The moment the last corsair stepped off the ship, the many rowboats slowly moving away, closer to the shore but never landing, just slowly rocking nearby the cliffs in the gentle waves, Ji Indur felt two things- a sense of loneliness to have his ship so empty and abandoned and the sensation of a cornered animal as he himself could not go anywhere now unless he’d decide to jump into the water. But nay, that would be foolish and look just ridiculous. T’was not that he was /afraid/ of his master. Not at all. At least he kept telling himself that, and right now it seemed there was little for him to worry about besides moving the ship which already had started to jerk forward as the sails had been set, catching the gentle breeze.
But before he could step to the helm he was addressed by the Maia and once again harshly reminded that even not speaking his mind would not save him from trouble as the ring gave his master ample possibilities to peer directly into his servant’s mind, even without Ji Indur’s permission. How he loathed this connection as it left him without any defenses but he forced himself to remain calm, bowing his head lightly as if to apologize for his curious thoughts.
While he felt compelled to ask more, curious questions about his master’s time in Númenor, the corsair felt it would not be wise to remind Him of the period in His existence where He had been a prisoner and treated with little respect. So no, no word and no thought would be there willing to ask for more, instead Ji Indur focused on the tasks at hand and the question as to what Sauron had planned and was seeking to accomplish on this element that was under the command of Osse. To think that the Dark Lord felt /weak/ here would not change anything about how easily He could dispose of an unruly wraith would Ji Indur seek to cause trouble or disrupt His scheming.
And being told that Sauron had considered taking the ship against the wraith’s wishes did do little to soothe the worries and the tension that was still taking hold of his mind and body. Ah yes… That…particular enchantment. For now it would not cause him any harm he hoped so maybe the Maia even found it amusing that one of the Nine had been blessed by the Master Of the Seas. Taking a deep, albeit unneeded breath, the wraith then walked up to the wheel to take control and guide the Kraken out into the open sea. Of course he too wanted to know now what Sauron had planned but all he could still think of was that He’d try to bait Osse somehow and capture him like a fish and if only for a moment. In a fight Maia against Maia with their elements not there to help them…who would win?
The ship’s prow pushed through emerald blue waters at a brisk pace, the winds behind them accommodating the strange two-man journey with neither wrath nor mischief. The sun held steady in a cloudless sky, and the Kraken cut a white-lipped ripple through the untroubled sea.
Sauron, having acclimatized somewhat to the roll of the deck, stood at the stern’s rail and observed the foam-flecked trail fanning out behind them. His helmsman had grown quiet during the journey, both in voice and thought. He’d erred in reminding the pirate how much of his mind was open to him… it was often best to let Men retain the illusion of privacy, to preserve goodwill.
But his attention was not on Ji, but the waves, and the sleek creatures that dove and dogged their wake– like wolves, but in play, rather than hunt. They were nearing the depths he desired, and his heart thundered.
“Here. Steady her here.”
Master if you are listening, bend your thoughts on me and shroud me from Uluboz this day… The maia rubbed his palms together, centering his will.
There was work to be done; and despite the dangers, the surge of excitement made him giddy.
First the rope. It was as long and sturdy as he could have hoped for– what it had previously been designed for he did not know. Perhaps a ship’s anchor, which would be appropriate. To its end he affixed a heavy iron cast hook, used for lifting cargo. When that was to his liking, he moved up the rope and tied the green glass buoys at intervals along its length. Five seemed sufficient. Then the rope he looped and slipped about the main mast, and tied it with a firm and clever knot.
The entire span of rope weighed as much as a deep chest of coins, but to the lord of anvil and iron it was no difficulty to shoulder its coils and heave it over the side. The length from the mast ran taut as the bulk of it sank, reaching a strange equilibrium between the iron hook and the air-filled baubles. There– he tugged his beard, pleased.
Next, the net. It was a finely crafted work indeed; he could smell Teler hands and Teler silks in its lightweight weave. He wondered briefly where Ji might have acquired such a thing– but a pirate has his ways.
There was no elaborate preparation needed here. He folded the net carefully and set it to one side. It, like many of the items, was not essential in itself, but rather a precaution. Or at least, he mused, a interesting diversion. Time would tell.Finally, it was his turn to prepare.
Large hands nimbly removed the gold bands from his ears and wrists and fingers– all save one. Then the cover from his head, the coat from his broad shoulders, and the shirt beneath, were laid all aside; waves of slate-colored hair fell over his bare back, unrestrained. He stripped down to nothing save an undercloth and a sash, into which he tucked two daggers– curved and wicked as fangs– and the folded net.Then he turned to his helmsman. “If anything goes wrong, know that this line here is my way back to safety. If I am unable to return to the surface on my own power, I will send a vibration up this rope, and you, Ji, will need to pull me aboard. Do not hesitate to use the power of Failaya, understand?”
The dark lord grinned, sharp and white. “Wish me luck.”
With that he balanced himself catlike on the ship’s rail, and dove overboard.
It did not matter how far Ossë physically traveled; his spirit was entwined with the sea, and he felt with its waves and heard with its currents. Much like a Child could choose to ignore an itch or tune out a sound, he often disregarded his senses as troublesome distractions. But with his cousin lurking so close, he was not wholly ignorant of his domain.
He was wary. Every act and every word Sauron spoke of late was to trick and tempt him. This stunt was surely no different, but this one was all the more irresistible because it blurred the lines between game and danger. If he ignored Sauron’s actions and something happened, Ulluboz would never let him forget his failure – at that, he would never forgive himself.
Usually the sea was avoided by their enemies. The triumvirate that ruled it (specifically its lords) had earned the reputation to keep trespassers at bay. Ulluboz may have been the waters’ heart, but Ossë was its true might and majesty. He was the fastest and the strongest when he was in his element, and in the few instances he had acted with no restraint he had earned his given name. As much as he was teased about his leashes, Arda was not prepared to handle him unchained.
His attention shot to Sauron the moment he breached the waves. The sea’s song blurred and muted, fumbled and lost its way in the wake of the shadowy and sooty spirit that bubbled down. Even with his physical body still far out of sight, Ossë’s response was swift: the waters swirled and cooled and darkened, a vortex forming with the intent to trap the intruder and drag him further into the murky depths as the pressure mounted. The sea’s song altered, resonating with a steady and thrumming beat like a heart beginning to race. On the surface, the Kraken shuddered and drifted gently with the current, slowly beginning to rotate.
It was mere minutes for the glow of Ossë’s eyes to appear from what he deemed a safe distance to watch Sauron, challenging and daring.
How cold it was!
The shock of it paralyzed him as the water enclosed his body. Even the frigid north, with the high winds of the Helcaraxë had not troubled him, but here the water drowned him like a quenched blade from the forge; he felt the boil of steam and bubbles roll off his skin.
For an instant he panicked, spine arching tense with cold, and he fought to regain the surface, finding himself plummeting rather than floating. But there was the rope, the lifeline he’d prepared, and he grasped it in desperation until he could muster his courage.
He pulled down the great coils until the first of the buoys was within reach. A maia did not need to breathe– that at least was not a concern. The air the baubles contained was for the purpose of defense, which he hoped would not be necessary, but their presence (and their buoyancy) calmed him. And once calm, he was overtaken with awe.
This was Ossë’s realm.
To mortal eyes, even the clear sea became impenetrable in its vastness; light itself could not pierce the veil of depth that hid the world beneath. But Sauron saw; his sight which was more than sight took in both the miles of emptiness and the seething life within. His eyes glowed like lamp beacons in the azure deep.
In every direction their lay a new fascination. Clouds of silver fish flashing in unison, moving as though a smoke billow had gained a governing mind (and had he not seen flocks of birds evade falcons thus? How strange the friendship between Manwë and Ulmo!); sail-backed fish of incredible speed lunging into the swirl of prey, and behind them great titans of maw and teeth circling languidly; delicate and glowing nodes of translucent poison, pulsing and feeding and populating by some whim of nature unseen; in the graveyard of the seabed, carcasses of sunken behemoths squirming with eels, their greying flesh gnawed clean to the bone– and there! There, far to the north, he spied something familiar.
Ah. He’d been hoping they’d be within the reach of his gaze… Black and white hunters, sea-wolves roaming in packs, cruel and laughing and clever.
Sauron had seen the bones and slaughtered remains of cetaceans; he had seen them beached and rotted on the black-rocked shores. At times he had even spied them breeching the ice and pulling hapless beasts to their death– but he had never seen them here, seen them flying, rejoicing in their own power under the waves, and this gave him an idea. There was much he could do that would immensely improve his visit…
Keenly he observed their construction, the mechanics of their bodies and the method of their propulsion. He had copied them before, crudely; his design based on partial understanding and mere aesthetic. Now his failures became clear, and so too the way forward to a more perfect construction.
All this he witnessed as though in a dream wherein seconds move as slowly as hours– but now he woke, and as he began to shift the atoms of his body into a more streamlined and inhuman shape, Sauron felt the sea change.
The darting silver fish and their hunters fled. The azure swells darkened to the grey of storms. The current, once predictable, stilled ominously, and then it veered, gaining unnatural momentum as it turned a vulture’s circle. It began to pull– down, down, insistent, slow, inexorable.
Sauron wrapped the moored rope around one fist– now a sleek, shining obsidian. He surged upward against the vortex with his new, powerful finned legs, and turned to face the wild eyes of Ossë.
“Cousin!” The maia spread smooth muscled, white-on-black arms in greeting, his voice echoing as music over the roar of the water. “You are very much earlier than I expected! I had hoped to spare you my first unlovely attempts at swimming.” He grinned, needle-toothed. “The sea! It is a fierce, beautiful thing! I had guessed but I dared not imagine! You are right to covet it– but as you would not describe its wonders to me, I had to see it for myself! You would not come to me, so I have come to you!”
His smile was broad but it faltered as the current threatened to wrench him off the now-taut line, anchored to its unsinkable craft above.
“Please, Cousin, I meant no harm coming here. Where is your hospitality?”
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