Apologies for the lateness of this update and for the non-being here in general. I have an excuse, I was in Shropshire, where they make 'outsiders' pay four quid an hour for internet acces and then tell you that you can't get on their so-called 'computers'. Anyhow I'm back in civilization now so updates will be more frequent.

Usual grudging disclaimers that I own nothing, not even my own washing machine, never mind the characters I am using...But if you say 'yoink' it isn't really stealing is it?

Yoink

Pelargir. A dark, murderous and bloodthirsty port. Where gold was stained with blood, and theives and pirates scuttled like rats, though much more prolific.

In the glow of the orange and green flames from the many lanterns inside and outside the dark buildings, Faramir, shrouded in both shadow and his grey cloak, hiding his face and his uniform in shade, reigned in his horse. Beyond the shadows of houses and inns, at the bottom of the hill, ay the dock, and the strangest ship Faramir had ever seen. Having spent a long time in the wilds of Ithillien, Faramir had seen wild things, and strange allies of The Enemy. This ship was, however, something else.

Unlike the long thin ships of the corsairs that he had hitherto seen, it was higher and broader, the figure of a woman curved into the bow. The sails lack of colour was only enhanced by the darkness, but the deck was empty.

It was just out of sight of the dock, and the Black Pearl, that Jack Sparrow turned a corner and nearly ran straight into two old friends; Ragetti and Pintel, being marched in the direction of the docks by a tall sinister man dressed in black. Jack stopped in mid-Swagger, and whipped around the corner of the house, crashing into someone as he did so.

Faramir, coming the other way, collided with a shaggy man who smelled of drink, smoke and for some reason wet goat. However, before Faramir could react, the pirate had nearly lifted hinm off his feet and slammed him into the wall. A filthy hand was pressed over his mouth, making him gag. Finding he couldn't move, a surprisingly strong arm pinning him down, Faramir caught a glance of his assailant's face in the half-light. Underneath a large hat, a pair of keen dark eyes glittered and Faramir couldn't help but follow his gaze. In the shadows, a group of figures melted into the night.

Only when the night was empty once more did the corsair remove his hand from Faramir's mouth and release his arms, turning away to disappear into the night. Startled at the strange behaviour, Faramir paused, considering.

Ever since his youth, Faramir had been a quiet and thoughtful man and it had served him well. Now Faramir hesitated to act in any way that might endanger his life needlessly. He let the man go, but resolved to follow him, as he made his way down to the waterfront.

Jack Sparrow watched, glaring, as Raiis ushered the two pirates aboard the Black Pearl. Just maybe that nasty character could somehow lure Barbossa of the ship, and then...Of course first of all Jack would have to shake off the boy who was following him. Jack glanced behind him, and the figure ducked behind a wall.

Real Subtle thought Jack, turning back to the ship with a raised eyebrow, but the three men had disappeared.

Jack Rounded a corner and leaned against the grey mortar. As soon as Faramir crept around the corner, the toes on Jack's left boot had him on the floor, clutching his crotch in agony. Faramir felt a blade pressed against his throat, and saw the face of the corsair peering at him in the gloom.

"now while you're down there, just lying around," the pirate slurred, "you may be slightly interested in this sword.It is not a very sharp sword, nor a valuable sword. It isn't even a very pretty sword. But it is pointed directly at your throat, so I suggest you tell me exactly who you are and what your business is with me."

But Jack had underestimated Faramir, who acted fast, and before Jack knew what was going on, he was pressed face first against the wall, a very sharp, very valuable and quite pretty sword pressed to his own neck. His own sword was lying a few feet away, and his arms were pinned to his sides. It was a surprising turn of events.

"Listen to me, corsair" He heard the young man say in a low voice, "I am a soldier of Gondor, and unless you want to know my sword on a much better level I suggest you help me."

"That all depends on what you want, really, doesn't it." Jack said into the stonework.

"What do you know of that ship?"

"What ship?"

Faramir pulled Sparrow's head up so that he could see the Black Pearl clearly.

"Oh, that ship. Havent a clue mate."

"You lie," Faramir growled, "Your dress and your face tell me that if you do not belong to this strange ship you hail from the same land. Where does the ship come from?"

"Well last I knew it was berthed at Isla de Muerta. But now...Your guess is as good as mine.."

Faramir considered for a moment.

"Trust me, corsair, I'm going to make sure you and all those rats aboard that ship go back to where you came from. You have my word on that as the last of the stewards."

Jack blinked. "Alright then."

"What?"

"Well, I was getting bored of this wierd place anyway."

Faramir frowned, wondering if this were a trap to deceive him into trusting this wiley corsair.

"Do you understand?" He demanded "I am going to do everything in my power to make sure that you and your crew go back to where you belong."

"Fine" Despite the sword pointed at him, Jack stood up and brushed himself off. "When do we star

Aboard the Black Pearl, Barbossa and Raiis were eyeing each other suspiciously.

"If I were you,"Raiis was saying "I would take this offer of help. You and your crew are strangers here...I am in a position to help you. I have contacts in many cities over Middle Earth. I can get you anything you want...For example..." Here, Raiis smiled with pride, "the kingdom of Gondor has many Traesures, and the city of Osgiliath is the newly-wealthy pearl in the land."

"Is it now?" Barbossa's face gave nothing away. If Jack Sparrow played things close to the vest, Barbossa played with cards you couldn't even see...But he was eager to get home and break this hideous curse, but in his black heart, he was a pirate. The mention of gold could always light a fire in his belly. But he was not going to let this nasty little up-start know that. So instead he stared at the stranger unspeaking, considering his options.

Raiis was eager, savagely so. He had long held a grudge against the men of Gondor, and this new king was decidedly bad for business. Any kind of mischeif was pleasing to Raiis, Osgiliath, the least defended city, was right on the river. Weak, vulnerable, too far from Minas Tirith to easily defend. It had been the weakness in the Great War, and it still was.

Raiis smiled again. If only he could convince Barbossa to sack Osgiliath, it would be a sore blow to the New Kingdom. Mayhem and fear were what Raiis lived on. And by the time Barbossa and his ridiculous crew found that there was nothing in the ruined city worth stealing, he would be lost int eh shadows of Pelargir once more.

Through the ruined archway that was the entrance to Osgiliath, a horse galloped. The rider was cloaked in grey, but as the horse slowed to a walk the hood was thrown back, and a mass of golden hair tumbled free.

Eowyn, the white ladt of Rohan, not the betrothed of the Lord Faramir, dismounted, expert horsewoman that she was.

Too long had she been imprisoned in the court of her duing uncle as he sat dying slowly, rotting from the inside thanks to the poison of Grima Wormtongue. Too long had the sheild-maiden of Rohan been the willing prisoner of her love for the Lord Faramir, in that cold marblr room in the heights of Minas Tirith. Day after day the fields of Pelennor, which held such bitter memories, streching out before her to the far horizon. But as she stared through the bars of her sweet prison, she beheld Osgiliath, and it's spires, from here it seemed they were touched by no evil. There her love lay, perhaps he was staring toward Minas Tirith at that moment, and they were seperated by nothing more than shadow and mist, nothing more. But this at least, could be remedied. And so it was that Eowyn saddled hermare, drew a grey mantle about her, and fled into the night.

"Gone where?"

The heroic soldier, standing over six feet in his armour was young, but had battled through the Great War with courage. He had even faced the Black Gates with determination. But all this was nothing compared to the steely, unblinking gaze of the Lady of Gondor. He gulped, trying to find words to lighten the situation.

"Oh", he said, in what he hoped was a casual tone, "he just went off to have a...um...look at...um...Pelargir..."

Eowyn's eyes were boring into his. "Pelargir." She said, in tones that would freeze flame. "How many men did he take?"

"Uh..." The seargent began to sweat, depite the cold eyes that were on him. "He thought perhaps it was better if he was inconspicuous...you know, the less disturbance the...um...better"

After one final 'um' he faltered into silence.

To be continued...trite but true.