It was a crisp, clear morning bright and busy with early risers preparing for a long day. Fendwall took a deep breath, wrinkling his nose. The morning air stank of fish already, stronger than usual. He smiled. He had lived most his entire life either by the sea or on it and the scent of fish and seawater made him feel right at home.
He pulled his fur hood up against the chill morning, not that he needed it, and stepped off the White Raider. The docks were crowded with an array of pirates, smugglers, traders, and the odd soldier or two to keep the peace among the more unsavory of folk in Umbar.
Furtive eyes met his own icy blue ones and quickly looked away. The tall Lossoth had a fearsome reputation up and down the coast as a hard man and a harder adversary. He was instantly recognizable, if not for his fur hood, then for the dark blue tattoos streaking his skin.
"Ey, Wolf! Git yer northern behind over 'ere," a gruff voice shouted. Fendwall grinned and shoved the people blocking his way aside. They soon parted before him as he made his way toward the voice that called him.
"Aye, Captain?" he asked stopping beside a grizzled dwarf with a nasty snarl on his face and gripping the arm of a tiny woman no taller than he.
"This 'ere lass tried to steal mah coin!" the captain shouted. The woman, attempting a face of bravery, faced the captain and tried wrenching her arm free. She avoided Fendwall's gaze, clearly frightened by the big man with strange blue and white skin and eyes that could freeze ale.
"What's yer name, lassie?" Fendwall asked as he crossed his arms meaning to reassure the woman, but his voice, powerful and curt after years of bellowing orders over tempests, only served to frighten her more.
"Es," she squeaked, shrinking back for a moment then attempting to stand taller than she was.
"Well, little Es," Fendwall squatted down until his face was level with hers. It was further down than he'd thought. "I reckon yer from the Blue Mountains, but yer too timid fer a dwarf and yer missin' the beard."
Es put her free hand on her hip and drew her little head up with as much dignity as she could muster. She lifted her chin and frowned at the Lossoth.
"Dwarf?" she cried, "Who are you to call me a Dwarf?"
The captain snorted. Es stamped her foot with indignation.
"I am a Hobbit!" she insisted. "Shire born and bred."
"Aye," Fendwall's mouth twisted in a humorous grin as he stood up, "and I'm a dragon."
Es looked confused for a moment before realizing he was joking. "Ha. Ha. Funny." Es tried to loosen the captain's grip on her arm. "I really am a Hobbit."
"Suit yerself. It doesn't matter to me what you think you are. All I care about is wha' you did to my captain, lass."
The captain grinned, pleased with how his first mate was handling the situation. He could have taken care of the lass, but he rather enjoyed watching Fendwall intimidate people. Es hung her head, shoulders slumping, in defeat. Fendwall nodded.
"Now, I'll give you three options. First, you can go and make The Indomitable Captain Oros here twice the amount he has in his pouch. I guarantee that will take a very long time in this broken cesspool of thieves and assassins, most of whom will make a light snack of you. Your second option will be to join his crew and repay your debt by working for him. Your final option," Fendwall fingered a sharp, curved dagger and grinned wolfishly, "is less than desirable."
Es squeaked. She gulped hard, watching his hand with bright, terrified eyes.
"M-may I have some time to consider the options?" she asked hopefully.
"Aye, lass, but you'll stayin' in the brig 'til then. Don't want you sneakin' off without payin' yer dues."
Es huffed as Oros led her away. Fendwall followed, face grim and unyielding. People cast worried glances at Es. Es glanced back at Fendwall and hurriedly looked away. Fendwall smirked. He half hoped she would choose the third option. Trouble would only follow if she joined.
...
A short time later, after seeing Es locked in the stinking brig, which reminded Fendwall it needed a good scrubbing. That would be the first task assigned to her if she decided to join the crew. He approached the door to The Enchanted Hammer, one of the many taverns lining the packed shoreline.
The Enchanted Hammer was anything but enchanting at this hour. Raucous laughter greeted his ears as soon as he opened the door. Already the lowest and meanest of thieves were deep in their cups if the racket was anything to judge by. Fendwall stood out almost everywhere he went, his tall frame and blue striped face drawing the attention of the masses, yet in this place not an eye glanced in his direction among the many strange characters here. Nearly every race from Haradrim to dwarves and the occasional light haired head of the Rohirrim men was represented in the tavern.
Fendwall wasn't here to socialize. Oros had sent him on a mission to find crew members to fill spaces left by deserters, mutineers, and a few who had perished on their last fruitless mission. Oros had been in a frenzy the last few days. Over what, Fendwall had no idea, he knew it was big, but knowing his captain would share in good time he was willing to do whatever need be done. At present that was to find a crew.
And so here he was searching for daring souls. As first mate it was essential he sense courage, and sense it he could, like a bloodhound tracking a wounded animal. A man, or woman, of courage had a certain demeanor in the way they carried themselves, their walk, their talk, and above all their eyes. The eyes were the gateway to the soul. Of course, there were times when he could not find the courageous. It was times like that he sought out the desperate, the ones who had nothing to lose. In cesspits like Umbar, the desperate were far more common.
A slight touch against his leg caused him to spin around, dagger drawn and glinting at the short, thick neck of a broad-shouldered man. He seemed rather ordinary, too ordinary for this crowd. He gave Fendwall an overly friendly smile, revealing large, widely spaced, yellowing teeth.
"Pardon me, good sir. Must've bumped into you on accident," he said good-naturedly. Fendwall scowled and wrenched the man's arm from behind his back. Lo and behold, unsurprisingly, Fendwall's grey coin purse was gripped tightly in his filthy hands.
"Is that so?" Fendwall asked, ripping it from the man's hands. "This looks strangely like my own," he opened it and poured out a few special trinkets he kept, "and look!" he mocked. "This is exactly like that necklace I pilfered off a fine lady some years back." A wild, fierce grin formed on his face.
The man stammered, searching for a plausible excuse. Fendwall cut him off with a laugh.
"Among the rabble of Umbar, there are worse crimes than pickpocketing." He released the man from his vise-like grip. "But it gives an impression you've either got yourself a nasty habit or you're in need of a little coin. I prefer the latter. Now," he thumped the man across the chest, perhaps harder than necessary, for the man gasped and doubled over, "a hardy man, such as yourself, should have no trouble finding work here."
"Why work when you can get coin for free?" the man replied after recovering somewhat, the ever present grin returning to his face. Irritation flashed across Fendwall's eyes. He shoved it down with a broad smile.
"Because, working can be its own reward!" he exclaimed. "Imagine sailing the high seas. The wind at your back and unexplored waters ahead. You can't buy that."
The man let out a harsh, barking laugh full of derision. He slapped a large hand against his thigh. "You sound like one of them cursed Gondorian fleet recruiters. Always yammerin' 'bout how great them ships are and what a blessin' it is to be on 'em. Truth is," he said somberly, "I've live most my life on the sea. Much as I hate it, I haven't found anythin' tha' gives me the same feelin' as ridin' the waves."
Fendwall grinned, baring his pearly white teeth. "I have just the opportunity for you. And it ain't nothin' like the Gondorian fleet, trust me. Take a seat. I'll buy a round and fill you in..."
...
Over the course of their conversation Fendwall learned the man's name was Morien and he was originally from Gondor, but ran away at sixteen and never looked back. His plain appearance hid the fact that he was a skilled con man, often swindling the unwary and naïve of their coin.
Morien had signed on after Fendwall discussed Captain Oros' need for a larger crew and promised Morien a share of what treasure they found. They shook on it and Fendwall sent the stocky swindler on his way. He wiped his hands on the front of his pants. He didn't like the man, but was used to dealing with Morien's kind and had often worked alongside them on the White Raider. He always left their presence with a strong urge to bathe.
Fendwall scanned the crowded tavern for other possible crew members. He wasn't a picky man, but there were a few guidelines he liked to follow when scouting out members. One being cleanliness, a clean ship was better for moral. Morien was bridging on the edge of that, but Fendwall could always throw him overboard if the man got too smelly and send a boat after him later. Secondly; they needed a clean record of any heinous crimes in Umbar or be a wanted criminal here. The city was Oros' main supply stop, making it paramount they maintain a good relationship with the city. He couldn't care less what they had done in other cities.
Thirdly he avoided hiring children, too many grievances came with bringing one on board, not to mention they had a nasty habit of flinching food from the larder. Dwarves were also avoided as much as possible. Oros was on less than friendly terms with them and his name was well known. Fendwall didn't know what the surly captain had done and he didn't care. Finally, they could not have tattoos more noticeable than Fendwall's. This was his own personal preference. He liked to stand out at all times.
There was only one person in the tavern who fit the guidelines, the rest were filthy, well-known criminals, or covered head to toe in outlandish tattoos. That would not do at all. Fendwall cautiously approached the solitary woman, currently engaged in a game of Squibs with an inebriated dwarf.
"Yar a cheater!" the dwarf shouted. He slammed his drink on the table, sloshing drink across the stained wood.
"Did not! I won fair. Now pay up," the woman demanded holding out her hand. A slight Gondorian accent laced her words. The dwarf spat in her hand. Her face twisted in disgust.
"Pay up my bum, ya rotten heavy," he slurred rising clumsily to his feet. The words had no sooner left his mouth than the woman's fist put a permanent dent in his cheek. The dwarf screamed in outrage and drew his dagger, but the woman was faster. Her own dagger appearing at his throat before he could blink.
"I said pay up," she growled.
"Now, now," Fendwall said, inserting himself between them and placing a large hand on either of their shoulders, "no need for bloodshed. Gold is plentiful and not worth your lives."
The dwarf grunted and ambled away, but Fendwall caught him by the arm and held him there. The woman turned to face him. Long scarlet hair fell down her back in waves, reminding Fendwall of the sea at sunset. Bright blue eyes studied him carefully, weighing his words against her desire to see blood.
"Nor is it worth the life of a woman so beautiful," Fendwall added and immediately realized his mistake. His wide grin faded. His comment had only angered the woman.
"Flattery will get you nowhere," she spat.
"Perhaps not," Fendwall admitted, "but gold might." He lifted his bag of coins from his belt and jingling it temptingly.
The dwarf let out a loud belch and passed out. Fendwall let him fall.
"See? Easy as that," Fendwall said, "no blood, no cleanup, no paperwork."
The woman's features eased and her lips curled as if she might laugh. She turned to him again, slipping her dagger back into its sheath.
"What are you offering me?" she asked curiously.
"I'm looking for a crew," Fendwall said. He tied his coin purse to his belt again. The woman tilted her head, judging whether he was telling the truth or not.
"Oi! Wolf, you leave off 'er," a spindly man shouted, sidling up to her. She pushed him away with contempt.
"Get off, Walsh."
Fendwall watched their interaction with great interest.
"You watch out fer this one, m'lady," Walsh said, "they don't call 'im The Wolf fer nothin'. He got them fangs that'll rip yer throat out."
Fendwall bared his "fangs", causing Walsh to flinch.
"I can take care of myself, thanks," she rolled her eyes. Walsh skittered away.
"You say you're looking for a crew?"
"Only the best," Fendwall said, procuring a paper and nifty quill that held ink inside itself from his coat. He had cleaned it thoroughly after Morien touched it. It was his favorite quill. The woman held out a pale hand.
"Estella, at your service," she said. Fendwall took her hand gently in his. He fully intended to kiss it, but a stormy look in Estella's eyes stopped him in his tracks. He settled for awkwardly shaking her hand.
"Fendwall Auri the Third at yours and your family's." He handed her the quill. "Read the terms, if you can read, and sign the line."
Estella hardly glanced at the terms and signed her name beneath Morien's unintelligible scribblings. She handed the scroll back to him with a smile. Perhaps she can't read Fendwall thought, raising an eyebrow, or she doesn't care. Either way it matters not.
He grinned back at her and flourished with his large tattooed hand. "Welcome to the Crew of the White Raider, m'lady!"