Umbar was hustling and bustling with life as usual as the Kraken anchored at the harbor. The gangway was lowered for the captain and his master, Ji Indur wishing he could linger on the ship a little while longer instead of being expected to guide Sauron to His quarters in the city. Idly rubbing his chest where the scratches Osse had left were still itching and reminding him that next time he’d stay as far away from Ainur business as possible, he watched the Dark Lord emerge from his cabin, His expression hard to read for the wraith.
But he still had His last words ringing in his ears after he had found Him lodged into the cliff side into which He had been thrown so forcefully after skipping across the ocean like a very large and very heavy stone. Traveling by ship had almost been madness then but luckily the Master of the Seas had allowed the Kraken passage towards the south and as Umbar had appeared in his telescope he had felt both a sense of relief as he had felt a sense of dread. To think that his beloved home would also turn into the site of his punishment did not exactly sit well with the corsair.
Alas there was little he could do as he led the way, Sauron once more dressed in Umbarim garb and once they left the port and walked through the main road there were many eyes on them and many heads bowed in reverence to the Dark Lord. There had always been a lot of worshipers of Mairon in Umbar and even those that followed others or their own believes inclined their heads lightly or stepped out of the way. Maybe this would please his master enough to have Him reconsider punishing the wraith who, all things considered, had only tried to help?
For once Ji Indur could not concentrate on the hustle and bustle on the streets, the colorful small stands of the bazaar where merchants sold the equally as colorful Umbarim garb as well as spices, food and a plethora of household items only found in this city. One could tell the influences of the many who had traveled here to live in this melting pot. Next to the people of Umbar, olive skinned and proud with their flowing clothing and intricate embroidery, the men covering their heads with turbans while most women wore headscarves that were adorned with many pieces of dangling jewelry, there were also those faring from Harad, darker in skin, their faces showing intricate tattoos while their garb was simpler and less colorful but with interesting patterns and worn with the kind of pride the Haradrim carried around them like a soldier carried armor.
And then there were men and women from all the different tribes from the south and east, each of them in their own clothing and yet changing the way Umbar was by bringing their food and culture to it. The scent of fresh oven baked bread mixed with the smell of charcoal and skewered grilled meats as Ji Indur continued to walk until they reached a heavy looking wooden door that was covered with a very intricate looking pattern which had a thick layer of gold applied to it afterwards to make it look even richer.
Opening it the wraith stepped inside, a group of servants hurrying closer, bowing their heads both to Ji Indur but even more so to his master, offering rose scented water in small silver glasses to latter and a tray with the typical sweet treats found in Umbar. One of them, a tall older man, bowed another time to them, informing them that their quarters were ready to which Ji Indur simply nodded, looking at the offered goods with regret as he could no longer enjoy them, waiting for his master to decide whether He wanted to sample them or not before leading him further and across the courtyard towards the rooms that had been prepared especially to suit His tastes.
Sauron dusted the sugar off his fingers after sampling a delicate square of lokum from the servant’s tray. He thanked the man and waved him on his way; basking in the restored quiet of the rooms once the palace doors shut behind him. He licked some remaining spot of stickiness from his thumb and sighed, stretching his back– it made an awful series of crunching sounds in the silence. The Kraken’s return trip to Umbar had given him time enough to mend the fractures in his spine, but the repairs were stiff, and he ached from the expenditure of power it had taken to heal himself.
More than anything he wished to rest, mend, and recover enough energy to hammer the final nail into the coffin of Ossê’s humiliation; his victory. (It was a victory, he reminded himself, wincing as a vertebrae slid back into place).
But he was not yet at leisure to do so. The sounds of the marketplace were blissfully behind him, but the treasured silence of the palace’s cool interior was interrupted suddenly but a nervous cough, and a cleared throat, and a shuffle of fidgety hands over fabric. Sauron closed his eyes and willed himself, with every fiber of concentration he possessed, to not snap with irritation. He did not want to damage his surroundings. They had been costly, and built to his very particular specifications. If he was going to push the wraith’s head through a table, he’d prefer it be an expendable one.
“Ji,” he intoned, not turning around, “Thou art still here.” A remark, a statement of fact, perhaps with an emphasis lingering on how very easily, how conveniently this state of affairs could be remedied. “If there is aught thou wishest to bring to my attention, speak now. If not, I recommend thou leavest and attend thy ship– which at this moment, Wraith, is the only function which makes thy life worth sparing.” His growl rattled dust from the ceiling.
“Well. I see someone’s turned his hand to Art Criticism.”
The voice laughed low. “Well, what else is art for, if not the expressing of one’s innermost fantasies?”
Ossë scowled at the sculpture and shrugged, crossing his arms petulantly. “It just seems rather rude to so openly display a personal fantasy. If the artist based those figures on reality, I cannot imagine that both sources would be pleased to be so violated.”
Fixing his gaze on one of the water spouts, the Man’s glare was curiously timed with a sudden surge of water, the pressure bursting the pipes and swiftly flooding the street.
“Ooh, I heard that, for a time, both figures were quite happy with the arrangement! Whatever came after, there was a moment in which these two and their desires were in perfect alignment… this work commemorates that instant, freezing them both in time at the second of their harmony.”
The admirer tutted as the pipes burst. “Ah, will you look at that… A day’s repair at least.” He clucked his tongue and patted the base of the statue, inspecting the rupture with an entirely unperturbed expression. The market-goers gasped at the initial flood, but soon began milling around the swelling puddles, some splashing through them as relief from the dry heat. A few children played in the gushing spray before the architect himself turned a valve to shut off the water.
((First of all, how dare you, I have at least 10,000,000 things that I need to draw on a deadline but now i gotta draw fish ass THANK YOU SO MUCH))
“Really?” Replied a silky voice in the crowd. “I heard it was made true to life.”
Ossë stiffened and glanced briefly over his shoulder, then returned his attention to the fountain. It was a very detailed sculpture. He circled cautiously around, mostly looking at his figure rather than his cousin’s.
“Quite a bit more coiling of tails than I think would be appropriate,” he rumbled, to most seeming to speak to himself. “And the embrace seems more gentle than one would expect. It seems the artist likely put his own wishes and fantasies into his art. Hardly surprising.”
The voice laughed low. “Well, what else is art for, if not the expressing of one’s innermost fantasies?”
Visits to Umbar were few and far between, but after hearing one too many seafarers talking about ‘that fishy sculpture’ they had seen there, a trip was warranted. He was curious, and knowing that his cousin had taken up temporary residence in the land, he was also suspicious.
He took a form that was less obvious and less known, no taller or broader or stranger than an average Man. Rounded ears helped him blend in as he strolled slowly through the bustling markets until he found the fountain of rumor. It was big, and bronze and well cared for, and had the subject matter at the center been anything else he would have even liked it.
Except it was him. Which also would normally have been fantastic. Except this-him was in the arms of a familiar Orca-inspired Ainu, head back and spine bent so his upside-down face was staring at him.
Carefully keeping his expression neutral, Ossë ignored someone’s remark to him as they passed by and studied his shame critically.
“The nose seems strange,” he drawled to himself, “and that expression is far too animated for my liking. The artist was clearly over-compensating and just guessing as to the subject’s face.”
MisbehavingMaiar: Tumblr Archive 