Disclaimer: See chapter 1.

Chapter 6: Ill Start For A Journey

The brothers were soon again outside the gate, the servant leading them out having been as silent and tired-looking as before. The gate clanged shut behind them and they were left alone in the night. Cold wind had risen, driving dry and brown leaves before it and waving the cloaks of the two men. Belhast gathered his cloak closer around him and shivered.

"It sure isn't a pleasant weather! Let's find an inn to have something warm to eat," he said.

Finrosc nodded.

"Yes, that's the best option. We must spend a day or two with making our plans, so a comfortable place to stay would be welcome."

That being settled they turned their backs to the dreary mansion and began to walk towards the eastern part of the city. That, fortunately, didn't take as much time as finding the mansion of Falasmir. They found a small, cosy inn just after the bridge over Siril. They took a room for two days, paying for it and their meals in advance.

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After a hearty meal consisting of bread, pork stew and vegetables they sighed in contentment and ascended a flight of steps to their room. It was small, but adequately furnished with two beds, a table and two benches. A washstand with a wooden basin completed the equipment of the room. Seeing the stand Belhast immediately rang a brass bell. After a while a yawning servant entered, asking:

"What may be your pleasure, good Masters?"

Belhast pointed to the basin:

"I'd be grateful if you would fetch us some water. We have journeyed long and would like to wash."

The servant nodded and disappeared, returning after a few minutes with two buckets, the other full of warm and the other cold water. After the servant had retired, the brothers started to strip their shirts to wash themselves.

After they were clean again, they felt refreshed and ready to take a look to their instructions despite of the late hour. Belhast opened the silk bundle, spreading its contents on the table. It contained all Falasmir had said it would; there were many papers and two little books, written in a small, precise handwriting. The first things to be examined were naturally the maps. There were five of them, one showing the whole of Middle-Earth known to Gondorian mapmakers and stopping only a few leagues east of the Inland Sea. Finrosc grumbled:

"Not much of help, that one."

The other maps depicted the areas north of Gondor and east of the Misty Mountains in more detail, extending as far north as the southern foothills of Ered Mithrin. The last one was a sketch of lands beyond the Inland Sea. The details in the sketch were scant and an unknown mapmaker had written in the margin:

"All distances are only relative and not absolute."

Belhast wiped his brow in frustration.

"Why, this doesn't even show our goal! Look, in the eastern end of the map it only reads 'to Svjatigorod' with an arrow. I have a bad feeling of this."

Finrosc shrugged.

"I don't think we can quit anymore. That madman would have our heads, so let's just make the best of it." He took the map from Belhast's hands and studied it closely.

"Well, it really is crude, but still of some help, I think. There are a few roads marked on it, so it shouldn't be too hard to find the 'Holy City'."

Belhast answered:

"Yes, but most of them run from north to south, so we still have to prepare for long hikes in the woods. The local guides Falasmir mentioned seem to be indispensable."

Finrosc stretched his arms, yawning widely.

"Well, we can think about it when the time comes. Until then it is useless to worry. Let us sleep."

Belhast agreed and they extinguished the lamp hanging from the ceiling and settled on their soft beds, falling fast asleep. Belhast dreamed of the King of Pentacles of his deck, holding a purse of gold in one hand and the card Fool in the other.

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After an abundant breakfast Belhast and Finrosc made their plans as how to proceed in their quest. It was agreed that first they should go through Osgiliath into Ithilien and from there travel to Dagorlad. When there, they would follow the old road running eastward past Morannon. When it came to its end, they would head for northeast where their goal lay. Belhast especially was content with this:

"Now we don't have to go anywhere near the Greenwood. We are no foresters and I'll bet we will get enough walking in the woods in Rhûn. Besides, it's rumoured that there is an evil sorcerer in the Greenwood and that it is darkening."

The next thing to do was hide the gold they had received from Falasmir. After a little pondering it was decided that the seven gold pieces and some of the silver Falasmir's purse contained would be sewn inside Belhast's starry cloak. The garment had a relatively thick lining and when the coins had been secured with threads so that they didn't clink, it was impossible to see and hard to even feel them. The notebooks were put in a secret pocket in the bottom of Finrosc's pack. That being settled, the brothers slept again, having decided to start their journey at evening.

When they awoke, the sun was already low and it was nearly dinnertime. A servant brought their food to them and they set their teeth on it with relish, having had little enough food on their journey from Minas Anor. When they had finished, Finrosc pushed his plate from him and asked:

"So, Belhast, how are we going to get out of the city?"

Belhast raised his head, puzzled.

"Why, through the gates, obviously."

Finrosc shifted uneasily.

"I would prefer anything else. It would be best to get out unseen, seeing my situation."

Belhast waved his hand dismissively and humphed.

"Bah, do you really think you are in danger? Remember, here we are only two unemployed commoners from Minas Anor, nothing more. Besides, they let us in nicely, didn't they?"

Finrosc was not convinced:

"You may take things lightly, it is not your neck that is in risk. Mine itches in a worrying way. The city guards of Pelargir may have had the word that I have disappeared from Minas Anor."

Belhast shrugged and swallowed the last bit of his beef before answering:

"Well, what would you suggest then? On the west side there are no walls or gates, but then we would be in the wrong side of the river. As for the seemingly only other option, attempting to climb the walls would surely attract more attention than going through the gate."

That was true, and Finrosc couldn't answer immediately. He tapped with his fingers on the table, thinking. After a moment he straightened in his chair, his face brightening.

"I got it! If we can't go through the gate, we'll go around it!"

Belhast raised an eyebrow, but before he could say anything, the other went on:

"We both can handle a boat, can't we? When it is dark, we will just go to the docks, steal one and row some miles east, landing in a location where we can either hide or sink the vessel. What do you think?"

Belhast pondered only for a moment, having to admit that the scheme was good. The current in Anduin was not very great this near of the sea, so they could row against it, especially if they would have the aid of a sail. As boys they often had boated on river Erui to fish or just for sport. Erui was nothing in size compared to the Great River, but its currents were faster. Breaking these thoughts, Belhast rose.

"I think you are right."

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They left the inn at about eleven in the evening, having bought some ham and bread for their journey before that. Before their departure, Belhast had looked at his cards as usual. When they showed a journey by water, he only shrugged and collected them, a bit disappointed they had pointed out nothing but the obvious. Still, it was encouraging for Belhast, even if his brother only shook his head for his 'superstition'.

The inn was only a relatively short distance away from the harbour and they saw no city guards as they walked down quiet streets. The night was very dark and a heavy fog was rising from Anduin, hiding them effectively. They saw nobody until they were near the docks. But when they came nearer it, some groups of sailors began to pass them, either going to or returning from the taverns and alehouses of Pelargir. The sailors took no notice of the two wanderers, being more interested in wine and beer.

It was about half an hour before midnight when the brothers finally reached the harbour. They walked along the stone docks, searching for a suitable boat. Their search was interrupted shortly, however, by two men who staggered from the fog towards them, swaying like drunkards. The men seemed to be sailors judging from their dress and were tall and muscular. Belhast and Finrosc stopped and stood silently, waiting for the men to pass them.

But when the sailors drew nearer, they seemed to notice the two travellers and walked unsteadily towards them, as if they wanted to say something to them. Belhast and Finrosc weren't sure if they should get away or hear what the sailors wanted. Their unsteady pace was reassuring, however, so the foster-brothers remained where they stood, expecting to hear an inquiry after a good alehouse or some drunken rant.

The men came close and a smell of liquor invaded Belhast's nose. One of the sailors faced him and grasped his shoulder in a friendly fashion, stuttering:

"Hullo, good mastersshh, could you sshhpare a few coppers for two poor sshheamen?"

Belhast answered in the affirmative, anxious to get rid of the men and reached for his purse. But just then the grip of the sailor on his shoulder tightened and the man suddenly grasped Belhast's throat with his left hand, almost throttling the fortune-teller. A thought flashed through Belhast's mind:

"Robbers!"

He tried to struggle, reaching for his belt knife, but just then a heavy fist landed on his temple. A sudden pain pierced his skull, causing his head to turn violently on his left, where Finrosc was. He saw for an instant the latter receiving a blow from a club, but then a second punch hit him, and he fell into darkness.

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Belhast's consciousness returned slowly and with it came a throbbing headache. He heard voices speaking but didn't heed them, trying to endure the pain that seemed to send flying sparks before his vision. He groaned and turned on his side, his eyes still shut. He opened them instantly, however, from the surprise of his hand meeting planks of wood instead of cold stone. At that moment somebody took him by his collar and hauled him in a sitting position. He swayed badly but managed to stay erect, looking wildly around him. It was still dark and he could see only dark man-shaped forms standing around him. When he looked to his right he saw Finrosc trying to get up but only managing to support his upper body by his elbows.

Belhast would have helped his brother, but just at that moment a flint was struck and the bright flame of a torch was kindled. He looked to the direction of the light and saw a tall, broad man with a wild, red beard looking at him with an inspecting eye. The man soon turned, however, and exclaimed roughly:

"Anmir and Faldir, you idiots! These are not sailors! I told you to fetch some seasoned seamen, not street beggars!" One of the men started to apologize with a timid voice, but the large man waved his hand irritably, silencing him. Then, again turning towards Belhast and Finrosc, he said with a sneer:

"So, my friends, welcome aboard the Sea-Eagle!"

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