OmfG. Can it be - two chapters, in only one day? XD Of course, mates, this does not come without a price - not only is the title of the chapter particularly ominous and quite accurate, but it's also a VERY short chapter. But bear with me - more will come; I'm on a roll! I just liked the ending of this chapter too much to lengthen it past that point. So read, enjoy, and be soothed in the knowledge that tomorrow there will be even more to read and enjoy. Savvy?

Disclaimer: Tolkien and the Mouse own all. I am but a speck of dust in comparison. o.O


Chapter Seven: Grave Tidings

Aragorn ran a hand through his unkempt hair as he stared down at the seemingly endless stack of paperwork sitting before him on the table in the throne room. He'd been up since dawn that morning, reading and making a decision on each and every paper, as a responsible king should, but nearly four hours later the enormity of the task hadn't yet seemed to diminish. It was his own fault, he supposed, for leaving as he did now and then, and he'd been taught to be a patient man, but he hardly wanted to spend his entire day thus – especially now that he had the option of spending it otherwise with Erindi.

He smiled a little at the thought. Nearly a week after he'd discovered her and Robin in prison, he still barely believed his own eyes. He had given up hope long ago of ever seeing her again, yet here she was, against all odds, delivered straight into his arms as if by fate; he supposed he had Eris to thank for that. Though he knew it was a bit foolish, he hadn't been able to keep himself from checking on her earlier that morning while she was still sleeping, just to make sure she was still there.

Biting back a wistful sigh, he shook his head to clear his mind and forced himself to return to the task at hand. The sooner he finished this, he reminded himself, the sooner he could be with Erindi, without the weight of his responsibilities hanging over his head. But just as he'd put his quill to the parchment to sign his name for what seemed like (and may truly have been) the hundredth time, a commotion outside the main entrance had him glancing up sharply just as the huge double-doors were being shoved open. He stood abruptly at the sight of the man in the doorway, who, barely able to stand on his own two feet, was bloodied and bruised, and breathing heavily.

The young man was none other than Bergil, barely twenty, and son of his former guard Beregond, who had been transferred to Faramir's guard in Ithilien. Though young, he had proved both valiant and skilled, and Aragorn had appointed him captain of a small scouting party he'd sent a week earlier to the river Anduin, to check for any signs of orcs or other enemies. Apparently, he had found some.

"Bergil, what happened?" the King demanded as he strode across the room to meet him, barely catching the boy before he lost his footing. Gently, he guided Bergil to a chair, sending a guard with a wave of his hand to fetch some medical supplies to treat the boy's wounds. "Are you badly hurt?"

"I'll be all right," Bergil responded, with some difficulty.

"What happened?"

Bergil flushed, embarrassed of his perceived failure as captain even in spite of his injuries. "I am sorry, m'lord," he said softly. "I am the only one to return." He paused, breathing heavily.

Aragorn kept his sharp grey eyes back on Bergil, his gaze unwavering as he waited for the story behind the losses his guard had suffered. "Was it orcs?"

"Nay. We found no orcs, nor other creatures of that sort along the way. We met no resistance at all until we reached the mouth of the river." He coughed, and though it was clearly painful for the boy, Aragorn was relieved to see that it was dry, and he was not coughing up blood. He would be all right, though he would need much rest before returning to his duties. "It was corsairs."

"Somebody mention pirates?" said a voice from the hall to the right, and Aragorn and Bergil both looked up to see Jack sauntering into the throne room. A flicker of surprise and concern came and went in his eyes when he caught sight of Bergil, but the fact that Aragorn was clearly not in a rush to get the boy to the healing ward told him he need not worry. Still, he could tell the topic of piracy was not going to be a good point in this conversation, and the enigmatic smile that had been on his lips began to fade. "What's happened now?"

"There are corsairs on the river," Aragorn informed him, and turned back to Bergil. "Were there many of them?"

Bergil nodded emphatically. "A score of ships, at the least." Aragorn frowned; it was not like the corsairs to gather in such large numbers. Jack's eyes grew dark with memories as he recalled the last time he had witnessed a pirate gathering. Then, it had been at least under a code of honor; here, however, he knew the pirates had no code, and no honor. Here, the gathering was not good news for anyone, whatever the reason behind it. "We believe more were on the way."

Aragorn's eyes clouded with thought and apprehension. "What happened to your guard? Why did you fight?"

"It wasn't our choice," the young guard explained. "We were trying to discover the meaning behind it, why they were gathering instead of attacking. They must be planning something, though why they have suddenly decided to do so, I do not know. We were caught while eavesdropping on one of their conversations – many of the captains seemed to be camping on the beach alongside the river, in order to converse more easily with each other, I suppose – and… there was a fight. Many of my men died; some of them fled. I made sure I was the last before I left," he added quickly, an edge of desperation coming into his voice as he tried to explain to them, and to himself, why he was still alive when most of his men where not.

Aragorn, sensing this, placed a consoling hand on the young man's good shoulder. "You did what you could, I'm sure. You are not to be blamed for the loss of your men, nor should you condemn yourself for fleeing rather than die in battle. It is good that you came; otherwise, no one would be here to warn us. I thank you for that, Bergil."

The boy nodded, blinking back tears stubbornly. "Thank you, m'lord." He paused as Aragorn stood and motioned for a nearby guard to lead the boy to the healing ward to be looked after. "M'lord, wait… there's something else." Aragorn looked at him sharply, and Jack stepped closer to see what the boy would say. "When we were eavesdropping, we did hear a bit of the captains' talk before we were caught. They spoke of a ship, an extraordinary vessel… they said it was the fastest they'd ever seen, and that it would serve them well as the flagship. One of my men saw it, before we were attacked; it's not hard to miss. It's the largest of the ships, and it's built differently, with square sails rather than triangular ones. And it's black, all of it… even the sails. We wouldn't have seen it at all, had it been nighttime."

At this, Aragorn's and Jack's gazes snapped together in a shocked moment of understanding. "They've got the Pearl," Jack whispered, horrified at the thought of his beautiful ship in the hands of the corsairs of Umbar.


EDIT: It's small, but slightly important to those of you who know the geography of Middle-Earth fairly well. The corsairs are not at just any place on the river; they are at the mouth of the Anduin, out of sight of Minas Tirith. If you're just reading this, you won't know the difference, but originally I didn't specify where the corsairs were. So... now you know. Just making a point.