Disclaimer: Usual stuff, don't own, wish I did. Just borrowing characters and worlds for light-hearted fun.

Getting a bit into the swing of things now the story's going and I have more time on my hands, even though this is a bit short, appologies!

Thanks to everyone who has reviewed (esp Rosie for all the support-whipping!). I am very grateful and I hope I shall not disappoint.

Chapter 6

"A friend of yours, Mr Raiis?"

Barbossa was staring intently at the thief as Faramir glared over the top of the gag. Raiis looked at the young Lord in surprise without speaking for a few minutes. In the darkest corner of the room, Ragetti and Pintel chuckled darkly and sharpened their knives with chalk covered cloths. They were men who took stabbing very, very seriously, and the fact that they were hundreds of years from home was no excuse to let standards slip. At their feet, the white dust drifted onto the boards like snow on a clear night.

Eventually, Raiis turned his one good eye to Barbossa.

"Captain," he said, huskily, the excitement betrayed only by the barest quiver in his voice, "you have just pulled an Ace from the pack."

"What are you blabbering about?" Barbossa snapped. He was getting irritable with this strange country, and the presence of this one-eyed character was doing nothing to cheer him up. When Barbossa got irritable, people got hurt, he made sure of that.

"This man, my friend Barbossa, is none other than Lord Faramir himself!"

Ragetti and Pintel looked at each other, "who?"

"I'd know that face anywhere, " Raiis continued, "the last time I saw it was at the siege of Osgiliath…"

It had been Raiis who had betrayed the city of Osgiliath to it's enemies. He had guided the orcs to the weakest part in its defence—the Eastern side, accessable only by the river.

Hidden in shadow in the boat and surrounded by the mutilated forms of the orcs, he showed them the way to the least guarded portion of the city, and so ensured its downfall. He was there when the orcs had driven the men back to Minas Tirith with cruel spears and swords. He had watched as the orcs set to work in hacking the heads from their fallen victims, some still breathing even as their necks were hewn like trees. And he had been watching from the ruins as the last, hopeless, charge had failed; Men and horses cut down like grass. The last survivor, Faramir, dragged back to Minas Tirith by his horse, driven half-mad with terror and the stench of blood. And now that same dying figure stood before him. The thief's one eye glittered.

"How dare you!" Eowyn was furious. Fair and pale she may be, but when she was angry, she could have frozen Mount Doom itself. "How dare you try to sell my own horse back to me? Do you even know who I am?" she demanded, waving a finger in the chubby face of the impromptu horse-dealer, who watched her, patiently.

"Fiesty, ain't she" he said cheerfully to Jack.

"You have no idea," the pirate replied, gloomily.

"Look, miss," Gibbs said, pleasantly, "I tell you what, it's a cold night out there and no-one wants to stand around in this dismal black. So I'll only charge you half."

Jack, anxious to avoid a scene, nodded vigorously, "that seems fair!"

"More than fair!" Gibbs agreed, but Eowyn was in full swing. She drew herself up to her full height, and her voice grew imperious. Jack put his hand over his eyes.

"I'll have you know that I am Eowyn, daughter of Theoden and sister to the Eomer, king of Rohan! I fought in the Great Battle of Pellenor Fields! I slew the Witch-King of Angmar and his beast! And I demand that you return my horse to me this instant or you will be the one to pay!"

Mr Gibbs smiled and was about to say something, when another strange man stepped out into the clearing from the dark bushes. All three looked at him. His face was a mass of scars, and he wore a blood-red scarf around his head.

"Well, well," he said, "The famous Lady Eowyn." He drew a crossbow. "Charmed, I'm sure."

Jack looked at Gibbs. "Is that one of yours?"

Gibbs shook his head, his plump cheeks flapping. The new-comer gave a signal, and a dozen other men stepped from the bushes, each holding a weapon.

"Ah" Jack said, "perfect. Just perfect."

The scarred man moved his eyes over to Gibbs.

"Gibbs….What have you found here then?" Before Gibbs' garbles could make sense, the man continued.

"I thought you'd skipped town, Gibbsey. I was a little worried that you had forgotten that little matter of your debt. Perhaps you remember now? Or maybe…" he drew a long, curved knife from his coat, "maybe you need a little…persuasion?..."

"NNNot at all, sir," Gibbs stammered, sweating, "what happened was…..what happened was…I was just in the middle of a daring horse-raid, in order to pay my debt to you…."

He realised that everyone was staring at him, and cleared his throat, nervously. "And so…doing this…horse-raid, I was unfortunately caught by these two fierce warriors…" He fell into silence, hopefully.

"Ah, Gibbsey," the man said, "you have found us something better than horses…"

"I have?" Gibbs frowned.

"Oh yes," the crossbow turned to Eowyn. "The betrothed of Lord Faramir. She'll fetch a high price…to the right buyer…"

Whatever he was about to say next never came. It's hard to speak when a woman of Rohan punches you in the mouth so hard you think your eyes will explode.