight," he says indignantly, holding his sword up akwardly, long and heavy as it is, "M'brother's a soldier... He taught me lots o' fighting things." He takes a few steps over, finding himself behind a wall of men, and, sighing lightly, elbows his own way up between two, losing sight of Arras, but finding himself between the axe-wielding stranger he met earlier and another who looks important.

 From overboard > From Ramangoth, Bukanyr bursts from below, grasping a huge two-handed scimitar loosely in his massive arms. A mottled cry escapes his lips as the arrows tear into the decks, killing a man near him. Grabbing the first several men he sees, the fierce Corsair begins to amass a counter-boarding party.

 From overboard > From Ramangoth, Abenar ducks behind the mast as the hail of arrows approaches. He chuckles merrily as another corsair takes a shaft in the stomach.

 From overboard > From Ramangoth, Derek swears under his breath, frantically pulling on the last of the ropes, bringing the sails to full. He wipes the sweat from his brow, which is already getting drenched with it, and draws the sword from his side as he goes to crouch down by the railing.

 From overboard > From Ramangoth, Asida curses loudly to himself as t the flying wave of death falls from the sky like towards the deck of the ship. He quickly scrambles forward, pushing himself up against the railing of the ship as the arrows fall all around, one landing right above his head...a narrow miss!

 <OOC> Beladan hasta go then... sorry, sick kid
 Beladan has disconnected.

 From overboard > From Ramangoth, Zanna lets a stream of curses fly as she ducks the incoming arrows, diving down by the railing. She looks towards Derek with a wry grin, and shakes her head.

 From overboard > From Ramangoth, As the man near Bukanyr falls dead, the Captain Rycars pauses only a moment before seizing the man's blade from his dead fingers. "Aye, let their blood be spilt and we'll take this ship, too!" cries the Corsair, waving the dark blade above his head.

 From overboard > From Ramangoth, Kalmir crouches low, by the railing, muttering curses under his breath. He flinches as an arrow just narrowly misses his head.

 From overboard > Ramangoth swings her spars one last time in an attempt to pick up winds, but even so she can do little. The Gondorian ship's oars lets her pull into the range for the hooks. Under the cover of the hail of arrows, none can approach to cut the lines.

 From overboard > From Ramangoth, Surprisingly, Sigmar, in all his mass, is unscathed by the arrows that fly past him. He still stands tall and straight, grin broad and blade pointing out Gondos that he will kill today.

 Serin arrives from the fore deck.
 Serin has arrived.

 From overboard > From Ramangoth, S'kobedu set himself behind the mizzen mast and pulls his scimitar from it sheath. He does this deed a bit quicker as men fall nearby and the arrows continue to fall. He sneers, revealing rotten yellowing teeth as the Gondorians prepare to board.

 From overboard > From Ramangoth, Asida quickly jumps to his feet as the arrows finally stop falling, or at least the initial wave. His eyes widen at the sight of the Gondo ship now very close, then without warning a multitude of grappling hooks begin to lock onto the ship. At first he tries to chop at the ropes, but gives up as the distance is closed too quickly, and he has no choice but to stand his ground against the coming attack.

 From overboard > From Ramangoth, Abenar says, "Close with them, Men! Close with them! They won't dare use their cursed arrows then!"

 From overboard > From Ramangoth, Sigmar rushes the wave of Gondorians coming along the gangplank, flanked by several other Corsairs. He is at the front of the defense, huge blade cutting through those foolish enough to meet him.

 Serin stands uneasily on deck, glaring across the bulwark at the closing vessel.

 Imrahil holds up his blade and shouts, "Gondor!" With that he recklessly leads his men over the gangplank and unto the Ramangoth.

 Imrahil mounts the narrow gangplank and disembarks.
 Imrahil has left.

 From overboard > Imrahil clamors down the narrow gangplank from The Alcarondas.
 From overboard > Imrahil has arrived.
 From overboard > Imrahil has left.
 From overboard > Imrahil walks onto the deck of Ramangoth.

 Serin mounts the narrow gangplank and disembarks.
 Serin has left.

 From overboard > Serin clamors down the narrow gangplank from The Alcarondas.
 From overboard > Serin has arrived.

 From overboard > Abenar walks off the deck of Ramangoth.
 From overboard > Abenar has arrived.

 Ekroth mounts the narrow gangplank and disembarks.
 Ekroth has left.

 From overboard > Ekroth clamors down the narrow gangplank from The Alcarondas.
 From overboard > Ekroth has arrived.

 From overboard > From Ramangoth, Alaniah wields Amarthsigil.

 From overboard > Serin has left.
 From overboard > Serin walks onto the deck of Ramangoth.

 From overboard > Ekroth has left.
 From overboard > Ekroth walks onto the deck of Ramangoth.

 From overboard > Abenar has left.

 Abenar boards The Alcarondas by the gangplank.
 Abenar has arrived.

 Marines arrives from the fore deck.
 Marines has arrived.

 From overboard > From Ramangoth, Zanna pulls her dagger, holding it at the ready.

 From overboard > From Ramangoth, Zanna reaches down and slides an ornate boot dagger from its sheath.

 From overboard > From Ramangoth, Organizing his band of Corsairs, Bukanyr leads the repelling countercharge, fighting his way onto the enemy ship!

 From overboard > From Ramangoth, Serin pulls a large silven blade from his sheath. The sword rings out in the stillness of the air as it sparkles in the light. Serin holds it high aloft with both hands and wields it in cold defiance.

 To those overboard: Dric follows behind most everyone, keeping out of sight and towards the back as he runs after the wave of men. Shouting at the top of his young lungs, he waves a long wooden sword in his hands.

 From overboard > From Ramangoth, Imrahil strides over the gangplank and leaps aboard the main deck of the vessel with his Men about him in bright chain.

 From overboard > Bukanyr walks off the deck of Ramangoth.

 From overboard > Bukanyr has arrived.

 From overboard > From Ramangoth, Asida steps to the side of the planks, letting the more daring Haradrim move forward while he stays back, hoping to defend the ship from the surging Gondos..

 Bukanyr boards The Alcarondas by the gangplank.
 Bukanyr has arrived.

 You mount the narrow gangplank and make your way off the ship.

 Bay of Umbar
 The quiet lapping of the waves mixes with the shrill cries of the seagulls as you cross the serene but busy Bay of Umbar. Due east you spot the huge twin sea-gates into Umbar's walled harbour, and you can make out the city walls and six towers of the great city just to the south of the harbour. To the northwest a broad patch of deep blue marks the Bay of Belfalas and the open seas beyond.
 The merchant docks are infamous as the greatest trading site in Elendor. Only the richest or most devious of traders survive. The Corsair Docks lay on a small island encircled by both the walls and the harbour. A swarm of masts and furled black sails fills the sky above the isle. A brilliant beam of light reaches out from beyond the Corsair Docks to illuminate your passage.

 Torelin clamors down the narrow gangplank from The Alcarondas.
 Torelin has arrived.

 Rycars walks off the deck of Ramangoth.
 Rycars has arrived.

 Arras clamors down the narrow gangplank from The Alcarondas.
 Arras has arrived.

 Rycars has left.
 Rycars boards The Alcarondas by the gangplank.

 Kalmir walks off the deck of Ramangoth.
 Kalmir has arrived.

 From inside Ramangoth, Imrahil they are preparing a counter attack, "Torelin, lead you some of the men here with Galain! I shall go back and repel the invaders of the Alcarondas!" With that Imrahil gives a great cry of, "Amroth!" And charges after the boarders of the Alcarondas.

 Imrahil walks off the deck of Ramangoth.
 Imrahil has arrived.

 From Ramangoth, Sigmar now has a small pile of dead at his feet. His blade, with the force of at least two men behind it, slices through Gondorian chain with relative ease. That grin still covers his face, yellow teeth shining.

 Imrahil has left.
 Imrahil boards The Alcarondas by the gangplank.

 From Ramangoth, Ekroth rushes across the ganplank and onto the enemy ship, holding his two knives in waiting. He recognises the face of one of the Corsairs and calls out to Trenchard, "So it's you again, old man! I would of hoped you had gone with the sharks, but I see not. We'll change that now!" He workdsa his way towards the Corsair, holding his knives menacingly.

 You walk onto the deck of Ramangoth.
 Ramangoth
 Inside this finely crafted ship, are many decorations showing the valor of the Haradrim Corsairs. Two farely large sized paintings adorn the starboard and port walls. Against the far back wall, are stacks of crates and boxes, bearing markings in Haradaic, Gondorian and many other runes. The inside of this father large private vessel is beautifully decorated, and nicely kept. Its cabin is quite spacious and well furnished, with a large bed between the paintings and crates, and a long ornately carved wooden bench. Some of the more prominent objects you notice are several aged bottles of whisky, and a small ornate metal box, bearing an insignia of some type.

 Torelin walks onto the deck of Ramangoth.

 Arras walks onto the deck of Ramangoth.

 Kalmir walks onto the deck of Ramangoth.

 Serin follows Ekroth across the gangplank, his eyes gleaming with fire and his silvery sword upraised.

 Asida leaps back as the initial wave of boarders leap across the gangplank, their swords and axes driving them forward. All he can do is lift his own blade, somehow managing to stay out of reach for the moment as some of his mates step along side fighting savagely with the Gondorian attackers.

 Torelin leads the men forward over the gangplank with a cry of "Amroth!" His large frame barrelling down on the awaiting Corsairs. "To me! To me!" he yells.

 Arras is practically lead from the gang plank and unto the enemy ship by the storm of grown ups around him. Using his elbows to make some room, he stops to asses the situation. A few dead already litter the deck around him from the intial assualt on the ship.

 Zanna taunts one of the Gondorians in front of her, her blade flashing in the sunlight as she makes playful swipes at him. She sidesteps his charge, and comes up behind him. Taking advantage of his back presented to her, she jumps on him and easily slices his throat open. The body falls to the deck and she turns around with a grin on her face, looking for the next. "Come on, boys! Out playing with daddy's swords, are we? Gondos call this men? Ha!"

 Asida somehow manages to hold his ground, at least for the moment as a solid wall of Gondorians pour across from the other ship. He whips his blade back and forth at a myriad number of blades whirl and clash together in frenzied combat.

 Sigmar stands at the base of the gangplank, blade glimmering as it slices through Gondos. He turns to one side and faces Serin. The grin on his face grows and he steps back to allow more room for his large blade.

 Zanna yelps as Sigmar backs up and steps on her foot. "Hey! Watch out!"

 Sigmar doesn't glance over his shoulder at Zanna. He merely grunts, keeping his eyes on Serin.

 Wielding his sword like a mad man, the Gondorian yeoman tumbles and flings himself on every corsair in his path. Yet as Serin moves further across the gangway he finds a large man barring his way. He bows, makes a fain smile, and flicks his sword upward to fight.

 Derek leaps up from his hiding spot underneath the railing, and, brandishing his axe, attacks the first Gondorian he finds with a downward swipe: Torelin.

 Zanna peers around Sigmar at the Gondorian in his path and laughs quietly, "Ah... a man! So there is more than boys on that boat there after all!"

 Asida somehow manages to fight through the initial assault, his face drenched in sweat, though he's also somehow managed to stay unhurt thus far..

 Sigmar chuckles at the man and his bow. As Serin straightens, Sigmar is upon him, sword flying low to release one hand, and arm, off of the greatsword.

 Dric finally reaches the other ship, holding his long, dangerous looking wooden sword with both hands. The young lad, apparently overhearing something nearby, shouts out into the melee in general, "I ain't no boy... Someone wan't' d-dispute that w' me?" He brings his wooden sword down hard on the first person he sees nearby not wearing anything appearing Gondorian.. A tall man, at least, in comparison to this boy, drenched in sweat.

 Asida steps back from the tumult surround him, then pauses to whip the sweat from his eyes, preparing to re-enter the fight, then suddenly he shrieks in pain as a hard wooden weapon cracks across the middle of his back sending him sprawling forward to the deck, crushing the wind from his lungs.

 S'kobedu "Args" as he is spotted behind the mizzen mast by a pair of Gondorians who approach him from both sides. So much for his cowardice.. or his attempt at surprise.. regardless he does manage to seriously wound one of them before he is struck down -- and dead -- his blood mingling with that already upon the decks.

 Torelin watches the axe blade swipe by his head. He backs up and lets the Corsair follow him, running slightly over the gangplank

 Serin walks off of the ship.
 > Serin has arrived.

 "I got one!" Dric shouts, looking over the crowd of fighting men for his newfound friend, Arras, to show off his first bring-down. Looking down at the fallen Haradrim, the boy holds his sword up again, "Don' get up, sir," he says quietly, "Y'wouldn' want t' meet wi' m'blade again."

 > Serin has left.
 > Serin boards The Alcarondas by the gangplank.

 Torelin walks off of the ship.
 > Torelin has arrived.

 Sigmar walks off of the ship.
 > Sigmar has arrived.

 > Torelin has left.
 > Torelin boards The Alcarondas by the gangplank.

 Derek walks off of the ship.
 > Derek has arrived.

 Zanna walks off of the ship.
 > Zanna has arrived.

 > Sigmar has left.
 > Sigmar boards The Alcarondas by the gangplank.

 > Zanna has left.
 > Zanna boards The Alcarondas by the gangplank.

 > Derek has left.
 > Derek boards The Alcarondas by the gangplank.

 S'kobedu walks off of the ship.

 Ekroth tries to make his way to Trenchard, but his path is sealed off by other Haradrim sailors. Cursing the Corsairs under his breath, he lunges at the man in front of his with his right dagger aimed at the man's stomach and his other dagger held up to block any blows from the man's scimitar.

 Asida lays unmoving on the deck for a moment, his face ashen white as he tries to regain his lost breath. AFter a brief moment, he gets to his hands and knees, then spins around suddenly, pivoting on his knees as he swings the scimitar in his hand towards whoever attacked him from behind.

 The man Ekroth is fighting with brings his scimitar down at Ekroth's right arm, trying to get him to pull his arm away to block it. Ekroth keeps his arm headed towards the man's stomach, and blocks the blade with his left knife, sending a shudder through his arm. He ducks under the man's scimitar and drives his knife up into the man's chest. He then kcisk the man away and approaches Kalmir.

 Arras, vanquishing his first enemy with his wild strokes, criss crosing the chest of the pirate, stops to wipe the sweat from his eyes. A small cut is on his arm and the white part of his tabard sleave turns to pink. Looking around for more, he espies the young lad with the wooden sword standing over a Corsair. He runs up behind him shouting, "You got one! You got one! Why lad, you /can/ fight", grinning at him. Just then the man fights back. Raising his sword defensively, Arras swipes the sword from the direction it was leading, yelling at the man, "Your a bad man, you are!", spitting on him for good measure.

 Kalmir takes note of the man approaching him and quickly pulls the dagger out from his boot, stabbing out in front of him.

 Dric is completly unprepared for the scimitar swinging his way, almost cutting his skinny legs out from under him, "Hey now!" he shouts at the downed man, glaring at him and holding his sword carefully to prevent another such swing from hitting him before it hits his small sword, shrinking back just a little as his overbearing pal comes up, "I got 'im m'self, sir," he says indignantly to the young man, then glares at the Haradrim, who is now at his eye level, "I said don' get up!"

 Ekroth walks off of the ship.
 > Ekroth has arrived.

 Kalmir walks off of the ship.

 > Kalmir has arrived.

 Asida's sword is knocked aside, sending him relling back on his knees in an awkward predicament. He waves his arms then manages to straighten himself then bounces to his feet, his eyes narrowing evilly at the sight before him, "Ha! What's this, two welps pretending to be men?!? If I'm to die here, then ye'll bloody be joining me!" He charges forward, his sword whipping through the air in a wild arc that heards towards Arras' head!

 > Kalmir draws the dagger from her belt.

 > Ekroth pulls his fishing knife out of his belt and holds it menacingly.

 > Kalmir takes a somewhat clumsy lunge towards Ekroth, swinging the dagger out in front of him with a cry of, "Die, Gondo!"

Kalmir attacks Ekroth with her Dagger, but she misses by a mile.

 Dric steps in front of the youth beside him, long wooden sword held hight above his head, "Don' you dare touch m'friend!" he cries out, trying to block the blow with his own wood. However, the scimitar glances down the wood to strike the boy's arm, and a loud cracking sound can be heard. He drops the sword, glaring up at the man, and holding his now-bleeding arm with his free hand.

 > Ekroth easily sidesteps the swing, bringing his daggers up in an offensive stance. he rushes towards the enemy Corsair and swings his knife at her face while he keeps his left knife in a defensive position, ready to ward off an attack from his opponent's dagger.

 >Ekroth attacks Kalmir with his Dagger and lightly wounds her!

 Arras is taken aback, and juts his chin out, "He's all yours then, just remember that Arras is a man of honor", he bows and allows Dric to continue on without him. Seeing the activity on his own ship, the youngster runs to the gangplank and hops over board.

 Arras walks off of the ship.

 > Arras has arrived.
 > Arras has left.
 > Arras boards The Alcarondas by the gangplank.

 > Kalmir cries out as the dagger slices a gash down the side of his face. His hand flies up to cover the blood gushing out of his cheek, then growls ferociously and stabs out once again.

 > Kalmir attacks Ekroth with her Dagger and moderately wounds him!

 Asida grins wickedly as he feels the boy's sword collapse under his brutal attack, the sword even slipping through to crack across Dric's forearm. He lifts the sword in an arrogant posture, a cold laught erupting from his throat as Arras runs off, leaving the other boy to die, "Not so tough now are ye welp?!?!"

 > Ekroth tries to block the oncoming dagger with his left knife, but the dagger comes in over his wrisst and digs into his arm. He pulls his wrist back and approaches his opponent menacingly, ignoring the blood that flows out of his arm onto the deck of the ship. He jumps towards Kalmir and brings both of his knives down towards the Corsair's chest.

 > Ekroth attacks Kalmir with his Dagger and moderately wounds her!

 > From aboard The Alcarondas > <Galain(#26812)> The Alcarondas pulls hard to Starboard as if the pilot has fallen! the deck sways heavily and water sprays up onto the deck, the two ships are barely held by the hooks.

 Dric takes a few steps back, cradeling his broken arm in his other. He bends down quickly and picks up the sword when he gets the chance, cradeling it with both arms as though it were more precious to him than his arms, "Le' me alone, ye evil man!" the boy cries out, steping back a few more paces, then turning quickly and making his way towards the gangplank. However, just before he reaches it, the ship rocks suddenly, throwing him off balance and from his feet. He slides to a stop just before the gangplank, landing on his arms, sword sliding from his grasp.

 > From aboard The Alcarondas > <Galain(#26812)> The hooks pull the two ships together again and the a heavy shudder is felt on the ships. loud groaning of timbers can be heard and the main mast's sway at the reverse motion, those of sure foot manage to keep balance.

 > Kalmir yelps loudly as the daggers slahs his chest. He cough a few times, then holding one arm over his chest, he lunges forwward towards the man's chest.

 > Kalmir attacks Ekroth with her Dagger, but she misses by a hair.

 Busting through an attack by two Gondos is Trenchard, his face construed in anxiousness and when he sees Ekroth fighting Kalmir, he bellows to the Gondo, "Gondo, puppy! Come and fight me like the man you aren't!" He then rushes towards the Gondo, of course, using no weapon but his massive hands.

 Asida growls as Dric takes off running towards the other ship, then is suddenly staggered as the two ships rock back and forth. He falls back into the railing, but manages to stay on his feet, then begins to stalk over towards the downed boy, his sword raised as he towers over Dric, "Now boy, ye get what's coming to ye..."

 > Ekroth quickly brings his daggers back and deflects the lunge from the Corsair, knocking the dagger away to the left. He then comes closer to the Corsair and brings his knives around from both sides to stick them into both sides of the man's stomach.

 > Ekroth attacks Kalmir with his Dagger and moderately wounds her!

 > Ramangoth is pulled back towards the Alcarondas by the inertia of the sudden blow, and with a shivering of timbers the two ships ram together again! On the smaller raider, men are thrown about by the force of the impact.

 Below, sharks begin to circle in the water, drawn by the blood.

 Dric manages to raise himself to his hand and knees, tilting his head far up to see the man with sword raised above him. The lad, like a scared rabbit, vaults himself onto the gangplank where his sword has fallen, and, clutching both the sword and plank with his one good arm for his life, shuts his eyes. Hoovering between the two ships, the young lad appears even smaller, and more frightened than before.

 Asida looks down at the fallen Dric, his eyes gleaming with bloodlust at the sigh of the helpless boy before him, "Any last words boy?!? I'll be sure to send yer head back to your mommy for a keepsake!"

 > Aboard the smaller ship, angry men in Dol Amroth tabards begin setting fires. The pitch burns quickly, and a black and foul smoke begins to rise over the ocean. With a desperate cry, the Corsairs rally against those murderous Gondorians who seek to burn their home, and many of both sides are slain.

 > Ekroth quickly brings his daggers back and deflects the lunge from the Corsair, knocking the dagger away to the left. He then comes closer to the Corsair and brings his knives around from both sides to stick them into both sides of the man's stomach.

 In a last, desperate act, the young lad on the gang plank pulls the sword out from under him. Holding it up over him, eyes shut tight in fear, he shouts, "M'mum's dead, jus' like ye'll be soon, ye bad sailor! C'mon and get me, ye evil man! Jus' ye try it! M'brother'll kill ye for me, if ye do me in! 'E'll find ye!"

 > Kalmir groans and doubles over, holding his sides. He drops to the ground and retrieves his dagger, then lunges forward for the man's gut, stabbing out ferociously.

 > Kalmir attacks Ekroth with her Dagger and moderately wounds him!

 Asida roars with laughter at the pitiful attempt at a threat from Dric, who lies almost prone on the deck before him. Clouds of choking black smoke begin to pour from the corsair's ship, the wind swirling the dark cloud all around the deck. As the cloud of smoke passes over Ashida and his fallen opponent, he coughs, then lifts his sword up high, preparing to end the young man's life, "Say goodbye welp, and if'n yer brother wants revenge, he'll have to find me in the netherworld!" He lunges forward, but concealed by the smoke, a small pool of blood has gathered...his foot lands heavily in the slick fluid, throwing him off balance! With a curse he tumbles forward heavily...right down onto the sharpened tip of Dric's upheld wooden sword!

 > Ekroth tries to deflect the man's assault, but the ferocity of it surprises him and the dagger jabs into his left shoulder, splattering blood all over his white shirt. He curses and rushes towards the Corsair, his mouth in a grimace from the combined pain in his arm and his shoulder along with his injuries from the previous battle. he moves closer to his opponent, trying to drive himtowards the edge of the ship. Then, with one of his knives he slahes at the man's right chest, and with the other he slashes at the man's neck.

 > Ekroth attacks Kalmir with his Dagger and lightly wounds her!

 > From aboard The Alcarondas > <Galain(#26812)> A shout is heard from the stern. "The Harad have fallen, they flee even now!" A laugh is heard "Burn the ship, and finish the men!"

 Asida's eyes widen in shock and pain as he is held just above Dric by the wooden sword which is buried in his stomach. He reaches down, grabbing Dric by the neck, but his fingers have no strength as blood begins to trickle from the corner of his mouth, and he gurgles, "Y-You...can't....can't...d-die...like this....." His body then goes limp on the wooden sword, all life gone from his open eyes.

 > Imrahil clamors down the narrow gangplank from The Alcarondas.
 > Imrahil has arrived.

 Imrahil walks onto the deck of Ramangoth.

 > Kalmir leans back so that the dagger aimed for his neck misses, but the one at his chest hits, slashing even more across already present woulds. He growls and chokes back a cry,then sets his face in a scowl as he lunges forward again, stabbing his dagger out at the Gondo's chest.

 > Kalmir attacks Ekroth with her Dagger and moderately wounds him!

 Dric rolls out of the way, almost off the edge of the plank as the man falls on his sword, letting it slip through his fingers and onto the plank. A pool of blood is beginning to form on the gang plank from the man's wound. The young lad begins to stand up, looking carefully at the man, eyes wide. He reaches down and, with a hard tug, pulls the sword from beneath the man, "Don' take m'sword!" he shouts angrily at the man, giving him a hard kick in the side to go along with it, almost losing his balance as he does so... Yet, as he teeters on the edge, the boy gives a startled yell, and falls off the plank, into the cold water below.

 The Prince crosses the Gangplank in a frenzied charge. He and his thanes lift their swords crying, "Umbar has fallen! Gondor! Gondor!"

 With a splash, Trenchard falls into the water...knocked overboard by the rush of the oncoming Gondos. Luckily, he has no armor or weapons this time...

 You walk off the ship.
 Bay of Umbar
 The quiet lapping of the waves mixes with the shrill cries of the seagulls as you cross the serene but busy Bay of Umbar. Due east you spot the huge twin sea-gates into Umbar's walled harbour, and you can make out the city walls and six towers of the great city just to the south of the harbour. To the northwest a broad patch of deep blue marks the Bay of Belfalas and the open seas beyond.
 The merchant docks are infamous as the greatest trading site in Elendor. Only the richest or most devious of traders survive. The Corsair Docks lay on a small island encircled by both the walls and the harbour. A swarm of masts and furled black sails fills the sky above the isle. A brilliant beam of light reaches out from beyond the Corsair Docks to illuminate your passage.

 Contents:
 Kalmir
 Ekroth
 Ramangoth
 The Alcarondas
 Obvious exits:
  SouthWest leads to Open Sea.
  Corsair Docks leads to Corsair Docks.
  Caldur Docks leads to Caldur's Docks.
  Merchant Docks leads to Main Docks of Umbar.
  Northwest leads to Bay of Belfalas.

 Trenchard walks off the deck of Ramangoth.
 Trenchard has arrived.

 Dric rolls out of the way, almost off the edge of the plank as the man falls on his sword, letting it slip through his fingers and onto the plank. A pool of blood is beginning to form on the gang plank from the man's wound. The young lad begins to stand up, looking carefully at the man, eyes wide. He reaches down and, with a hard tug, pulls the sword from beneath the man, "Don' take m'sword!" he shouts angrily at the man, giving him a hard kick in the side to go along with it, almost losing his balance as he does so... Yet, as he teeters on the edge, the boy gives a startled yell, and falls off the plank, into the cold water below.

 From overboard > The raging fires aboard the Ramangoth spread now to her sails, and begin to eat at her hull all the way to the waterline. The smoke is heavy, and the timbers of the mast begin to creak....

And then, with a terrible snap, the mainmast shatters! Blazing timbers and sails fall against the Alcarondas, still tied to the Corsair ship by grappling lines!

 From overboard > Imrahil walks off the deck of Ramangoth.
 From overboard > Imrahil has arrived.

 Ekroth jumps back from the Corsair, but not quickly enough to keep the dagger from diggin into his chest. He groans in pain as another splotch of blood begins to spread across what was onc a clean white shirt. Cursing the haradrim, he shouts, "Die, you pathetic Haradrim! I hope your body stays at the bottom of the sea or in the stomach of a shark!" With that He brings oth his knives down towards the Haradrim's face, trying to distract him, and then grabs him under the armpits and hurling him at the side of the boat.

 From the waters below the gangplank, between the two ships where there is little room, come shouts for help. One, in particular, stands out, that of a young boy in a high, boyishly tenor voice, "'Elp me!" he calls out, "M'sword won' keep me a'floatin'!" Something resembling panic can be heard in his voice, and he doesn't sound all that happy about being in the water.
 
 Ekroth attacks Kalmir with his Dagger and badly wounds her!

 From aboard The Alcarondas > Galain shouts, "Cut the other ship away ye fools. Shove off hard to starboard NOW!." as the mast falls a replacement pilot swings the Alcarondas tiller hard starboard and the remaining hooks are snapped. Sailors quickly dump sand on the fire and shove the burning timbers off."

 Imrahil clamors down the narrow gangplank from The Alcarondas.
 Imrahil has arrived.

 Abenar clamors down the narrow gangplank from The Alcarondas.
 Abenar has arrived.

 SPLASH! The Prince falls into the sea! He swims swiftly after the boy.

 Abenar has left.
 Abenar walks onto the deck of Ramangoth.

 "Aaaahhhh...." A loud yell is emitted from Kalmir's mouth as he is hurled overboard, then a splash as he hits the water.

 From aboard The Alcarondas > <Galain(#26812)> The Alcarondas splits away from the burning ship but stays close enough fore the men to drop lines to the other sailors. "Grab the lines, were setting away." shouts can be heard and men from the other ship grab onto the lines hanging over the port side.

 Rycars clamors down the narrow gangplank from The Alcarondas.
 Rycars has arrived.
 Rycars has left.
 Rycars walks onto the deck of Ramangoth.

 Ekroth watches as the Corsair's body hits the water and then dives across the gap between the Alcarondas and the Corsair ship, just making it before the ship pulls off.
 Ekroth has left.
 Ekroth boards The Alcarondas by the gangplank.

 Kalmir has left.
 Kalmir walks onto the deck of Ramangoth.

 Bukanyr jumps hard... and... boards Bay of Umbar!!
 Bukanyr has arrived.

 As the Gondorian warship cuts itself loose and pulls away, the Ramangoth burns ever more enthusiastically. Soon, all that remains of her is a plume of smoke rising from the bubbling water, and a thick black cloud of blood in the ocean.

 You board The Alcarondas by the gangplank.
 The Alcarondas
 You are climbing the gangplank.
 
 The Alcarondas - Main Deck
 The first rays of the rising sun touch gently the waves of the Bay of Umbar, rising up the fresh new vapours of the salty air. Everything in sight is bathed in the bright colors of dawn.

Dimly shines the light of the moon upon the Main Deck of the Alcarondas, mighty ship of war. As night has fallen, the deck is mostly deserted except for those sentries and stearsmen who guide her, and the light of many lanterns serves to banish the dark of night. The wood of which this ship has been crafted has been stained a light shade of brown, and the immaculate cleaniness of the planking gives testiment to the time and care given to this vessel. In places here and there one may lay sight of various piles of rope and binding coiled in an orderly fashion and spare sails folded neatly and set aside should they be called for, and yet despite the many obstacles which may hinder the deck, all is set in it's proper place so as to remain inconspicuously out of sight. A sturdy railing lines the perimeter of the ship to prevent the lurching seas from pitching a man overboard, and they too are stained with the same light brown as the rest of the ship, and yet in one place the railing is opened and unenclosed, and nearby lays a long wooden plank which may be set in place upon disembarking from the vessel.

(Note: That pretty much sums up the battle... The rest is us goofing off ICly)

 You head to the fore deck of the vessel.
 
 The Alcarondas - Fore Deck
 The first rays of the rising sun touch gently the waves of the Bay of Umbar, rising up the fresh new vapours of the salty air. Everything in sight is bathed in the bright colors of dawn.

Here you stand upon the fore deck of the mighty warship Alcarondas, pride of Gondor, and bright shines the sun upon her. The sea opens before you like a blue landscape, shifting and lurching with the rise and fall of the waves, and below you the prow of the vessel cuts through the water like a steel knife. Here the wind is strong and fierce from across the sea, and the air is filled with moisture and mist from the clashing waves; the air holding with it a tang of salt and brine. Rising from the decks like a vast tree is the fore mast of the ship, large around as two men standing abreast and yet pales in comparison to the mighty main mast. Perched precariously above one may find sailors at work in the rigging, furling and unfurling sail, or acting as lookout upon the horizon. And jutting from the prow itself is the bowsprit, but a narrow pole of wood supporting the jib sails to the fore. Brave is he who journeys out upon this narrow perch, and yet men do so daily, heeding little the danger of the swirling seas below.
 
 Galain moves toward the other man knowing he has done all he can for Torelin. He looks to the man and starts to apply bandages. :Dont even think about it lad, ye need these."

 Arras removes his chain mail armor and helps the healer with his work on Tore.

 Torelin grunts and stares up at Arras. "I will live." With that he lets his eyes fall shut and blacks out.

 Arras looks up, hardly noticing he is being worked on himself, "Hey, I'm not hurt. That man barely touched me", he says indignantly.

 Dric staggers up onto the foredeck, towards the stairs down to below decks. His right arm dangles akwardly from his side, in a position that arms aren't usually seen in, and he is sopping wet from hed to toe, some of the dampness wet and salty, the rest red and salty. He manages to make it part of the way before collapsing on the deck, sword still clutched in his left hand, hair falling vagrantly in his face.

 Torelin goes Out Of Character.

 Galain looks toward Dric and sighs. Then shouts out "Get over here lad!."

 The soaked boy doesn't seem at all in a position to move, wheezing, his breath coming short through the water and blood dripping from his mouth, "'E saved me..." he mumbles constantly, "Not like las' time." This he says over and over while crawling blindly towards the hatch.

 Arras looks over the healers shoulder and sees the boy with the wooden sword collapse to the deck. He shouts back to the healer, "That boy needs your help sir, more than I", he juts out his chin and stands up.

 Galain stands and moves toward dric. Using the wooden sword he sets the boys arm and ignores the pain he knows the boy must be in. "Its okay Dric, that arm 'ell be good as new." he bandages the arm and otehr wounds and throws a cloak around the bow to warm him.

 Dric keeps his eyes downcast, unblinking on the deck, "I killed 'im... 'E saved me..." This he repeats over and over again, barely abover a whisper. His voice is soft, but he is shivering all over, and keeps speaking, "I killed 'im... 'E saved me..." completly ignoring the pain Galain causes by bandaging his arm.

 Arras turns back and nods to the wounded man he fought with, "I, I think I'd like to help that boy over there, you seem so much less injured", and without waiting for a response he runs down the steps to where Dric has crawled himself.

 Dric blinks a few times, coming out of the trance he seemed to be in. Glancing down towards the main deck, he raises his uninjured arm, pointing with a small finger, "'o's that?" he asks weakly, biting his lip to keep himself from bursting out into tears from the now felt pain from his arm, "Who? That one..." the lad keeps pointing down at a figure, an older man, about as soaked as himself, but dressed much much more nicely.

 Arras hovers over Galain's shoulder, intent on seeing the injured boy. Not able to see much in this fashion, he squats down next to the healer and questions, "is he gonna be ok sir? He's talking like he's gotten to much sun dontcha think?".

 Galain nods "Or was in the cold water of the bay too long lad." He looks toward Dric. "Aye, he has a broken arm and few cuts but he shall be fine I belive." He looks at Dric then where he is pointing. "Who are you talking about Dric?" He asks in a sharp tone.

 "That one!" the lad insists, jabbing a finger in the air in the general direction of the Prince and his men, "Him! The wet one, of course, sir!" Frusteration and pain are quite apparent in his voice, and tears begin to form in his bright blue eys, "I wanna know 'o 'e is."

 Galain looks toward where the man is pointing. "Thats Lord Imrahil lad, prince of Dol Amroth." he sighs and asks in a stern voice. "Now what are you talking about?"

 Arras nods to Galain and then looks up to see who the boy insists dragged him to safety. He scoffs, seemingly wounded, "You were saved by the Prince? Maybe he's delirious sir", he says to Galain offhandly.

 Dric shakes his head hard, "Tha's not Prince Imrahil. Can't be. 'E's too nice. Th' Prince never woulda rescued me. M'brother says the Prince is a mean old man." He starts to stand, but falls back, frusterated with himself and those around him, "Now tell me 'o 'e is!"

 Galain nods and looks once again at the Prince. "I belive he is. Can ye take care of him? I have no time to help now, I must see to the ship."

 Galain heads to the main deck of the vessel.
 Galain has left.

 Arras pokes the wounded boy on his uninjured arm, and whispers, "That is Prince Imrahil. I should know, my father works for him and he's not a mean old man", he nods affirmatively. Looks up to the Prince and back to Dric, "did he really save you like youu said?".

 Dric continues to look futily in the Prince's direction. Nodding slowly, he glances, eyes full of pain, up at Arras, "'E's the one... I swear it on m'life. 'E jumped in an' saved me... but Prince Imrahil isn't a nice man. 'E's mean, and sends in-innocent people 'way from the city and takes their jobs w'out proof... At leas', m'brother says so." He sighs heavily.

 Arras is visually taken aback, beginning to go red in the face, "You take that back you hear. The prince is a good man he is", and he ribs the boy with the butt of his longsword.

 Dric winces heavily, "'Ey, lemee alone, I'm a wounded man." The tears stop formihng in his eyes, and he glares hard up at Arras from his sitting down position, "Tha's what m'brother said. M'brother's a great man, Corp'ral Malahir said so 'imself. If m'brother says so, then it's true, so tha's not the Prince. I's not. Can't be. 'Cos 'e's a mean old man."

 Arras offers an arm to help the boy into a sitting position himself, but continues to berate him loudly, "Now listen hear silly boy. I don't care about corp'ral's, brothers, or anything you have to say. The Prince is not a mean man", sticking out his tongue when the boy is pre-occupied with looking at the soaked figure on the other end of the ship that is claimed to be the Prince, "my father says he's a great man, I believe him".

 Dric strikes out at the young man near by, but doesn't come close to hitting him, "Yes 'e is... M'brother said so. M'brother is a great man, 'e's one of Lord Boromir's L'ten'nt's, an' 'e's done lots'a imp'rt'nt stuff. An' 'e says 'e saw a trial of 'is commander where the Prince was mean to 'im. 'E's just a mean old man, an' you know it." He finally runs out of breath, and continues to glare at Arras.

 Arras watches the outpouring of emotional banter with wide eyes, rubbing his runny nose when the boy runs out of breath. He squinches up his little features like he just bit into a lime and then rubs his eyes, "I think the salt water got into your brain. My father said he is a just and fair man, that is what he said to me, and I'm smarter than you. So, your brother must be wrong".

 Dric jumps to his feet, ignoring that pain that shows so brightly in his face, but is no match for his determination, "M'brother is never wrong!" he says quite loudly, drawing the attention of many sailors about him, "If 'e says the Prince is a mean old man, 'en the Prince is a mean old man, and your pa has been drawn into his trap. Tha's what Analdin calls it. Th' Prince's trap. An' you're going to be too, if y' don' wake up..." he breaks off, breathing heavily, fist up and ready to fight.

 Arras jumpds up and puts out his fist, "you want to fight with Arras eh? I'll show you the Prince is a good man", and he decks Dric in the face.

 Dric puts up his good hand and blocks Arras's blow, returning it just as fierce, "Y'can't prove wha's not true... Arras's your name, then? I'll make sure t' tell m'brother, so he can come rescue you from the Prince's trap."

 Arras blocks the boys feeble attempt with both hands, then starts kicking, rather flailing his right leg at Dric. "Arras is my name, and my father will take on your brother any day!".

 Dric jumps back and stays out of the way of the flailing leg. A smile breaks on his face, and, putting down his hands, the young lad takes another step back, "You're joking, right, Arras? Think yer pa couls take on m'brother? M'brother's a L'ten'nt in the Minas Tirith Guard. 'E's the best there is. Your pa couldn't touch a hair on 'is head."

 Arras stops his flailing, noticing it has no effect, but actually looks silly. He puts his hands on his hips and scoffs at Dric, "My dad will wup ya brother. He's a knight", and he nods his head quickly.

 Dric tilts his head, "A knight? M'brother's taken down knights before. Down in Pelargir, I hear, 'e almost beat Lord Ithilir in combat. The Knight-General! 'E and Lord Ithilir used to be friends, 'e said. Before Ithilir was Lord Ihilir. A long time ago. 'E also bested Lord Beladan, and is friends wi' Lord Helorondur, 'oo. Yer pa counld' touch a hair on 'is head."

 Arras walks up to the boy, who is a hair shorter them him, and pushes him back, "You best not say that. My pa is strong, he's bigger than me. He's probably bigger than your brother. Doesn't matter anyhow, just you see, Prince Imrahil will arrest him he will", sticking out his tongue mockingly.

 Dric stumbles back a step, glaring at Arras, "'Ey now, be nice. I'm a wounded man." He gives the taller boy a hard shove with his good arm, glaring hard, "I should hope your pa is bigger 'an you. You're jus' a pipsqueak. M'brother's not very tall, but 'e was a smith, and 'e's real strong. Prince Imrahil wouldn' dare arrest 'im, not in a million years."

 Arras gets pushed back, but stops his backpeddling. He scratches his head, "Your brother is a smithy? my pa says smithy's are for dwarflings. It figures he's small. I'm gonna tell on you, you said the Prince is a mean old stupid man, your gonna get in trouble good", he begins to turn toward the Prince, who talks with his aides, never having looked the way of the two bickering young lads.

 Dric shouts at Arras's back as he turns away, "Shows what you know, stupid Prince-lover," his face is somewhat red, "A smithy's a building, not a man. M'brother was a smith, not a building. You don' know nothin' about nothin'! An' don' e'en think 'bout telling the Prince. Wha'd 'e do? Ignore you, I'm sure. Doesn' care 'bout boys like you."

 Arras turns around and puts his thumb to his nose and wiggles his fingers at the boy. "You'll have to stop me if you can. The Prince will be very angry at you, you may have to walk the plank", grinning widely.

 Dric stands where he is, broken right arm hanging by his side, still only patched up, and his left clenched in a fist in front of him. "You do that!" he calls back to the boy, "'E'll just brush ye off. Doesn' care 'bout officers, doesn' care 'bout little boys. 'E didn' rescue me, must've been some other, nice man."

 Edmond climbs back onto the maindeck after an extended stay on the bowsprit. In his hands he has a book of sorts, which he is folding and putting away into his satchel. In his long black cloak, he looks noble, regal almost, with his simplicity. He strides across the deck in steel shod boots, listening to what the two men are arguing about.

 Arras turns suddenly and begins to run while still making faces at Dric. He immediately snacks into a tall man, hitting the ground like a sack of potatoes. He stares up at him, "Hey, that wasn't nice", and he rubs the aching jaw that hit the man's chest.

 Dric snickers as Arras falls, sticking his tongue out at the other boy, grinning widely, "Y' can' even make it to 'im wi'out whumping into some'un, how're ye goin' t' tell on me?" The young lad, light hair flopping down into his eyes, grins mischeviously at Arras, "Tha's wha' ye get for defending that mean ol' man."

 Edmond mumbles something about children, ships, and sharks, and looks around the deck, looking for a quieter place than this one right here. He moves around the kids as they carry on, moving to the opposite side of the ship to look for anything worth of poetry. Alas, nothing comes.

 Arras stammers, "ah, there you go again, talking bad about the Prince. He'll listen to me, you'll see. And you'll be sorry I bet", and he stands up, but walks toward Dric and not to Imrahil. He dusts himself off and says softly to the boy, "you made me run into that man, I don't like you anymore", a serious hurt look on his face as he goes to sit down by the foremast.

 "'E'll listen to ye, then what'll 'e do? Kill me? I'm jus' a boy, 'e can' hurt me." Yet, at Arras's hurt look, the shorter boy follows him over to the mast and sits down beside him, "I didn' make ye do anything, Arras," he says quietly, "Ye ran smack dab into the man. Looked funny doin' 't, too." Heaving a light sigh, he adds, "Aw, c'mon... ye've got to be m'friend. I don' 'ave any others..." He trails off, looking down at his feet.

 Arras doesn't look up to face the boy who now sits next to him. He keeps his head in his hands, and manages to whimper, "Go away, I'd rather kiss a girl than be friends with you".

 Dric's brow wrinkles, "Kiss a girl? Iew, you must 'ate me terrible now, Arras..." Sighing, he places a hand on his knee and levers himself to his feet, "I'm sorry. Real sorry." he murmers softly, turning his back, shoulders hunched, and begins walking in the general direction of the Captain and the Prince and the other standing, speaking about the battle.

 Arras looks up after Dric gets up and is finished pouting. He wipes his nose hurriedly and calls after the boy, "say, where are you going. Dontcha want to talk. I didn't mean it really. I mean kissing a girl is", he makes a contortion in his features that can only represent a child-like resentment, "the worst thing I could think of at the moment".

 Dric turns around slowly, already half way to the group of men, still looking hunched, like a convict marching to his own execution. Eyes lighting on Arras, he listens to the boy speak, "Kissing a girl's always real bad..." he leaves that at that, with a good bit of boyish disgust in his voice. But, as often happens with the young, his meloncholy mood has already disapeared, and he hurries back to his on-and-off friend, "Sure, I wanna talk. Ye jus' sounded all like ye didn' want t' talk t' me any more 'cause I'd been mean t' the Prince." He adds, under his breath, something about the Prince deserving it.

 Arras doesn't hear Dric say his last part, he immediately launches into a stream of conversation, "It's not your fault your brother misinformed you. Say, wasn't that battle great. We wuped them good. They have no ship now", he grins ear to ear at his new friend.

 Dric purses his lips, "M'brother didn' misinform me..." however, he doesn't touch any more on the subject, but prattles on with Arras about the battle, eyes lighting, "Yep, we busted 'em good. Say, were those H-H-Haradrim? Corsairs, they called 'emselves when I was on their ship las' time. They're real mean types, always beatin' people up wi' whips and clubs, an' makin' 'em row the ships an'..." he trails off, biting his lower lip, as if to keep himself quiet.

 Arras releases his grasp and moves his hand to the boys shoulder, "I'm sorry for doubting you my friend. I believe you, they are a wicked crowd, I spit at them, even though my father says not too, cos it's impolite to do that in front of the Prince", he sits up and looks at Dric, "I have an idea! Let's be blood brothers, that way my father is yours, and your brother is mine, and we don't fight anymore", he smiles merily.

 Dric blinks at the boy's sudden enthusiasm, "B-blood brothers? Wha's that?" He has just "awoken" from the terrible memories, and is still somewhat befuddled at the moment, "An' 'ow could m'brother be yours and your pa be mine? Y' don' even know m'name yet!"

 Arras scratches his head, and looks purplexed, "Ya know, I don't even know your name. But that doesn't matter, Look", he takes a small knife from his belt pocket and stabs his forefinger, then hands the knife over to the blonde haired boy, "You do the same, and then we smash our fingers together. That'll make us blood brothers".

 Dric takes the knife hesitantly, and juggles it around in his hand, before shrugging, "I can'! M'arm won' let me..." He sighs lightly, and hands the knife back to Arras, "Ye'll have t' do it for me... And m'names, Dric."

 Arras smiles as he takes the knife, "Nice to meet you Dric. My name is Arras, my father calls me Arry, and my friends call be ras. I guess no one can decide what part of my name they like best. Anyway, he goes", and he stabs Dric's finger lightly, pulling the blade back before anymore damage is inflicted on the wounded boy. He holds up his own bloodied finger and awaits Drics.

 Dric holds up his own finger tenativelty, and presses it against the other boy's. "What now?" he questions, voice laced with curiousity, "I' ne'er done this 'fore."

 Arras snickers and shrugs, "I've never done this before either, I guess maybe we should say something nice", he clears his throat, "to my new best friend, whose name is Dric, and brother couldn't beat up my pa, but is prolly a nice man anyway, may our blood be shared from this point on, and nothing come between us, ever. And now, we are forever brothers in blood".

 Dric casts Arras a warning glare, and adds his own part in there, "Brothers in blood who won' fight 'bout brothers and pas and who's better." With that, he takes a step back, and sucks on his finger, "An' now m'finger hurts like m'arm."

 Arras nods quickly and wipes his nose with his finger, smearing blood on his cheek. "Aye, brothers stick up for one another, we don't fight about anything no more. I wont tell Prince Imrahil what you said about him, I don't know who saved you, but a nice man he must be. Say, do you think you'll be a man-at-arms like me. My father said I can be a squire soon, but he said that he wants be to earn it, and him not do me any favors", rambling on, "you can be a squire like me too, and help my pa. He'll send your brother a letter, and explain everything simple like to him, I'll remind him that he's a smithy ya know", he says matter of factly.

 Dric nods, just listening to the other boy prattle along, until he reaches the part about his brother, "M'brother's a Lieutenant in the Minas Tirith Guard, Arras, no' a smith anymore. He writes orders every day, and has a stack of papers this high" here he stretches his hands very far apart, "On his desk all the time. He don' need anything written simple for 'im. I was a Guard, too, for a while. A drummer boy. But I runned away t' do somethin' else."

 Arras shrugs, "It's ok. My pa will send him a letter anyways. You were a guard too? Did you talk with one? Are they mean? My father says they are miserable sorts that don't talk much, unless they are demanding horses to be tied up".

 Dric grins, "Naw, they're nice, as they come. All serious and duty con-concious" he stutters over the word. "An' they get real stubborn over horses and weapons. Protecting the city, you understand. Couln' have someone killing the Lord Steward of Lord Boromir or anyone, 'course. That jus' wouldn' be good. In fact, m' brother helped save Lord Boromir's life, once, when 'e was younger. Got to be nicer than Knights, though.." he adds this last as an afterthought.

 Arras wrinkles his brow, "What is con-concious? I don't think Knights have that", he says innocently, "I've never heard of that word, so they must not have it", he continues, "is Minas Tirith big? Have you seen Lord Boromir too? And Lord Denethor. My papa talks alot about them when he isn't talking about Prince Imrahil that is".

 Dric rolls his eyes, "Silly! Concious... tha's the word Captain Elbarad and Corp'ral Malahir use when they talk 'bout m' brother. Duty concious. And stubborn. See, m'brother doesn' like to rest at all. 'E works too much, they say." Yet, his eyes light up at mention of the Lords of Minas Tirith, "Well, can' say I've ever seen Lord Denethor. 'E spends all 'is time locked up in 'is tower doin' 'portant stuff. But I've seen Lord Boromir. I've talked to 'im, too. 'E almost yelled at me once. I was makin' some trouble... An' 'e glared at me, and almost yelled, too, but I ran to Corp'ral Malahir 'fore 'e did that."

 Arras eyes are bright and wide in the late afternoon, the sun beginning to set behind Dric. He sighs, "you have exciting stories Dric. I like them. It's a good thing you're not afraid of trouble, grown ups don't understand, they are always afraid of something. Did corp'ral, Mala...Malamork did you say? He must have been a big man to save you from Lord Boromir. Is he bigger than your brother? When we get back home, I think we should run away together too. But where would we go?".

 Dric's grin widens, "Corp'ral Malahir, not Malamork. 'E's a big man, too, a noble, too. But m'brother still likes 'im, strangely 'nuff. 'E just kept me from being seen by Lord Boromir." The young lad's eyes begin to twinkle, "Tha's all 'e had to do. An' I just runned away! don' need t' do it 'gain. Sergeant Galain should let me stay onboard, least 'till we reach Dol Amroth. I 'hear that's where we're goin'. Dunno if I'd want t' stay there. Hear the Prince lives there."

 Arras rests his head on the foremast, his eyes shutting momentarily before he speaks again, "Aye, the Alca is heading for home. Wait till you see it. I'm not sure if we can get into trouble and hide behind big corp'ral's an all, but we can play around for sure, as long as we don't git any of the Lords angry at us. Say Dric, where are you staying on the ship?".

 Dric kicks at the deck, at the wood, stubbing his toe and grimacing as he does so, "Aw, bu' gettin' people mad atcha is the fun part! Y'only don' need t' get cought. I s'pose you've not yet learned tha', though, if yer still idolizin' the Prince. Don' ask me wha' th' word means, jus' one m'brother uses." When the question of where he's sating is brought up, the young lad shrugs lightly, "Under the tarps, the rolled up sails, in a sailor's bunk when 'e's on duty... why, even in th' Cap'n's quarters, when I c'n. Ol' Cap'n Rinkair doesn' know I'm there, s'okay. I stay around. 'S th' lot of a stow 'way... I done it 'fore on this ship. Got in good with Sergeant Galain, an' kept m'head. I c'n d' 't 'gain."

 Arras tries to follow the lad's perculiar speach but gives up midway through, interjecting, "I wont tell, we're blood brothers, your secret's safe with me. Do you want to sneak belowdecks. I share quarters with all the other men-at-arms, so you can get lost real easy, as long as the sergeant doesn't come down and calls role. Which", he starts to smirk, "he prolly already has, and now I'm in trouble. But spose we get there when ever'one is sleeping, that'll work out I think".

 "You s'pose there'd be an empty bed down 'ere fer me?" the young las asks cautiously, "I don' mind gettin' m'self in trouble, but don' wan' t' get m'friend in it." With a resolved tone, Dric begins stepping towards the hatch to the quarters of those passangers on the ship, such as the men at arms and lord of Belfalas.

 Arras stands up and pats himself down, then begins to walk with Dric, "Aye, unfortunately, I'm sure we had a few deaths, and as eerie as it is, you can take one of their cots. That is if you're not scared too".

 Dric continues his way to the quarters, slowly, nodding, "I'm not 'fraid of anythin'. Nothin' 't all." With that, he slips through the hatch and heads on downstairs."