A week later Aeartur arrived in the port of Pelargir. The Corsair captives, the freed Harad slaves and the valuable loot was handed over to the Pelargir port authorities. Half of the loot would be divided between the coffers of Pelargir and Minas Tirith, the other half was to be shared among the captain and the crew according to their rank, with lion’s share going to Fangnir. While the common mariners would not get rich like Fangnir, their share of the loot still equalled about a year’s pay and most of Aeartur’s sailors were planning to take a long vacation from sailing and spend time with their families – if they had any – once they had returned to Anfalas.
Captain Fangnir looked uncharacteristically insecure as he approached the southernmost section of the East-garth of Pelargir. Last night the face of the dead child’s mother had plagued his dreams. Fangnir knew Pelargir well. He had spent so much time there over the years that he considered it almost a second home, but this trip was not a pleasant one. He had delicate matters to attend to.
With heavy steps Fangnir ascended the stairs to the entrance level of a two-story stone building. It was the evening of Eruhantalë, the day of thanksgiving to Eru. Nobody worked in Gondor during Eruhantalë, not even the servants of the noble houses. Fangnir used the ornate doorknocker shaped like an eagle to knock on the heavy oak door.
The large man who came to open the door had thick black hair, fierce brown eyes and black handlebar mustache that curled under his prominent nose. His skin was very dark in color.
”Fangnir”, said the dark-skinned man incredulously, as if expecting trouble. ”I did not expect to see you here in person. Are there problems?” He was wearing a long black tunic and a gold medallion.
”Is the boy’s mother here, Su’mokr?”
”Muldal”, Su’mokr said. They were talking in whispers. The doorway was in shade from the sun. ”Yes, she is here. She heard about your arrival and the freed Harad slaves. She has been dying to hear news of her son, Khirih.”
Fangnir stared at Su’mokr gravely until he understood the nature of the problem and what needed to be done. ”Go get her. We will take her to see her son. You come with us.”
Fangnir stepped into the hall. There were several closed doors on the opposite wall.
One of the doors opened. Fangnir saw a pretty young Harad woman with long black hair wearing a wool dress entering the hall. She stared at Fangnir for a long time with a suspicious look in her sharp eyes. She’s smart, Fangnir suddenly realized. Too smart for my liking.
Su’mokr said: ”You have met before. Tilyh is Muldal’s best friend. Tilyh, please go fetch Muldal here!”
She looked at the men a while longer and turned, closing the door behind her. An awkward silence followed. Then another woman, more thick-set, opened the door. Tilyh came behind her. Despite her dark skin Muldal appeared pale. Her eyes were red. She has reached a breaking point, Fangnir thought. We are doing her a favor.
”Where is Khirih?” Muldal asked in a trembling voice. ”Has something happened to him?”
”No, not at all. Khirih is fine”, Fangnir tried to assure her. ”He’s in the garrison with the rest of the freed Harad prisoners. But there were some complications. We need you to come with me and Su’mokr to the garrison to clear things up. It’s just a formality. Just some paperwork.”
Muldal nodded. She did not understand, but she clung onto hope that she would see her Khirih soon. Su’mokr turned to look at Tilyh.
”Don’t worry, we’ll be back soon. All four of us.”
Fangnir, Su’mokr and Muldal left the building, closing the door behind them. Tilyh stood at the hall for a long time, staring at the door. She was frowning, the expression in her eyes unreadable.
