04 January 2006 | 1171 words
Summary: A half-forgotten dark figure from Faramir’s past returns to terrorise Aragorn…
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Disclaimer: Not my characters, we just like to play together sometimes.
Author’s note: It’s Faramir month (01/06) for the Library of Moria’s Men Fan Club so last night I decided I ought to write a ficcy in his honour. I also watched Johnny Depp in ‘Finding Neverland’ so was thinking Deppy/piratey thoughts. I also ate too much chocolate. This is the result of the dream bunny that hopped around my pillow all night. ‘Morecet’ is hopefully Quenya for ‘Black blade’.
The note was prominently placed upon my desk so that there was no possibility of my missing it when I returned from lunch.
The appalling handwriting alone was enough to turn my mouth to a desert and set my heart galloping. So many years since I had seen it… I had thought him gone forever.
And then the words themselves!
I hav yur king at stumps
If yu want to see him alive bring the gold in his desk I no it is ther
Tell no wun
He is fun to torcher
I collapsed into my chair, unable to take it all in at once.
So, the pirate Morecet had returned, last of the Black Númenorians, evil beyond reckoning and seemingly indesrtructable. Even the Corsairs of Umbar had fled at his approach.
Forgotten images suddenly welled up from my past and I knew again the cruel curl of his lip, the notched blade he always carried, the torrent of filth when he spoke. Shuddering at the memory of his brutality, I knew what torment and terror Aragorn must be suffering.
Shaking – though whether with fear, excitement or a mixture of both I did not know – I roused myself from my thoughts and prepared to ride out to The Stumps and face Morecet once again.
There was indeed gold I had not known of inside Aragorn’s desk, though it took me some time to discover it. I had believed that only I held the spare key, so how had Morecet known of its presence? Even once behind the lock, I was forced to explore every compartment until I found the bag well-hidden behind a packet of particularly dry and dusty documents.
I saddled my horse alone, told no-one of my mission as Morecet had ordered, then I was off.
As I rode I wondered how Morecet had managed to capture Aragorn. Probably thrown a loop of carefully aimed rope at him from a distance, pinning his arms to his sides. It was a clever trick he had used on me long ago, and at The Stumps as well.
Which of the pirate’s vicious tortures was my king being subjected to? He would doubtless be humiliated and I didn’t like to think of the temper that would result after he regained his freedom. If freedom was forthcoming: Morecet could be merciless.
The Stumps hove into view. One great lone tree alongside the low remains of its former companions. A dark shape like a strange growth upon the trunk of the tree must be Aragorn, bound as I had expected.
And sitting upon the biggest of the stumps, large as life and twice as wicked, paring his ragged nails with that same notched blade, sat my nemesis.
‘Morecet. I thought you were long dead’
‘Ha! Little one! So, we meet again.’
Aragorn’s greeting consisted only of a furious muffled ‘Nnngghhh!’, his mouth filled with a gag improvised from Morecet’s no doubt filthy neckerchief.
‘How do you like seeing your great king tied up and helpless?’
I said nothing, watching Aragorn’s distress and Morecet’s knife with equal concern.
‘You brought the gold?’
I produced the bag and upended it, spilling the contents upon the broad surface of the stump. The coins clattered and glinted in the afternoon sun and we both gasped at their beauty.
Aragorn’s fury only multiplied when he saw what I was doing, saw that I was giving away his secret treasure to his foul captor.
Morecet picked up one of the coins and bit it hard, testing its worth. His eyes lit up.
‘Oh yes! Yes it’s the real thing all right. See for yourself.’
I did as he said and he was right. This was rare gold indeed, long it was since I had seen its like.
Aragorn was as wild as his bonds would allow him to be.
‘Have you tortured him greatly?’ I asked.
‘No. It’s just fun to watch him wriggle. He’s very angry you know.’
‘I can’t say that I’m best pleased with the fact that he had this little stash hidden away in his desk. How did you know it was there?’
‘Maybe your fine king should learn to clean his teeth more often.’
I nodded, understanding now how Morecet had divined the secret.
There was a sudden spluttering amongst Aragorn’s writhing and he managed to spit out the gag he had been working loose.
‘Let me go!’ he yelled.
We regarded him calmly, helping ourselves to another piece of gold each.
‘Let me go and I promise that we’ll share it fairly. I give you my word as king!’
Morecet and I paused and exchanged querying looks.
‘Shall we?’ he asked.
‘I suppose we’ll have to at some stage’ I agreed ‘And he has sworn….’
‘Now he’s lost that gag he’ll just keep on swearing if we don’t untie him. Very well…’
Together we advanced upon the tree and released the suffering victim.
Aragorn shook himself like a wet dog, rubbing and flapping his aching arms.
‘You bastard’ he grumbled ‘That was a Yule gift. I was saving it up for a special day, I was going to share it with you, honestly I was…’
‘Well, I had to test it, you know, to make sure…’
The three of us returned to the large stump and our gleaming pile of treasure.
Gilded coins of solid Harad chocolatl, dark and bitter and so rare that I had tasted them only once before in my life. Aragorn reluctantly divided the haul into three equal heaps. Then we slumped down in the sunshine, leaning against the stump, slowly savouring our prize.
At last Aragorn spoke.
‘So, Morecet, tell me more about your life and adventures. I would learn all that I can.’
‘You fancy yourself as a pirate as well as a king?’
‘It might make a nice change.’
‘Well then, let me tell you of the time young Faramir here and myself sailed down the Anduin, out to sea and did battle with the dragon king on his magic island…’
And once again he was off, spinning wondrous tales of plunder and pillage, battle and bravery, as he had in my childhood.
Aragorn was fascinated, so much so that he didn’t notice when Morecet filched a couple of his coins and rolled one to me.
I could not help but grin at my brother’s continued impudence.
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