“Watch out, that Elf will cut your throat, and toss your body overboard,” some of the crew were saying as they languished on the deck. They laughed, but behind the mirth I knew they were unsure of me. I liked it that way. Let them insult me, but let them fear me too. What they did not know, what they imagined, could drain their strength.
I am not an Elf of course, thanks be for that. No scrawny, pointy eared forest dweller who has outlived his usefulness, his purpose and his joy. No, I am alive now, and relish all about me with an insatiable appetite. I bloom, not fade. But I have watched Elves enough, studied them enough to understand how they move. Those Kintai of Haradwaith are not to be underestimated, but they are no stronger or swifter than most of us. I have slain many.
So you understand, being called ‘the Elf’ is no compliment.
I do stand apart from most of the crew of the Shakilgimil. Most are coarse pirates, happy as long as they have khorob and wine enough for each day, and food aplenty. Women at every port tavern, and a fair share of any loot. What more could they want? But I am of noble blood. Raised and educated in a fine house, with servants and slaves. I am…was heir to a fortune. I cannot bring myself to speak much of it. My father’s contrived fall from grace saw the death of my mother, and I was sold to the arena. Fools, they thought they could break me. But I endured and learnt, and watched and grew strong.
I have their names, all involved in that betrayal of my father, etched on paper and in my mind. Forty eight of them there were, thirty two now. Each one I spied upon, stalked through the city, came at from the shadows. I gave them no chance, no mercy. I shall repay each of them their ‘kindness’ soon enough. ‘Agannulan’* they call me, or ‘Shadow Man’, though they know not who I really am. I prefer it to 'Elf'. For now I am navigator of this ship. Without Captain or First Mate aboard I am all but in charge. The ship goes nowhere without me. And now we all wait, just awhile. Message has arrived that our First Mate, Balkumagan, is in Gondor seeking return to Umbar Barharbel. Perhaps we shall sail then, perhaps we shall wait upon Captain’s orders. We shall sail soon. One at least of the crew will not return. The one who brought poison to my mother, he shall certainly have his throat cut and his body tossed overboard.
* Shadow of Death
