Demrîng stood on the riverfront of Pelargir, on the broad market street south of the Merchant Hall in the quarter that faces the Anduin, wearing a black cloak with the hood drawn over his head. The pale afternoon sun, occasionally obscured by low-sailing clouds, was past its height and painted the Anduin with shades of orange.
He had begun to cross the market street when he saw the man he had been waiting for slip out from behind the sweet‑seller’s stall and move across the street, the sunlight at his back. Delioron did not greet him. He started walking beside Demrîng, and the two men walked along the street together, shoulders slumped. Demrîng’s gloved hands were clasped behind his back, Delioron kept his own hands tucked into the folds of his cloak. He wore a close-fitting black tunic under his cloak, the hood pushed back. Wet gale from the Anduin had whipped his face red. They were like a pair of oxen dragging the same burden along the familiar trail.
”First of all, a man called Fangnir does indeed exist”, Demrîng said in the middle of the street.
”I knew that already. I did not need you to tell me that.”
”Everything Tilyh remembered is true. This is an old city with a lot of secrets, and all of them are for sale.”
”Do you want to be paid for your expenses?”
”Secrets are expensive. It was not very difficult to find them. I still have threads to pull here, from the time I was here ten years ago. Fangnir is an independent merchant trader from Anfalas. He sails regularly between Lond Cirion and Pelargir with his galley, the Aeartur.”
Delioron waited. They walked along the labyrinthine streets of the warehouse district toward the Merchant Hall, where the noise of the docks softened into the steady murmur of trade. The market stalls stood open to the river wind, their awnings fluttering as vendors wrapped their cloaks tighter against the cool winter air. The market stalls were heaped with bright citrus, jars of honeyed nuts and coils of dried fish. On the west side of the Merchant Hall were the warehouses and counting-houses. The counting-houses were small, sturdy offices with narrow windows and carved lintels showing guild symbols.
”May I buy you an ale?” Delioron asked.
”It will not cover my expenses”, Demrîng said.
Delioron smiled. He pushed into a tavern near the Merchant Hall. The place was pleasantly rowdy, full of smoke and people leaning over their pints of ale. They sat at a table and a middle-aged woman wearing a wool dress and an apron came to them. They ordered two pints of ale.
”What is the problem?” Delioron said.
”I found a man named Gorndaer”, Demrîng began, sipping his ale. ”He used to be useful. Still is. Gorndaer is willing to do anything for coin. He did not know that I don’t serve Sauron anymore. We talked, and he knew about Fangnir and the Corsair venture. I had to be careful. I served Sauron, so I was supposed to know about Fangnir. I told Gorndaer I was setting a snare within a snare.”
”And what did he tell you?”
”Fangnir has encountered and sunk more Corsair ships than any vessel in Gondor’s navy over the past ten years. His galley, the Aeartur, is fitted like a warship, with a reinforced prow and ballistae on deck, and his crew is drilled for maneuvering and combat. There is a rumor that Denethor intends to knight Fangnir next summer.”
”And?”
”He has an arrangement with the Corsairs, of course. But something is wrong with this picture. He always brings Haradrim to Pelargir from the Corsair ships he has sunk – captured slaves he has ’liberated’. How can he act so boldly? Someone should have seen that something is amiss by now.”
Delioron waited.
Demrîng looked at him and nodded.
”He serves both sides”, Delioron said.
”He has to”, Demrîng said. ”But which side does he truly serve? Yours or mine?”
”We have no sides anymore, you and me. Remember that, Demrîng!”
Silence fell like a shadow between them.
”It’s so cold in here”, Demrîng said, rubbing his hands together. ”Can’t you feel it? You don’t even have your hood on.”
”I always feel it. You get used to it.”
”I don’t believe it”, Demrîng said. ”The Plateau of Gorgoroth can be bitterly cold at nights and in winter, but Mordor is mostly hot. Near Orodruin the air itself it hot and stifling, full of ash and fumes. I don’t believe you can get used to cold. Ever.”
”Were you thankful that you did not need to live in Mordor most of the time?”
”I used to travel a lot. I saw different places. Different climates. It had its advantages.”
Silence.
”If some of the freed Haradrim slaves have been forced to spy for Umbar and some of your people know about this arrangement, perhaps Gondor controls what information goes to Umbar”, Demrîng said after a while.
”It is possible, but unlikely. Too far-fetched. It could be possible with one spy, but with dozens of Haradrim in Pelargir, many of whom can’t even speak Westron? It is not realistic to assume we could control who says what to whom.”
Demrîng chewed his lip for a while. ”Alright. Maybe your people know about this venture and want it to continue, because…” He grew silent, hesitating.
”Because what?”
”I don’t know.”
”Carry on!”
”Because…”
”Because they turn them. Some of them. Not all of them, only some. Use them.”
”For what?”
”What hold do the Corsairs have over them?”
”Their children, their loved ones, held hostage in Umbar Baharbêl.”
Delioron nodded. ”And what hold could we have over them?”
”Nothing.”
Delioron waited. If Demrîng would get it, it was possible. No matter how absurd it sounded.
Demrîng looked sternly at the Gondorian, trying to understand what the gray-eyed man was trying to make him understand.
”Tilyh. Her son. She wants him back. She will get him back”, Delioron said.
”Of course!”
”If the Corsairs can do it, then why can’t we?”
”You, Gondorians, keeping children as hostages…”
”Not literally, no. They just let you know that they know. That you might be put to death as a spy and a traitor. And what would happen to your child or loved one then, all alone in a foreign land?”
”But what use could they have for your people? You can hardly send them to Umbar to spy for you.”
”I don’t know. This is what I need to find out. And now I want you to seek out a Corsair or a servant of Sauron in Pelargir. Someone who is involved in this venture.”
”Why?”
”So that I can surrender.” Delioron smiled.
Demrîng waited.
”It is very simple. You find someone who is involved in this slave trade on Sauron’s side and make a deal with them. You will give me to them, they will give the child back to Tilyh.”
”Do they really want to kill you that badly?”
”Seems so.”
”What about the money you promised me?”
”You greedy Variag!” Delioron took a tied leather coin-pouch from his belt under his cloak and put it on the table in front of Demrîng. ”One hundred silver pennies.”
”I have had expenses!”
”That you paid for with money I already gave you. And you have that treasure hoard waiting for you in Ithilien.”
”I could take the money and…”
”Flee? But where would you run? Like I said, I would raise hue and cry. Sauron would find out that you still live. Your future will be much more comfortable if you just do as I say and be set free. Truly free.”
”I could set a trap for you.”
”The thought has crossed my mind. If you betray me, the deal is off and I will kill you. You know I can. If you betray me and I survive, I will kill you. And I will not just slice your throat. I will cut off your fingers, your toes and your nose and leave you to bleed to death.”
”And you are calling me a barbarian!”
”Si’nol. If they want me, they must release the boy.”
”And why would they trust you to keep your word?”
”Because they have hunted me for half a year so eagerly that they are tripping on their own feet.”
”Gorndaer can find someone for me”, Demrîng pondered. ”But how will they bring the child here? A Corsair ship can’t just sail to the harbor of Pelargir.”
”I will have to convince Captain Fangnir to help me on that. I will figure out the details later.”
”I don’t believe you. I don’t believe that you intend to surrender. You always survive. Always!”
”Not this time. I am too tired to survive.”
”Your friend. That woman…”
”She is not part of it.”
”You are lying.”
Delioron smiled. ”Alright, man of Mordor. Which part of what I have said is a lie?”
”Why would I do this for you?”
”Not for me. For one hundred silver pennies more. I will give them to you when the boy is released. Then I will release you too. And then you will be free and I will be dead. What more could you ask for?”
