Captain Fangnir’s Aeartur was swaying calmly on the waves near the Mouths of Anduin, her sails flapping valiantly in the wind. Her imposing prow pointed towards the Anduin, and the desolate Corsair ship was floating next to Aeartur, arrow shafts protruding from its hull like needles on a pincushion.
When Captain Tamruzîr had realized that they were seriously undermanned and underpowered against the majestic Gondorian merchantman, he had commanded his Corsairs to turn the ship and attempt to flee, but the winds had been against them. The Corsair ship had been tacking against the wind while the much fleeter Gondorian ship had had the wind on her back. Aeartur’s archers were already sending volleys of arrows on the deck of the pirate vessel before they had managed to turn it, killing and maiming Corsairs that were desperately trying to carry out Tamruzîr’s orders. It had not taken long for Tamruzîr to understand that escape was impossible, so he had struck the colors and surrendered to the superior enemy.
Aeartur had sailed alongside the Corsair ship and secured it with grappling hooks and ropes. The pirates offered no resistance to Aeartur’s crew. While the Corsairs knew that they would likely be hanged in Pelargir, none of them wanted to die on that day. Many had already perished to the rain of arrows from Aeartur’s archers. Fangnir’s sailors had tied the Corsairs up and released the Harad prisoners. The Corsairs were brought to the foredeck of Aeartur while the Harad prisoners had been placed on the stern. Aeartur’s crew unloaded the Corsair ship’s valuable crates of gold and jewelry and transported them to the cargo hold of the Gondorian ship, while Captain Fangnir and his chief mate Arthon interrogated the Corsair prisoners.
The grey sea sky sent clouds like dragons against the Gondorian shores on the horizon. Fangnir, standing with his hands behind his back, his large belly hanging over his belt, stared at the rising storm and tried to grasp what the Corsair captain had just told him. Slowly, almost absent-mindedly, a frown formed on his forehead. Suddenly Fangnir let out an enraged roar, unsheathed his sword and swung it across the air. Tamruzîr’s head rolled on the deck. Chief mate Arthon inhaled and took a step backwards, stunned and shocked by Fangnir’s unexpected violent outburst. All the sailors witnessing the event stopped mid-duty, staring at the sight, mouths agape. Slowly the red mist cleared from Fangnir’s vision and he regained control of himself again. He saw the bloodied sword in his hand and Tamruzîr’s head lying next to the ship’s bulwark. The Corsair captain’s headless torso was lying on his feet, and both the Corsair prisoners and his own crew were staring at him, eyes wide like saucers. Fangnir had no clear memory of beheading the prisoner, but he understood that he must have done it.
”A child is dead!” Fangnir bellowed at his crew. ”A small Harad boy he forced to climb to the mast! And he wouldn’t even try to help the boy – he just threw him down to the cargo hold like garbage to die!”
”Shocking, Captain”, chief mate Arthon said cautiously after a while, Fangnir’s expectant eyes locked onto him, waiting for Arthon to say something. ”But they are Corsairs, so we can expect nothing better of them. Justice will be served to them all in Pelargir… right, Captain?”
”He was reaching for my sword”, Fangnir said. ”I killed him in self-defense. You all saw that, right?”
”Of course, Captain!” Arthon replied eagerly, relieved that Fangnir was evidently not going to summarily execute the rest of the Corsair prisoners… or make Arthon and the crew kill them to make them complicit. ”We all saw it, right, men?”
The crew murmured agreeably. Everyone knew that there was no way the Corsair captain could have reached for Fangnir’s sword, for his hands were tied behind his back. But Fangnir was a good man, a noble man – a folk hero in Gondor’s navy, rumored to be a strong candidate for being knighted by Steward Denethor next summer. Captain Fangnir was not perfect, of course. Fangnir was known for his violent and unpredictable mood swings, but he was a fair captain who treated his crew fairly and paid them well. The death of a small child – even if it was just a Harad child – was just the sort of thing that could push Fangnir over the edge and make him lose his head, so the beheading of the surrendered Corsair captain was totally understandable, if not downright legal or honorable action in the strictest sense. Besides, on the sea the captain’s word was the law and the crew would get their fair share of the loot, so nobody was going to say it had not happened exactly the way the captain claimed.
”Good”, Fangnir said. ”Throw him overboard and sink the ship once you have secured all the loot. And bring the Harad prisoners to my cabin once you are done. I want to talk to them all individually.”
”Aye, Captain!”
Nobody on Aeartur besides Fangnir knew that what had provoked him to lose his temper was not the boy’s death as such, but what it meant for himself personally and the long-standing arrangement he had with the Corsairs of Umbar. The whole arrangement was based on trust. Fangnir had given the impressed ones his word that they would see their loved ones after two years of service, and so far he had always kept his promise. The impressed ones stayed obedient because they knew they could trust his word, that they could trust to be reunited with their children and loved ones after their time of service was up. Had he realized that the Corsair captain was using the boy as his crew, he would have foregone the archers with their volleys. Fangnir had assumed that the boy was kept below decks among the other Harad prisoners as usual.
But now… if the word got out that Fangnir’s word could not be trusted, the impressed ones might get ideas. The whole arrangement was in jeopardy, not to mention Fangnir’s reputation, career, and indeed his very life.
The boy’s mother… her two years were up. She was expecting to be reunited with her son soon. She had been living in fear for two years, fearing for her life, fearing for her son’s life… there was no way to gently explain her now that her son was dead and that it had been an accident. She would lose her mind, her will to live… she would ruin everything.
Fangnir realized that she had to be dealt with. He would have to deal with her, or have someone else deal with her. It would have to look like an accident. It was too bad, but he could see no other way. Curse to that idiot Corsair captain for making a mess of things!
