Another miserable day passed in the dock of Linhir. Na'man sat in his quarters, drinking away the troubles of being in a place he hates. Looking out over the open ocean just ahead, he came to a decision. He was to get a barrel of rum and leave the docks, to rest in peace in the middle of the sea, where he loved it the most.
The plan went well to start with, he passed through the dirty streets without being noticed, only stopping to vomit a few times. He came upon the dirty old tavern, where drunks sat and sang outside. He went in, ordering silently a barrel of rum. Though the presence of a corsair in Gondor was easily seen by the locals, and two men approached him.
"Oi. What are you doing here? Looking shady with that hood of yours.", one man said as he reached out to rip the hood off, though all he got was a hand moving the arm away. Remaining silent, the drunken captain peered out from his hood.
"He was talking to you. Speak to him!", the other shouted into Na'man's ear, a frown crossing over silent lips. A fist was then swung, and the shouting man was knocked back a few steps. The other man ripped off the hood, revealing the corsairs face below. His neck tattoos also being seen, it was obvious now. This man was from Umbar.
Shouts were shouted as the fight went on, eventually a bottle came into the captains man. He swung it hard across one man's face, sending him to the ground. With the now broken bottle in his hand, he plunged it forward into the second mans shoulder and stomach, making him squeal in pain as he joined his friend on the ground.
Na'man took the chance and ran, though soon a group of guards cornered him and knocked him unconscious. They dragged him to the jail and threw him in a cell, talks of the troublemaker were being said about Linhir and soon the decision was made. Na'man was taken to a stone beam jutting out the wall, with supports keeping it strong. Rope hanging down with a noose tied at the bottom.
The captain was placed on a stool, and the noose placed around his neck. He looked about, seeing the faces of those gathered to see this corsair of Umbar die for his crimes against the city. Though the only face he looked for was Kayrin's, the woman he loved. Just as he was about to shout something, it was cut off as the stool was kicked from underneath him and his body slumped downwards, hanging from the rope. His feet kicked for a few moments, before it stopped.
The Crimson Captain had died.
