City of the Corsairs, 3018 T.A.
The relentless sun of Harad beat down upon the teeming marketplace of Umbar, a city that pulsed with the raucous energy of a thousand barters. A young woman with skin kissed by moonlight and eyes like sapphires threaded her way through the throngs. Though not a daughter of Harad, she had adopted their attire, a necessity for blending in amidst the sea of turbans and veiled faces.
Her gown wasn't a singular garment, but a symphony of practicality and elegance. Beneath it all, a soft, white cotton underdress clung to her lithe frame, a whisper of coolness against the desert's furnace breath. This was draped with a diaphanous robe of the finest silk, a breathtaking shade of twilight blue. Threads woven from the shimmering silk of desert spiders were woven into the fabric, catching the sunlight like scattered embers. The wide sleeves, their edges adorned with intricate embroidery in silver and sapphire, billowed around her arms, transforming every movement into a poem in motion.
Gold, a symbol of power and wealth in Harad, was typically a must for the Haradrim. However, she chose to forego it. While her elaborate gown would have looked different adorned with such finery, it also served another purpose to divert attention. Unlike Western women who often went with uncovered faces, the women of Harad held a certain mystique. Her face wasn't completely hidden but framed by a diaphanous veil of the same twilight blue as her robe. The shimmering threads cast an ethereal glow, hinting at her beauty without revealing all. Only glimpses of her sapphire eyes peeked through, sharp and intelligent, promising a fire that burned bright beneath the surface. This veil, a clever choice, also served to keep her true identity shrouded.
Despite the undeniable luxury of her attire, functionality wasn't sacrificed for beauty. The loose, flowing garments allowed cool air to circulate, a necessity in the scorching heat. Thick-soled leather sandals protected her feet from the unforgiving desert terrain, and a wide-brimmed hat, crafted from palm leaves and adorned with a single, perfect ostrich feather, shielded her face and neck from the relentless sun.
She was a vision, a captivating blend of practicality and elegance. An outsider cloaked in the garb of the desert people, a warrior beneath the beautiful silks. She possessed the grace to navigate the bustling marketplace and the grit to endure the harsh desert. This wasn't always the case.
Decades ago, when she first arrived in this forsaken land, her wardrobe was limited. Back in the village of Azrath, a kindly man named Harith had provided her with basic provisions - leggings, a shirt, and worn boots just enough to survive the unforgiving journey. But survival wasn't just about the elements. Harad wasn't a place welcoming to outsiders. The burning sun was only one enemy. The Haradrim, a people divided into often-hostile tribes, were another. While some villages merely tried to eke out an existence, untouched by the Dark Lord Sauron's influence, most tribes readily pledged themselves to him.
Harad was a land of parched earth and harsh realities. It wasn't a place for the faint of heart. Xena, learned this quickly. Though few villages offered her aid, some kind souls provided food and a few supplies. These meager offerings wouldn't be enough to survive for long. In the first large town she stumbled upon Menahad, a place far less bustling than Umbar but large enough to offer anonymity, she found a sliver of hope work. Jobs were scarce, but she managed to find a few odd tasks that put a few coins in her pocket.
Of course, her unwavering moral compass often led these jobs astray. She wouldn't tolerate the mistreatment of innocents. But when push came to shove, and villains preyed on the weak, Xena could handle herself. Thankfully, she never resorted to bloodshed. Let's just say she delivered a few stern warnings and, perhaps, a well-placed punch or two.
Weeks turned into months, and her situation began to improve. New clothes, a decent sword, and a pouch filled with enough coin to rent a humble room. Her biggest challenge transportation. Horses were far too expensive, and the Haradrim wouldn't sell them to outsiders, let alone women. Acquiring her own ride remained a hurdle to overcome, but for now, she focused on navigating the complex web of this strange, unforgiving land, a stranger in the sands.
Now she had her base in Umbar, it was located south of the mouth of the river Anduin at the Bay of Belfalas in a natural haven that was formed by a peninsula that extended west from the coast of the Belegaer sea and then bent to the south and almost touched the coast that lay to its south. This form of the coastline left only a narrow entrance to the natural haven. The City of the Corsairs was at the easternmost point of the bay of Umbar.
Umbar's climate was a harsh mistress, oscillating between mild winters and summers that were oppressively hot and dry. Xena, however, had only experienced the latter. Though not as unforgiving as the heart of the desert, Umbar was unlike anywhere she'd ever been. A palpable tension hung in the air. Every man seemed a soldier, their movements purposeful, their gazes distant. It was clear war had begun, or was about to.
Xena's knowledge was limited to the harsh realities of Harad and the bustling marketplace of Umbar. Prying Information from the locals proved fruitless. While a well-placed pressure point or the implied threat of violence might loosen their tongues, she wasn't about to create a scene in the only place she'd found a semblance of stability.
She felt trapped. No maps were available, and transportation, especially for a woman on her own, was non-existent. Wandering blindly into the unknown wasn't an option this time. But the ever-present shadow of Sauron in Umbar offered little comfort. Was there a better place out there? She didn't know, but she yearned to find out.
The answer to her question came one night as she was having a drink in the usual tavern. It was a dimly lit, rough-hewn place where many mercenaries would gather to exchange Information or to find a new quest. Xena, the Warrior Princess, had taken a few of these quests, choosing those that did not harm the Innocent. Her Income came from such jobs, as Umbar was not a place that would welcome anyone or supply them with kindness.
Work was plentiful, but Xena was not the type to manage a tavern or an inn. Adventure was in her blood, and quests suited her well. However, after many decades, she had grown weary of the sand and the unfriendly faces. Most of the people living in or passing through Umbar were not kind. They were mercenaries, or they worked for the forces of Sauron. Innocent and decent people could not survive there; they would end up killed or worse.
Xena had faced such ill-behaved individuals before. She did not like them, but she had once been like them. She knew how to survive among them, and she was strong enough to keep herself safe. But living for too long in such darkness could change a person. Not that she would become a villain, but she had often caught herself being harder on people an taking quests she usually would not have. It was time to get out of the cycle of violence and darkness. Surely the rest of Middle-earth faced the same darkness, but at least she would find some solitude and peace.
The tavern was a place of rough camaraderie, filled with the scent of spilled ale and the low murmur of conversation. Xena sat at a corner table, her back to the wall, her eyes scanning the room with practiced ease. Her dark hair fell in loose waves around her shoulders, her bronze armor gleaming dully in the dim light. She took a sip of her drink, the liquid burning a familiar path down her throat, and watched her surroundings with keen interest.
That night, she heard about a new mission. It was not new, really, but it was gaining attention. It was a mission out of Harad. Xena had heard about it but had never paid much attention. It was a task to kill someone. Tonight, she spent some time listening to the men at the table next to her talk about it.
Information flowed freely in the tavern, covering not only mission-related details but also news from across Middle-earth. Some of it was clear and useful, and she took notes for future reference. Other pieces, however, were puzzling, mentioning locations and figures she knew little about.
One recurring tale involved the Corsairs of Umbar. Mostly known for raiding the southern coasts of Gondor, they posed a significant threat to the western seas, especially as Sauron's power grew. Yet rumors suggested that some Corsair ships and dark-aligned raiders had dared to venture near the Grey Havens, possibly attacking isolated coastal settlements or disrupting trade routes. While Cirdan's people were seasoned mariners and well-prepared for such risks, any hostility along the coast could disrupt the delicate
peace of the region.
According to some sources, these ships sometimes transported Sauron's agents, or even smuggled Corsairs close to the Grey Havens for swift passage back to Umbar. Such arrangements were costly and required connections with trusted allies. Xena noted this information, not expecting she'd need it, yet unwilling to dismiss it. Another well-known piece of intel was that many of the Corsairs openly served Sauron, though this was no secret among the tavern's regulars.
The tavern was dimly lit, filled with the murmur of conversation and the clinking of mugs. Xena sat at her usual corner table, listening intently to the men at the next table. These men were hardened mercenaries from Harad, their faces scarred by countless battles and their eyes cold and calculating.
"Have you heard about the new quest?" one of the men, a burly figure with a rough voice, said. His name was Azar, a seasoned fighter known for his ruthlessness.
"Aye," replied another, a lean, wiry man with a snake tattoo coiling up his arm. His name was Malik. "It's marked as very difficult. The one who takes it over will get paid half upfront and the rest when the job's done. The odd thing is, it's coming from the Necromancer, or at least one of his team."
Xena's ears perked up at this. She didn't know much about the Necromancer, only that he was a figure shrouded in darkness and fear. His real Identity as Sauron was unknown to her, and she didn't care who was offering the quest. What mattered was the task Itself.
Azar leaned in closer, his voice lowering conspiratorially. "The target is a warrior from Mirkwood. They say he's a great archer and a threat even to his own kind. Rumor has it he offered his own mother to the dark lord and killed her himself. A lost soul, pretending to fight the darkness, but far from it."
Malik scoffed, taking a swig of his drink. "Sounds like a right bastard. Easy coin if you ask me. The pay is enough to set us up for life."
Xena knew better than to take everything she heard at face value, especially in a place like Umbar. She had seen many times how corrupted souls were painted as Innocent and vice versa. She decided she needed to know more about this target before making a decision.
After finishing her drink, Xena made her way to the quest board, her boots echoing softly on the wooden floor. The board was covered in various notices, but one, in particular, stood out. The amount offered was the highest she had ever seen, Indicating the Importance of the target.
The notice read:
Quest: Eliminate Legolas of the Woodland Realm
Reward: Half upfront, half upon completion
Description: A skilled warrior and archer, traitor to his kind, offering aid to the enemy. He is a threat and must be dealt with.
Xena studied the notice carefully. The name "Legolas of the Woodland Realm" was unfamiliar to her, but the description painted a picture of a dangerous individual. However, the detalls seemed suspect. She had learned to be wary of such notices, especially those offering extravagant rewards.
Xena's mind raced with possibilities. With the reward from this quest, she could leave Umbar and explore the lands of Middle-earth she had never seen. But she needed to be sure of the target's true nature. If he was indeed a villain, she would have no qualms about taking him down. But if he was being wrongly accused, she couldn't let herself be used as a tool for evil.
She decided to gather more information before making a decision. Returning to her table, she caught the attention of a young barmaid, Suri, who had often provided useful Information in exchange for a few coins.
"Suri," Xena sald, sliding a small pouch of coins across the table. "What do you know about this Legolas of the Woodland Realm?"
Suri's eyes widened at the sight of the coins, and she leaned in closer. "Legolas is an elf, one of the best warriors from the Woodland Realm. I've heard he fights against the forces of Sauron. There are many stories about him. Years ago, there were a few tales of him betraying his kind and eventually killing his mother. He's respected by some and feared by others."
Xena nodded, absorbing the information. "Thank you, Suri. This information is valuable."
With this new knowledge, Xena made up her mind. She would take the quest, but not to kill Legolas. At least not before finding out if the rumors were true. If indeed he was fighting against the darkness, it would not be difficult to gain his trust. Uncovering hidden secrets, like if he really betrayed his mother and killed her, would not be easy. Even if it was true, there could be more behind the stories.