The streets of Pelargir were clean and wet in the darkness of early evening, crowded with people. Lanterns glittered and stars shone in the clear sky above the Anduin. The fog was lifting. The river gales would rise again.
”Good evening”, said a man who had appeared by Fangnir’s side as if the fog had given birth to him.
Fangnir turned. His hands were in the folds of his cloak. A black beret covered his large head. He smiled tentatively, but politely. Fangnir was greeted often in this city. He was well‑known in Pelargir from many long stays there, but he could not recognize everyone who greeted him, not even their faces. But he was certain he had never seen this man before.
”Good evening, Master”, he replied evenly, without suspicion.
”I have come to inspect your ship, Captain Fangnir”, the man said flatly, almost pleasantly.
”Do I know you?” Fangnir asked. He stopped on the slanting walkway and turned to look at the man.
”No. But I am the Harbormaster. I have postponed this meeting for a long time.”
”Should I know you? Or the one who sent you?” A slight smile kept rippling on his lips. He had been enjoying the unexpectedly calm weather of the last few days. He had just dined at the Merchant Hall in the Court of the Ship‑kings near the docks, and the taste of sausages still mingled with the smell of ale on his breath.
”Yes. You should. But we have never met before.”
The smile slowly faded. The night was getting colder, the wind was rising again. Sweat streamed down Fangnir’s back beneath his thick brown tunic.
”Are we talking in riddles?” Fangnir said in an irritated, booming voice.
”No. It is time to speak plainly”, Delioron said. ”I met a man called Mudon.”
Fangnir waited.
”And a man called Radon”, Delioron said.
”And who are you? And who are these men you speak of?” He was beginning to stutter. His hands were shaking.
”Men who knew you”, Delioron said.
”And you are a spy?”
”Perhaps.”
”What does that mean?”
”It means that perhaps I am who you think I am. Or perhaps not.”
”Who are you?”
Delioron smiled. ”Let us go to your ship. It’s right over there. We can talk in your quarters.”
”I would rather not talk to you at all. I could call the guards.”
”No you can’t.”
”What do you mean? Don’t you know who I am?”
”I do. And I will kill you if you scream.”
Fangnir saw the dagger clearly in the man’s hand as he shifted the hem of his cloak.
”Do you understand?”
”Yes”, Fangnir said.
”Let us embark. After you.”
The men stepped aboard the Aeartur cautiously like burglars. The ship was empty. A slave of his own habits, Fangnir had given the whole crew shore leave whenever the vessel was locked down. He lived alone aboard the ship during his stays in Pelargir, for he enjoyed solitude.
He led his guest to his cabin at the stern, beneath the poop deck. The cabin was narrow and low-ceilinged. The walls were hung with ropes, spare pulleys and rolled charts. A metal bracket held an enclosed lantern with horn panes. Fangnir cupped his hand around the wick, touched flint to steel and coaxed the tiny spark into a steady glow inside the lantern’s horn‑paneled shell. It cast warm, flickering light across the charts.
”Would you like something to drink? Beer perhaps?”
”Ale!”
”Of course.” Fangnir smiled again. Why would his guest not smile? ”Only Corsairs drink beer.” Just a little joke, but his guest was waiting for his ale.
He took a small cask from under his chart table, filled two wooden tankards and passed one of them to Delioron. He sat behind his desk and gestured toward a bench against the wall.
”Alright, Master. Why are you here?”
”I have come to inspect your ship”, Delioron said.
”You cannot be serious.”
”We pay you”, Delioron said.
”Who is ’we’? I am a merchant. I buy and sell goods.”
”A slave merchant.”
”There is no slavery in Gondor”, Fangnir said stiffly. ”You are a guest on my ship and you insult me.”
”You are a slave merchant. You take people and you sell them. How many times do you sell them?”
”What?”
”You take them from the Corsairs. You sell them their freedom. Then you sell them again, this time to Gondor. But is that truly the last time you profit from them?”
”What are you talking about?”
”About the Haradrim slaves. Mudon told me everything before the end. About you and Radon.”
”What are…?”
”Mudon is dead. Radon is dead. Do you want to stay alive?”
”You cannot threaten me.”
”I just did. Now! Tell me everything about your arrangement with the Corsairs and how long you have been doing it. Tell me what happened to Si’nol. You must know that.”
”I know nothing, I…”
”Tell me!” Gently. Convincingly. ”Tell me!”
Fangnir was terrified. On his own ship! In his own cabin, where the flickering lantern light made shadows dance on the wall like dear old friends. At his desk, listening to the soothing sounds of creaking wood and waves washing against the ship’s hull.
”I know nothing.”
Delioron stood up slowly and walked across the floor of the cabin until he was standing behind Fangnir’s back. The tip of his blade scraped lightly along the wooden back of Fangnir’s chair. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. The rhythm was agonizingly steady.
”Do you know what I like about the Anduin?” Delioron asked softly by Fangnir’s ear. ”The water is deep. The current is strong. Bodies wash up in the harbor all the time. Like that woman of Harad, Muldal. Did you kill her yourself, Captain Fangnir? Or did you have someone else do you dirty work for you?”
Fangnir swallowed audibly. His back stiffened. ”This is illegal. The law of Gondor forbids…”
Before Fangnir managed to complete his sentence, Delioron struck the blade of the dagger on the desk, between Fangnir’s fingers. The blade drove deep into the dark wood.
”There are no rules”, Delioron said in a flat, monotonous voice. ”And on this ship I am the law. I am the Harbormaster, come to inspect your ship. I can keep you alive and screaming for a very long time before I dump your body into the Anduin. Shall I begin with your fingers?”
Fangnir looked at the dagger that had been struck on the desk, swallowed and forced an arrogant grimace upon his face.
”Do you think you can impress me with tavern tricks?” Fangnir spat, though his voice trembled a little. ”I have sailed through storms you cannot even imagine. You will not break me.”
Delioron’s expression did not change. He nodded slowly. In the beginning Mudon had not been scared either. He had been just as brave as his masters expected him to be. He had endured quite a lot before he had told Delioron everything.
But what could he do about Fangnir? He might need Fangnir alive later. He might have use for Fangnir still.
Delioron pulled the dagger off the desk and walked over to a small wash basin in a corner. He picked up a clean, white linen and took the cask of ale under the chart table. He returned to his earlier spot behind Fangnir, seized him by the hair and yanked his head back before slapping the linen tight over his face, covering his mouth and nose.
Before Fangnir had figured out what was happening, Delioron started pouring ale slowly and evenly on the linen.
Fangnir’s eyes grew wide with horror beneath the linen. Panic gripped his body immediately. He ran out of air, and every breath drew ale into his mouth and nose. His mind screamed that he was drowning – drowning on his own ship. He thrashed and tried to tear himself free, but Delioron’s grip on his hair was like iron tongs, holding Fangnir pinned to the chair under his full weight.
Delioron counted seconds. Just as Fangnir’s movements began to grow weaker from lack of air, Delioron pulled the linen away.
Fangnir slumped forward on the desk, coughing fiercely, spitting ale and gasping for breath like a fish on dry land. His heart hammered so hard it seemed ready to show beneath his tunic.
”Now you know how Muldal felt when you drowned her, Captain”, Delioron said softly as he laid the cask on the desk. ”Or did you strangle her first? I guess there is not much difference. We can do this again. We can keep doing this the whole night, until your mind breaks.”
”What do you want?” Fangnir gasped. It was a scared, tearful question of a child.
”Information.” Delioron spoke softly, but there was no gentleness, no mercy in his voice. ”I want to know everything.”
”I can’t. You don’t understand, my whole life is at stake, everything I worked so…”
”It’s all in the past now”, Delioron said. ”All gone.”
”Please”, Fangnir pleaded, reaching out his hand.
”No. No tears, no pleads for mercy, Captain Fangnir. They mean nothing to me. No more than Tilyh’s tears meant for you.”
”I never meant to harm her.”
”Perhaps not. But she has suffered. And so did Muldal.”
”Khirih was never supposed to die! It was just a stupid accident, and I killed the Corsair captain whose fault it was! But Muldal, she would have ruined it for us. She would have talked! We did her a favor! No mother should outlive her own children! So stupid, so insane…”
”Tell me!” Delioron said.
”I never meant to harm them. I thought I was helping them!”
”A friendly merchant! You just took years off their lives. You took away their loved ones. You gave them dreams that would never come true.”
”It was not like that!” Fangnir said.
Silence. Then: ”Tell me!”
”Who are you? I must know that.”
”I am the Harbormaster. And I am impounding your cargo.”
”By ruining my life you are harming your own side. I served Gondor!” Fangnir started to get up from the desk, slowly and laboriously.
”There are no sides anymore”, Delioron said.
”Is that true?”
”Yes. Beginning from tonight. The game is over.”
Fangnir looked at him for a moment, then he went to the stern-window and glanced out across the harbor toward the lantern-lit docks. There was a man standing there in a ridiculous black hooded cloak.
He stared at the horn panes, stared at Pelargir in the lantern-light, its docks stretching out into the slow southern waters.
”The impressed ones”, he said flatly like a child reciting a poem. ”The impressed ones are Haradrim slaves from the other side of the Anduin, captured from their savage villages by the Corsairs. I was their savior. I freed them, I brought them to Pelargir. After serving their Corsair masters they are released so they can have a chance to live free in Gondor, among the free peoples. At least some of them are. Some get new masters.”
Delioron waited, the handle of his dagger tightly in his large hand.
”We are the new masters. Gondorians. We use them against their former masters. Some of them are happy to do it.”
”And others?”
”Others must do as they are told. Yes, there are slaves. Slavery exists, even in Gondor. But you do not seem to realize that some people are not slaves against their will. Think of a dog who follows his master without a leash. Think of a horse who obeys the slightest touch of their reins. Animals who have been trained to obey. And then there are people who miss their chains, who want to feel the reins of their masters. Slaves. Slavery exists only because slaves themselves allow it.”
”But that is not all!”
Fangnir turned like a drunken man, temporarily on the edge of insanity. His head was pounding with pain. ”Who do you want to be, Eru Ilúvatar? Only the All-father knows everything!”
Delioron waited silently like a stalking cat, not wanting to scare his prey.
”Of course they know everything”, he finally said.
Fangnir startled. ”Who knows everything?”
”The other side”, Delioron said.
”Is that what you call them? The other side? That’s funny. They send spies to our realm and then you turn these spies against them. They scrub your floors and listen to your rumors, and sometimes you make sure they hear the right kind of rumors. And then, just as a slave is freed from their shackles, you bind them again. You, Master Spy. That is what you do. And then you come to me, Captain Fangnir, and ask: How can I use this slave again? How can I place my slaves into the enemy camp? We have slaves in Gondor just as much as in Umbar, Master Spy, in case you were not aware of it. People you extort into servitude. They serve you just as reluctantly as Tilyh. All of them are slaves.”
”We turn people and we create new slaves.”
”That’s right. Let us call it by its real name. Slave trade. Alright. I accept it.” Fangnir paced around the cabin in a sudden burst of vigor. ”I bring slaves to Pelargir. After living in Gondor for a year many are willing to risk their lives to spy for us too. I am an honest merchant. I give them my word that they will see their children and loved ones again in time. I bring their loved ones to Gondor too. Is this what you want to reveal? If so, to whom? I serve Gondor.”
Delioron looked at the large man inquisitively. Fangnir had told him the truth. The whole truth.
Fangnir grew silent and stared at him. ”So who are you?”
”It does not matter”, Delioron said. ”The only thing that matters is the boy.”
”Si’nol? One child is worth all this?” Fangnir shook his head. ”I am amazed.”
”Where is he?”
”Look at me! What is dirty in this venture are you and your kind. Mudon, Radon and your masters, not me. I have chosen to be a free man, not a slave. I have nothing to be ashamed of. I serve anyone who pays for my services. I serve them equally and honestly. I am a privateer for Gondor.”
”This is not privateering. This is slave trade.”
”Listen up, Master Spy! Do you act on your own behalf? Do you follow your own free will, or do what others tell you to do?”
”I have a choice.”
”No. You are not free, I can see it in your eyes. You are nothing but another Tilyh. You have something to lose as well, do you not? You have a hostage too, right?”
Delioron did not reply in a while, because he could not trust his voice. He saw Radawen through the eyes of his mind, and Fangnir’s words framed her.
Fangnir grinned. ”Am I not right, Master Spy?”
”Perhaps”, Delioron said. ”Perhaps the reason why I’m asking you about Si’nol is our changed plans.”
”I do not care about your scheming. Cheat and lie and stab each other in the back from the bottom of your hearts, it does not concern me.”
”It does now”, Delioron said. ”You told me everything. Everything except about Si’nol. Perhaps you don’t know about him, perhaps you choose not to tell. In that case you have not told me everything. So I will end your life.” Delioron spoke gently, almost with sadness.
”You are insane!”
Delioron drew his dagger with one fluid motion of his wrist.
Fangnir took a step backward. He spread his arms.
”They are bringing him to her. They won’t harm her or the boy. They need her to assure the others that everything is fine…”
”So the slaves remain in their shackles”, Delioron said.
”Some of the slaves serve Gondor.”
”So you sell them again? To us? After a while you will sell them to Sauron as well.”
Fangnir’s eyes grew wide with terror. That was the final answer, Delioron thought. Fangnir made deals with everyone, he sold the same people to Gondor and Sauron, over and over, until the slave was worthless to all. An honest merchant, truly! A slave merchant!
”Let me live”, Fangnir pleaded.
”Perhaps”, Delioron said. ”On my terms.”
