Pelargir: Arrival, Negotiations and Dancing Girls.

Pelargir: The Havens - Merchant Quays

Chaos surrounds you--myriad forms of men and beast crowd and swirl, here for a moment and then vanished, leaving behind them smells that range from pungent spices to acrid pitch and turpentine. This, then, is the merchants’ quarter of Pelargir’s docks on the wine-dark Anduin.

Daylight shines down upon the river flowing swiftly westward and upon the round-hulled vessels of commerce that even now glide to and from port, bearing cargoes varied and sundry. To the north stand the mighty black-rock walls that gird Pelargir to the south flows Anduin, and to the east stretch more docks and the main causeway that leads both into Pelargir proper and across the Great River to the further bank.

***

Eleven strange ships dock in the merchant quays. Nine are merely trader’s ships, varying in size from small to large - though all are sea-going. Two are rigged with the furled black sails of the dreaded corsairs. They fly the banners of Seaward and Farside respectively and oddly, no hordes of swarthy pirates stream from their sides, brandishing curved blades, their blood-lust lighting their eyes.

Indeed, swarthy-faces /do/ peer from the deck rails - but they merely watch the pale-skinned denizens of Pelargir suspiciously. Nay! This is no invasion, but the arrival of the controversial Haradrim merchants and their escort. For the nine merchant ships fly the banners of Seaward and Farside Towers - as well as a couple others. From these vessels peer faces likewise swarthy, but their well-fed (and considerably less scarred) countenances bear equal measures of speculation and caution. None of the Southroners have yet disembarked.

From the smaller Farside ship, the corsair raider Variyah, a gangplank is lowered to the dock. At its head appears a very tall woman one who would have little trouble moving among the city as a native. She descends the gangway with a measured, stately pace - her head held high. Adorned with gold, her gilded bodice and jewelry glints in a westerly ray of sun, breaking through the clouds the late afternoon sun sends fractured light to dance upon the rough wood of the dock. Directly behind her descend four large men, armored in black and wearing purple sashes. Their helms sport raven's wings and while they alone are armed, their comportment suggests ceremony.

"Well, shall we?"

The Knight-Herald questions to his Squire as Gwendion watches the lady disembark. He pulls his hand from the pommel of his sword, cracks his knuckles and begins to stride forward, speaking quietly as he walks to the Squire and the Scout behind him. "Turlach, as we spoke of before, keep an eye for treachery. Squire, keep a hold of your tongue."

The trio walks with a small honor-guard, carrying large pikes and clad in the garment of the Citadel Guard. They stop short of the Lady and her own guard, the two eyeing each other.

Turlach follows the Knight, his eyes blind to the Haradrim adornments. He has made the best of the large Hostman tabard lent to him at short notice, and is unarmed and silent.

"Yes, sir." Menelglir's answer is stated evenly, quietly as he follows next to the Knight, just a step or two behind him. And he does, for a change, keep his mouth shut, even though his expression registers surprise as he looks to Azradi.

The lady steps off the gangplank her honor guards fan out behind her, standing erect and unmoving. She studies the swan-knight before her for a moment, then smiles slowly, crookedly. "No fanfare, Swan-Knight? And here I wore my best for the event."

Her gaze travels to the young man at his side - the one who spoke. Her smile broadens. "At least I appear to have impressed your...squire, is it?"

"Fanfares are for celebrated guests," the Knight replies, "For now, Lady, I fear you and your people are but tolerated ones."

He manages a wry grin, "Perhaps on your next visit?"

He steps forward, "I am Gwendion Bragollach, Knight-Herald of Prince Imrahil, a named diplomat of Gondor." He bows, as formal as warranted, if perhaps a bit unpracticed.

             From the largest of the vessels of Umbar, a gilded gangplank is lowered by several corsairs. The ship itself is a palanrist of Numenorean design and the crewman aboard beam with pride for the vessel. Walking forth from the Nimrizan's cabin, another tall figure emerges though he skin is somewhat darker than the Lady descending from the other ship. Escorted by five men garbed in both black and naval blue, the ceremonial escort follows closely behind their leader. The man himself is dressed in blue silks from the Far South and bears a chained medallion in which a large saphire is centered at the peak of a tower carved in gold.

             The lordly man walks confidently down the gangplank towards his female opposite and the leader of the Gondorian greeting party. He examines the City and docks with and smiles now and again as his gaze rests on different things within sight. He is silent for now but his eyes speak of many thoughts.

The Blue Squire does not step forward when Gwendion does, Menelglir staying back one pace. He does swallow hard, though, as Azardi mentions him, and--after Gwendion's example--he bows.

And then, standing up slowly, Menelglir looks from Azradi to the newly disembarked Mirdanath--and back again. His brows knit slightly.

             Among the Gondorian greeting party is the Lieutenant Aearon, dressed in full Military garb, standing strait and tall watching as the as pleasantries are exchanged the Lieutenant stay's silent watching intently, eyes upon the Haradrim party.

And last of all the Man-at-Arms, Turlach, stoops in a bow, trying not to appear out of place, his eyes fixed rigidly forward.

"Tolerated?" echoes the lady, her wry smile returning. "You mean to say that centuries of bloody war are not easily forgotten?" she says rhetorically.

"At least they sent someone of suitable rank to greet me," she observes, assuming a more sober expression. "I am Lady Azradi anAzulada, Lord of Farside Tower." She does not bow, but does incline her brow slightly, an act that sends her pearl to sway gently. A glance aside reveals the approach of Mirdanath and she says, "Ah, my counterpart - of a sort. No towerlord is he, but a lord and man of rank within Seaward Tower."

The Haradaic Lord's brows rise slightly as he hears the Lady of Farside describe him but for now continues to smile. Watching the Knight-Herald with particular interest, he chuckles at something and then speaks something to the Lady beside him in the language of the South. "So I'm no longer allowed to introduce myself, am I? I'll have to remember that." The Fleet Master of Seaward Tower now points to the Swan Knight and continues, "Thats a Swan Knight? And here I was expecting a giant. Tales are wonderful at skewing information. They don't look so tough."

             The second in command of Seaward now shrugs to himself and chooses not to adress the Gondorians - yet.

The lady's jests are seemingly ignored by the Swan-Knight. "Lord Farside," the Knight replies, hesitantly with the male title, ""

"Welcome to Gondor for our time of celebration in honor of our once King, Falastur. In this time of festival, the merchants of Harad shall be treated as under parley, so too will their escorts. Know that war still exists outside this city, do not stray from it or its waters."

He motions to the ships, "Your ships must be boarded, as any, to check for contraband," and here he manages a smile much like the Lady's, "Or an army," he says, pointing in return to Mirdanath.

Behind Gwendion still, Menelglir now carefully watches the two Southrons, his head tilting just slightly as Mirdanath speaks and points to Gwendion. And then as the Swan Knight states the conditions of the fair, he mutters under his breath, lips pressing into a frown and watching Azradi. " As well we should."

A clearing of the throat from Gwendion, "If we could refrain from languages other than Westron. Perhaps this meeting will go better in the long run?"

             Hearing the words of the southron of Seaward Tower the Lieutenant frowns, but upon hearing the words of the Swan Knight he smiles slightly and lets it stay there. Still remaining silent he continues to watch the Southrons, eyes remaining upon the man of Seaward.

" You were described, not introduced," replies Azradi, shifting angry eyes to the Seawarder. Her voice is low and stern. Evidently she did not hear the Knight's request to speak in Westron as her reply is in her language. " Mind who you speak to and keep a civil tongue in your head, Fleetmaster!"

The lady takes a deep breath and returns her attention to the Swan-Knight. She smiles wanly. 'I am referred to as a towerlord but I am addressed as Lady Azradi, or Lady Farside. It is complicated, I know.'

Her smile fades, only to be replaced by a slight frown. 'This would be more easily agreed to if you had defined contraband before we came and I will not allow any to board my ships until such items are clearly detailed.'

Turlach stands rigidly, his lips pressed tightly shut and hands held in loose fists pale eyes slip past the lords and ladies and guards to the decks, searching for any sign of 'contraband.'

"Weapons and men are our concerns. To be blunt, we don't want a large contingent of armed Haradrim walking the streets. For obvious reasons that I'm sure you can understand, Lady Farside."

He eyes the Seaward man, and then the Knight looks to the Lady, "Can this simple request be abided, Lady Farside?" he questions politely.

A nod of Menelglir's head indicates that he, at least, heeds Gwendion's request about languages, yet the Squire still holds his tongue--despite shifting briefly and frowning as if he has something to say.

             The leader of Seaward party frowns at Gwendion's and then shrugs. "Very well. I don't mind saying the same thing to you as I did to the fair Lady. I expressed a desire to introduce myself and remarked that you were not as large as I was expecting. Tales of Dol Amroth in Umbar have a tendency to enlarge things. I'm a little disappointed." Waving a hand in front of his face in dismissal, the man continues in Westron. "Contraband, eh? You think we came here to sell opium? I didn't expect a market for it. But an army, there you have us. We smuggled an entire army onto these few ships that are jam packed full of goods and then decided to talk to you before invading." He pauses for a moment and then looks concerned. "I joke of course. You people here do joke, don't you?"

             A glance is then given to the Lady of Farside, "I know exactly whom I speak to, my Lady, and I thought you would have learned by now that I am always civil." His reponse is in Westron despite the initial scolding by Azradi being in Haradaic. Obviously not fearing the scorn of the Lady of Farside, he turns back to the Knight-Herald. "Tell me, how is Captain Seregarth health? Better I hope? I'd much like to speak with him if he is in port."

"The Captain is not my report I do not know his whereabouts."

"Turlach, Menelglir, have you any knowledge of the Captain?" Gwendion questions to the pair.

             Stepping forward the Lieutenant bows his head to the two Southrons and introduces himself proudly "Lieutenant Aearon Telpekhor of the Silver Ship Company, Hosts of Gondor." raising his head he then looks to the Swan Knight and bows his head to him as well before returning his gaze to the Southrons.

"He is well enough to walk, sir," says Turlach tightly, still very much not at ease.

Offering Mirdanath only a hard look, Azradi otherwise ignores him to continue her discussion with the Swan-Knight. "Ah, I see. Of this, we were already warned. You will find crew enough to comfortably sail and maintain each ship. All of the crew on the corsair ships are warriors, as you would imagine, and you will find personal weapons."

"We were told there would be competitions of arms - and of course we did not know if you would keep your word and attack us. However, if you do not wish war, neither do we. I have already ordered my people to keep their arms /stored/ on the ships and not carry them around the city. The only exception would be to carry them to and from arms events - they can be peace-bonded in such instances, if you wish."

"However, no man or woman under my flag will break this decree for fear of facing my justice. If you wish to verify this, you may. But you may not take any of our weapons."

In contrast to Turlach, Menelglir's response is not tightly controlled. "Captain Seregarth?! Are you, then, the one that fought him that you know his name and his wounds?" There's anger flashing in his eyes, but he abruptly shuts up again as Azradi speaks.

A frown for the Squire as temper flares.

"This point is acceptable."

"As to justice, your people will be held to Gondorian law while in the city," Gwendion continues, "Should one decide to violate your Ladyship's orders, they will be tried as Gondorian citizens. They will be returned after any sentence served, unless of course, the sentence is death."

             Nodding his head in agreement with the words of Knight, the Lieutenant says "My men, those patrolling the city will be strict but fair when enforcing our laws."

             "Walking you say? Good, good. So he back about his duties I suppose? Fiery, chap he was he." The Fleet Master now looks upon the Squire with a slight curiousity. "Just like you by the sounds of it. Yes, yes I was. Nice fellow though besides the threats and all. Kept a clean ship. I can respect that. The Asgar I think she was named. Would have made a nice addition to the Fleet." The man now shrugs again. "Oh well." Listening to the words of the Lady Azradi, the Seawarder nods. "Yes, yes. I pledge the same of course. Oh yes! I am Mirdanath. Lord of House Sikkiyn and Fleet Master of Seaward Tower. I nearly forgot." He then adds the last quickly with a slight chuckle.

             "Sooo...." The man now looks from the Knight to the Lady somewhat awkwardly. "Do we just stand here as our ships get served? Or could you manage us some tea? I'd love a cup, personally." He now looks about, all smiles for the moment.

Displeasure is writ large upon Lady Farside's fair features - but it is for the Fleet Master, not the Swan-Knight. She glances back to her ship and beckons to a skinny doleful looking administrator. Then turning back, she says, "Then you intend to board our ships, Sir Gwendion?"

             Hearing the words of Lady Farside the Lieutenant speaks once more looking to the Lady and says "It will be I with a contingent of my Soldiers that will be boarding your ships." Pausing and looking to the Man of Seaward he continues "The search will be thorough, but will be done swiftly and with as little disturbance as possible."

Visibly annoyed, Gwendion looks to Mirdanath, opening his mouth to speak when Azradi poses a less abrasive guest, "A few men to do a quick survey. Again, only to make sure there is not anyone unaccounted for."

"All goods will be checked, as this is standard practice for our docks. There are taxes usually levied on goods, but for these, you are exempt. As to your accommodations, young Turlach here can lead your contingent into the city. Are you the only two guests of," a pause, "Note?"

"Back in his duties, yes," Menelglir now answers, his expression--at the frown from the Knight-- having gone flat. "And, if you wish, sir," he continues in the same tone to Gwendion, "Perhaps I could escort the Fleet Master of Seaward Tower to an inn for a cup of tea. If that is suitable at this time," he says carefully, noting the Knight's irritation.

Turlach stares blankly at the back of the Knight's head. "Yes, sir," he answers, almost piteously. His glance flickers to the Lady Farside, then to the Fleet Master, then quickly away.

"Perhaps the both of you can take Lord Sicken to his cup of tea. The Lady, if she is able, I would have words yet with," Gwendion says, looking to Lady Farside for approval.

"Then I insist that a clerk accompany each search to observe and record all," Azradi nods to the Knight and replies to the Gondorian lieutenant, her tone even - neither friendly nor hostile.

But that said, she turns back to the Knight, her expression genuinely surprised. "That is…very generous of you. On behalf of my merchants, I thank you."

"I am the only one of 'note' as far as Farside is concerned. I was prepared to stay on my ship, but will gladly accept better accommodations. My crew, of course, is also prepared to sleep aboard."

"But before we are seen to our quarters, or Sir Gwendion and I speak alone," she continues, agreeing to the knight's suggestion, "I would like to settle one more item: The issue of justice..." her lips curve wryly once more.”I suspect any of my people inclined to law-breaking will be glad to hear they face Gondorian justice rather than my own, and I believe it fair folk should be tried according to your laws. But, in the unlikely event that someone is arrested, I want either myself or my appointed representative to observe the case from evidence to trial."

"You may not serve as an accused advocate you are not Gondorian," Gwendion he emphasizes, "But you may have an observer, if you feel it is necessary."

Then to the Seaward lord, "And you, the only Lord of Seaward here?"

             "Well now that does sound quite nice, sir ....squire. However I have a feeling that if I attended any local establishment I would run the risk of being poisined. Especially with the people of this city due to our many.....encounters shall we say?" The man now turns from speaking to Menelglir to the Knight-Herald. "Perhaps someplace more official? Like the keep or along such lines? Far from the regular populace who might not be so /aware/ of the peace agreement for the festival."

             Looking around at his surroundings, he grins once more. "So you intend for us to stay in the City? I was also quite prepared to stay in my cabin aboard the Nimrizan." He pauses then before adding. "Would you mind if my ship stayed at anchor in the harbour? I think it would make things much more managable. My men are well trained but they have certain desires that sometimes leave them quite thoughtless....This city does have brothels does it not? Drunken corsairs fighting over pale women is not my idea of a civilized fair. I doubt it is yours either, Sir Gwemdon." The man then nods before continueing to look around. "Yes, I suppose I should observe as well if it is a person of Seaward. Unpleasant business trials are. Always so glum..."

Naturally the railing of the foreign ships are lined stem to stern with gawking sailors, merchants, and some of the aforementioned corsairs. But as a few men tire of slow, boring negotiations and other talk, they step away from the. Immediately taking their places are a line of female faces, young and exotic at the very least, perhaps even pretty. There are four, and at least one more stands behind, trying to peer over the shoulders and heads of her companions. They listen with wide-eyed intent.

"Squire is fine, sir," Menelglir says, awaiting Mirdanath's response to the offer of tea. Though at that response, there is a growing look of horror on the Squire's face, his mouth slowly dropping open. In the end, he just stares, astonished, at Mirdanath, then, shutting his mouth, he blinks hard, manages to force a neutral expression back to his countenance, and turns toward Gwendion without so much as a word more. And there he stands, staring ahead, listening but eyes fixed on nothing at all. Or perhaps on some of the pretty girls now at the railings of the ships, though it might be hard to say for certain if that is where his gaze lies.

"That is acceptable," Azradi agrees, once more inclining her head to the Knight. A soft, nearly inaudible sigh escapes the lady's lips after the Seaward Fleet Master speaks, but she adds nothing to his own speech.

"Uh... I... I..." Gwendion is stupefied by the request, "I will find an advisor for you to help you, uh... help you find your way around the city. Accommodations are prepared for you but you may stay in your ships if you wish. As to your ships, it would be best if they remained docked during your stay. They will need to be rechecked if they leave and return."

A short sigh, "Is there anything else we have not touched on?"

"Oh I am sure we have forgotten something," Azradi says drily, "It will come to our attention at some inopportune time, no doubt."

Up at the railing, the young women observe, and comment with murmurs on the scene below, perhaps about the strangness of accent or clothing or...well could be anything. But the second one in the bunch says something, setting the women on either side of her to tittering like a couple of birds, covering their mouths and smiles before returning comments behind shielding hands.

"Well, assuming you are here for trade and for the games. There shouldn't be any problems. If you are not," Gwendion frowns, "Well, then we will have much to speak of."

"But, let us talk then to more pleasant things. You have men who will be participating in the games?"

Azradi turns aside for a moment to give orders to her clerk. As she does so, her glance falls upon her four guards, still standing rigidly at attention. But when she turns back to the Knight, she first answers his most recent questions. "All have been told there would be games, I expect some may wish to enter. I would certainly like /my/ name entered on the rolls."

"And I fear I have just thought of one of those nearly forgotten items. We were told that people of importance would be allowed a small guard?"

             "Oh yes, I would much like that. I'd love to see some of the historical sites! Like where Castamir intended to place the new courts of the King once he had transfered the capital to here! Or where his sons bravely fought off the forces of Eldacar the Barbarian! Fascinating place of history, this place. And I'm going to take it all in!" His hand then twitches and gazes down he then flexes the muscles in his arm before looking back to the Knight.

             "I was also wondering if it would be alright if I warmed myself up in your training grounds? Have to stay fresh and lively if I'm going to teach you Gondorians how to use a blade, eh Sir Gwemdon? Are /you/ participating in the games?" The Fleet Master now is immensely excited. "I do believe that would be a blast. I've never danced the blades with a Knight before. Even if you aren't as large as the stories say I'm sure you still know how to use that thing." He then nods towards the man of Dol Amroth's blade.

"As the Lord Sicken mentioned, there are Gondorians that may make a poor decision when not provided a proper deterrent." A glance to Mirdanath as he continues to speak, "But, it is not required of you."

"As to the rolls, I will add both your names to them. As for me, I have not yet decided. But others," he motions to the other Gondorians, "Will be there to meet your blade."

A delicate snort answers the swan-knight's suggestion. "I think I shall keep them, all the same,” says Azradi. “I would prefer to save myself for competitions, rather than spend my strength fending off your more enthusiastic compatriots."

"Now, you said you wished to have a further word with me? I assume that is to be in private?"

"Or no," the Knight answers, a smile curving on his lips, "But I think we've established that which must be for such formalities. It has been generations since such a visit by your people, so be cautious if your intention is to maintain this parley."

"Your people may disembark at their leisure."

             "Ah come on, Sir Gwemdon. Surely you get tired of pushing papers around all day? Live a little. I think'd it be fun. Plus some of these fellows look like they've only just stopped using sticks. Poor sport, that'd be. Poor sport indeed. Well, anyway I'll order my men to stay on their ships unless going to competition. I'll flog the first few who try and sneak off. Set a proper example. For now they'll wait." The man grins now as he speaks the last few sentences to himself.

             "Well bless my eyes! There she is! Thats the Asgar in the distance!" The man now points over to a distant ship on the War Quays of Pelargir. "Sea eyes I've got. Never forget a ship! Come on lads." The man tips his head slightly and now just leave the group standing there as he is much to excited to care. "I bet Captain Seregarth will offer me some fine tea. A Gentleman, if a rough one, he was indeed. Come on lads!" The bodyguard of the Fleet Master now scramble to follow their command as he walks down the docks.

As word of disembarkment travels up the gangplank, many of the crew begin to move. Most of them make last minute preparations to leave their posts for a while, or perhaps to conceal their secret goods, or any number of reasons. But the gaggle of women have no such concern, it would seem, and make their way toward the descending ramp. As they emerge from behind the railing, they are quite obviously clad in skimpy clothing, displaying much of their flesh, with bright colors and flashy disks of metal interspersed. They giggle as they walk, except one demure one who just mostly smiles. As they alight on the dock, their legs seem just a bit unused to solid ground.

"Err..." Gwendion comments, "Yes.. they seem... eager."

He coughs, and turns to Mirdanath, "I will think on it, Lord Sicken. Until then, enjoy your tour of the city."

Then to Azradi, "Lady?"

Watching the Seaward Fleet Master depart, Azradi replies, "I have no preferences for privacy or not, but I think I would like to be shown to my accommodations perhaps we can speak there or en route? Unlike Lord Mirdanath, I would prefer to stay in the city."

"And have no worry for my corsairs - they know the difference between war and truce."

Her gaze travels from Gwendion to the girls and back. She laughs lightly. "However, is it not scandalous for a lady to visit with a man alone in Gondor? Perhaps I should take another woman with me to ensure propriety?" With a mischievous gleam in her eyes, she beckons to one of the dancing girls, the demure one in fact.

"Yes, well," the Knight glances quickly to the other Gondorian soldiers, finding little help or advice in their looks he turns back, "This way, milady," he says, motioning towards the city.

The once demure dancing girl catches Azradi's eye and her come hither gesture. She reaches to her companion and gives her upper arm a squeeze in farewell, flounces her volumous skirt wildly, the steps out to approach the Farside lady, saying "Yes, Lady," with broken Westron and a brief curtsy, followed by a wide grin. But she follows without making much more distraction.

"Come girl," Azradi orders gently, grinning in return for some reason. "I need a female chaperone to protect my reputation, you see." Then motioning for her to follow, she in turn begins to walk in the direction indicated by the Swan-Knight. Behind all, the four Farside guards follow at a discreet distance.