Legacy of Traitors RPG

[piosenniel]

~*~ Everdawn's post ~*~

I remember it as if it were yesterday: The sun was high in the sky, shining gloriously above Gondor. We were just collecting our lives again after the war of the ring under the reign of the King Elessar. My father Miradir Il Galoth had fought then, under the command of the Steward. My mother and I were evacuated along with the other women and children, my elder brothers stayed as they were a little older along with other boys to aid the soldiers and run errands, that type of thing.

Everyone thought I was too young to understand what was befalling us then, but I understood completely. We stayed in Dol Amroth, for my mother thought that was far enough away from the fighting. Heralds often sent news of happenings in the east, it was then only thing people questioned themselves with. One day news came of the battle of the Pelennor Fields, the big battle, we did not know whether father was fighting or not, or whether he was still in Gondor. The next time we heard any news was when Barad Dûr was taken and the war was over. I was relieved and the journey home was the longest one and I will remember it forever.

My father was alive when we returned home, but a changed man. He showed no sign of warmth to anyone but sat day upon day in his study in a remote wing of the house, alone and withdrawn. Perhaps it was my childish innocence, or a consequence of my curious and sometimes irrational nature which made my next actions possible.

One morning I was playing by myself when I stumbled into the dark corridor of my father’s wing. It was a formidable sight to my young eyes, rows of burning lanterns, and black drapes reflecting upon the polished marble floor. I was drawn to it like a moth is drawn to a flame. Slowly I checked for any sign of life before proceeding along it’s impedingly passageway to the end room which I knew was my father’s study. My small arms pushed open the heavy door and saw that the room was empty. A lamp burned brightly on his desk as well as the candelabras on the walls while the burning embers sat in his fireplace slowly dying. I walked over to his desk. I struggled to place myself upon the seat. Upon the desk sat a lone glass box which revealed to case a bloodstained knife. I lifted the lid of the box and extracted the weapon within and turned it over in my hands before placing it back where it had come from. I opened the top draw in my father’s desk and read over several letters which lay on top of various other pieces of paper, Still I sat I my father’s enormous leather chair as he would have done. Mostly the letters were unsent one which were addressed to my mother an others were to my father’s brother, though he had been killed in Ithilien, obviously my father thought it senseless to send them to him. Whilst raiding the other draws I came across one which hadn’t been opened As fast as I could I broke the seal and began to read, as fast as my young eyes could read then I ran my eyes across the letters, It was in my father’s handwriting and it did not have a receiver’s name on it. I read the letter more closely until one particular passage caught my eye.

“After months of not knowing, I have come to find that the traitor is none other than Guriel Il Galoth. I am in two minds whether we should pursuit him straight away or let him have his game until the right time that we can corner him. The course of action is up to you, whatever your decision; I will not let blood ties hinder your warrant for his arrest or execution.”

Eru only knows how long he had been watching me. I glanced over the letter to see my father standing in the doorway. I had never seen my father so angry before, so much so was his demeanour that he even looked like someone else. He yelled at me then, and I remember little of it but he kept saying this room was forbidden, and I should never have come there and that I wronged him by handling the knife, for he had pulled it from the chest of his best friend. He came in one swift move towards me and hit me on the back so hard that I stumbled and fell into the fire grate where my arm broke my fall, an accident. I screamed for what seemed like an eternity before my wrist was lifted. . I saw tears in my father’s eyes when he had realised what he had done. I knew there was something more to why my father felt the need to punish me, not jut his impending madness which had over come him since the war.

It was in that moment I first asked myself “Who is Guriel Il Galoth?” I was nine then and fourteen years later I am still no closer to the truth than I was then. Today is just like that day - the sun is shining gloriously on Gondor and I still bear a scar upon my wrist, a constant, ugly reminder of my question. Today I received a letter answering my message I sent to the king a while ago. I am hoping this will give some clue as to why my father went mad, and better still, where is this infamous relative of mine?

Maén placed her quill down on the top of the stone steps and closed the cover of her journal; straining her eyes against the setting sun she watched the birds flying in the sky on their way home to roost. In the fading light she rummaged through her robe pockets to find the note from the King’s court, she had waited to open it so she could write in her journal. Slowly and carefully she picked off the wax with her fingernails opened the envelope and unfolded the letter. Every word within was like a hot stabbing knife pricking her flesh. “Information Denied!” her face fell. “This is unbelievable” she remarked with an air of misery. The sun had now gone down and the cool air of the late evening had settled into the grounds of her home. Maén packed up her things and went inside, and headed straight for her chamber without dinner where she stayed till late night.

Now thoroughly annoyed with the monarchy of Gondor, Maén resolved that the only hope she had now of getting any answers or receiving any of the Legacy, was to go to her aunt who lived at the north of Minas Tirith, the one remaining relative who would help her. Now, any normal person would have accepted the truth that Guriel Il Galoth would now remain anonymous for the rest of time, until the day would come when the sun rose no more. But not Maén, her fiery personality and obsessive nature made impossible for her to determine when to leave things alone. After hours of storming around her bedroom she decided that tonight she would make a start to find out about her infamous relative.

Checking that all the lights were out in the house, she lit a lamp and in her nightgown she clambered as quietly as she could down the numerous halls of her families huge home, passing her brother’s old chambers, in which they had lived before they moved out and got married, everything that was expected by Gondorian society. “Fools and idiots, bamboozled brothers of mine… what fate shall befall them, those who seek nothing and in return gain nothing?” she smirked in passing, her shadow etching itself further in front of her.

Managing to come by the first floor unnoticed by the life that dwelled deep where dreams lie, in the rooms she climbed the marble stairs two more floors till she arrived at the same formidable wing she grew to hate as a child. Treading softly and swiftly she strode boldly through it to her fathers primary study. Slowly pushing open the door, and listening to it creak for a few seconds, she peered into the study. Her body froze for the slightest minute. The fire embers were still cooling in the fireplace. Maén pushed up the sleeve of her nightgown and peered at the underside of her left wrist. There still she wore a reminder of why she never came in here anymore. A four inch burn scar ran vertically down her arm. Shoving her hand away form her sight she placed the candelabra upon her father’s desk and began to raid the drawers for the letters she so vaguely remembered.

She had sat in her father’s chair for what seemed like an hour. Maén had moved to looking in the draws in her father’s library, throwing books across the room as well as the small statues which lay between the rows of books. Maén was on her hands and knees, she was about to give up until she stumbled across a new letters hidden within a box, concealed in the hollowed out middle of an eagle statue which stood at the base of the last bookshelf, adjacent to the wall. Feverishly she pulled them from their envelopes.

“Mr Il Galoth, we the shipmasters of Freverin & Sons Shipping Co. wish to inform you…”

“I don’t care what a shipmaster has to say!” she exclaimed with ill patience she moved onto the next.

“Miradir,

Give the guards a start towards the city, Osgiliath is waiting for you. I have run across some intelligence which would prove the enemy is weaker.

- Guriel.”

Maén almost dropped the letter with excitement. The next one read.


“Salome,

Pull the men out! Dwell not on the words of Guriel my cousin for he has betrayed us all! My brother is dead along with the other men, for Eru’s sake, do not come, or it will be the death of you all!

- Miradir”

“It’s true! He was betrayed.” She exclaimed. Before noticing one more letter, the seal was unbroken. Returning to her fathers chair she fiddled with it for some time before lifting the wax with her fingernail. Out fell a small piece of paper which in turn read.

“To my dear cousin,

I write to you this letter of gratitude. It was because of you and your noble men that Mordor has been able to get this far. I know now that I am wanted for treason again my country. And to this I tell you, try as you will, you can never find me. In fact the purpose of my letter to you is to warn the king, come not to me, or what will meet you will be even more hazardous than the day I took the lives of your men and your brother. You have seen what I am capable of, kinslaying, and I will never be found. I offer a grand legacy to those who may find me for their trouble and hence they will call themselves “Finder of the impossible” a title which grandly their heirs will remember.

For what I have said, heed my warning; death will come on swift wings to those of Gondor who come for my life.

- Guriel Il Galoth.”

“Dear Eru!” she exclaimed reading over the letter several times. “Kinslaying! My uncle was killed by him then! This is a lot deeper than I originally thought.” She sat and pondered, picturing the scene in her mind. “…Legacy..?” she started at once. “Wait a second, legacy, it has to be gold, like the people in the village said it was.” She dwelled on this thought for some time. “All the more reason for haste, I feel I have an advantage now.” She glanced toward the mantle and on it were the blood covered knife in its glass case, deciding whether or not to leave it in its place. Her fingers extended but she thought the better of it. Gathering up the letters and her father’s journal, a map and the candelabra she hurried from her father’s wing and back to her room.

A nervous excitement filled her body as she swiftly changed from her nightgown into another dress, (she would be riding, it was true, but still she wanted to look like a lady) and packed a bag full of her clothes, quills, and paper. Maén fleetingly looked at her room as she threw open the doors to her balcony. Her mirror stared back at her. She smiled at her reflection before throwing a paperweight at it from its place on her desk. An almighty crash rang out form it as the shards of glass covered the floorboards. She left the balcony for a minute and overturned her desk, cupboards and tea tables. Maén ripped her curtains from their rods and cast them from her terrace on the second floor so they dangled feet from the ground floor. She threw her bags over the edge and looked once more at the disaster she had created in her chamber and noticed her journal on the floor under several other clusters of paper. She recovered it and after making sure the sheets were secure, made for the ground and then away to the stables.

The stables echoed the neighs of horses unsettled from their slumber as Maén hastily searched their stalls for her horse. It was in the last one, a smaller red mare by the name of Hittai.

Maén now growing more optimistic by the minute rode from her home for her Aunt’s manor, slightly north of Minas Tirith, not the safest route for a young woman to be riding on in the middle of the night, or so was the opinion of her Aunt Lysia. Aunt Lysia was well dressed, even in the middle of the night as she stood with her servants to receive her. Lysia thought strange that her niece should visit her at such a time, but as always, she was pleased all the same.

“Why exactly have you come?” she asked Maén who sat fidgeting across from her at her table. Lysia had always been the confidant of her rogue niece, the only relative who did not shun her radical behaviour in the past.

Her niece’s eyes were dull in the light of the chandelier which hung above them, “Guriel” she said. At once Lysia sat up straighter than she already was (not once in her life could Maén remember her Aunt’s back hitting the rear of any chair she ever sat in)

“I thought this day would come, though I rather expected it sooner than this.” Lysia frowned and glanced at a clock on the wall.

Maén was glad that her aunt knew something about this man. “Well?” she asked impatiently.

“Calm child.” Lysia snapped and made her way out of the room to appear minutes later with a leather folder, rather empty but containing several sheets of parchment. “I recovered these from my bureau, Listen hard because I will only discuss this with you once.” Maén need no warning of this, her heat was already still with anticipation. “You know your father has never been the same since the war, and he has good reason. You know as well that my husband was killed along with him.” Maén nodded. “Your father is still suffering from the memories of that war, heavens knows it has changed the best of men, even after all these years. You must understand it makes him do things he wouldn’t usually do-”

“Like hit his little daughter hard enough for her to get trapped in the fire as her little arm began to burn in the embers in his fireplace until the skin had all but melted away?”

Even Maén was surprised by her sudden outburst. Lysia’s head snapped up, she was quiet for a second, and still, and old, so old that you could see all the years of grief and loneliness creep suddenly onto her face.

“Like that.” she murmured. “The government gave me no other reason as to why your uncle died than ‘he died as a hero on the battlefields of Ithilien fighting the enemy.’ Of course with your father back in his present state the only explanation I could get from him was ‘he was killed by the traitor.’ "

Maén was almost jumping out of her seat. “Guriel” Lysia nodded. “Not to be quick, I know that your uncle was in a regiment where a large number of the Il Galoth men were stationed. This is most unusual for a military family but not remote. Out of all the Il Galoth’s who went, only two lived, your father and Guriel. Your father was the only one to return to Gondor. Rumour came to me by the marketplace that they were stationed in an emissary- spy position if you will. And that Guriel, their own blood in fact, had betrayed the whole regiment to Mordor.”

Maén was stunned, “How . . . why . . . ? My father was in the intelligence sector?”

Lysia nodded again and drained the last of her port from her glass. “He was, appointed by the Steward, Few people know of this, I wrote to the Military to ask them and this is the reply I got.” Lysia’s frail fingers pulled one of the few pieces of parchment from the folder and handed it across the table for Maén to read.


Dear Widow Il Galoth,

The Gondorian Army has never heard of any corps such as you wrote to us in your letter. Your husband Miradan died as a hero defending Osgiliath during the War of the Ring, and I revile the people who have spread these untrue rumours, preventing you to grieve as you should. To add to that, we have never retained in our service, one, Guriel Il Galoth, or had him in the service of the city.

Eru be with you in these hard times,

The Gondorian Army

“Never heard of him?” Maén asked still dumbfounded staring at the paper.

“That’s what I found interesting.” Lysia smiled.

“He does too exist, and he was in the same sector as my father. It says so in a letter I found.” Maén tapped her fingers on the table.

“You are quite right, Guriel Il Galoth does live, or I think he does, his fate is unknown to me, but I happened to meet him on one occasion, at your grandfather’s funeral.” Lysia lit another of the fading candles in the chandelier. “So I did some research, which was very limited as your father was uncooperative, well he was sick…

From various sources I gained reports that a man had brought a horse with the same number branded onto its skin as the number given to Guriel during the war.” Lysia handed a stock report to Maén who read as she continued talking. “I also confirmed that a man had sold a large house in the very east of Ithilien to a man called Galoth who paid in a lump sum of gold, now I’m sure that it was a fair way off, but it was too close a match for me not to ignore.”

“A legacy,” Maén interrupted passing the letter which she had come across in her father’s study to Lysia.

“I see,” she said in her cultured voice after reading it. “This may well in fact mean what I think it does, Gold, I am suspect to think it would be gold, this ‘legacy’ Guriel speaks of, though it could well be property. Which brings me to my next point, you don’t even know if he is alive, or dead, you don’t know what happened and that there probably is a good reason your father and Gondor don’t want us to know what happened.”

Lysia paused which gave Maén time to speak. “You said earlier that you had expected me to come, why?”

Lysia breathed deeply. “Because I am too old to go looking, and I know that is why you have come, have you not? To look for him?”

Maén now reminded herself why she liked her aunt; it was because they knew each other so well. “It is.” she said as Lysia handed her the folder to replace the documents.

“I will warrant your search and serve as benefactor; all finance can be done through me. Collect who you will and bring them to me before going on your journey, if I pass them they may go and they will be paid handsomely upon their return.”

Maén was in awe. “Surely it will be too much, the cost!”

To which Lysia waved her hand aside, “I am wealthy enough, you forget, I too came from a well off family, Go now, rest. I will send a messenger to your home and tell them you are staying with me for some time. We will talk more in the morning when you will begin your search.”

Lysia would hear no more that night, and Maén was slightly glad, this night had brought many surprises to her, and now she would be able to seek the answer to her question which had not only plagued her but her aunt as far as she could tell, she now drifted off to a dreamless sleep and she would need it, for in the morning she would search Minas Tirith high and low for the people who would be willing to accompany her on her quest.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 3:37 AM January 28, 2004: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

Amanaduial's post

The dark, cloaked figure marched grimly on through the drizzle of the early morning which was rapidly turning into a full blown thunderstorm. Not downpour though, with this wind, he thought abstractly. Maybe…sidepour. He smiled grimly to himself and continued to squelch on through mud until his feet met the more even land of a path.

Atharen looked down at the path and smiled wanly, before raising his eyes to his right, squinting against the rain and the wind. After a few moments of battling with the rain, he gave up, having been rewarded only with a face full of water instead of a glimpse of the city he looked for. But no matter; he could find his way to Minas Tirith blindfolded. Or, failing that, through enough rain to drown a small oliphaunt. Atharen made it his business to visit the citadel at least once every two years – he had friends there, and one of his mother’s uncles now lived there with his wife and daughters. Atharen smiled slightly, recalling that detail – Merien always gave him a fine welcome. A lady, she was, a fine lady; even though she was the daughter of a soldier and a seamstress, the young woman proved that it was not only high birth that could make a lady...

Distracted in his musings and memories, his hearing muffled by the rain, the man did not hear the hooves until they were quite close, and then they seemed amplified, the hooves of a mighty stallion. Whirling around, he pulled the two dirks from his belt and his back in his hands (the sword had the irritating habit of sticking somewhat in the rain, and until he could get warm and dry, getting it out would probably be rather ill-advised if he ever wished to get it back in again), and stood against the approaching horse, left hand in front so the blade was easily visible, the right held to one side, ready to help with the attack if need be. A crack of lightning striking the tableau would have given it a rather menacing look…

…if the horse had not been a rather small, plump mare, upon which was seated a young woman. Because of the rain now coming in sheets against his face, despite his deep hood, Atharen did not realise his mistake until it was too late; the horse reared, panicked, and it’s rider fell with a cry. The ranger sprung lightly to the side as the horse’s hooves started to come down, ducking underneath them and coming to rest by it’s left side, one dirk held to the throat of the fallen rider…and his eyes widened in shock as he realised who the rider was a young woman, in her twenties he guessed, her blonde hair streaming with rainwater, sprawled on the ground. Hastily sheathing one dirk, he held out a hand to the woman, bending slightly. “My lady, I apologise – I did not realise.”

The woman glared hostilely at the ranger and got to her feet herself, gracefully considering she had just fallen. She was some inches shorter than Atharen, but her hazel eyes were fierce. She looked at the ranger with a mixture of scorn and fear, and seemed to be scrutinising him; a man who looked only a few years older than herself, his blonde hair darkened by the rain and falling in bedraggled curls to his jaw, his skin pale from the cold with a scar standing out on one cheek. His eyes kept her gaze and after a moment he felt prompted to make a move; it was freezing cold and wet, and Atharen wanted to make it to the city before the full light of day was upon the city - already the first tendrils of light were appearing over the horizon. “This is a dangerous road for a young woman to be riding on at such a late hour.”

The woman gave a small, angry snort before turning and re-mounting the mare, who glared at Atharen quite as hostilely as it’s owner. “It is not dangerous unless madmen with two swords are lying in wait to terrorise young women.”

Atharen blinked at the comment, then smiled slightly despite himself. “I was not lying in wait. I was attempting to get to the city of Minas Tirith, coming from Rohan, although the weather has not been overly kind.” The woman was watching him again, and she was getting wetter and wetter still. What’s more, she was unarmed. Ever since he was young, Atharen had been raised to be courteous, and had always resented and acted against the way men often tried to treat his mother in the Inn when her brothers were away. In this case, it was partly his fault that the woman had been waylaid, so it would only be polite to…

“May I escort you back to Minas Tirith, lady?”

She stared at him. “Why do you think I am going to Minas Tirith?”

Atharen smiled slightly, but not patronisingly, the night-shadows on his face making his eyes seem even darker and more mischievous. “At this time of night, I hardly think you’d be going this way and travelling anywhere else. Please, you are unarmed, and this is not a safe road – after all, there could be all sorts of madmen with a pair of swords lying in wait.” He grinned and waited for her reply.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 4:50 AM January 28, 2004: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

Melisil's post

Aelimur marched into King Elessar's throne room. His uniform on, and his helmet under his arm. When he was a few feet in front of the throne he bowed lowly to his lord.

"You called sire?" he said, standing full height again, "What service may I complete for you highness?"

Elessar, also known as Aragorn by some, nodded. "Yes Aelimur, son of Dalemun. I wish for you to carry out a task for me. I have heard news that Maén, daughter of Miradir Il Galoth- one of our greater soldiers- retired now, is gathering together a group of men and woman to seek out Guriel Il Galoth, cousin of
Miradir, and murderer of Miradir's brother. I am most sure she wishes to seek revenge on him of one kind or another." Elessar stopped for a moment, "Aelimur, I want you and one other member of my guard- whom I will disclose to you later- to join their party. You cannot be known as a member of my guard though, as she knows I do not agree to this. Join them, as a traveller say, and find Guriel with them. If and when you do, I want the two of you to arrest him, before continuing back here at Minas Tirith for his proper... how shall I say... repayment?"

Aelimur listened to all of this very closely. "I understand sire. When will we go, and where will we be going?"

"You will be going to the house of the widow Lysia Il Galoth. That is where she is gathering people." Elessar replied, "When, I am not sure; Three days at most, hopefully two, and if you can, tommorow. In other words: as soon as possible."

Aelimur nodded. "Yes your highness. Shall I return to my watch now sir?"

Elessar nodded, "Yes Aelimur. And after your watch is finished, go to your manor and make ready for the trip you will be taking. Remember though that you should not be discovered as a member of Gondor's guard. And do not worry about the amount of time it will take, if you return him here, arrested(or otherwise in your command) you will be well rewarded. Either way though, I will be glad in you."

"No reward is needed for me to be honored in serving you my lord." Aelimur stated, doing a short bow to the King once more before turning around and marching out of the courtyard.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 4:53 AM January 28, 2004: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

Eorl of Rohan's post

Ferethor reined in his horse by the eve of Greenwood the Great, which was once called Mirkwood. The sun cast it's last rays upon the forest ans sank beyond the Misty Mountains.

He was singing what snatches he could remember of a song of lore he once heard long ago, improvising the tune as he went.

"Grey as tears, gleaming silver
Red then it rolled, roaring water..."

When he dismounted and camped for the night, he had time enough to brood over what he was going to do.

"The legacy..." He rolled the thought around in his mind. Then he smiled. "Even if it was true, why wouldn't have the villain or whatever he is used it all?"

He was suddenly furious at the king, though he knew it was not loyal. "This, a special mission from the king? For Illuvatar's gaze! What use could there possibly be in following after a petty villain and the legacy he is supposed to have?"

"What of the Shire, from which I was sent?" He talked the the gathering night. His horse nuzzled up to his face, and was given a piece of carrot. "Even though the time of Darkness is past, orcs, Wargs and other evil creature prowl around the borders of Shire" Ferethor thought with anger. "If soldiers of Gonder does not patrol and defend shire, there would be no peace for these holbytlans. Whither shall they flee from the oncoming dread if we did not protect them? But now we are withdrawn, few as we are, to chase after daydreams!"

Nevertheless, he was wondering how to join the company under disguised name when he fell asleep.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 4:54 AM January 28, 2004: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

Thengal's post

Carathir shook his head and banged his fist into his palm in frustration. Lysia had done so much for him, first by saving him from the Gondorian king’s judgment, then by befriending him over the last few weeks and teaching him the Gondorian customs. Carathir had been unable to return the favor, though he clearly saw that Lysia carried some great burden. Carathir wanted to rush into the library now, go to the woman, and make her speak her gloomy thoughts to him.

Carathir would not yet be so bold with his new friend, however. He would find the key to her pain in time, he vowed, but right now he had his own dilemma to overcome. Carathir made his way into his private chambers, which Lysia had provided for him, deep in thought.

Carathir was an Easterling, a man from the Sea of Rhun, an enemy of Gondor. His uncle, Ulwarth, was the king of the Balchoth tribe. Carathir's uncle had adopted him when he was 5 years old, after his father had perished fighting at Minas Tirith. Carathir had left his uncle’s hall, on the coast of the Rhun, not more than a month ago. The words of his uncle still echoed in his thoughts, “Go Carathir, my son, go and save yourself from my fate and the fate of all those who trusted the treachery the Dark Lord. Do not be caught in the snares of power and greed, like we all were. Leave this forsaken land and do not return. Go and seek your fortunes in the wide world. Hearts as pure as yours should not be bound here, to wither and die like those of our people.”

After much debate Carathir finally made the decision to leave the home he had known for the 20 years of his life. Carathir’s brother’s called him a “coward” and a “dog of Gondor.” They told him that his father would have been ashamed to call Carathir his son. They said that no man, of any worth, would ever leave his people to run off to the lands of the West because times were bad. After the War, the Easterling tribes had fallen into poverty and despair. They had put all their resources into the war against Gondor and lost everything, including an entire generation of young men. They had petty squabbles over barren pieces of rock, so that they could scrap out barely enough to survive. They were raided by roving bands of orcs who stole what petty land, around the Sea of Rhun, they had left. With the words of his brothers echoing in his head, Carathir rode from the land of his people never to return.

Suddenly, a knock came to his door that shook him from his daydream. He rose to answer the call at his door, but Lysia had already let herself in. “Carathir, I need you to do something for me,” she said suddenly. He was startled by her openness and the troubled look on her face. He wished much to do what ever he could for this kind woman, whom had showed him so much compassion. She paused and he waited for her to continue. “Well it starts like this…”

The entire tale was related to him from beginning to end, twice over. Carathir pondered over every word of her tale trying to fit himself into it somehow. He wished to do what he could, but getting tangled up with a traitor to Gondor, considering where he was from, was not an advisable course of action. “What do you need from me?” he finally asked her. “I need you to go with Maen, Carathir.” “She needs stout companions and you are a splendid choice, my young man.” She looked sincerely into his eyes searching for a reaction to the question. The request surprised he a little, but then the shadows of his past started creeping into his mind. Does this Gondorian wench what me to do her dirty work for her?. He tried to shake the thought from his mind, but it came back stronger.Take the Legacy. Take the Legacy. Carathir thought he left that part of him back home. That evil hate instilled in him from birth. He battled it all his life, he fought to become his own person. He lost the battle against it in a matter of minutes. “Yes!” he suddenly burst out. At first Lysia was startled by the outburst, but then a smile spread across her face. “Good, I thought that’s what you’d say,” she said as she patted him on the shoulder. “I’ll fetch Lysia and tell her she has a new companion!” she said as she scurried out of the room.

Carathir sat alone with his brother’s taunts echoing through him. His thoughts grew dark and clouded. He lost sight of the man he thought he was. I’ll show them. Then we’ll see whose laughing when I return rich and become a hero of our people! He wrung his hands with delight and a wicked smile spread across his face. Then, he rose from his bed and began preparing his things. So, a scheme began to hatch in his mind of how he would recover the gold and slip away without causing too much of an uproar.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 4:52 AM January 28, 2004: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

Eladain Moruviel's post

"I’ll give you fifteen for it, and not a penny more!" the shopkeeper shouted.

"Great Eru man, do you take me for a fool?!? I’ll take twenty-five for it and no less!" Delphinous retorted indignity. "I’ll give you twenty, and that’s my final offer!" Del knew that he would find no better offer anywhere in the city,

so he reluctantly handed over the ring his mother had given him so long ago. He had thought he would never part with it, something to always him of his mother, but it would do him no good if he was dead of starvation, and he had eaten the last of his supplies yesterday. Pocketing the money, he went to the large market in the center of Minas Tirith. Twenty silver pennies wouldn’t last him for more than a few days, he would have to find work, and soon too.

He had come to Minas Tirith hoping to find a job, but apparently, they’re weren’t very many wanted men in this part of the world. When his money ran out, he would have to move on. How quickly those few silver pennies ran out, and still no work, but finally, he got wind of something that could change his fortunes forever. The word on the street was that the widow Il Galoth was funding some sort of expedition to find a certain relative, and what’s more, she was paying very well. This wasn’t Del’s usual line of work, but perhaps he could make something out of it.

He went to the Red Fox Inn, where he had made a few "connections" sense had had come to the capitol. The Red Fox was not the most reputable of places, but in his kind of work, it was the best place to start. The suffocating smell of pipe smoke and ale was almost enough to crush him as he walked into the dimly lit interior of the Inn, but he soon spotted his man and quickly went over and sat next to him. "tell me Eladain,what do you know of this widow Il Galoth?" "Plenty, but it could cost ya." replied the man In one swift movement, Del had him face down on the table, arms behind his back "Now, how bout you tell me, and I won’t brake your arm?" He snarled. "Of course, I were only foolin’ I’ll tell ya anything ya need to know"

After finding out all he could, Delphinous headed to the Army department. After waiting several hours, he was finally admitted to see the head officer. "Word has reached me that an expedition to find Guriel Il Galoth. It has also reached my ears that he betrayed a troop of your men to the enemy, resulting in the death of almost all of them. Perhaps the army would pay to have said traitor brought back for trial and execution?" At first the officer looked confused, but then he broke into a smile. " heh heh heh, Now where did you get that idea?" He half turned to dismiss Del, but then he thought better of it "Wait here, I’ll be right back" he said as he left the room.

When he returned ten minutes later, he had a grim look on his face. "Well?" inquired Del impatiently? "what’s the news?" "I’ve talked it over with some certain people, and we have decided that we could pay you the sum of, say

10,000 gold if you could bring this Gurial Il Galoth back, unofficially of course, and no questions asked on your part" Chuckling, Delphinous replied "I knew you’d warm up to me, I’ll get in touch with the widow tomorrow, and then be on my way. A pleasure doing business with you sir! Good day" And with that, Del went out.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 4:49 AM January 28, 2004: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

Hama of the Riddermark’s post

Roryn sat in the high branches of the trees of Ithilien smoking his pipe. He was almost invisible to anyone that would have looked up, but there were few people to look up into the trees in search of enemies now. He settled himself with his back to the tree trunk, with his legs bent upward in front of him, outstretched to the extent that is was comfortable, but gave adequate support. His bow hung off a small branch next to him and his quiver of arrows with it. He knew it was reckless to leave them there, but then, he reasoned, it was reckless to go to war as he had done. He remembered the day well of the Pellenor fields.

He let a whistle escape him. He started to hum a tune. He didn’t know where it came from or what it meant; only that it was a nice song. He supposed it was one of his own compositions, but he couldn’t be sure, as he had heard so many songs…


Green be the fields of silver,
Green be the land of ours,
White is the tree restored,
White is the crown of stars.

He knew it was awful, but he chuckled anyhow. It was about Gondor and its beauty, and so it was good enough for a mid-day hum in the middle of a wood. He smiled to himself. He hadn’t really before now truly appreciated what a beautiful place Gondor was, he had seen it ravaged too much by war for that. He sat in the tranquil of the woods and took another long drag on his pipe. He smiled once again, then unhooked his bow and quiver, slung them over his back and dropped down branch by branch until he hit the forest floor. A leaf crunched under him and he sighed, he was out of practice somewhat.

He made his way through the undergrowth slowly, picking carefully his route so as to avoid making noise. There were still things here that would not look kindly on a ranger of Gondor. He reached the edge of the woods within a few minutes and surveyed the horizon, nothing, good. He set off at a run in the direction of Minas Tirith…

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 4:55 AM January 28, 2004: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

Crystal Heart’s post

Crystal was heading for Minas Tirith after waiting silently for several hours. The riders from Rohan that bore the crest of her father's army had been searching for her. If she had moved she would have been found. As of late they had been using trackers, but because of the trees’ help they couldn't find her tracks. Crystal hoped that they never would and would one day give up trying to find her. She wouldn't go back, she would kill all that tried to capture her. She would be free.

Yet, this wanting freedom didn't come without a price. A heavy price. She didn't have a job and wasn't sure what a woman of her stature could really do. She had talents and interests as any being did, but talents and interests never seemed to make enough money. She would have to sit down and create a job and that would risk the chance of being captured by her father's men.

That would leave swindling men out of their money. A task that was easy, but her heart always got involved and stopped her from taking too much from the man she was seducing. She hated her heart, hated the way she was so kind. She wanted to be ruthless and take it all.

If only I could find a treasure of some sort that would pay for everything I would ever need for all of my days, Crystal thought wishfully. She knew that if she could find such a treasure then she could settle down somewhere, far away from the reaches of Rohan. Possibly the place she had once visited called the Shire. She was sure she could find a place to stay and live out her days in peace. She hadn't seen any riders there when she was there last, but then times have changed and it was a possibility that her father had thought of that. He always thought of every aspect. That's why he was general. He was ruthless and knew aspects of battle that most men over looked. He was devious and she knew she would have to be aware.

She smiled at the thought that her father would search the rest of his life and yet never find her. They wouldn't find her because she had become a traveler now. She knew the secret ways of the traveler and she knew that her father had no previous knowledge of travelers. He would never find her.

"You aren't anything to me," Crystal's father had said to her countless times in her life. She smiled at the thought. For someone that was nothing he was sure doing his best to try to find her. Maybe the old man had learned a valuable lesson that he wouldn't have learned if she hadn't left. She liked the fact that he was suffering, that he was in pain and in grief at his loss. He had certainly hurt her enough times in her life.

She hummed lightly to herself a song that her mother had sung to her before her death. She couldn't recall the lyrics to the song, but she could remember the tune. Just this general tune set her in a good mood. A good mood, something that she hadn't been in a couple of months. She was in a good mood because she had eluded the riders for the second time that day. This day had been very productive.

Crystal felt her pouch and knew that there was only a couple of coins left. She needed to get to Minas Tirith and try to swindle another man out of his money. She wished in her mind that there would be a treasure there that she could attain. She wanted a treasure to stop this life of crime and to come respectable once again in a nice place. Again she thought of the Shire, which would be a great place to settle down for the rest of her life.

She headed on towards Minas Tirith hoping for treasure and the future that undoubtedly waited ahead for her.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 4:45 AM January 28, 2004: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Eorl of Rohan]

Ferethor chewed gingerly on a piece of cram, wishing that he had not chosen to tread winding forest trails. He had been forced to take this detour into the heart of Greenwood the Great, to avoid the orc-bands that stalked the main road by this time of the night.


“Why didn’t I take the plain road, though it led through a hedge of swords?” He thought as he munched on the last of his cram and prepared to go again. “I’d rather fight orcs!”


“At least I won’t get lost.” He said aloud, hoping to rouse his spirit as he scanned the road. With the aid of his slender blade, he cleared away lush undergrowth as he passed, checking the position of stars now and then for guidance.


“For the sake of Illuvatar, Apple, not again!” Ferethor swore exasperatedly for the seventh time that night, hearing Apple whinny and knowing that his horse managed to get itself entangled somewhere – again.


Apple, who managed to get clear of the vines by a violent thrust with his back legs, came trotting up to him and nuzzled his hand penitently. Laughing, Ferethor pushed the horse away. “You’ll get the chance to run soon.” Even as he said that, the trees and bushes thinned out and the road became more visible. The wood trail joined the Great Road, which led to the gates of Minas Tirith.


As the sun rose over the peaks of the Lonely mountains, Ferethor entered the gate. “Lord Elessar said Aelimur would join me." He said to himself. “Down by the Fountain of the White tree.” Ferethor, upon reaching the fountain, winced at the sight of Aelimur, still clad in silver and sable of the guards.


He recalled his audience with Lord Elessar. "Lord Aragorn! You mean you chose Aelimur of all the soldiers to be my comrade, sir?" He cried. "Help? The young pup will be only a hinderance!"


"Aelimur is valourous and loyal. That's why I assigned you with him - so he can learn to be wise as well as valourous, and to show pity as well as being proud. I trust in him." His eyes danced with laughter as he said, "You weren't any better, I recall, when you joined the hunt for the Wargs instead of your father at the age of seventeen."


At that Ferethor had no answer. "He is a true king, in the sense that he does not command but always persuade." He thought.


Ferethor dismounted and approached Aelimur, who was busy in trying to merge among the people and failing utterly. "Aelimur!" He said quietly, hoping to not draw any attention. "You'll give everything away! Don't turn your head away from gazes and skulk around."


Aelimur leapt up, surprised at being taken unawares. Ferethor sighed in exasperation. Aloud, he said, "Aelimur, do you know where this Maen is supposed to be?"

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 4:37 AM January 29, 2004: Message edited by: Eorl of Rohan ]

[Everdawn]

A new determination filled Maén, so much so that she could not sleep, nor was she tired but glad that her Aunt Lysia understood her situation. Her own family would have locked her in her room had she ever said anything about going to find Gondor’s Traitor, and it was after all Lysia’s husband who had been betrayed as much as her father and the other Il Galoth men were betrayed by cousin Guriel. She paused at this thought, no, not cousin- traitor Maén did not know what to expect from her expedition, and not one part of her wanted to fail, mostly it was for Aunt Lysia, she did not want to fail Lysia.

Maén reached for the lantern on her bedside table , and once it was lit she made the decision to find Lysia. Lysia’s house was not as immense as her abode, but what it lacked in enormity, it doubled in extravagance. What Maén did not expect at that early hour was to find Aunt Lysia walking briskly in her direction.

“Aunt!” Maén stammered , surprised.
“Come with me Maén.” She said with a tired voice and together they set out for Lysia’s drawing room.

“I intend to go earlier than you have said Aunt.” Maén spoke sitting down in one of the drawing rooms vast leather chairs.

“And I shall not keep you from it, heaven knows none can keep you when your will is set, your chamber in your residence was your latest victim.” Lysia smiled a little, before continuing. “I will not begrudge your choices of whom you shall choose for your companions, I trust you that far. But I will tell you this my dear, choose wisely, not only the most safe companions, but ones who will aid you with the finding of Guriel Il Galoth. Most of the men these days will not harm a woman of good family.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure Aunt.” Maén scowled “A woman can still cut a man’s throat.”

Lysia held up a hand, “That may be so Maén, but still, choose to your advantage. You will offer them twenty thousand in gold each when they return with you to my residence safely. Ride now, I think you will find I have already had Hittai readied for you, and everything you will need, as soon as you are changed that is, you don’t want to be riding around Gondor in your nightdress now do you?”

“Oh Really! Aunt Lysia, I thought it was most becoming of me, I should have liked to start a fickle new trend that the ladies of Minas Tirith could have exhausted their father’s money ‘oer.” And with those words she departed to dress in her riding habit.

“The Hollowdale Swan Inn, I will send Carathir to you, in my stead, I am paying him equal to the others, he will be there tomorrow.” Lysia had said, with Maén barley hearing it as she galloped her mare through the gates and towards Minas Tirith. Maén had been riding for an hour and a half, maybe two in the pouring rain and thunder of the very early morning when on the road ahead of her she saw a tall cloaked figure.

That’s odd she said to herself as Hittai neared it, why would you want top be out in weather like this she pushed the thought to the back of her head and kept riding. It was true, Hittai was a smaller horse, but she was reliable, it was the one good ting her parents had ever done for her, though they insisted she rode side-saddle, Maén smiled to see that she now rode her horse like a man. During the time she had been caught up in her thoughts she was brought back to the cold damp reality by Hittai stopping and rearing and finally with Maén being cast onto the mud with a knife to her throat.

Maén breathed heavily, taking in the shock of the passing seconds, until she looked up into the face of the one who was holding her. Dark eyes, and a thin face of a man stared back at her. “My lady, I apologise – I did not realise.” Maén was by now very angry and very wet and cold, her bright hair was tangled and strewn with mud. The man tried to offer her a hand but she found her own way off the mud of the road. Yes, , she said to herself ill offer you a hand- so that you can stand me and stab me in the back! It was then that Maén felt her body go rigid and her stomach drop. This man had to be a ranger, and not only a ranger, but armed, strong and taller than she was. Maén realised that it was not a good idea not to come with a weapon, the one thing Lysia forgot to mention! ! she thought to herself ardently. It was the ranger who next spoke.

“This is a dangerous road for a young woman to be riding on at such a late hour.” Maén froze, he ranger has struch a chord deep within her. If I wasn’t smaller than him…. ignoring him she turned to chase down Hittai who was nipping some grass a few feet away and mounted her. “It is not dangerous unless madmen with two swords are lying in wait to terrorise young women.” She spat at him finally, but the Ranger seemed generally sorry though at this he smiled.

“I was not lying in wait. I was attempting to get to the city of Minas Tirith, coming from Rohan, although the weather has not been overly kind.”

Maén was regretting her demeanour to this man every second.

“May I escort you back to Minas Tirith, lady?”
Maén did not know how to respond at first, but she was begetting within her mind an idea.
“Why do you think I am going to Minas Tirith?” she said tesitingly.
“At this time of night, I hardly think you’d be going this way and travelling anywhere else. Please, you are unarmed, and this is not a safe road – after all, there could be all sorts of madmen with a pair of swords lying in wait.” Said the ranger.

He had a point, as much as she hated to admit, perhaps, maybe he could help me “All right ranger, you may, but at least I should like to know you name, I on the other hand am Maén Il Galoth.” She walked Hittai slowly beside the ranger, (though Hittai still did not like the look of him.)
“Atharen” the ranger replied.
They walked in silence for a while as Maén got her facts straight in her mind, it was around twenty minutes before she told the ranger her plight.
“I suppose you’ve heard of My family.” The ranger said nothing, and Maén did not know what he was thinking. “My family are a prominent military family in Minas Tirith, or were rather, Until my father’s cousin betrayed the regiment which contained nine members of my kin. My father was the only survivor. The man’s name was Guriel Il Gloth and it is said that he lives in Ithilien.”
The ranger’s pace slowed as he listened harder. “My aunt has sent me to form a company who would recover him, and pay them twenty thousand in gold upon my safe return. I would like it if someone like you would help me Atharen.” She noted hopefully as they reached sight of the gates of Minas Tirith. “Or at least, for you kindness and very good attempt at getting me killed, let me buy you breakfast, you look as though you haven’t eaten in weeks, besides. I need to find the “Hollowdale Swan” ” she dismounted Hittai but noticed that the rain had managed to wash away most of the mud from the road. It was hard to tell exactly what the ranger was thinking, “- I mean if you have no other commitments, I do really need to know the types I am taking along with me. Id hate to be in the worng company and surely a ranger would be able to sort them from the rest.”

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 3:26 PM January 29, 2004: Message edited by: Everdawn ]

[Hama Of The Riddermark]

Roryn entered the hustle and bustle of the Hollowdale Swan inn. He sometimes felt that he almost liked this place, but he dissmissed this as sentimentality. Of all that he wore his dark brown leather breastplate with the white tree on was the only reminder of his past, the rest was just light brown cloth. He chuckled absentmindedly as he called for an ale. People cast the occasional odd look at him, or more specifically, at his sword and bow. It had been a sad day when he had been released from service, but he supposed it was for the best. He had enough money to buy ale now, and there was no place better to spend your time than Ithilien.

He took out a long pipe and put the end in his mouth. Deep he breathed and let the smoke slowly out of his mouth, attempting to shape it but failing miserably. He smiled once again and leaned back on his chair, watching the door with no real purpose except to see who entered and who went out...

[Eladain Moruviel]

As Delphinous walked the street after his meeting with the officer, a flood of thoughts ran through his mind. “What if this guy is already dead? What good to me is he then?” There was of course the twenty thousand gold for just going, that would be enough for him to live on for a while, but still…

Before he knew it, he had reached the Hollowdale Swan Inn. It was a respectable looking place, and Del had been too far worse on his many hunts. He checked the scrap of paper Eladain had given him, yes; this was the place for sure. So he walked in, and was first met by the smells of tobacco and ale, a familiar smell to Del: one that reminded him of home.

He stalked up to the bar and ordered a stout, glancing around the room as he did so. He noticed a man, hooded and cloaked, talking to the Innkeeper and one of his customers. “A Ranger” he decided, ”but what’s he doing in these parts I wonder? No business if mine at any rate” and so he went back to sipping his drink.

Several drinks later, Del started to wonder if perhaps no one would show, and the fact that he didn't even know who he was supposed to be meeting made it all the worse. But he would be patient, as he always was; something would happen and he would just have to wait until it did. “You haven’t made it this far in life by being hasty!” he told himself.

After a while, he paid his bill “My last coin” he muttered to himself as he walked over to the corner and sat down. He would just have to wait and let things turn out as they should. he started getting drowsy, he hadn’t slept and several days, but now was no time for sleep.

After what seemed like an eternity, a goldenhaired lass walked over to him and motioned for him to follow her. He stood up and stretched nonchalantly, and started to follow. “So tell me lass” he said as they walked,“you must be Maen?”

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 5:30 AM February 01, 2004: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Melisil]

Aelimur stood firm in his stand. Ferethor had joined him.

"Aelimur!" Ferethor said quietly, "You'll give everything away! Don't turn your head away from gazes and skulk around."

Aelimur looked him up and down for a moment, he nodded his head, "You are Ferethor, I presume? Well, if this is how you think I'll be going, you are mistaken. Ellesar told me to meet you here, not start here. I know I am young, but I am not so foolish as to wear my guards colours when on a mission."

"Aelimur, do you know where this Maen is supposed to be?" Ferethor said, obviously slightly annoyed at him.

"I need to pick up my 'traveling gear' first, from my manor. After then we are to go to The Hollowdale Swan Inn. That is where she is gathering companions." Aelimur informed. He turned to lead them to his house, "Now, what do you know of her, besides her noble birth?"

[Crystal Heart]

Crystal wandered through the city looking for an Inn to swindle money from anyone that was willing to part willingly with their money.

She could feel a change in the air, as if something big was about to happen. Crystal hoped that it wouldn't be anything too important, it might interfere with her plans to get more money.

She found an Inn and entered, the smoke wafting to her face. It was a welcomed smell from and she smiled slightly as she entered. It reminded her of the days that she had spent in other Inns, memories of her youth that were long gone.

Yet those memories weren't wanted anyway. They just got in the way of her goals and plans. Her plans of running away. She looked around the room at the people that were sitting or standing around, talking and drinking. She bought herself a strong ale and stood at the bar. Her attention was everywhere as she tried to listen for anyone that had more then enough money to part with. She watched to see who bought more and who bragged about their wealth in their clothes and speech.

She saw a small band of people that were together. She wondered if they had any money within the lot of them, but kept her distance as she watched them.

[Amanaduial the archer]

Atharen glanced surreptitiously at Maen, genuinely surprised at the compliment after the woman's initial behaviour. It barely showed in his opaque eyes as he considered though; not just the woman's proposition, but also the Maen herself. She seemed to trust him, already (although her pony obviously had different ideas), and yet she barely knew him. This idea seemed strange to Atharen, but then, he had never been able to trust that easily; not for years.

The actual proposition didn't take much thinking about. The Ranger was part Dunedain, descended from the same people as King Elessar, and what's more, the White Tree of the faithful resided in Minas Tirith.

"What you speak of is detestable, my lady," he replied, starting to walk again, the pony's rein's held in one hand.

"So will you join me?"

He glanced at her again - she was so eager, so fiery, so passionate. He smiled briefly. "I have some alliance to Gondor and it's king, although it is not my homeland, and these that seek to bring down Gondor may therefore be regarded as my enemies. The enemy of a ally is an enemy also," he quoted one of his father's sayings lightly.

Maen smiled, but the Ranger held up a hand. "And as to your other proposition - I would love a meal. I know the Inn you speak off well." And the Innkeeper won't refuse me a meal either...

~*~

The Hollowdale Swan was a prosperous public house and Inn in one of the lighter parts of Minas Tirith, and was a meeting place for all manner of people, from a young working lad meeting his sweetheart to the soldiers of the guard, old and young. It always seemed exceptionally busy and usually friendly, and today was no exception, even at such an early hour of the morning - or such a late hour of the night, for some of the late night drinkers, and bills were being paid, or rather, the Innkeeper was attempting to get them paid, for not all seemed so keen to pay. One such individual was standing at the bar, arguing heatedly with the portly, red-faced Innkeeper.

The 'Swan had often been a fond place of rest for Atharen, as it was not unlike his mother's workplace, in and around which he had spent much of his childhood, and the Innkeeper knew him quite well - as did several of the more rowdy customers who had passed over the years. But he was still on his guard; the amount of weapons present was clear, and he had no doubt others would be not so visibly worn. Even as Atharen was taking a quick stock of the customers, another man walked in, tall, dark and stocky, bearing both a sword and bow. Atharen looked him over; an ex-soldier it seemed, with an air of purpose about him. The man didn't take notice of the Ranger and the young woman with him, crossing straight away to the bar to wait patiently for the Innkeeper.

Maen slid into a seat by the window and Atharen advanced towards the bar. He waited for a few moments as the agitated customer continued to put forward a series of ridiculous arguements to evade his bill, then decided maybe things needed to be hurried up; the Innkeeper was obviously tired and didn't look like he wanted to be dealing with such a man at this time.

"Excuse me, sir, is there a problem?" he murmured, the lilt of his residual Rohirrim accent and the quietness of his voice covering a hint of something else. The plump, red-faced man turned indignantly, a sneer on his face...then took another good look at the Ranger. Atharen's hood was still up and he was dripping slightly, the plains of his face shadowed by the overhanging hood, the long white scar standing out slightly, his dark eyes glittering ever so slightly, the way his hand shifted slightly under the cloak to draw attention subtly to the broadsword. He blustered for a moment and Atharen smiled slightly, turning to the Innkeeper, who hadn't yet recognised him and was evidently worried about a fight - and about this hooded individual.

"Mr Longshead, is there a problem here?" There was a hint of a smile in his voice and he tilted his chin slightly so the Innkeeper could see his face more clearly. Relieved recognition flitted across it before the Innkeeper continued to glare at the rowdy customer. "Well, it seems so; I'm afraid this man has-"

"-decided to pay and give his compliments to the chef and excellent Innkeeper here." The man's bulging eyes were still fixed on Atharen's sword and with a shaking hand he emptied a few coins onto the bar before leaving with as much hasty dignity as he could muster. Atharen grinned after him and lowered his hood, shaking his head to settle the wet, blonde-ish hair. Garth Longshead grinned broadly.

"Atharen, m'boy, I thank you very kindly - he was beginning to grate of me nerves and I'd left t'club in the back. My my, 'ts been years since you last dropped by; special occasion?"

The Ranger half smiled and inclined his head in a sort of shrug. "I'm not entirely sure, Garth; could well be. However, what I would like are some of your Ada's fine sausages and a few slices of toast, and some cider, if you please. Oh, and how is your Ada?"

Garth beamed. "Doing just fine, Atharen - delivered our fourth last week, would you believe it - a fine young lad, resembles his father somewhat, if I may say so meself." Atharen grinned as the Innkeeper bustled away towards the kitchen, then passed back over the Maen.

"Can I get you something, my lady?"

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 1:57 PM January 30, 2004: Message edited by: Amanaduial the archer ]

[Eorl of Rohan]

It was already drawing toward night, and the sun's last rays glittered as it was trapped in the fountain's clear, transparent spray.

'At least he's got some spirit' Ferethor thought, but was not appeased at Aelimur's haughty attitude. He decided aginst showing his annoyance, and shouldered his slender bow wordlessly.

"I've worked with Maen's father in the past, but now he's a broken man. I've nothing but his decription of her daughter yet." Ferethor answered offhandedly.

"You can get changed at your manor while I head for Hollowdale Swan inn." Ferethor added as he set out in search for the inn.

Ferethor entered the inn, surveying the crowd keenly under the pretext of finding a seat. The bustle of the inn effectively screened him from any outward observers, but Ferethor was still wary. The pretty lass over there - it must be Maen.

Aelimur entered the inn. Ferethor turned his head away and sighed as Aelimur headed to the bar, bought a mug of beer, and winked at the lass. "Aren't you pretty."

Maen abruptly dashed her cup of water upon Aelimur's face. At that, Ferethor could not resist a chuckle, at which the girl instantly turned on him. "And what is your business, Mr. Stranger?" She demanded.

"We are looking for Guriel Il Galoth. We have come far to seek him, for we heard that there are tidings of his wherabouts in Minas Tirith." Ferethor said, trying to look frank as possible.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 1:42 AM January 30, 2004: Message edited by: Eorl of Rohan ]

[Everdawn]

“No im fine Atharen, I don’t really get hungry very often, besides I ate at my Aunt Lysia’s.” Maén said looking around the inn. It was her won city and yet Maén had never set foot inside the place, though she knew why, her mother would never allow her around places like the Swan, now if she had been born of Lysia, that would have been a different affair.

Maén had watched Atharen’s actions at the bar intently, it was her way of sussing people out, though not only did she watch him, she watched the other patrons in the Inn. Maén was not a typical young woman of Minas Tirith, she was always asking questions when the ‘proper’ ladies held their tongues, Maén always found this odd, it was not like her at all who would willingly converse with the older women and on the odd occasion her brothers and their friends. She had always had a way of putting her finger on the pulse of someone who was diverting around the truth and an uncanny ability to quickly work out problems.

“Ive figured you out a little I think Atharen.” She spoke tapping her anils on the table as she spoke. “Violence and threats are you way of saying hello, and that attempt to cut my throat was just a “hello and how are you doing!” You almost succeeded in greeting that man over at the bar.” she laughed to herself, Atharen just sat there eating, she still couldn’t decipher what he was thinking and it was beginning to make her frustrated. “I am glad your helping me you know, I appreciate it – really. You couldn’t understand what it means to me- to Lysia. Have I ever told you about her?”

Maén thought that some idle chit-chat might make the ranger more approachable. “I love her more than my own mother, she is my uncle’s wife, He was betrayed by Guriel as well. My mother despises her because she thinks that Lysia is a bad influence upon me. I don’t care for being treated like im glass wrapped in cotton-wool as most women are, but you probably have guessed that by now. Anyway, it is Aunt Lysia who is warranting my search, which is generous of her. But it must be done, even if Gondor want to think he doesn’t exist.”

“What do you mean?” Atharen spoke.

“Well, that I will disclose to the whole party, otherwise we would be here all day.” Atharen did not seem satisfied, but did not pursue the matter further. Maén ceased tapping her fingernails and clenched her fists indenting upon her palms little half-moon nail imprints.

It was then that she noticed two men watching her at the bar, she roller her eyes and looked the other direction typical man, staring at a woman as though she were a piece of meat They did not even seem to care that she was sitting at a table with another man, let alone that he was a ranger. She was slightly alarmed that the men approached her. “Aren’t you pretty” the older of the two said. big mistake the thought snapped through her mind light lightening to a rod, and in that instant she cast her glass of water upon his face, the other laughed and she glared at him. “And what is your business, Mr Stranger?”

“We are looking for Guriel Il Galoth. We have come far to seek him, for we heard that there are tiding of his whereabouts in Minas Tirith.” The colour (of what was there already there) drained form her face and she sat up straight in her chair with her breathing shallow and fast.

“Well, ive heard he is in Ithilien, Tell me, why are you looking for him?”

[Crystal Heart]

Crystal watched as couple of men came forward to a fairly attractive woman that had entered the Inn. She watched, her ears were listening intently.

Then she heard a name from the lips of one of the men. A Guriel Il Galoth. A name that rang familiar in her ears, but yet not so familiar at the same time. She was certain she had heard that name before. She stopped herself from moving forward to find out what they were talking about. Listening in on a conversation would never get her any money.

This group of people, at least the woman in the middle of it all, seemed very well off. She began to think of the challenge of swindling money from a woman instead of a drunken man. She smiled lightly at the thought. She always did like a challenge.

Her mind made up, she set her cup on the bar, and walked over to the group confidently. Her hood was still up over her head, glimmering silver underneath and hunter green. Her green eyes shined as she pulled the hood off of her head.

"Pardon me, but did I hear the name Guriel Il Galoth. I wasn't trying to over hear your conversation, but I was merely sitting over at the bar when I heard that name. I was curious on who wanted to know about him," Crystal said, her natural instincts of decorum shining through.

[Eorl of Rohan]

“Ithilien, you say?” Ferethor said lightly, a frown creasing his brow. “Yet I passed through Ithilien when the moon was waning, few days ago. I also sought for news of him there, but it has been of little avail. And as for the reason I seek him,” Ferethor’s hand flashed toward his silver-hilted knife. “Vengeance. I’ve been seeking for him far and wide, to demand payment of my brother’s life, and redeem the honor of our land.”

Ferethor was there on the battlefield with Miradir, Maen's father – a captain powerful yet rational, valorous yet wise. When Miradir knew that he had been betrayed, he gathered the remnants of the soldiers of Gondor and with a last charge forced a way. The long journey over the barren land was harsh – they were forced to battle with marauding orcs, vicious Warg packs, and the incessant snow. He had survived because he was used to cold climate, but the less experienced fell on by one. His brother was one of the those they have left behind on the road. Miradir always tried to arouse hope, while he blamed himself for the misfortune and the each death. And so it was that only a handful of soldiers straggled into the gates of Minas Tirith, after a space of two full moons. Miradir never recovered from the fact that his wrong decision took the lives of soldiers that trusted him, and became a man broken in spirit and harsh.

He had decided to be as truthful to a certain extent, even if it meant stirring up painful memories. “Your brother?” Maen asked suspiciously. “Hirifilen.” Ferethor genuinely smiled, however painfully. “He fell in the battle.”

"I think you know where Guriel Il Garoth is." Ferethor said quietly. "Or at least have a inkling. I heard you mention Il Garoth the accursed in your conversation. If you seek for him also, we'd like to come with you."

"We?" Maen cut him off, her glance straying toward Aelimur, who was drinking beer at another table. Ferethor swore silently, calling for Elbereth.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 5:20 AM February 01, 2004: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Melisil]

Aelimur did not take to being splashed all over with water. "I was merely giving you a compliment miss." he said. Aelimur walked over to the bar counter, and asked if he could borrow a towel, this was handed to him and he dried off.

After doing this, Aelimur walked over to a near by table, and pulled a chair over to the table where the others were conversing.

He listened very closely to all they were saying about Guriel Il Galoth. Annoyed at Ferethor, and slightly at Maen, he spoke up.

"Yes, we. You see, we have been looking for anybody with any information on Guriel for quite some time- as my companion here stated- my reasons different then his." Aelimur disclosed, lying slightly, but choosing his words carefully. "So, may we join you miss? I promise I won't compliment you any more." he added, looking as serious as ever; Though there was still the smallest hint of a smile.

[Eladain Moruviel]

“Aye, I am sir, and I will guess that you have come for my prize expedition of The Il Galoth Traitor, then you have found the right person. Then you can help me as can the others, it is that im waiting on my Aunt’s squire with the final details. I will ask you patiently to wait for then, he shouldn’t be too long Carathir is dependable.” Replied the girl.

As Delphinous waited, he thought about the events that had lad hp to his arriving in the capital of Gondor. He had been hunting a gang of highwaymen that were preying on travelers near the edge of Fangorn Forest. After tracking them for several days, he finally came up with a plan, he would pose as a merchant traveling near Fangorn, and hope that they took the bait.

When the bandits finally did come for him, it was just after sunrise; the dew clung to the grass like a reflection of the stars that had just faded from the sky. Del had heard the men long before he saw them, and so he was ready. Hiding his sword and crossbow under his cloak, he plodded along the road, seemingly weary; but in fact, every muscle in his body was tense, like a cat ready to spring.

The four bandits appeared on the road a few yards ahead of Del, and he could see the glint of their weapons in the morning light. They demanded that he give them all of his money and valuables, and started to advance when the first bolt from his crossbow shot out like a snake, planting itself squarely in the first man’s chest. Then a second and a third found their mark, and all but one of the miscreants lay on the ground, soaked in their own blood.

As the fourth realized what had happened to his fellows, he started to run, but too late. Del quickly outran the man, and knocked him to the ground. “Wait, wait!” cried the rogue “I have some information that could be helpful to you.” This grabbed Del’s attention, “What could this man possibly know that would help me?” he mused “Speak quickly” he growled as he whipped a knife out of his boot and put it to the highwayman’s throat. Swallowing hard, the man stammered “ Th there’s a g girl in Minas Tirith, she’s starting a group to go in search of some lost relative or something. I I heard that there’s plenty of money involved too. But but that’s all I know, I swear! P please don’t kill me!”

“hmm, interesting” Del said slowly, running the whole idea through his mind. “but how do I know that you’re not lying?” “Would I lie to a man with a knife at my throat?!?” the bandit demanded “all I know is what a friend of mine told me, I’ll tell you where to find him if you like?”

Del hadn’t had a good job in months, and if what this man said was true, he might get enough to live off of for several months. The reward for these men would be enough to keep him alive at least until he was able to get to Minas Tirith, but after that, well, he would have to see…

After collecting his reward, and getting some supplies, Del headed to Minas Tirith armed only with a name, and a place. That had been over a week ago, and now here he was, about to set off on a quest to find the treacherous Guriel Il Galoth.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 11:09 AM February 01, 2004: Message edited by: Eladain Moruviel ]

[Everdawn]

“I know of him and I too want his blood.” Maén replied quietly observing the types who had now surrounded her table. Still she held her head high. “I will not ask you how you know of my name, or of my quest. I can see you have some degree of knowledge because you seem to know who I am and It was infact you who came to me.” She breathed deeply and surveyed the people around her, one woman, to this Maén inwardly smiled.

If it was a woman who could help her, Maén would be glad, but on the other hand, she had never had any real friendships with women before. All the Minas Tirith ladies in her circles all thought of Maén as an idiosyncrasy and seldom conversed with her, though the times they did it was usually sinde remarks which ended in Maén thretening them loudly to a fight to the death. It was their belief that she was too sharp witted for her own good. This woman however looked cunning, and she was short, slightly shorter than Maén, and she had a look about her which made Maén want to keep her moneybag down the front of her bodice where it would be safe. The other two men were both older than her , the older was tall, almost as tall as Atharan. The younger of the two was pale, but none the less strange, she could have sworn they were familiar.

“It is true, I am leading a recovery party.” She spoke, “And there will be a price of twenty thousand in gold paid out to each of you by the Widow Il Galoth upon my safe return to her estate. If you will allow me a few minutes of consultation with my associate here, I would like to speak to the some of you further.” She sighed as the men and women walked away and Maén was silent, so deep in thought that it seemed that she was in some other place. She did not see what Atharan was doing, a cloud of reasoning had lay itself over her eyes.

Yes, revenge is a powerful thing, the two men, if they speak the truth (and I think they do) they will want his blood as much as I. But I want to take his blood myself. The woman, she may be a surprise. Maybe we may even get along, after all, the female intuition is a powerful thing

It was then that she snapped out of her dream-state and spied a man at the bar, about that intuition
she thought, and then something which she couldn’t explain, she knew in that instant that he could help her. Instantly she leapt up and beckoned the man over to her. “So tell me lass” he said ,“you must be Maén?”

“This is beginning to feel to me like im a celebrity for all the people who know my name.” she mentioned quickly to Atharan before turning to the newest stranger. “Aye, I am sir, and I will guess that you have come for my prize expedition of The Il Galoth Traitor, then you have found the right person. Then you can help me as can the others, it is that im waiting on my Aunt’s squire with the final details. I will ask you patiently to wait for then, he shouldn’t be too long Carathir is dependable.”

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 3:21 AM February 01, 2004: Message edited by: Everdawn ]

[Eorl of Rohan]

"If you will allow me a few minutes of consultation with my associate here, I would like to speak to the some of you further.” Maen turned thoughtfully to her companion, who spoke little. Ferethor was startled, for the figure raised his eyes and looked directly at him, and the scrutinising glance was hard and keen.


Ferethor took the respite as a chance to snatch a quick word with Aelimur. "Whether we would or not, it is time to renounce the enmity between us, Aelimur. I forbode that this task would be harsh for us all. We'd have to stand together to face the onrushing might and majesty of the storm before us - in the name of Gondor."


Aelimur took Ferethor's outstretched hand. "A truce?" He grinned, but his grin faded as he recalled that Ferethor rarely smiled. To his wonder, Ferethor flashed a quick smile in return. "For now." Then he left in a whirl of his cloak.


Ferethor watched Maen. 'I never betrayed that I knew her name - how did she know?' She was talking to a man. "Welcome to the company." He thought cynically.


Ferethor studied the man from where he was, unnoticed. There was air of a hunter in this man - he moved swiftly and in ease, and nothing escaped his glance. But there was callousness in this man - harsh, and decisive. He would not want to make him an enemy.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 4:04 AM February 01, 2004: Message edited by: Eorl of Rohan ]

[Crystal Heart]

Crystal smiled at the prospect of money. This would be a challenge of course, but this is what she had been wanting. A chance to make so much money that she wouldn't have to take it from anyone ever again. Crystal walked over to the man and Maen.

"If you don't mind I would like to accompany you on this quest. It seems admirable enough for me. I am Crystal Heart, daughter of the great general from Rohan."

Crystal curtsied in her cloak, her head bowed in respect. Years of training for dignity took over her body. She rose and watched the woman's reactions. She had never said her full name and lineage before in her travels. She wanted to say safely annoymus, but now she thought that revealing just who she was would help her get into this company of people.

They were all different kinds of people, but that didn't worry Crystal. She had been around worse people then this lot. She knew she would have to be on guard at all times, but she didn't mind that. She had been on guard since she realized the riders of her father's army were following her.

[Eorl of Rohan]

Ferethor had been for some time aware of a young woman, who looked intently at them with keen interest, though the iridescent light of torches made it hard to discern her features.


“If you don’t mind, I’d like to accompany you on this quest. It seems admirable enough.” She said quietly. “I am Crystal Heart, daughter of the one of the generals of Rohirrim.” She approached them, and curtsied in the style of Rohan.


Even though Ferethor was on his guard, he was startled. “Crystal, the daughter of General Dorian of Rohan? I had dealings with your father in the past. News that travels far goes oft astray, but I’ve heard that you’ve fled Rohan and your father’s soldiers are seeking you far and wide.’


"Dealings?" Maen had returned. "Who are you, Ferethor of Gondor, that you would have dealings with generals of Rohan?" Ferethor realised too late that he had made a fatal mistake.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 9:57 AM February 01, 2004: Message edited by: Eorl of Rohan ]

[Thengal]

Carathir strode into the Hallowdale Swan and immediatly studuied his surroundings. If this inn was anything like the inn's back home he would have to find a good defensive position and a quick exit.

The atmosphere inside the Swan was in accord with the look of it on the outside. The tavern portion of the building was a single open room, with a long bar defensively positioned in the corner of the rear wall, directly across from the door. A staircase rose up from the side of the bar the the structure's second level, a staircase more often used by painted, over-perfumed women and their latest companions than by guests of the inn. Indeeed, travelers who stopped outside Minas Tirith usually came into the city only for breif periods of excitement and entertainment, returning to the safety of their camps if they could manage it before the inevitable drunken sleep left them vulnerable.

Carathir scanned the room in search of the this "Maen" he was to seek out. The aroma of alcohol, from strong ale and cheap wine to rarer and more powerful beverages, premeated every corner. A haze of smoke from exotic pipe-weeds, like the mist outside, blurred the reality of images into softer, dreamlike sensations. Finally, he caught sight of a girl who seemed to be very popular with the attention she was drawing. There was something about her that he was attracted to, some air about her... Dumb wench. She's just a tool for your ambitions. He remembered he had to appear friendly and good-natured if was going to pull this off. He put a dumb smile on his face, straightened up and strode up to her. "Good day maddam!" he said, hating every word of it. "I am Carathir, at your service!" he said as he bowed low. You'll never see me do that again. Bow to a Gondorian. Hah! He pulled the letter out of his breast pocket and as he handed it over to her he almost stopped as he noticed a man near her. He immediatly recognized him as a ranger. Blood enemy of his family. The ranger sat quietly in his chair, unconcerned with everything else going on around him and interested only, it seemed, in watching and measuring Carathir. This was going to make things more complicated....

[Melisil]

Aelimur shot a quick glance at Ferethor. A truce I agree to, and I am glad he brought it up. But what is he doing? He's out and revealing that he knows a Rohirric General?

He shook his head, he couldn't do much right now, and it seemed that Ferethor may be able to work this out himself from what Aelimur had seen of him so far. Still, he would try to help if he could.

I do not know that anything I could say would help him though, as I am his travelling partner here. Aelimur thought fleetingly to himself.

He kept himself alert at this, but tried not to seem too interested. He did not want them both to be questioned. As he waited to see what Ferethor would do next, he looked at the others for a moment; Knowing though that he would probably have to wait 'till they were traveling to see their true characters.

[Hama Of The Riddermark]

Roryn looked up at the peculiar gathering around the table, another puff of smoke from his pipe wafted aver his face. Twenty Thousand gold peices? he thought She must be mad, oh well, I'm a wee bit short of money, maybe I can get into this for a share of it myself.

He walked over to the chattering mass of people, he glanced at the ranger at the bar, good, it was only Atharen. He drew his hood over his head, shading his face. He walked up to Maen and said in a strangely audible whisper, "If you have need of someone to help you, and in return for twenty thousand gold pieces, I will do whatever you ask of me."

Maen turned around and looked quizzically at him, she did not know him, nor recognise him, that was for sure. Roryn chuckled inwardly, at least there were a few who didn't know him in Minas Tirith. "So sorry, forgot to introduce myself," Roryn mused for the breifest of moments before deciding to give his real name, she seemed trustworthy, "Roryn, former ranger of Gondor at your service."

...

[Eorl of Rohan]

Two more man approached the table. Ferethor noticed that one seemed wary and deceptive, swarthy and stocky. Race of Haradrim. However, Maen was too intent in Ferethor to notice their approach.


Ferethor glanced in a plea for aid to Aelimur, but he averted his gaze. 'Wise. He knows how to cut his loss.' The thought flashed through Ferethor's mind.


He said aloud, "I've ridden with the Mark in the past - I've met Dorian in the battle with last remnant of Haradrim, in the field of Calanedhron. I've come to value his friendship and valor, though we have grown estranged since." Not very convincing - but that'd do.

[Crystal Heart]

Instantly, Crystal was on the defensive. Her hand grasped the hilt of her sword. Her small and slender fingers tighted around the metal handle. It had been a fellow traveller's sword at one time. She had met this different type of stranger before he was killed by one of the riders that pursued her. His dying wish was for her to have his most prized possession, a sword that was light and easy to weld, but powerful and deadly. Inside the sheath it hid the enbedded jewels that had been inlaid into the bottom portion of the hilt. Now it was one of her prized possessions, a weapon she could weald with deadly accuracy and speed. She was unafraid of starting a fight.

"Yes, I'm the daughter of General Dorian of Rohan. I ask you why someone from Gondor would be dealing with a general from Rohan. Who are you and what is your true agenda here?" Crystal asked.

Her natural defenses had taken over. Her usual confident stature was gone and replaced with a stance only true to travellers. She kept thinking that she wouldn't get caught, but now she was beginning to fear that she would right here and now. She wanted to be apart of this quest. She knew it would be dangerous, but it would be more dangerous to go with a man from Gondor that had dealings with her own father.

"Any dealings with my father about me must be taken up with me."

Crystal unsheathed her sword and held it up for the man to see. Anger glinted in her green eyes. She did not blink, did not move. It was unclear of her thoughts, but one. Her thought of anger and defense.

&lt;font size=1 color=339966&gt;[ 7:13 PM February 02, 2004: Message edited by: Crystal Heart ]&lt;/font&gt;

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 7:18 PM February 02, 2004: Message edited by: Crystal Heart ]

[Everdawn]

The coming of Carathir was somewhat calming after the new burst of suspicion which she had gotten in the mentioning of Rohan’s army from Crystal and the Gondorian men. Maén had often heard of her Aunt Lysia speaking of the young man of whom she had taken in and spared from death by the King.

Just like Lysiashe smiled to herself and stood to greet him, (one of the few opportunities that she had had to do so this day). Carathir was always polite to her, though they had never privately spoken and whether he was or not, Maén thought him to be shy. But Lysia trusted him so far and that was more than good enough for her niece.

Maén took the letter from him, rather sharply than she usually would have liked on such an occasion, and opened it, taking no care with the envelope. To her eyes then came the familiar flowing script which she knew had come from Lysia’s cultured hand.

Dearest Il Galoth daughter,
My Maén, Enclosed I have written terms and conditions by which your companions choose to come, they are for your safety and I will expect you to abide by them as well. I have these words to you, let them lead you to him, use all your cunning wit, but under no circumstances are any of your companions to take his blod. This service I bestow upon you, in revenge for your kin, your uncle and your father. Keep this feud within our once noble family.


Maén then noticed Carathir had lay another package upon the table.

I send with thee, my own token of treasure. It was mine and now is yours, bring honour to us once more.

Your Aunt, Lysia.


Maén opened the package, a dagger was wrapped in brown cloth. It was beautiful, and it’s leather sheath had the aroma of the ages. She was pondering over this when she was surprised by another man whispering at her.

"If you have need of someone to help you, and in return for twenty thousand gold pieces, I will do whatever you ask of me." He said.

Maén did not know what to think, her mind still attached to the note.

"So sorry, forgot to introduce myself," he said looking at her strangely, "Roryn, former ranger of Gondor at your service."

So there was another one, she mused this in her mind for some small amount of time, then forgetting that it was quite discourteous not to acknowledge a speaker she introduced herself. “I am Maén Il Galoth. Please, take a seat. I would like to speak to you all.” Then noticing Crystal had her sword half sheathed she spoke rashly, “Peace! There will be plenty of time for taking blood Miss Heart, Sirs, once again I ask you to please sit.”
Maén now pulled out almost every skerrick of information which she had bothered to bring with her. Her father’s letters, Lysia’s research as well as her letters from the king. She placed her cloak upon the table and stood as if getting ready for some mammoth operation.

“Firstly.” She began taking a deep breath. “I will thank you all for expressing your interest in my little venture. As you all know The Widow Il Galoth has posted a reward of twenty thousand pieces of gold to each of those who accompany me to find the Traitor of my family.” It was here that she gave a lengthy account of Guriel’s history and the treachery of Gondor. “Not only is he a kin slayer, and a traitor to my family, but he was a Gondorian, as are most of you. That makes him a traitor to you as well.” She paused letting this statement sink into the minds of those around her. “ Im not saying whether this journey will end with all of you coming back alive.”

“And what if we don’t?” asked Ferethor from his seat. Maén shot him a piercing glance.

“ Aye, I am coming to that. If you should die, twenty-five thousands will be paid to your family. If I die, you get only half of that. These are the conditions of Lysia Il Galoth. Take them or leave them.”

For a while there was stunned silence throughout the company, and gradually each gave their approval.

“I suggest now that you all get to know one-another, for my part, I will introduce Carathir, he is my aunt’s young squire and he is chosen by her to accompany me. Yes, he is and Easterling, but I hope that none of you will hold it against him, anyone who does will answer to me. My other companion here is Atharen, a ranger who has kindly offered to assist me. As for myself, you all know who I am, and I will tell you this, just because I am a woman, does not mean I cant kill you in the night. Go now, I will give you time that you need to set your affairs in order and collect your things, meet me out the front in an hour we leave.” And there it was that the company formed.

[Eorl of Rohan]

Ferethor listened intently as Maen continued with her narrative. “A kin-slayer as he is, he betrayed our house. However, he was also of Gondor, and therefore he had betrayed us all.”


Then, Maen added. “I cannot assure your survival. We have to trust to Illuvatar - and hope. Estel.” For the sake of shattering the heavy silence, Ferethor spoke. "What if our hope fails us and our houseless souls tread the path to Mandos? Whither then?" Maen looked in anger at Ferethor, but continued.


As Maen ended, she smiled, running a finger over her blade. "I am a woman - but if this calls for any deeds of insolence on your part, my blade may take your life in the shadows of night. I'll advise you to remember it."


Ferethor raised his eyebrow, but did not intervene. 'Perilous indeed, but I've dealt with worse ruffians than this lass. I may yet survive this adventure.' He thought, but his face was hard and set.


As the company dispersed, he called to Aelimur by the sign language of Gondor guards. As soon as others were out of hearing, Ferethor spoke. "Aelimur, we will need to be always wary and keen. The people we will be traveling with are vital to our survival and journey, and yet many are not skilled in warefare. It falls to us, the trained lieutenants of Gondor, to protect them silently." Aellimur nodded.


"If you see anything strange, whistle like a sparrow to let me know. You can't? Well, then try as best as you can." Ferethor said cheerfully, as he always felt before the start of an adventure.

[Melisil]

Aelimur nodded as Ferethor spoke. Ferethor finished by saying, "If you see anything strange, whistle like a sparrow to let me know."

"A sparrow?" Aelimur said, in slight surprise, "I am sorry, but I have not learned to do that yet."

"You can't?" replied Ferethor, "Well, then try as best as you can."

Aelimur nodded once more. He would try, but he doubted how well he would succeed. He let this go for now as they walked out the door. "I left the rest of my traveling things at my sisters house. Do you have anything more to pick up? Or will you join me?"

He walked out the door into the sunlight(hurt his eyes slightly after the dim haze of the pub). He stretched his arms out. Missions away from Gondor(or soon to be away) always made him feel more relaxed, or at least slightly more. I think I shall enjoy this. Well, if the company is good, he added as an afterthought.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 7:12 PM February 03, 2004: Message edited by: Melisil ]

[Crystal Heart]

Crystal turned to the man that claimed to have dealings with her father.

"I won't hurt you. I just want a truthful answer. What dealings have you had with General Dorian of Rohan?" Crystal asked, her fingers no longer grasping the hilt of her sword.

Yet she was ready, ready for everything. The company that had been formed had no idea of the training her father had given her during her mother's life. Her mother had insisted that her father train her as any solider in his army was trained. Against his better judgement he had consented. Crystal had reflexes that many other people didn't have and she knew that in this case it could come to her advantage.

She also knew it could be a disadvantage. If she was always on guard then she might miss something. She would have to try to balance the two. Something easier said then done.

She stood waiting for the man to answer as she picked up her cup and finished her drink, the remenants of the liquid sliding cooly down her throat.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 6:36 PM February 04, 2004: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Eorl of Rohan]

As Aelimur left, Ferethor instinctively realised that someone was gazing at him and whirled to meet her, his blade half drawn. "Crystal?" He asked in amaze, sheathing his slender knife. "What troubles you, lass?"


"I won't hurt you." Crystal said, boldly. "I would hardly place myself in danger of my life from you, Crystal." Ferethor seemingly chuckled, as if amused, while he analyzed her movements and weakness under the cover of laughter.


'Trained as a rider of the Mark would have.' The thought flashed through Ferethor, noticing that Crystal did not let her hand stray out of the reach of her sword even though she was not holding it. 'Offspring of Dorian - I should've known. But what is the cause of this enmity?'


"I just want a truthful answer. What dealings have you had with General Dorian of Rohan?" Asked Crystal, trying to keep her anger at Ferethor's seeming derison in check.


'So it was true that she fled from Rohan to escape General Dorian.' Ferethor thought. betraying no humor, assumed or geniune, he said, "With Dorian of Rohan? I faced him in a chance meeting, if it be chance, at the edge of the field of Calanedhron. I've come to value his valor and loyalty to the realm of Gondor."


Crystal was about to reply, when the others came back one by one. "This may be fun," Ferethor thoguht grimly, surveying the company one by one, "If I survive."


Ferethor suddenly noticed the man Maen had introduced more closer. Undoubtably an easterling. Instant distrust pervaded his mind, which he effectively quenched for a better analysis of the man. Shifting eyes, tense attitude, wary movement... Ferethor shook his head and turned away. "I am being prejudiced by the build of the man." He said to himself and joined the company.

[Eladain Moruviel]

Del sat down at the table where Maen told him too, moments later a tall, dark, man walked through the door. “An Easterling.” Del decided, “I’ll have to watch my back.” He watched as the man handed Maen a letter, and a package. The former she read quickly, and the latter containing a dagger.

He noticed out of the corner of his eye, that a man had been listening to the conversation, and now had walked up and whispered something into Maen’s ear; but he couldn’t quite make out what it was. He was seemed to have the air of a ranger about him, “perhaps an ex-ranger?” he mused.

Then Del turned to study the others that had gathered around the table. The ranger, he had already seen, but who were these other two? The seemed strangely out of place somehow, and yet; strangely familiar. It puzzled him, but no matter. He would keep an eye on them though, he would have to keep an eye on everyone for that matter. Then there was the other girl, he had seen her face in Rohan before, but he wasn’t quite sure where.

Del turned his attention back to the table. “I am Maén Il Galoth. Please, take a seat. I would like to speak to you all.” she then noticed that Crystal had drawn her sword and quickly said “Peace! There will be plenty of time for taking blood Miss Heart, Sirs, once again I ask you to please sit.” Del chuckled to himself “what could that fiery little redhead do, the sword was almost half as big as she was!”

Maén now pulled out almost every skerrick of information which she had bothered to bring with her. Her father’s letters, Lysia’s research as well as her letters from the king. She placed her cloak upon the table.

“Firstly.” She began taking a deep breath. “I will thank you all for expressing your interest in my little venture. As you all know The Widow Il Galoth has posted a reward of twenty thousand pieces of gold to each of those who accompany me to find the Traitor of my family.” She then told of how her relative had betrayed his kin, and all of Gondor, but Del had already heard this from Eladain

. “Not only is he a kin slayer, and a traitor to my family, but he was a Gondorian, as are most of you. That makes him a traitor to you as well.” She paused letting this statement sink into the minds of those around her. I cannot assure your survival. We have to trust to Illuvatar - and hope. Estel.” Then Ferethor spoke. "What if our hope fails us and our houseless souls tread the path to Mandos? Whither then?"

“heh!” thought Del “my time hasn’t come yet, but when it does, I’ll meet it with my boots on!” Maén shot ferethor a piercing glance, but continued.

“ Aye, I am coming to that. If you should die, twenty-five thousands will be paid to your family. If I die, you get only half of that. These are the conditions of Lysia Il Galoth. Take them or leave them.”

For a while there was stunned silence throughout the company, and gradually each gave their approval. it was a fair enough deal, Del couldn’t foresee anything going too terribly wrong. “Yes, all in all this should work out nicely.” He thought too him self. “But you never can be too sure of anything” he quickly reminded himself.

“I suggest now that you all get to know one-another, for my part, I will introduce Carathir, he is my aunt’s young squire and he is chosen by her to accompany me. Yes, he is and Easterling, but I hope that none of you will hold it against him, anyone who does will answer to me. My other companion here is Atharen, a ranger who has kindly offered to assist me. As for myself, you all know who I am, and I will tell you this, just because I am a woman, does not mean I cant kill you in the night. Go now, I will give you time that you need to set your affairs in order and collect your things, meet me out the front in an hour we leave.” And there it was that the company formed.

Del walked quickly to the door, but stopped when he heard Crystal say "I won't hurt you. I just want a truthful answer. What dealings have you had with General Dorian of Rohan?" "I just want a truthful answer. What dealings have you had with General Dorian of Rohan?" Del could tell her temper was just barely held in check.

"With Dorian of Rohan? I faced him in a chance meeting, if it be chance, at the edge of the field of Calanedhron. I've come to value his valor and loyalty to the realm of Gondor." Came the reply, and now Del saw that it was Ferethor with whom she was speaking.

General Dorian! Of course, that was where he had seen Crystal’s face before, on a wanted poster at Edoras. Her father was offering a large reward for her capture, Dead Or Alive… But Del realized that he couldn’t very well go and turn her in now, he would have to wait for the opportune moment.

Del then casually walked out the door, and headed toward the inn in which he was staying. he would have to pick up his things and return in an hour.

[Crystal Heart]

"Loyalty lies in the eye of the beholder I suppose," Crystal said lightly.

Her senses prickled. Someone had overheard her conversation. She looked up and saw that it was one of the other men in the company. She wondered how much he knew about her. This quest would be far more dangerous for her then Maen that lead it.

She memorized the back of him and the side of his face as he left. She would remember just who he was and keep a careful eye on him. So many people to watch and account for. This would be very difficult indeed.

From the side of his face she felt as if she had known him, but shook away the thought. She knew no one. She readied her mind for the quest ahead.

[Amanaduial the archer]

Atharen watched the newcomers as they approached. Some knew too much about this before... he thought to himself, prickling slightly. How?

But at least one he was not suspcious of - Roryn, the former ranger, with whom he had travelled before, if only for a short time. "Roryn, former ranger of Gondor at your service."

Atharen grinned, standing as the man introduced himself and clasping his hand, smiling. "Roryn - and you even graced us with your real name, honoured, I'm sure," he added sardonically, making the other man raise an eyebrow and grin also. But all the time, Atharen was aware of the Haradrim man who had joined them a few minutes earlier - the ranger's jovial front was not entirely genuine. But for this man to relax more and for Atharen to therefore be able to watch him more closely, he couldn't have the man knowing quite how alert he was. As Atharen sat again, Roryn flashed him a slightly questioning look, almost inperceptible to anyone else, and the former gave a tiny shake of his head. Later.

But even as he was distracted, a flash of steel caught the ranger's attention, and he was back on his feet in a second, the dirk in his left hand. On the other side of the table a man and a woman faced each other down, and Atharen was struck at once by the fierceness of the woman's gaze - like embers burning on pure hate as she looked at this man, a beautiful weapon in her slender hands. But the ranger would not allow such hate to come out - not so soon, and not here; he had some debt to the Innkeeper, Garth, as well as to Maen in keeping peace in this company.

But Maen was also on her feet now, her voice authorative as she addressed them all, speaking in particular to the fiery woman. "Peace! There will be plenty of time for taking blood Miss Heart, Sirs, once again I ask you to please sit."

Warily watching the other man still, Crystal nonetheless resheathed her sword and sat. The others did the same but Atharen, when he joined them in doing so, made sure he sat slightly closer to Crystal. His dirk did not go away; he simply let his cloak fall over it, his fingers still curled around it and ready. The others settled after a second and watched Maen as she spoke, making an introduction and giving what information she had. Atharen knew some of it, for the young woman had told him some on the way, and besides, he did not have much interest in money, although the quantities offered were astounding and he couldn't help blinking and letting her eyes flick up to the young woman's face. Does she hope to buy their loyalty? Such things are not so easy, although it may work with mercenaries. And that amount of money can be dangerous when flashed around...

Sitting back slightly so as not to be easily watched by any without noticing, Atharen let his eyes dart from one to the other as Maen spoke, lingering on each but staying for longer on the easterling, Carathir. Maen introduced him with trust in her voice; confidence, trust and pride, defiance towards any who would scorn him for his race. It is not that which I hold against him, lady... Atharen thought to himself, watching the easterling carefully. But even as he did so, Carathir's own dark gaze met his and held it there, neither of them looking away. It was only Maen that caused them to break this, as she sat again and Carathir adjusted his position to allow for her. Atharen watched him for a moment longer, then wisely looked away; he did not want to lock with this man too tight. Not yet. But watch he would.

As Maen continued talking to the others, Atharen allowed his mind to wander slightly, his eyes down on the table top as if disinterested or even slightly bored, although his ears were pricked for anything. And the fierce woman beside him, Crystal, was not willing to let go of the anger which possessed her, it seemed.

"I won't hurt you. I just want a truthful answer. What dealings have you had with General Dorian of Rohan?"

Atharen's hand tightened on the handle of the weapon underneath his cloak, hearing the barely disguised tension in her voice. But the tension was prolonged for a moment, as Ferethor looked away, distracted like the others by a crash from a far table. One of the drunks had tried to take a swing at another and unbalanced himself, falling with a crash onto one of the rather less solid wooden tables. Atharen would not usually intervene with such things, and he wanted to take more mental notes on the newly formed company, but he saw his chance here to cancel or at least delay the tension between Crystal and Ferethor. Standing so he was beside Crystal and looking over as if his attention was caught by the cacophany of sound, he took her arm gently as he started over. She began to struggle but the movement was covered by his cloak. Bending so his mouth was close to Crystal's ear, he murmured, "Such tension in such places may by waylaid, my lady. It cannot be so well to try to pick a fight."

Releasing her arm, Atharen started towards the fight, as if to try to intervene, but he stayed in the shadows near the wall, knowing Crystal would follow him. Sure enough, after a second, her hand touched his arm and he turned to listen to her.

[Crystal Heart]

Crystal had been surprised the man, something she didn't like. She didn't like being caught off guard. Not when the mention of her father had started off suspicions on two different men.

"I heed your advice, but you do not understand kind sir. I'm General Dorian's daughter. I could be in grave danger if Ferethor is a ranger for my father. I have much reason to be tense," Crystal replied.

She kept watching him, something stirring in her memory. He seemed familiar as did many of the other men in the company seemed familiar. She knew it was only a feeling. All males had that effect on her mind. It couldn't be helped. She was afraid of any man.

Except for one, this man that had warned her. She wasn't afraid of him, yet she knew she should be wary. She had no idea what she was truly feeling. It wasn't love in any form, just a friendly trust. A friendly bond, but yet it couldn't be possible. She had only just met him.

"I'm Crystal Heart, a daughter of Rohan. May I be so bold in acquiring what your name may be?" Crystal asked boldly. She curtsied lightly. Her cloak touched the floor. Years of diginity and grace seeped back into its proper place. Crystal didn't try to stop it. She knew that she would need it and the traveller's way that she had learned. They would both be needed for this journey.

A fight of drunks raged on, something she was very use to seeing. Living for a time in whatever Inn you could find dulled the senses to such ways. She took no heed of the fight at hand. The Innkeeper would take care of them, it was never wise to interfere with a drunk man.

She waited for the man's answer, hoping that he would be truthful as if her life depended on his truthful answer. She hated the feeling and blocked it from her mind as she waited.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 6:35 PM February 04, 2004: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Eorl of Rohan]

A man approached them, and laid a hand of Crystal's arm. "This is not the place to be tense." Ferethor instanly recognised him as the ranger, the silent companion of Maen. He also remembered noticing that the ranger did not sheath his sword. The ranger left, and Crystal, after a moment of distrustful pause, left.


Ferethor placed his hand upon the swordsheath lightly, taking relief in it's familiar buckskin feel - he could defend himself. 'Atharen.' He thought, remembering the name of the man. 'It would be hard to decieve the ranger - and perilous to try.'


Aelimur said, quietly under the cover of the clamorous sound of drunken men in the inn, "She doesn't believe you. I see it in her eyes." Ferethor answered, just as quietly, "I know. And this man - Atharen the ranger... Even though he hardly glance at me, he watches my every movement closely. Be wary in his presence, Aelimur. Yet in suspicion for me they exclude any thoughts of you - oft shall evil turn to it's undoing. We may suceed yet.'


Ferethor laid a hand upon Aelimur's shouldered, locking his grey and hard gaze. "For Gondor!" With that, he was gone. Aelimur wondered how Ferethor could move that swiftly.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 11:31 PM February 04, 2004: Message edited by: Eorl of Rohan ]