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B2MeM 2011: Haradhrim Nights  by Mirach

Day 26: Isengard

Challenge: “Pride is still aiming at the best houses: Men would be angels, angels would be gods. Aspiring to be gods, if angels fell; aspiring to be angels men rebel."

--Alexander Pope

How would a character not allowed to express his or her thoughts, creativity, or opinion act out? Capture this in a story, poem or piece of art.

The Captain Is Dead, Long Live the Captain

The Captain was dead. Those words spread like fire among the Corsairs in the city. Thorongil has been captured. The Captain was dead. For some, one of the news was bad. For others, both were reasons to rejoice.

Nazim watched from the tower as they led – more dragged – Thorongil in. “Good job!” he walked to meet them, a malicious smile on his face. “We didn’t even need the assassin after all! I’ve told that to the Master, but he didn’t listen…”

“Captain, not Master…” a voice behind him growled. It belonged to the fat man who robbed Sahir.

Nazim smirked. “I see no ships here… You can play at sailors, but there is even no sea here. Just the desert.”

The face of the fat man grew almost red with anger. “You landlubber know nothing about ships! The Captain just kept you because you know the people here! If he would be alive, you wouldn’t even be allowed to speak! Actually, you are not, so mind your place if you want to keep your life!”

Nazim shook his head sadly. “Threats, threats… I have heard many of those… But the Master is not alive.” He put accent on the word ‘Master’.

The circle of men tensed. That was an offence, and it shouldn’t go unanswered. The fat man narrowed his eyes, and drew the sabre. “I warned you…” he said quietly, almost calmly in comparison to his previous fury.

Nazim just sighed, and made a reconciliatory gesture. “I’m sorry, I forgot my place for a moment…”

The fat man frowned, but returned the sabre to its scabbard. “Make sure to not forget anymore,” he growled, and turned to the prisoner.

“I will not…” Nazim muttered, and before anyone could react, he jumped to the fat man from behind, and slit his throat with a dagger.

The gurgling of blood and gasps for air were the only sounds in the astonished silence. Soon they quieted too.

“Does anyone else want to question my place?” Nazim asked with a dangerous look in his eyes, the blood glistening on his dagger.

The men were quiet.

He smirked. “Good. Not that we have solved this, get the prisoner into the cell. I have something special prepared for him in the morning…”

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