Dol Amroth

The azure blue sea flickered golden in the rising sun. Hallathor stood on a white war-galley that was docked in the harbor of the White town district. He stared at the waves slowly rolling into the cove. Hallathor narrowed his eyes as a ship made his appearance on the horizon. As soon as the ship took shape as it sailed closer, he climbed down the stairs to the lower deck and ran off the boarding plank onto the white docks.

Gaeros wrenched his longsword free from the corpse's makeshift wooden breastplate, spinning a web of wet splintered entrails in the process. His gaze darted quickly, left then right as he tried to catch his breath. Using his free arm, the Man of Gondor reached down, grabbing several rolled parchments and shoving them into his vest. He then swept his longbow up off the ground, quickly slinging it over his shoulder. With his bow secured and sword in tow he quickly stepped over the still warm body, hurrying forward in a nervous jog determined to escape.