Tolkien Fan Fiction
| 17 |
| Chapter Seventeen |
| Tuor was pacing the quayside in a fury, his mind racing at what might have gone wrong. He was most anxious for Turambar, who had insisted on taking on the most dangerous role for himself. He had assured Tuor that with his beard and new facial scar that Hannemor had not recognised him as the callow youth who had courted his youngest niece twelve years before, but he had been gone too long… The more Tuor had thought about Turambar’s suggestion to look at industries where he had brought in labour from outside Pelargir, the more he was drawn to the old shipyard. The cliffs behind the old shipyard, hidden from view of the main town and garrison, would have been an ideal place to secrete valuable cargo in the days before the Battle of Pelargir. It was known that there was a hidden cave complex within the cliffs, which had been sealed up centuries before to prevent smuggling, but that was not to say that someone had not found a way back in. If Hannemor had secreted the hoard in the cliff caves ahead of the battle, he would have found it impossible to retrieve it since its aftermath as Tuor had moored his infamous and purloined pirate ship of Dol Amroth at the old shipyard immediately following Aragorn and the Grey Company’s defeat of the Corsair fleet, who had unwisely chosen to pillage along the coast rather than reinforcing Sauron’s army in Minas Tirith, no doubt calculating that the worst of the fighting would be over before their arrival and they would merely be mopping up any survivors. Hidden on his pirate ships together with Lothíriel and her healers in a discreet estuary close to the city, he had watched in horror the fleet moving in on Pelargir. His first duty was to protect his niece, but fearing for his city, he was torn with indecision until his lookouts had spotted Maela and her rider speeding toward them along the steep banks of the estuary which reached just high enough to give cover to the main body of the ship. With a mighty leap, the Mearas clattered onto his foredeck. ‘Sail, sail now to Pelargir. Not Lothíriel’s ship. I will take her upstream myself, as soon as I have word that the battle is won. I have seen what forces Aragorn has mustered and they will win back Pelargir before the citadel is taken. Moor at the old shipyard and take the back pathway to the citadel. Go and relieve them, then stay. Your place is here. Send another ship now to Umbar with a strong force of men to meet Assa. You must free Ottakar.’ Maglor had barked his orders, readily confirmed by Tuor. He had been itching to see battle. As the city hove into view from the water, a sight for which nothing had prepared him had assaulted his vision. His usually gregarious crew had watched, some in horror, others uncomprehendingly, all in silence as they saw the men still on board the enemy ships throw themselves in terror into the strong flowing waters of the river. While Tuor’s ships sailed past the city, they had heard the cries of the street battles being fought. Maglor had given him enough information as to what unnatural horror the unprepared sailors from Umbar faced that he had almost pitied them. The two remaining ships had moored at the old shipyard towards the back of the city, upstream of the confluence of the tributary river Sirith to the great Anduin, until news of the victory was confirmed and Lothíriel’s ship sailed north to bring succour to the wounded, but most importantly, one had remained moored there for repairs for weeks with its full crew on board. Anyone wanting to retrieve stolen treasure and slip away under darkness, or daytime, would most certainly have been spotted by Tuor’s most trusted and ruthless of men. As soon as his pirate crew were called back into service and to the seas, Tuor had used the old shipyard for a round-the-clock ship-building programme for the last year and a half, while the damaged main harbour and ship-building yards were rebuilt and extended. Suspicion had fallen on one man, Varentin, purportedly a native of Umbar, who had ingratiated himself with the old shipyard’s quartermaster. Reputedly an excellent organiser of all the necessary supplies, he was also multi-lingual and had made himself indispensable. He had been working there over twelve months. Several of the workmen Tuor’s spies had spoken to felt that he was hiding something. Tuor ordered a tax inspection as a ruse for a full investigation, but they came up with nothing. The accounts were in impeccable order. Too impeccable. Tuor’s suspicions deepened. Having received confirmation from Faramir and Gallend that Margelith did indeed know Turambar well, he had been asked to accompany the inspection under the guise of a guard, his face mostly hidden under the guardsman’s helmet. His assessment had been most frustrating. While Turambar had thought that it was possible the man Varentin could be Hannemor, he was not entirely sure. Whereas Hannemor had been clean shaven, Varentin sported a thick dark beard and moustache which hid what could have revealed Hannemor’s pronounced jawline. The height and build were also similar, although Varentin was thinner than he remembered the Hannemor of twelve years ago. Unconvinced he had the right man, Turambar had asked to be placed at the old shipyard to observe Varentin more closely. For weeks, Turambar tried to get close to the man, to trip him up into revealing himself, but Varentin was always two steps ahead of him, giving nothing away. Varentin remained an exemplary sub-Quartermaster, always sober, extremely efficient, quiet and unassuming, yet most certainly evasive. Tuor had become impatient. Too impatient. When someone, Tuor could not remember whom, suggested that they tried to flush him out with a ruse, Tuor’s frustration got the better of him. Queen Arwen was about to give birth to King Elessar’s first child, possibly an heir. Regardless of the child’s sex, it would be an excuse for a feast day in celebration and thereby the suspension of all work at the shipyard for a full day, leaving it seemingly unguarded, enough to entice Hannemor, whether he was Varentin or not, to make his move. Soon after Tuor’s return from escorting Elphir to Umbar, the happy news came from Minas Tirith that the Queen had given birth to a son, Eldarion, to much rejoicing. Tuor called for a special feast day in celebration in two days’ time during which all work in the old shipyard, as elsewhere in Pelargir, would be suspended for a whole day and night. Tuor’s spies were positioned in hiding places along the cliffs even before the announcement, while Turambar shadowed Varentin closely in the Quartermaster’s offices. Although Varentin seemed suddenly to have become more distracted since the announcement, he had not deviated from his normal tasks, at least not during the daytime. His nocturnal activities, on the other hand, proved far more interesting. Varentin, who had never been seen frequenting the city’s many taverns before, began to meet in secret with known thugs for hire. It was not difficult for Tuor’s men to find one who would talk. They were to meet at dusk on the day of the celebrations by the cleft in the cliffs where the stream of Cereth entered the River Sirith and help carry some heavy chests on to a barge downstream from there. The barge could easily sail past the old shipyard under cover of darkness when the tide came in a few hours before dawn. However, the gang of paid mercenaries was still waiting below the cliffs hours after dusk and they were beginning to get restless. ‘We are wasting our time, lads. We’ve been had. This is a set up. I’m off,’ one of the more intelligent of the men had said to general murmuring of agreement. Tuor’s men had descended on the group before any of them could disperse and they were now sitting on the same quayside watching Tuor’s increasing fury. Tuor needed Assa there, and Gallend. He knew they were both with Hadán in Dol Amroth. He sent his fastest ship out to fetch them well after midnight. At the same time he ordered a barge upstream to Faramir in Minas Tirith asking him to allow Margelith to accompany his men down to Pelargir, where she would be welcomed with due respect. It was the least he could do for Turambar. He had not been seen since that morning at dawn, when he had personally shut down the shipyard to allow the workers to join the feasting in the city. The four guards he had selected to provide minimal security for the shipyard were also missing. As all attention had been focused on the cliffs, it had not been noticed that they were absent until Tuor had left the celebrations late afternoon to go in person to collect Turambar to be present at the impending arrests. Tuor knew he had been outplayed; the question was how? |