May: Spring 2977
It was a relieving joy to see the port of Dol Amroth. Imrahil stood on the bridge, his hands on the wheel. Seeing the land that he had so determinedly defended made his heart swell with pride. He and Agoron had taken several pirates of Umbar prisoners. Imrahil's father had always had a taste for interrogation. It was one of his many political skills; getting the information he needed... or better yet, wanted in a kindly fashion.
They had taken a detour on the way back to Dol Amroth. Imrahil and Agoron's convoys ended up combing with Lord Toven's just north of the Mouth of the Anduin River. Eight Corsair ships had intentions on sailing up the river to Pelargir, and if their luck was on their side, to Osgiliath. With three fleets combined, they sailed southeast, around the island of Tolfalas and reached the enemy flotilla one mile out from the Mouth. It had been an easy battle; majority of the flotilla fled southwest, away from land and from the island before turning south, heading back to Umbar. The remaining enemy ships were boarded, seized, and prisoners were taken. Success had been on Gondor's side. The event was been stamped into Imrahil's memory as his first successful campaign against the Corsairs. They had causalities; it was to be expected, but they had proven their strength, and Imrahil had hoped they had seen the last of the Corsairs for a while. He loved sailing, but he preferred to do it in peace.
Imrahil gently turned the wheel, following the sea into the harbour. He had sailed many vessels in his juvenile state, but this was the first time he had taken command of an actual warship. It was a weatherly ship, easy to sail. Sadly, however, it was Agoron's. The Calphcair was the princedom's most formidable ship they had. It had been made by Dol Amroth's most skilled naval architect through two generations, Camaen. Therefore, it was suited that the fiefdom's Admiral would be commander of such a beautiful and seaworthy ship.
The hawser was thrown down to the mariners on the docking platform. They assisted Imrahil by pulling the rope into a more favourable docking position. Imrahil gently turned the wheel; docking such a large warship had its disadvantages. The last thing he needed was to scrape the hull of the ship against the docking platform, causing a breech. Imrahil manoeuvred the Calphcair into a fitting anchorage position at the dock. The anchor dropped heavily into the deep blue water, causing a great splash.
"Hale up the brails!" the boatswain commanded, moving about the deck, getting glimpses of the job being done.
Cebedir was standing behind Imrahil to the left; he had his hands clasped behind his back, watching the deckhands scraping the deck clean. "Sir Cebedir," Imrahil said, turning to him, "I relieve you from your duty as First Mate." Imrahil saluted; Cebedir followed suit.
"It has been an honour, my lord prince," Cebedir replied sincerely.
"The honour is mine, cousin," Imrahil said, smiling. "I hope to sail with you once more. Enjoy your homecoming in Tarnost."
Cebedir saluted his prince once more. "Permission to leave this ship, my lord?"
"Granted," Imrahil replied.
Cebedir descended the stairs and shook hands with Doben before standing at the gangplank and saluting the flag of Dol Amroth.
Doben ascended the stairs to the bridge, grinning. "It is good to be home, my lord."
"It is," Imrahil said, looking up at the swan palace gleaming in the sunlight. "My father will want a full briefing on the events."
"We have already written up a report, my lord."
"Go down to the sickbay and retrieve the binnacle list from the head surgeon," Imrahil commanded. "I want to know how many men are out of commission due to illness or injury. If we are to sail out again, I want a number of how many men are seaworthy."
"Yes, my lord."
"Doben!" Imrahil called from the bridge as the man descended the stairs. "Have the paymaster draw up an account of all the expenses; have him deliver it to my father."
"Yes, my lord."
The flag indicating the absence of the commanding officer was hoisted into the air as Imrahil walked down the gangplank onto the wharf. The young prince had sea legs. He had experienced it many times before when he had been out at sea for many weeks. He stood on the wharf for several minutes, getting his land bearings back. The refugees were led down the gangplank onto the wharf with the assistance of the knights. Many of the prisoners has been women; women who would have been sold in slave markets in Umbar and Harad, and used for unimaginable purposes. The prince saw Miss Alagwen descend the gangplank wearing a finely woven, dark blue cloak around her shoulders. Her hair was clean and neatly brushed, pulled back into a tight braid. It was all Doben's doing. Imrahil smiled, admiring all the care and attention his new friend was giving to the woman. She needed a friend onboard, and it had been frightening for the refugees to be stationed in the hull while a battle commenced above.
"Miss Alagwen," Imrahil said, gently grabbing her arm to prevent her from walking past.
The young woman seemed startled by the sudden attention; her eyes were wide. "My prince," she said nervously, curtsying low.
"Stay with me for a while," he invited, moving her away from the crowd of people. "I am sure Lord Doben would like to see you before you leave."
Alagwen looked up at the ship with a frown on her face. "He is a nice man."
Imrahil nodded. "Where were you born?"
Alagwen smiled broadly. "Here in Dol Amroth. My family live on the main street by the entrance gates; we own a small patch of land a mile out that we use for farming."
"Your family owns a business," Imrahil said, surprised. "How did you end up onboard a Corsair vessel?"
Alagwen's eyes lowered. "My older sister and I went to visit our cousins in Annúmben. We decided to go shell searching along the small shoreline just below the coastal cliff. There, brigands attacked us; my sister and cousin managed to escape up the narrow path that leads up the cliff. I was not so fortunate. They were not pirates, but they traded me to them some days later. I thought I was never going to see home again."
Doben had descended the gangplank and walked over to them. "I will take you personally to your family in the city."
Alagwen smiled warmly up at him; he was at least a head taller. "There is no need; I can make my own way."
Doben shook his head. "I will not have it."
"Then you two best be on your way," Imrahil said.
Alagwen smiled again. "Thank you, Prince Imrahil for everything. All the refugees are beyond grateful for your help and rescuing us."
"I am thankful I managed to intercept that fleet before they left for Umbar," the prince replied.
Doben placed his hand on Alagwen's waist. "I look forward to seeing you again, my prince."
Imrahil grinned. "Do not leave for Uilben too soon! We must celebrate our victories!"
Doben laughed. "Send word when it happens."
Imrahil shook the man's hand. "Look after her." He indicated towards Alagwen.
"You do not need to tell me that a second time in order for that to happen," Doben replied, winking.
Imrahil made his way up to the swan palace with a small escort trailing behind him. He could have gone by horse, but he was still trying to get used to the feeling of being back on land. In any case, it was nice to be among his people; he had always found it interesting watching common people go about their daily lives. Many of the children were in awe whenever he walked passed; they would run up to him, waving their little hands up in the air, or they would wave from afar and then giggle, hiding behind their mothers. He also could not help but notice certain attractive attributes in some of the women. He had a liking to wavy hair that fell down their backs. Several of the women he walked passed smiled shyly, tucking their hair behind their ears. Many of the people were of Numenorean decent and had black, straight hair, so silky and soft that it shimmered in the light. Ivriniel had hair like that, and it suited her. But for him, a woman of his taste needed more character; something different that set them apart from the crowd. His latest... or rather ex mistress had fiery red hair that Imrahil adored running his fingers through. Perhaps he should travel north to find a wife.
The guards at the palace gates saluted him. Imrahil felt relaxed being home once more. He was eager to see Ivriniel again, hoping her health was good and her mind was not getting the better of her. He also hoped to see his mother if her health allowed her to receive visitors. But the first person he had to see was his father.
Angoldir, his father's chief clerk opened the study door. Imrahil saw his father standing by the window, letting the ocean breeze circulate through the room. Imrahil bowed. "Father."
Adrahil turned around and smiled. "You have served me well, my boy."
Imrahil returned the smile; he may be a man now, but he always loved being praised by his father. "I am glad you found my campaign a success."
Adrahil walked over to his cabinet and poured two glasses of brandy. "I am hoping you have scared those thug pirates away for good."
Imrahil accepted the glass. "Perhaps not for good, but for a while at the most."
"They are a determined bunch." Adrahil walked over to his desk and sat in his chair. "I have the reports and accounts of the expedition." He scanned through several papers. "You did well without the entire fleet. Your uncle and Lord Glamrion managed to protect Cobas Haven successfully; it appears the Corsairs do not enjoy venturing too far north."
"Then Anfalas should feel blessed they do not feel the wrath of the Corsairs," Imrahil replied, taking a seat in front of his father's desk.
"It says here you found thirty-seven refugees and countless amounts of goods and livestock."
"Yes, Father," Imrahil answered. "The livestock and all food provisions are being unloaded and given to the people, since they are still struggling after the severe storm."
"What about these jewels and the money?" Adrahil asked. "Where are they?"
"They have been secured in coffers and have been sent over to the palace's treasurer to be weighed and valued," Imrahil answered.
Adrahil smiled. "You have done very well."
"However," Imrahil continued, "I believe some of those jewels and money could have been the possessions of some of the refugees. May I recommend that all thirty-seven refugees make a list of all the goods that were taken from them?"
Adrahil contemplated for a moment. He nodded. "I will have Angoldir follow up on the matter. Now tell me, you wrote in your report that Lord Agoron and Lord Toven had remained behind around Tolfalas."
"It is a precautionary method," Imrahil responded. "Agoron, Toven, and I agreed that it would be wise to leave two convoys surrounding Tolfalas in case any brave Corsair commanders decide to take another leap at raiding our shores. If I were in their position, I would immediately assume that all forces would have retreated back to Dol Amroth leaving the waters open."
"Then you would have been wrong," Adrahil said, sipping his brandy. "A wise decision. How long will they be anchored there?"
"Two weeks at the most, Father."
Adrahil nodded. "And you have scored yourself some prisoners." He held up a list of all the Corsair prisoners who were willing to give their names.
"They have been imprisoned in the palace's dungeon. No harm has come to them, as your laws state," Imrahil said sternly. The first law Adrahil had passed when he came into seat was the change of methods when it came to caring for prisoners. Methods of torture had been banned, execution penalties had been dropped to only a few, and better cells had been built in the dungeon. Imrahil's father had always been a softer man than most, thinking that if you treated someone the way you would want to be treated you would earn more respect. Imrahil had mixed thoughts about the matter.
"Good," Adrahil said, standing up. "You, like so many other noblemen may think me weak for enforcing these laws, but we are the goodness in this world. Are we any better than the Corsairs if we torture them? Do we not have a duty to show, even the worst of our enemies respect when we have them in custody? I will question the prisoners myself, and the ones I deem worth it, I will set free."
"Father!" Imrahil exclaimed, standing up also. "With all respect, I disagree! They are Corsairs! They are no better than the orcs of Mordor. We cannot set any of them free! I understand if you have no desire to execute them as my grandfather did, but at least have them imprisoned for life. Perhaps as time goes by, some of them may prove useful in giving us valuable information."
Adrahil was silent, thinking his son's words over. "You deliver an excellent debate, my son. But my decision stays the same. If I deem them worthy, they will be released eventually."
Imrahil sighed deeply, praying that his father would not do such a foolish act. He thought it best to change the subject. "How is Ivriniel?"
"She is well," Adrahil answered. "I have thoughts to have her remarried within the year."
It was just one bad news after the other! "Father, I beg you to not go ahead, for Ivriniel's sake."
"She is a princess," his father replied assertively. "It is unheard of for a prince or princess to be unmarried. She must have a husband."
"She did have a husband," Imrahil said. "He died in service to my grandfather. She still mourns him."
"If she remarries, then her mourning period will hopefully be over. She may even grow happy again."
"Father, you of all people know Ivriniel does not work in that way," Imrahil said, hoping he was getting some sense into his father's head. "She is not some lady of the court that you can pass on to another; she will retaliate, and you will regret it. You may even lose a daughter in the process."
Adrahil placed a hand on his brow. "Thank you for your council, Imrahil. You may leave." Imrahil shut his eyes tightly; he bowed and Angoldir opened the door for him.
Why did his father have to be so stubborn! It vexed Imrahil deeply. He made his way to his mother's apartments, hoping she would have some sense in the matter. Surely their mother would not force Ivriniel into another marriage.
"Of course I do not desire such a thing," his mother said in her antechamber. They were sitting at the table enjoying afternoon tea.
"Does Ivriniel know of Father's plans?" Imrahil asked not particularly keen on touching his plate of food.
"No," Lady Anneth replied, sipping her tea. "And if you speak a word of it to her!"
Imrahil nodded quickly. His mother had used her warning tone of voice; a voice Imrahil was very used to hearing when he was a small boy. "I would never speak such words to my sister, Mother. I know how she would react, and I have no desire to upset her any further than she already is."
Lady Anneth nodded. I am glad you have commonsense, Imrahil. I wish your father had some," she added curtly.
Imrahil frowned. "Have you and Father been quarrelling?"
"About our daughter's future? Of course!" she exclaimed. "I will not have Ivriniel forced into anything she does not want to do. If I did, I would have had her married off years ago when she had just come of age. You are lucky I feel this way, for your father has been thinking of an arranged marriage for you."
Imrahil's eyes snapped up. "What? No! Mother, no!"
"I know you would say that," she replied calmly. "Have no fear; I talked him out of it. I only wished I could have talked him out of marrying my dear Finduilas to the next Steward of Gondor."
"That match could not have been broken," Imrahil said. "Nobody can deny the Steward of Gondor."
His mother sighed sadly. "I miss her."
"As do I."
Lady Anneth smiled. "You will be seeing her soon."
He had forgotten! "Of course, Father wishes me to visit her in Minas Tirith next month," he said, feeling happiness twinge within him.
"If only my health allowed me to travel; I would have gone with you."
"I agree that letters do not do suffice," Imrahil said. "It will be nice to see her again. She writes that she is not lonely, but I have a slight certainty that she is."
"Lord Denethor is a good husband," his mother said.
"I never said he was not; I believe she misses her real family."
"She will have her own family soon enough of the Valar are generous," she said, piling fresh fruit onto her son's plate. "Now eat, you are too thin."
Imrahil obeyed, taking an apple and biting into it. He sat back in his chair, enjoying the warm afternoon of the spring season. Next month was only two weeks away, but his youthful body being full of energy and his mind racing for exciting had him not wanting to stay home any longer than that. He was joyous he would be embarking on yet another adventure, even if it were only to Minas Tirith; it was a long journey depending on how you travelled. How would he travel? By horse, he decided. It would take longer and he would see more of the homeland he loved. Yes, he would travel by horse. His mind was set.
List of Characters:
Prince Adrahil – Imrahil's father, current ruling Prince of Dol Amroth
Lord Agoron – Imrahil's mentor, best friend. Also Finduilas' first love interest and ideal candidate for marriage.
Lord Toven – Younger brother to Lord Tarondor: Lord of Linhir
Lord Glamrion – Lord of the town Uilben
Lord Doben – Lord Glamrion's son and heir
Sir Cebedir – Imrahil's second cousin on his mother's side
Miss Alagwen – A common woman found among the prisoner's onboard a Corsair ship.
Angoldir - Adrahil's chief clerk
Princess Ivriniel – Imrahil's older sister/Adrahil's eldest child
Lady Anneth – Princess of Dol Amroth, Adrahil's wife/Imrahil's mother
Camaen - Naval architect
Calphcair – Dol Amroth's finest warship: Calph: Sindarin for Water-Vessel/Cair: Sindarin for Ship
Annúmben is a city along the coast of Belfalas: it is of my creation
I should probably point out that I know absolutely nothing on nautical terms or sailing. So if something just does not sound right, please excuse it. I have done extended research, but that does not class me as an expert on the topic.
Saluting the flag and the commanding officer before leaving a naval ship is something they do in modern Navy culture. I do not know if they did it hundreds/thousands of years ago, but I thought it added quite the nice touch to the whole event, and it shows great respect.
Describing the Numenoreans as having straight hair is of my creation. I honestly do not know what type of hair they had (except that it was black/dark). But whenever I picture a Numenorean, I see straight, black hair.