A Middle Earth Story: The Corsairs of Oros

Chapter Five: A Matter of Honor

"Honor is a fickle thing," she said.

"And what would you know of honor?" Estella demanded. Pain flashed across Norin's face so quickly Estella thought she imagined it.

"No more than you, I would assume. I know that it is why you fought the dark one of noble blood disgraced by the passage of time. She said something to you, something that angered you. Something unthinkable."

Anger flared inside Estella. How dare this girl mock her?

"You know nothing of honor," Estella spat. Norin ceased her drawing and squinted at the taunt woman before her with fiery hair equal to her own. Her skin was red and chapped from the sun and sea winds.

"No. Perhaps I do not," Norin mused. She smiled meanly. "But then, if I did perhaps I would not have joined a pirate crew." She went back to her drawing. Estella, biting the inside of her cheek, stalked off to her room. The females had all been given two rooms to share. She shared one room with the two hobbits and Lendethiel, whom she had little regard for. Livian, the traitor Calen, and Norin shared the other room.

Estella snatched the door open to chaos. Drida and Es were racing about the room screeching madly at a rat scurrying between their feet and out of their grasp. Drida held a cruel looking dagger in her small hands and was preparing to bring the blade down upon the unfortunate creature the moment it passed by her. Es was retrieving her throwing knives from the floor.

As Estella went to close the door and leave them to the rat, the rat dashed madly for the exit and escaped onto the deck. Es and Drida ran after it, screeching and laughing. Before Estella had even closed the door all the way she heard a heavy thud and Fendwall cursing loudly. Chuckling softly, Estella made her way to the deck where, without any pressing matters to attend at the moment, she quietly observed from the stairs leading up to the tiller.

A faint warm breeze lifted the ends of her hair and eddied throughout the ship, lifting the crew's spirits for a short time. If luck was with them a stiff breeze would build as the sun travelled across the sky before dying away as night fell. Snatches of conversation reached her, pleasant exchanges between comrades who had been through the wrath of sea together and had survived.

Brandt and Adrahil chatted gaily while Brandt repaired the sheets. Adrahil, with his arm still bound, untangled and fed the ropes to Brandt as fast as they were repaired. Es and Drida were scrubbing the deck, making a game to see who could get the other the wettest. Calen, Estella noticed bitterly, was happily telling Morien a grand tale as they fished off the edge of the ship. Their lines were thin rope with a large hook attached to the end.

A few short feet behind them was Talf, patiently teaching Lendethiel to gut a fish. The she-elf wore a deep grimace as she gingerly held her small fish. Between the food that remained on board and the few fish Morien and Calen managed to catch, the crew would receive the equivalent of a half ration. The notion of extra food helped to pull the crew from their black mood. Yet, despite the lightness of the mood, a line of tension ran throughout the ship like a tripwire ready to spring a deadly trap.

Fendwall flopped on the stairs next to Estella and stretched his long legs out in front of him. Estella glared at him, but he showed no sign of leaving. She edged away from him. He snorted softly.

"Afternoon," he said gruffly. Estella ignored him. "What do you make of Calen?" he asked absently. Estella stared at him incredulously.

"What?" she sputtered. Fendwall waved a big hand toward the black haired Númenorean.

"I am asking you what you think of her," he said again. Estella bit her lip and squinted at Calen.

"She is flippant and fanciful. The world is a stage to her and its people an audience."

"Do you trust her?" Fendwall asked. Estella pursed her lips and slowly shook her head.

"I would not trust her to follow direct orders if they did not comply with her ideal adventure. She does not understand that there are consequences to her actions and I fear one day the lives of innocents will be in her hands," Estella said. Fendwall nodded seriously.

"What of Morien?"

Estella scoffed. "I would not trust him to throw a stone straight. That man is dangerous and unreliable."

"Regardless," Fendwall mused, "he is no poor sailor." He tapped his finger against his lips thoughtfully. "Do you trust Princess?"

"Who?" Estella asked. Fendwall grinned maliciously.

"Norin of Dol Amroth. She claimed to be of noble blood."

Estella sniffed in disgust. "She is strange, but I do not know her well enough to judge."

"And Livian?"

"What are you doing?" Estella demanded rising to her feet. Fendwall barley flinched. "I know not what game you play here, but I will not play judge and jury for my shipmates."

Fendwall smiled and leaned back, folding his hands over his chest. "I play no game that you do not already. You and I are more alike than we may know. I know you feel it. I can taste it. There are strange flavors riding the sea this day. I have sailed long enough to know when the sea is restless under her surface. Something evil rides her waves."

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Okay, so about Friday I realized I had half of this chapter just sitting on my computer and I had completely forgotten about it between school, War Doves, rewriting Dragon Nymph a a whole boat load of other things, please excuse my totally intentional pun...

Maybe I'll get back into the swing of updating this regularly and maybe not. Rest assured I have not given up on it though. It's just hard getting sixteen characters whom all hate each other to cooperate in a story.