"Captain!" Brandt called. Oros appeared underneath Brandt's elbow. Fendwall rose from his makeshift seat on the stairs and wandered over. Estella watched curiously.

"What?" Oros demanded. Brandt showed him an anchor line cut cleanly through.

"This was Dahari's line. It did not break. It was cut."

Oros bushy eyebrows drew together. "Hmph," he muttered, "I had wondered. Ropes like that don't just break."

"I'll find the rat that did this!" Fendwall said. Oros held up a hand to forestall his first mate.

"Wait, Fendwall, there is more I believe."

Brandt nodded. "This was Talf's," he said, holding up a second line that was only partially cut through. "And Len-," he paused and frowned.

"Lendethiel," Fendwall finished for him. Brandt nodded again. Only a little of the she-elf's line was cut and what was cut was ragged and fraying, as if done in a hurry. Oros' frown deepened. He paced shortly back and forth, muttering indistinctly to himself.

"Fendwall," he said at last, "I do not want this made known to anyone else. If whoever has done this thinks they will get away with it they may grow bolder and more careless. It will make finding them easier."

"I don't like it," Fendwall said. "We are putting the lives of crew members at needless risk. I can find who did this."

"At what cost?" Oros asked. He gestured to the crew. "They are finally beginning to trust each other. If we question them now that will be gone. A crew that trusts is a crew that survives."

"And what if they are successful? Who dies?" Fendwall demanded.

"I believe," Oros said slowly, "that Elves are much harder to kill than our traitor here thinks."

"I still don't like it," Fendwall growled.

"Neither do I, my friend," Oros said.

...

It was five days passed the storm that had nearly killed them all and the ship was finally cleared of debris and repaired. Calen, eager to see what lay on the horizon, climbed the ratlines. If she had been expecting to see anything besides league after league of flat open sea, she was sorely disappointed. The sails, normally billowing and stretch taunt with the power of the wind lay slack, barely moving.

Hugging the mast, she wished desperately for something exciting to happen. Coming aboard with Livian and Qrow she had expected adventures too numerous to count and strange folk from far lands. While the latter was true, for some folk were truly strange, they were hardly predisposed to talk at all. Even Morien, who listened to her stories with an eager ear, refused to share his own.

Pulling herself up into the crow's nest she breathed in the warm southern air. The sun beat down hot on her head, reminding her of how slowly they moved across the sea without wind to push them. She turned around and looked back the way they had come. Without land marks, there was little way to tell how far they had come. For all she knew they had traveled perhaps a league, maybe less, in four days.

She sighed heavily. Someone above her laughed. She spun around and saw Dahari standing above her on the yardarm with his hands at his side. He dropped down beside her without a sound.

"Is the sea not to your liking?" he asked. Calen gaped before finding her voice.

"I thought it would be more exciting," she admitted. Dahari glanced at her queerly, his grey eyes sparking.

"And here I thought the storm was more than enough excitement for one hundred years." He chuckled darkly.

"How many storms have you seen?" Calen asked, hoping he was in a sharing mood.

"I have been through more storms than you have years left to live, Isildur's blood." His eyes were distant as he lost himself to memory. "Each one is different. You learn something new."

"What did you learn this time?"

Dahari bared his teeth in a cruel smile. "Hobbits are a nuisance on ships."

"Oh," Calen said. She had hoped it would have been something more insightful. Dahari smiled in amusement. Humans, he thought, always searching for the profound. "You must know some wondrous stories," Calen said. Dahari laughed chillingly. Calen shivered.

"Hardly wondrous, I am no Gil-galad, nor Glorfindel who has slain a Balrog. The life of a sailor pales in comparison to even the smallest of their deeds."

"I do not think you need to be great and powerful," Calen said. Dahari tilted his head and she noticed the thick scar across the side of his neck. "Perhaps you do have at least an interesting tale or two?" Dahari seemed to notice her gaze and unconsciously touched the scar. "How did you get that scar?" Calen asked.

"Pirates," he stated dryly. Calen made a small moue of understanding. "Seven hundred years ago I captained the Orchid. She was a small ship. Much like this one. We were returning to Mithlond after near two years departure when a dark hulled pirate ship attacked us. Their bow was plated in steel, hard enough to split our own hull in half. Both side of ship caved in toward each other. Bow met stern. I and my crew fell into the water. As I fell a broken board caught my neck." Dahari stopped speaking.

"What happened next?"

"What remained of my crew saved my life. Then they ruined it," he said darkly. "A trading vessel saw the smoke from our wreckage and brought us aboard. We returned to Mithlond where my crew abandoned me. Since then I have made a living selling my service to anyone who will take me."

"You never captained a ship again?"

"No," Dahari said shortly. "Word of a how a captain lost his crew spreads quickly. I have never found another willing to sail under me."

Calen was silent for a long while when an idea suddenly struck her.

"Do you know anything about the treasure of Arevdui?"

"Come down. Give a hand. Ye who tire of land. Bear your crown to Arvedui our King," Dahari sang. "Any who have sailed long enough know of it."

"Does it exist?" Calen asked excitedly.

"No."

Calen closed her mouth around her next question. She blurted out a different one instead.

"Then why are you sailing with us?"

"Because I get fed, or," Dahari grimaced, "I used to. And you lot are far more entertaining than the shoreline markets." He suddenly squinted into the distance for several long moments. Calen tried to get his attention again, but he ignored her. "Tell Captain Oros a dark hulled ship approaches from the northeast."

Eyes wide, Calen nodded and swiftly descended to the deck. Captain Oros stood at the helm debating quietly with Fendwall.

"Captain," she said. Oros and Fendwall turned to her. "There is a ship approaching from the northeast."

"Wha' flag?" Oros demanded.

"Dahari spotted it, Captain."

"Oi! Sindarin!" Oros bellowed. Dahari appeared a short distance down the ratlines. "Git over 'ere." He jerked his head. "Wha's this ship you saw?" he asked when Dahari stood next to them.

"A low riding brig, maybe twenty feet longer, sixteen oars to a side, dark hull, no flag."

Oros cursed under his breath. "They be usin' the oars?" Dahari nodded and Oros cursed again. "Fly the white flag. Mebbe they'll be friendly," he said without humor. "How far away?"

"Twenty leagues."

"A'ight, best inform ev'ryone." With that, Oros shouted to the crew what was happening and gave them orders to stand by. Time passed slowly. Dahari had resumed his post in the crow's nest and shouted details down to Oros when the captain asked for them. Nearly an hour passed and everyone could see the dark little ship, but no white flag flew. Minute dragged by like hours as they sat there, a bobbing cork in a windless pond.

"They're flying the white flag!" Dahari shouted sounding almost happy. The crew relaxed, releasing pent up breath. After that the time passed swiftly and before long the dark blue hull glided smoothly next to the White Raider. Grappling hooks bit into the railing of Oros' ship. Talf and Morien began tossing grappling hooks to the other ship. When the two ships were safely anchored together the captain of the Nightshade crossed over. He was a tall man with a close cropped beard and square jaw. His dark eyes glittered intelligently.

"Where is your captain?" he demanded.

"I be Captain Oros of the White Raider," Oros said stepping forward. "Who are you?"

"I am Captain Grindal of the Nightshade and your ship and her provisions belong to me."

**************************

Eyyyy! Two updates within 24 hours. I didn't have school today so I decided to work on this for a while.

Now, what will happen to our ragtag crew of misfits who really seem to hate each other at the moment sometimes... hmmm... one can only wonder.