Legacy of Traitors RPG

[Everdawn]

Maén had then taken a seat at the table where she had been standing before. And in a heap she lay her head upon all her notes, half in relief, half in nervousness of the task ahead. Carathir, however was standing behind her chair, she thought that perhaps he was no accustomed to Inns and Taverns in Gondor. Then they were in the same boat, for Maén had spent much of her life in the higher circles of the city protected and away from the mainstream of the society.

“How now Carathir?” she asked, still with her head on the table, watching as intently as she could her new companions.

“I beg your pardon Miss Il Galoth?” he said leaning his head around to see her.

“Sit, or something Carathir, Have you never seen a place like this before? I imagine you have…” Maén had intended to speak more but she was now watching with increased curiosity why on earth Atharen was trying to hold Crystal in her place. Now a thought popped into her head, why was Crystal so apprehensive before about the mentioning of Ferethor’s dealings with her father?

Obviously sensing that he had not her attention Carathir moved blocking her site of the fiasco. He could see that Maén was bothered by his movements. She lifted her head up and sat up straight. “Miss Il Galoth, what shall I do now?” he asked, again in a polite manner.

“I suppose that you can go and find a stable in one of the upper circles of the city, I wont need Hittai for a while, we have other work to do. I will meet you at the Library, from there we have things to do.” Carathir bowed again and left. Maén lingered on the thought of her horse, proud Hittai, was the one thing which was hers, and who cared for her in return. Maén had had that small horse since the age of around nine, and while her brothers called Hittai a shadow of a horse, Maén had never grown out of her and needed a larger horse, they were alike. Maén knew however, that Hittai did not like to be around other horses she did not know.

Finding herself with nothing to do but wait for her companions Maén took from her satchel her old leather bound journal and a quill and began to write. It was some minutes later that she looked at the mass of words that she had scrawled upon the paper and figured that they made little sense, so it was only logical to discard them. This sort of thing had never happened to her before, her journal was the only place in her life where things could be perfect, and one of the few things she had power over. Maén read the paper which she had torn out of her book, it was comments on her companions, but the word where her script ended was beside the name Ferethor.

Now Ferethor was hiding something, she had suspected this from the first moments of seeing him, he and his companion Aelimur. Maén Il Galoth was usually a trusting individual, but there was something about these two which made her think twice about everything, or like there was a spider hanging over her head ready to drop upon her.

“Allright lass?” asked a voice, Roryn had sat opposite her. Maén rubbed her eyes and put the pieces of paper back into her journal.


“Somewhat.” She said with a slight laugh. “Actually im not sure what to do with myself.” She said truthfully.

Roryn smiled and then seriously looked her in the eye. “We will get him Lady, that you can be sure.” Maén nodded and stood up gathering her bag and at the same time tying her hair up so that it would not come out from below her cloak when they were in the upper circles of the city, the may be people she knew.

“Are you all ready to go?” she asked.

[Eorl of Rohan]

Ferethor sank into a wooden stool, seeing Maen about to speak. Nevertheless, he did not remove his hand on the hilt of his elven knife, wary of Crystal’s movement. Through perilous encounters against the desperate remnant of Haradrim outlaws, he learned to never underestimate the adversary – even if it be a spirited girl like this one. Aelimur, perceiving his tense movement, glanced at Crystal and then at him in a questioning movement. Ferethor impatiently signaled denial.


‘I am weary of this deception.” He thought in silent bitterness. “Hard is this task, I deem, and yet ever this dishonesty weaves itself in intricate pattern to enmesh me. By Illuvatar, no webs of Ungoliant were more treacherous! I long to be candid and truthful, but there are more grave matters at hand, for which my desires must give way.” Yet Ferethor betrayed nothing of his anguish and despair.

[Amanaduial the archer]

Atharen turned to Crystal, regarding her quickly without looking like he was leering. She was still so fierce and tense, reminding him of fire, but whereas the fire had been furious and wild before, it was calmer now, warm and gentle...

"Atharen. My name is Atharen, lady." He inclined his head politely, knowing he should address her by her first name. But courtesy usually came first for Atharen, and he had no way of knowing how Crystal would react to familiarity – he didn’t even put ‘my’ before lady, as the wariness exuded by this woman suggested that could really be a very bad idea. A yell and a splintering piece of wood caused the ranger to duck sharply, reaching to make Crystal duck as well, but to his surprise, she was quite as fast and alert as him. He grinned this time - she was indeed swift, her reflexes seeming to match his. She flashed a grin back, proud, although her manners were lady-like – if he father was indeed Dorian, she had indeed inherited his pride, although Atharen saw little in her looks of her father.

“You would break up the fight?” she said after a moment. Her casual manner and brief look at the fighting men told the ranger that Crystal was quite used to such things. Glancing across himself, Atharen raised an eyebrow as he looked back at the woman.

“I wouldn’t like to intrude where it wasn’t my business,” he replied enigmatically, then added, “Besides, Garth’s two bruisers there seem to have it under control.” The last comment regarded the two large men, built like brick walls, both of them sporting several scars, tattooed biceps and noses that had been broken more than once. Even the ranger would not be inclined to take those two on. But their intrusion to the fight, wading into the mess of men who had joined the fight and pulling them apart by their collars, provided the perfect diversion; it’s new level of interest caught the attention of more watchers, and Atharen lightly brushed Crystal’s hand with his own, drawing her with a minute nod of his head to one side, further into the shadows. She looked at him questioningly.

“Not all are watching the fight, lady.” He didn’t let his eyes move from her face, but kept them locked with hers to stop her turning. Crystal knew what he meant though, and mouthed a name. Atharen nodded. “Aye. Why is it he puts your back up? I know you may not wish to answer, but if, as you say, your life depends on this, I must ask – is your fa –”

“Atharen!”

The voice made Atharen snap his head up in the direction of the speaker, and he saw Roryn standing beside Maen, waiting expectantly. “Are you ready to go?”

“Aye, let me just pay the Innkeeper,” he called back, turning towards Garth who, with the remainder of the brawlers skulking away (nursing their wounds and in most cases their drinks), was back behind the bar, wiping it with a ragged cloth in the habitual manner of barmen everywhere. Atharen was not, of course, going to go anything of the sort – he hadn’t had need to pay in coinage at this Inn for years. But Innkeepers pick up handy things… “Garth, do you know that individual, the grey-eyed soldier at the table with the woman I came in with?”

Garth looked over with all the subtlety of a brick, then a frown creased his forehead. “Looks a little familiar, sir, but then, most of Minas Tirith pass through this Inn. Why do you ask? And hey,” he added, turned back to more important matters with a slight leer, “who is that young woman, hmm? Or the other who you were conversin’ with so intensely, hmm? Dear me, Atharen, we are drawing in the ladies – Miss Merien will not pleased!”

Atharen grinned, humouring the man, his teeth glinting slightly as he drew his hood back up, ready to go back out. “You have me figured, Master Garth, what can I say – a ladies’ man through and through!” The Innkeeper laughed and Atharen nodded politely as he turned, pausing for a second to add, “Oh! And Merien – I think I will probably not have time to speak to her. Please, if she comes in…?”

“Understood, m’boy, understood. And she’ll understand an’ all, never fear…”

Atharen smiled once more, gratefully, before turning back and leaving the Inn with the rest, subtly placing himself quite close to Crystal and Maen, with Ferethor always at the corner of his vision.

[Melisil]

Upon returning to the inn Aelimur chose the table next to the one where Maen was. He watched the conversations going on between the many who had joined with Maen.

There were two rangers in the group, friends, or at least aquaintences Aelimur gathered. If he had not been a guard, he would have found it much easier to converse with them. But he had no need to speak with them now. Instead he focused his listening on only one of the two and Ferethor. When Atharen(for he had found that this was his name) turned to someone else, Aelimur stood.

"Ferethor," Alimur said quietly, grabbing his companions shoulder, "It would be hard to decieve the ranger- and perilous to try. 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 glances 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."

"Yes," Aelimur nodded, "Have no fear, we will."

"For Gondor!" replied Ferethor determidly, before he turned and was lost to the crowd.

Aelimur stood there for half a moment, before returning to his seat. He looked over to Maen, asking her, "Exuse me kindly, dear Maen, but shall we be leaving soon? Although in this waiting we can see each other's behaviors, my feet do ich to be traveling."

[Eorl of Rohan]

Ferethor marked that Atharen never strayed far from Crystal, and was watching his every movement. Ferethor wondered - did Atharen think he was a peril to Crystal? Ferethor recalled a wanted poster for Crystal that he had seen a while back - wiht the bold inscription, "Dead or Alive." He couldn't blame her for fleeing from her father's wrath - yet Crystal believed that he was her enemy. But Atharen would take care of her, and he had to turn to other matters.


Though Ferethor was considered skilled in stealth and craft of war even amidst captains of Gonder, he knew with certainity that he was no match for Atharen, this ranger of the North. However swiftly Ferethor moved, Atharen was always there beside him - there would be no conversation with Aelimur for some time. Almost on impulse, Ferethor decided to test his theory.

[Crystal Heart]

For some odd reason Crystal felt safer now that she had made more of a friend and ally instead of an enemy. She kept a watchful eye on Ferethor, but felt at ease at Athren's side. She had no idea why, just the fact that he wouldn't hurt her and had been so kind was enough to ease her already tense and troubled mind.

More then that excitement was pulsing through her veins. She had never felt this excited for any such reason, but she did. This would be a quest that would take them all in a new direction. It was sure to bring out the worst and best of all the people that had joined their company, but she wasn't totally afraid of that fact. It would bring out new enemies and foes, but that was excepted on quests such as these.

She wondered who else would betray Maen and the ones loyal to her when this was all through. She could guess, but she knew that guessing would only make her paranoid and the people that she would be watching would be the same people that wouldn't betray them. It would be someone they least excepted when the time came. She laughed inwardly at the thought. It was always that way, she knew that better then anyone in the company. She had been through it countless times before.

Yet, a new beginning was dawning in her mind. A new beginning of hope and vegenence for all. A new start for herself and of course the money wasn't all bad. She smiled as they walked.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 1:46 AM February 07, 2004: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Everdawn]

“Follow me, we have things we have to attend to, we need information and I know where we can get it.” Maén called to the group who looked unsure of what the young woman was telling them.

It would be now that Maén had to be wary, of everything, even in her own city. If the word of her expedition had become so known among the seedy underworld and at the Taverns of Minas Tirith, it could be true that some may plan to assassinate her. It was one of the many scenarios which had played through her mind. Presently though, she was several strides ahead of her companions, making sure that her cloak was wrapped firmly around her and the hood of her cloak was low so that she would not be recognised. Even though she did not know this area of Minas Tirith well, Maén found it effortless to move among the crowd, unseen and unnoticed and she was quite surprised at this, when she came to the fifth gate of the city she stopped and removed the hood of her cloak and looked back to see where the others were, a few yards behind. Smiling slightly she waited patiently for them to catch up. “What’s the hurry Miss Il Galoth?” Del said, obviously not grateful to the fact that Maén was one who did not like patience.

“I don’t rightly know.” She replied looking up towards the gate. “Now, are you all going to keep up with me? Or shall I have to walk at a turtle’s stride.” There no complaints from the men, nor from Crystal. And Maén was glad at this, how she would have rued it if Crystal had been a frail woman with no personality of her own. They began to walk again and Maén was so busy thinking that she had forgotten to raise the hood of her cloak back up.

“Maén Il Galoth!” the voice rang with a horribly annoying ring to it, like that of a parrot who talks so much that you would want to put a bag over it’s head. She stopped abruptly, so much so that Roryn bumped onto her back. Maén’s eyes narrowed and she turned around to meet the speaker. There were two of them, daughters of the courtiers, one tall one as small as Maén, and both of them unsightly. They were the primary gossip spreaders, and Maén hated them with a passion.

“See, I told you it was her!” said the taller women. “I told you so Dai”.

“Well, well, well, look what the Il Galoth griffin dragged in. News is this morning that you were kidnapped… But then I said to my mother that no one would dare kidnap you- You don’t keep your mouth shut.” All the while the women were talking among themselves, Maén managed to suppress a welling anger inside her.

“I heard that you went away and you weren’t coming back, or even that you had been killed by savages when you left.” Said Dai.

“Oh I would that it were you ” she snapped, incapable to control her rising anger, The two ladies stepped back, as if they had been slapped about the face.

“Oh you are a witch Lady Il Galoth!” one shrieked.

Maén wrapped her cloak around her once again passed them saying “Then leave it be before, before I drop a house on Thee!” she did not deny that it felt good, but it was typical of the way that she was treated among the court women. For a small while Maén kept walking silently and stopped outside a large Stone building. “Here we are.” She said

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 9:42 PM February 06, 2004: Message edited by: Everdawn ]

[Crystal Heart]

Crystal watched as these ladies acted abominably towards Maen. If there was one thing she hated more then her father it was women such as these. Women could be so heartless, cold, and cunniving subconsciously. She never liked the way other women played their games and it was clear that this was another game they were playing to mess with Maen's mind.

She walked up to them and stopped. She pulled the hood off of her head and looked them both in the eyes.

"Only a person without a spine, without any conscious at all would be as horrible as you two. If I weren't looking at material things that hang from your ugly bodies, then I would have no idea that you were two higher functioning women. You act like lowly peasants and theives. How do I know, you may ask? Well, I am a daughter of Rohan that was raised in higher standings. You should be ashamed. I decree from this day forward that your families be shamed by order of the King of Gondor." Crystal said quickly. She remained calm and watched their faces.

"How can a daughter of Rohan decree such a thing by the King of Gondor?" One of the women asked her bluntly. Crystal smiled.

"I was raised in his house for quite sometime when Rohan was having trouble. He gave me the power to speak in his name. And if you want to ask the King if this is true then tell him Hearty decreed it. Good day."

Crystal walked off and pulled her hood back up. She wasn't unnerved by what she had done. She hadn't even lied, which was something she hadn't done in quite a while. Yes, it was true, every word. That she had been taken in by the King right after her mother died. Her father had to go to Gondor to ask for help. He had brought her to the meeting and also asked him to watch out for his daughter. He had suspected that someone in the family had killed his wife. He knew that she would been safe with the King.

The King of Gondor had agreed and had raised her like another Princess. Some of her dignity skills and decorum had come from him. He had been very kind to her and had taught her many things. When she wanted to venture out into the city by herself he had allowed her to and gave her the power to speak in his words if a need erupted and she was there. That had been a long time ago and it was more likely that she didn't have that power any more, but she highly doubted that those two women would go to the King and ask if it were true. They would have to tell the King the entirity of the incident and then there was the possibility that the decree would be carried out.

She looked up and saw that Maen was watching her. She smiled.

"No one should be allowed to go through the fires of hell alone." Crystal said simply.

[Amanaduial the archer]

Atharen watched with interest as Crystal confronted the two women. The fire blazed once more in her eyes, and the two women quailed inwardly at this and her words. As she swept away, speaking quietly to Maen, the rain began to fall once more, turning the morning grey and dull in the white city; the people of Minas Tirith scurried away to the warm, dry buildings, and fewer strange, curious looks were afforded to the peculiar arrangement of people making their way through the streets, an easterling and two brazen faced women walking with soldiers and a pair of rangers. Atharen smiled to himself beneath the shadow of his hood.

As Crystal continued talking to Maen, Atharen looked around once more for Ferethor, but not in malice. He knew little of either Crystal or Ferethor, and was curious as to the man's motives, both towards joining the group and towards Crystal herself. As he paused, the man himself passed him, huddled in a hooded cloak himself. The ranger fell into step with him, and noted the suspicious look the man gave him.

"Good day, Captain," he said, soft and sincerely. Ferethor looked at him, puzzled, then nodded stiffly without a word. Atharen saw him exchange a look with another on the other side of the group - Aelimur. Atharen picked it up, hoping to make conversation. "Aelimur - is he a friend of yours?"

The guard's dark eyes flashed at him, immediately and openly suspicious. "Why do you ask such questions, ranger?"

Bearing in mind you come from King Elessar, I am surprised you speak in such a way... An image of Elessar flashed through the ranger's head, of when he had seen the king at his full glory; not the glory of the kingly robes and crown, but in the heat of battle, his hair and face sweaty, his clothes dark leather, the white tree and the Evenstar given to him by Queen Arwen gleaming at his throat and on his chest. This man worked for that king, a king of Atharen's own way and descent. He shurgged lightly. "I just wondered. You both work for the King Elessar - he is not unlike myself, and I fought with him, years ago. It was simply interest."

He fell into silence, his eyes hidden by the cloak and the sound of their feet muffled by the rain, waiting for Ferethor to answer.

[Eorl of Rohan]

Ferethor could not help but betray a slight grin at Crystal's blunt threat, as she faced the chattering women furiously. ‘Decree the laws of the Empire of Gondor? Highly ludicrous. Not even the king’s heir himself has legitimate authority to speak in the name of the king. The rule of the Land of Stone is by tradition and heritage Lord Aragorn alone, or Faramir of Ithilien.’ He perceived, nevertheless, that Crystal did not redden or falter. ‘She lies remarkably well – yet this deed was done for friendship and pity’s sake. I cannot blame her.’ The women fell back as if stricken with fear and awe, as Crystal turned away with distaste and made haste to talk with Maen.


Clouds gathered overhead, and the day was darkened under their shadows. Even as light rain sprinkled from the heaven, he drew folds of his cloak close about him, partly to ward off the rain and partly in the hope of passing unrecognized. Aware of a presence, Ferethor cast back his forest-green hood to allow for a better view and turned. 'Atharen?' He thought, casting a distrustful and wary glance before he quickened his steps.


Atharen spoke softly yet earnestly, “Good day, Captain.” Ferethor froze for an instant in a rush of impulsive panic, but took control of himself instantaneously. He simply nodded in acknowledgement, waiting for Atharen’s move in this mental fencing match. "Aelimur - is he a friend of yours?" He asked, evidently wishing to continue the discussion. At that, Ferethor openly turned and scowled at Atharen, his true self overriding his pretense for a moment. “Why do you query into matters that are left unknown, Ranger of the North?”


At that, Atharen chuckled, shrugging lightly. "I just wondered. You both work for the King Elessar - he is not unlike myself, and I fought with him, years ago. It was simply interest." Ferethor answered in a seemingly carefree way, to avoid suspicion from the fellow travelers, again slipping into pretense with ease born out of long practice. “Curiosity, Atharen, is a double-bladed knife, as willing to wound the bearer as well as his adversary. No doubt you are aware of this, Dunadan.” Ferethor, in a single fluid movement, drew his slender blade from its sheath. His voice was hard as if cut out of stone, fell and menacing. “Ranger, loth am I to draw blade against a son of westernesse and ally of Gondor, but my errand is of paramount import. I have this question yet to ask of you, ranger. How came you to the conclusion that I come from Lord Elessar?” He noticed, with grim and savage satisfaction, that Aelimur had also drawn blade and fallen into step beside him. The rain showed no hint of ceasing, and they were fallen far behind the company. There would be no disturbance – if it had to come to settlement of blood.

[Amanaduial the archer]

Atharen turned slightly to see Aelimur also draw a blade, and the sound of the metal in the rain could be heard as he came slightly closer. Ferethor tensed at the movement, and Atharen noted with some surprise that beneath the savagery there was something else - He is nervous? Afraid, even? Then why does he draw against me?

"Ranger, loth am I to draw blade against a son of westernesse and ally of Gondor, but my errand is of paramount import," Ferethor was watching him, his gaze as steely as his blade. "I have this question yet to ask of you, ranger. How came you to the conclusion that I come from Lord Elessar?"

Atharen returned the man's hostile glare with his: unreadable, unblinking, unspeaking. His hands were hidden from sight beneath his cloak - a useful aspect of it - and his left hand already had a firm grip on his dirk. The others were already almost out of sight, as the rain was getting harder and harder, causing them to almost vanish. Two adversaries, but it was raining, and he was ready to wager that he would have more experience fighting in such conditions than they; after all, even his age was deceptive.... After a moment, Ferethor seemed to snap. "Show me your hands!"

"If I show you my hands, it will simply be to show you that I have a blade there as well," came the quiet reply, before Atharen revealed his hands, the left one holding his dirk. Aelimur took a step forward, but Ferethor paused, watching. To show him he was a southpaw, a secret weapon in a fight, was a token showing he was not entirely hostile, but the fact he held a blade showed that he was not entirely friendly either. Ferethor knew this, and Atharen laughed softly, a note of danger in his voice. "You see, Captain, I myself am a double edged blade as well. And as for this curiosity, and these assumptions - I could ask the same thing. Why do you think I am one of the Dunedain?"

The man glared at him. "You spoke of being of the same descent as King Elessar. I suspect therefore you are Dunedain."

Atharen nodded, smiling very slightly, something that was continuing to unnerve the guard. "'Twas not hard to work out, now, was it? Yet it would not have been beyond the realms of possibility that I am also wrong. Indeed, you wear no livery now, clad in the fashion of the elves, almost, and with a similar blade. But look now - you have the mannerisms of Gondor, whether you know it or not, and your name speaks of the same. And your bearing is of a soldier." The other man seemed even more uncomfortable, and behind them Aelimur seemed frozen, waiting. Atharen came to his conclusion. "All Gondorian soldiers answer to the King, Captain, or should do; this business of Il Galoth is something different, a distasteful rarity. But you are no distasteful rarity. You have honour, I suspect, however much you distrust me."

His eyes continued to hold Ferethor's, and his hand continued to hold the blade. His smile widened slightly. "I would drop my blade, but it is rather a good blade," he smiled, before his tone became more serious again. "I do not expect you to tell me this errand of yours, although you have revealed you have one. But I do ask you to trust me - as your errand's importance is 'paramount', so is trust within this group, the reason I watch Miss Heart so closely. So, what do you say? Can you trust me, or..."

[Everdawn]

"No one should be allowed to go through the fires of hell alone." Crystal said after turning on the two women who had confronted Maén earlier, it caused Maén to smirk and her hazel eyes glitter under her cloak.

“Ah, Not to worry.” Maén said in a cheerful mood. “They have always been like that, you see, It is the opinion of most ladies that I am, to put it simply, “going the same way as my father”. Which is offcourse not true, Im simply smarter than they, and I know a lot more about the world than a woman should.” Said Maén with distaste. “I was playing with my brother’s knives when I should have being playing with dolls… well my mother soon saw to that, and I had a governess come to me.” Maén smirked. “My governess was a good woman, she taught me well in most fields, and in time my mother thought this inappropriate as well- You get the general idea of how I came to be.” Maén stood still at the wall of the huge building, “And what you witnessed back there, well, it was not entirely my fault, part of it was because I am who I am, you hear people speaking after me in the streets, ‘Behind that fair façade, well she is really rather odd.’ But that’s not the point, I just laugh at this of course. And it is partly because I was engaged for so smaller time to a captain of the King’s guard, one who so it happens, many of those women loved.”

“What happened?!” Crystal asked with slight excitement.

Maén smiled, “He was handsome yes, but overbearing, ignorant, arrogant, and most offensive of all a chauvinist. How could I spend my life with someone like that? Not at all, I am but three and twenty, and I think still a stranger in the world, why must women marry at an age like this, why must we marry at all? Why must we bear children? Should that not be our choice?” Maén had not noticed how caught up she had been in her little speech when she turned to Crystal again. “Not that I scorn it of course, not at all. But all I say is that we women have more of a choice.”

Crystal smiled at her once more. “Well, no one could accuse you of being high spirited could they?” she said in sarcasm.

Maén nodded and looked at her wet raiment, “It’s raining.” She said to herself.

“That’s not all,” Crystal said searching. “I cant seem to see the others.”

“Oh dear!” said Maén and being followed by her new found friend. Getting closer she saw that Atharen and Ferethor were at arms with each other.

“Oh me!” exclaimed Maén, “Look Miss Heart, see what these men are drawn to? So early in the day and in the middle of the street. Look! They do as if to wound one another.” It was more of a jest than an outright scolding.

“Indeed Miss Il Galoth.” Said Crystal, going along with it. “Anyone would think so, my, they are fortunate that there are no city soldiers here.”

“It’s very unoriginal isn’t it? I mean sword fighting in the street!” Maén added.

“Thank goodness we can lead by example.” Finished Crystal.

“Put down your weapons, whatever needs to be settled between you, can be done so outside the city. Now do you want to know why we are here or not?” Maén said, now very serious.

[Eorl of Rohan]

Atharen returned Ferethor's glare with one of his own, his dark eyes entirely unreadable, with a touch of steely control. A gleam of metal glimpsed beneath Atharen's stirring cloak did not fail to catch his wary eyes, and he instantly cried, "Reveal your hand!"


"If I reveal my hand, it will simply be to show you that I have a blade as well." Atharen paused, then drew his hand from his cloak slowly. 'He is not my foe, yet not an ally to our cause - yet.'The thought flashed through Ferethor's mind. Atharen laughed softly, as if amused, yet Ferethor could sense that it would be perilous to arouse his anger.


"You see, Captain, I myself am a double edged blade as well. And as for this curiosity, and these assumptions - I could ask the same thing. Why do you think I am one of the Dunedain?" Atharen asked. Ferethor said "You spoke of being a kinsman and friend of King Telcontar. I suspect therefore that you are Dunedain, of the race of Numenorians." 'Where comes his confidence?' Ferethor wondered, unnerved by Atharen's smile.


'Twas not hard to work out, now, was it? But look - you have the mannerisms of Gondor, and your name speaks of the same. And your bearing is of a soldier. All Gondorian soldiers answer to the King, Captain. Nonetheless this business is something different, a distasteful rarity. But you are not. You have honour, I deem, however much you distrust me."


Ferethor returned Atharen's gaze, betraying nothing of sudden fear that washed over his mind at this man who let nothing escape his attention. His gaze flickered time to time, wary of the dagger that Atharen still grasped.


Atharen's smile widened slightly as he noticed that. "I would drop my blade, but it is rather a good blade," he smiled, before his tone became more serious again. "I do not expect you to tell me this errand of yours, although you have revealed you have one. But I do ask you to trust me - as your errand's importance is'paramount', so is trust within this group, the reason I watch Miss Heart so closely. So, what do you say? Can you trust me, or..."

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 7:16 AM February 08, 2004: Message edited by: Eorl of Rohan ]

[Melisil]

Aelimur walked in stride with the rest of the group, still watching both Ferethor and the rangers carefully, until Ferethor quickly stopped- dead in the street. He and Atharan were standing facing each other- swords drawn, Ferethor obviously angry. Aelimur walked behind Atharen, he drew his sword too, though he kept it close to himself and definitly not in a complete battle stance.

Ferethor and Atharen exchanged quiet threats to one another. Atharen knew that they were under Ellesar's command.

Aelimur stood listening untill, soon after they finished(or almost finished) both Maen and Crystal Heart apeared by them.

The two spoke in jest at the scene: “Oh me!” exclaimed Maén, “Look Miss Heart, see what these men are drawn to? So early in the day and in the middle of the street. Look! They do as if to wound one another.”

“Indeed Miss Il Galoth.” Said Crystal, “Anyone would think so, my, they are fortunate that there are no city soldiers here.”

“It’s very unoriginal isn’t it? I mean sword fighting in the street!” spoke Maen.

“Thank goodness we can lead by example.” Finished Crystal.

“Put down your weapons, whatever needs to be settled between you, can be done so outside the city. Now do you want to know why we are here or not?” Maén said, now seemingly much more serious.

Aelimur sheathed his blade and walked to Maen. "I am sorry madame, that this happened, ecspecialy so early in this quest. Please forgive.. each of us." he bowed his head to her. "And you too please Miss Heart. I am sorry." he looked back to the Ferethor and Atharen, then back to Maen. "Shall we continue? We will try not to delay anymore."

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 1:11 AM February 08, 2004: Message edited by: Melisil ]

[Hama Of The Riddermark]

Roryn came running down the street as fast as he could, he skidded to a halt about six feet away from Ferethor and drew his bow, fitting an arrow to it so quickly that Ferethor had a hard time seeing it.

In a second the head of the arrow was pointing squarely at Ferethor's neck.
Ferethor looked at Roryn and noticed the white tree emblem that adorned his leather tunic...

"Give me a reason to, guard, give me a reason, and I'll shoot you dead. h

[Amanaduial the archer]

"Put it down now, Roryn." Atharen's tone was still calm, and his eyes still fixed on Ferethor. Maen and Crystal had approached and were talking like old friends - and old women, he thought with a mental roll of his eyes. Aelimur, standing near them, sheathed his sword, and Ferethor glanced sharply at him with a look Atharen could not read.

All were watching Atharen and Ferethor; the guard was still distrustful and unsure, and his blade remained in his hand. As Atharen moved his left hand, Ferethor tensed to spring...but the ranger simply returned the dirk to it's sheath. The frustrating smile was gone from his lips now and his face was expressionless as he turned from the guard, not waiting to see if he would put down his sword.

His hood covered his face, not allowing the others to see his expression, but it was thoughtful as he mulled over the others. He glanced at Crystal as he passed her. Why did this guardsman have such an interest in her, and she such a worry about him? Stay out of it, Atharen; 't isn't worth a match against the two soldiers. Not yet, anyway.

[Crystal Heart]

Crystal stopped and stood with Maen and watched. She could feel the tension and instantly reacted.

Her sword flew out of its sheath and it cut clean through Roryn's arrow. Her eyes flashed wildly. She stood in front of him with her sword posed at his neck.

"Stand down," Crystal said quickly. She watched as he looked at her in shock. She was small, but she was much stronger then her small stature showed.

"There shall not be blood shed here, stand down."

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 12:07 PM February 08, 2004: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Eorl of Rohan]

Ferethor wavered on a verge of indicision at the offer of Atharen, his mind torn between his wariness and trust. He was about to speak when he was arrested by a sudden motion that he had not noticed.


He turned upon Roryn, without drawing his knife that he had sheathed. Seeing an arrow notched in his bow already, he stepped back, fear and anger mingled in his alert eyes. "Roryn, you'd better not be rash, even on behalf of your friend." He quietly warned. "Give me a reason and I'll shoot you down from where you stand." Roryn snarled.


At that, Ferethor slipped deceptively in a seeming misstep, and before Roryn could take bearing on his new position, he drew his knife and leapt up. His blade reflected a fiery gleam in his eyes, savage in its very intensity. "I'm at least a match for you, Roryn. Remember that before you threaten me again." The blade left his hand, and whistling over his shoulder, pinned Roryn's robe to a tree behind him.


Atharen said quietly, "Put it down NOW, Roryn!" Ferethor glanced at Aelimur, who sheathed his sword with an almost imperceptive shrug. He tensed as Atharen moved his hand, but he merely returned it to its sheath.


Crystal, who arrived at the situation too late, cried "Stand down!" Her knife cleaved Roryn's arrow instantly. "There shall be no bloodshed." Ferethor forced the blade out of the tree as he passed, smiling in the face of Roryn's fury. "Remember."


He was silent as he walked, in deep thought. 'This Roryn - who knows Atharen well - who is he? This matter ever reveals new mysteries. Atharen... Can I trust him? Whether I would or not, there is no choice left me.' Atharen's words rang in his mind over and over "I do ask you to trust me - as your errand's importance is'paramount', so is trust within this group. Can you trust me, or..."


Ferethor glanced at Atharen, who was watching him closely. Atharen raised an eyebrow, asking Ferethor silently if he had come to a decision. Ferethor hesitated, and then nodded.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 1:29 AM February 09, 2004: Message edited by: Eorl of Rohan ]

[Everdawn]

"Crystal is right, no blood will litter the streets!" Maén's voice was strong, "Im very disappointed in you all." she said quietly. “We are on the same side, or at least im paying you to be, so while you are under my contract, you will save whatever blood is to be spilled among you, the last thing I need is to explain a murder I had not planned for.” The murder that the spirit young woman had planned for was the murder of the infamous Guriel. She could tell that some were feeling guilty, and that was what she had hoped for. “I am no worrier, and Im not pretending to be, but what I do know is this my friends, a little kindness to you fellow man- or woman would not go astray on this journey.” She turned her backs on the company who were still cooling down after the hasty fight that would have been, and surveyed the area.

Large marble walls, windows… they were high and small, small enough for her or even Crystal to pass through, though they would need to stand on someone’s back at least to reach the height. No, that thought was pushed form her mind, Maén needed all of them to be able to help her, keeping soldiers at bey who were so often found protecting the more important of documents stored in the Minas Tirith Archives. And no doubt that the details of the military’s cover up on the Il Galoth betrayal would be stored in there. She knew where it was that she had to look and Maén Il Galoth was no stranger to picking locks.

“What are we to do here then my lady?” Aelimur asked.

“We are going to break into the Minas Tirith Archives.” She put simply, “There is something I need to justify to make sure that my Aunt Lysia is not wasting her money. I wrote to the king and asked for this information a few weeks ago, and they said Guriel did not exist. So I take that as a sign that I have to find it for myself, Elessar basically invited me in, so you see, It really isn’t breaking in, it’s more like, looking for a while at something which concerns me dearly.” A small smile played at the sides of her mouth and her hazel eyes sparkled with excitement. Of course it was madness to try and break into a Gondorian institution, but this was Maén, and nothing was too outlandish for her, besides, she thought that she might just get away with it.

[Eorl of Rohan]

Maen stopped in front of the white building and beckoned them closer. Ferethor, who tarried on the road, hastened. 'Minas Tirith Military Archives? But we have no access.' He wondered as he identified the building before them. Aelimur, who was likewise amazed, said "What are we to do here then, my lady??


“We are going to break into the Minas Tirith Archives.?Maen said quietly. “There is something I need to justify." Ferethor, taken off his balance by such an absurd suggestion, cried "Break in a Gondorian institution, Maen?" at which she smiled as she answered.


"I wrote to the king and asked for this information, and they said Guriel did not exist. So I take that as a sign that I have to find it for myself.?


"Maen! This is beyond madness, if such it be." Ferethor cried, aflame with fury. "Raid the Minas Tirith Military Archives for non-existing scrolls? Fool's errand! Flouting the authority, risking our lives and mission in a hopeless venture..."


Maen laughed derisively, tossing her head. "But this is my quest, Ferethor. If you quail at such a danger, you can leave. What harm can they do us, even if they catch us?"


Ferethor's voice sank as he said, "Minas Tirith Archive is one of the most closely defended place in Gondor. Silver-clad soldiers patrol it by the light of Anor and Ithil, never slackening their wariness. To force an entry will be considered treason to the country - and will be treated as such. Immediate death!" A dead silence fell among the party.

[Melisil]

Aelimur looked at Maen in suprise. "The military archives! Maen, forgive me, but this is madness! Elessar himself is probably the only Gondorian person or thing more guarded then here." Aelimur shook his head.

"So? We have to get in there, if we go without checking, we may miss out on very important details." replied Maen stubbernly.

Aelimur looked down as he thought. "I know it will be pointless to argue, but answer me this: How are we to get in?"

Maen looked at the others around her, "Well, we can figure that out with everyone. Two heads are better then one, they say!"

Aelimur sighed, "Alright."

Looking over to Ferethor to see his reaction, Aelimur could tell he still wanted to 'discuss' this further. Aelimur walked past Ferethor, pulling him over to a less crowded area.

"Ferethor, don't argue it too much. We are known too well as it is. Besides, we cannot disagree."

"And why not?!" Ferethor replied heatedly.

"For one thing, we will be left behind- failing our mission. For another thing, how bad can it get? And thirdly, well, we just can't! Think about it Ferethor, what other option do we have?" Aelimur asked, only semi-convincingly.

"Aelimur, you say this as a drunken man! You are overly excited! No, it does not seem as though there is another way, but there is. There must be. If we get caught Aelimur," Ferethor said warningly, "We will be killed. And even if we are not killed, our jobs will be taken from us, and our homes probably stolen. Aelimur, you can go; But I still need to talk to Maen a bit more about this."

Aelimur stood on the spot even after Ferethor turned, and walked over to where Maen was talking to the others. A drunken man! Me? Aelimur thought to himself for a moment. After rethinking his words though, he realized what a fool he sounded. Aelimur kicked himself for this, but he walked over to group none the less.

[Kransha]

Idruil hummed the tune of a song quietly to himself, scratching nonchalantly at the stubble around his beard. He sniffed the air, letting the cornucopia of smells fill him. The mélange was not particularly savory so he continued, gently kicking the haunches of his steed. He goaded the horse to the side, tugging on the reins to turn him. He proceeded down the angled streets of Minas Tirith, occasionally glancing up at the upper levels and sighing, then returning his gaze to whatever empty patch of street lay directly ahead of him.

His eyes looked up from beneath the tattered red hood to see the other people on nearby. Many were on foot, and some were rudely staring at him. He dismissed them, not caring who noticed him or what they thought of him. That never mattered to Idruil, others’ opinion. He only cared for his own needs and how they related to him. Some would call that selfish, but he considered it minding his own business. He didn’t need to get involved with other people unless they had something he wanted. He didn’t need money, although he often worked for it, and he didn’t need glory, which he had plenty of. All he wanted or needed right now was something to do and he intended to find just that.

The horse-mounted figure, hazel colored eyes half closed and scanning the area around him, contemplated and mused as his slightly rough voice continued the song. It was a wearily sung song, related by Idruil with little enthusiasm. It was a verse he’d learnt from chauvinistic warriors in Minas Tirith about “this great and wonderful land,” as they’d called it. A quant piece, not particularly good, but Idruil wanted to get his mind off of pointless nostalgia that was filling it.

”There is light on the hilltops, and light in the trees.
There is white in the city of Gondor, of Gondor!

When the sun hits the mountains, when the stars hit the sea,
There is white in the city of Gondor, of Gondor!
There is light in the cities of Gondor!”

Riding aimlessly had grown tiring now and Idruil resolved to get some exercise on his own two feet, rather than the four of a horse. The slow-moving steed halted and snorted impatiently as he swung his legs over its side and narrowly avoided falling off. He dusted himself off for no particular reason, as if cleansing himself of some grime that no one else could see, and grabbed the horse’s reins again with one hand. He staggered forward weakly, getting used to using his legs again and walked on, still as aimless as ever, through the streets with the horse close behind. Perhaps he could find some place to sit down and get a drink, which he sorely needed. He headed towards another clump of city buildings, talking to himself under his breath, and walked towards the foremost one. It was a large whitewashed structure, made of what looked like a single slab of burnished marble. To Idruil, all of the buildings on Minas Tirith’s seven levels where the same and he’d long ago grown bored. Many would scoff on his dismissal of the White City’s beauty, but he didn’t care for aesthetics. He looked up at the gentle sunlight bathing the Tower of Ecthelion, which loomed far above him, and the levels below him. He had to admit it was quite a sight to behold, but it had little architectural or colorful diversity. He preferred Pelargir and Linhir to this city, though this was considerably grander.

He found a small hitching post beneath a frail awning and swiftly tied his horse’s reins to it. He honestly didn’t care what happened to the horse, considering it wasn’t his. It brayed noisily as he turned around and walked briskly away, not knowing if he’d bother to come back for the steed. He picked up the pace for no apparent reason and walked beneath several more awnings and protruding roofs towards the wider road, which led to bigger and better things. Or at least he fervently hoped it led to bigger and better things.

He came to one of the few buildings in the vast city which he knew well; the Military Archives of Minas Tirith. He had seen or heard of other famous structures, like the Tower of Ecthelion itself and the Houses of Healing, but he was not familiarized with the layout of the seven levels, after being away in Lossarnach and Lebennin for a considerable amount of time. He looked up at the structure and assessed it with his cold eyes. He wandered around it, admiring the sternly set walls and various ornaments. He’d always wondered what it was like inside there, considering how much he enjoyed reading those stories and comparing him to his own humble tales. Of course, the archives were off limits, and heavily guarded.

[Eorl of Rohan]

"Aelimur, you say this as a drunken man! No, it does not seem as though there is another way, but there is. There must be." Ferethor said in anger, "Aelimur, you can go; But I still need to talk to Maen a bit more about this."


Aelimur, who backed off slightly in the face of Ferethor's wrath, ventured to ask. "Yet we were unable to stay this madness. What is to be done? Let us take thought and counsel each other." At that, Ferethor laughed bitterly. "You always counsel prudence, Aelimur. Alas, my comrade, yet at some moment prudence must fail - for the eyes that only gaze to easier path are ever closed. Indeed what advice canst thou give?"


Aelimur kept silent, knowing that Ferethor's fiery anger will abate into cold, logical thoughts. "I'd have to contact the Archives Guards." He said with distaste. "Flattery, bribes, threats... Whatever it takes, sicne we cannot reveal our secret errand. May Morgoth take camouflages we have to assume! Yet how can I shake off that ranger, Atharen?"


Aelimur suggested, "It is perilous for you to stray out of the company, since they keep such watch on you. Allow me to go in thy stead," Ferethor waved his hand in denial, his lips curling in a half-smile. "You've made nothign but enemies in your service. Next time, if there is one, alway remember - ally yourself with a powerful source. They may come in useful." With a military snap, he cast his cloak about his shoulder and turned to go.


"Stay!" Turning swiftly, Ferethor said, "We need haste. Be quick." Aelimur asked, "Were you joking when you said you'd do what you can to bribe or intimidate the guards?" After an incredulous pause, Ferethor said, "Hard tasks need hard ways." As he was leaving, he called out, "Aelimur, Manwe keep you safe!" Aelimur meditated cynically a moment, wondering who at the moment needed the protection of the Valars. Shrugging, he walked over to Maen.

[Everdawn]

“You don’t have to come then” Maén said shortly, “I don’t know about you but I happen to be very good at not being seen, or caught I-“ she cut herself short as the sleeve of her left arm rolled back revealing her scar, she stared at it for a second, as in surprise before pulling her sleeve up completely as if nothing had ever happened. “- im usually very good at it” she said in a weaker voice.

Maén looked once more at the building and again to the company and raising an eyebrow spoke. “Besides Ferethor, I thought you wanted revenge on Guriel, now don’t you tell me a building full of paper is going to stop you… Next ill be thinking that you aren’t who you appear to be.” She had meant it as a jest, but something clicked inside her mind and she looked at Ferethor again. “Curious” she muttered to herself. “Very curious.”

“And as for death Mister Ferethor, I am willing to do whatever needs doing to restore the honour of my house. That includes dying.” Taking off her satchel form around her shoulder she placed it at Aelimur’s feet. Look after this, I need to have a look around first.”

“IN the archives?” asked Roryn

Maén shook her head. “No, in the public library, which happens to be next to the archives. There are some very old doors and passages in there if I do remember from my old days as a student. I want to make sure they are all still there.” She took a second look at her companions. “Crystal, ill need you to serve as my lookout, as much as I hate to say it, two women will look less menacing than two rangers or many travellers.”

[Hama Of The Riddermark]

Roryn looked incredulously at Maen, then his face broke into a small grin and he shook his head as he chuckled. "Women" he said, "never cease to mystify me with acts of bravery such as this, especially when you take a look at most other women. By all means go ahead, but perhaps I and Atharen should make sure that you go unnoticed?"

Atharen looked at Roryn, questioningly. Roryn gave the tiniest of wry smiles and nodded imperceptibly. Distract people, try to hold the librarian up..., Atharen gave Roryn an exasperated look, he returned it LOOK as if you're interested...

[Eorl of Rohan]

Ferethor strolled into the public library in a seeming nonchalance, seeking for the concealed sentinels under civilian attire stationed in this structure. The hefty sandstone library was indeed a work of art, he thought in wonder, as he surveyed it in an appraising air for known countenances. ¡°Perahil.¡± He drew near and murmured to a youthful sentry that he knew well, dozing by the fire. ¡°I have a request of you.¡±


After a moment of listening, the youth doubtfully replied with amazement gleaming in his wide eyes. ¡°Certainly I could do so, sir, but I wonder at such an inexplicable command. I fail to see¡¦¡± Ferethor broke in, his tone perilously soft. ¡°I will have my will in this matter - without any inquiry.¡± At Perahil¡¯s subdued nod, Ferethor arose. Only then did he become aware of Atharen, who was staring at him intently with a slight frown. In annoyance, Ferethor approached him.

Crystal walked forward with Maen. It wouldn't be hard to break into anything as far as Crystal was concerned. She was a pro at that kind of thing. One had to be if it meant taking money from drunk men that have passed out on their beds. She had even gotten away with some money from a man that only had a non-alcoholic ale thing. She was quite besides herself with that man. He was terribly boring, but funny at the same time. An odd mix if you asked her.

She shrugged the thoughts off and followed. She wondered what it was they needed to take in such secrecy. The blood in her veins rushed through her as excitement pulsed. She walked past the men and smiled at Atharen as she passed. There was something about him that was making it harder for her to concentrate on the mission. She stopped her thoughts and scolded herself. This wasn't the time nor the place to be entertaining such thoughts. She wouldn't follow this pattern anymore.

Even as she thought this in her mind, she knew that it would be a hard task to follow. There was just something kind about him that made her feel different about the male gender as a whole. She didn't feel entirely safe with all men and probably never would, but he gave her the thought that maybe not all men were bad. Perhaps it was only the select few like her father that liked to be cruel and demanding.

She continued walking a head as she buried her thoughts.

[Melisil]

Aelimur took the satchel from Maen. "Sure, I'll hold it." he said to himself half-mockingly as she walked away. Roryn and Atharen followed her, as we as Ferethor and Crystal, whom Maen had called with her. Aelimur waited behind, hoping that Maen could do her inspection quickly. Yes, although you could say a bit for Aelimur, you couldn't say that he was patient.

Ferethor's ideas of 'persuasion' bothered Aelimur a bit as they waited. He wondered how many there would be, and how many Ferethor would try to corrupt. Aelimur whispered very quietly, partly to himself, partly to Ferethor, inside the Library, "Ferethor, pray, don't go too far."

Worry trickled over and around his mind as he said this. "Stop it Aelimur!" he commanded himself. The guard was not the kind to be worried or disgruntled, this quest was no exception. If only thoughts like these would be gone!

[Eorl of Rohan]

Atharen turned to meet him, leaving Roryn to deal with a rather bewildered librarian. Ferethor spoke in a low voice under the cover of murmur that pervaded the library. ¡°You say that my task need not be known to you, Atharen, yet you never cease to study me intently, aware of all my deeds. Curious I thought it was, particularly for one who claims to have no ill intent. If you wish to earn my amity and trust, will you not open your mind to me?¡±


At that, Atharen spread his hands in a sign of neutrality, but his voice was calm. "As you wish. I did not ask for your errand, but it is easy to guess. You were bidden to join this expedition under assumed name and status, to search out and destroy the renegade Il Garoth. Until that purpose was achieved you were to lend aid upon our journey, ever watchful and vigilant, as a secret sentinel - a bulwark such as Gondor is to the northern countries. I also deem that you have a personal vengeance against him, for your eyes gleam with naked hatred whenever his accursed name is mentioned. Tell me, captain; was this not your mission?"


Ferethor's countenance was darkened with thought as he answered. "You see and hear much that is hidden from other men, Atharen. But that is only to be expected of a kinsman of Lord Elessar and a descendant of Numenoreans. Your guess is not far amiss."


Atharen softly answered, "Responsibility is a heavy burden, Ferethor. Do I not know it well? You cannot, unaided, fend off the strife that will tear this company apart - nor can you be ever alert and wary against foes that will certainly assail us. If you try to stand alone in the passage of the storm, you will be beaten down. I ask again - will you not trust in me?"


Ferethor stood for a while in silence, seeking for wisdom and counsel in his innermost mind. "In this matter but little choice is given me," He spoke at last. "But one may choose while one still can. In this matter I deem that you speak the truth, Atharen of the Dunedain. Verily am I Ferethor Amandil, captain of Minas Tirith, as you guessed long ago. Your offer of comeraderie I will tkae, and in this I place my life and my task in your hands. Do not fail me." His grey eyes were softened by sincerety, as brittle ice may melt in the spring.


"I will not. But this I ask of you in return - to be frank and truthful as far as you can. Who was the man you conversed with, and what did you discuss?"

[Eorl of Rohan]

'What a proposal.' Del chuckled lightly as he listened to the Maen's plan. 'Yet what have I to lose? Going along for a ride might be fun.' Therefore he murmured his assent with all the rest of the group - wait, not all. Ferethor still looked like he had something to say, but was restrained by his companion, Aelimur.

Even as the sun climbed laboriously to the high heaven, Maen was in the public section of the library. Del noticed with some surprise that Ferethor went in with Maen, and voiced his opinion thoughtfully to the only person other then him that stayed behind - Aelimur.

"Strange." Del said, a frown creasing his brow, "Ferethor was against this expedition into the Military Archives if my memory does not fail me. Why does he go in with the others?" Aelimur was too occupied with his thought to reply, it seemed, and Del gave up trying to make conversation and went into the library for the lack of anything other to do.

Del passed Atharen and Ferethor talking in low voices byt he corner. Deliberately taking his place near them, he tried to overhear them, but failed to catch the conversation that was going on.

Atharen said, evidently taken off his balance, "Ferethor, so you've set yourself a task to deceive the citadel sentiniels in order to protect the expedition?"

Ferethor retorted, "Do you think we could possibly break in the Military Archives of Gondor without outside help? If you have any better ideas, Ranger, I'd like to hear it."

"Great Iluvatar... You are surely crazed..." Atharen said weakly. "I have a forboding that this may be more perilous then it seems." At that, Ferethor frowned. "Perilous? Certainly. But what isn't?"

[Crystal Heart]

Crystal walked over to Maen softly. She looked around. She wasn't sure what they were looking for.

"What is it we are looking for Maen?" Crystal asked lightly as she continued to survey her surroundings. The men were talking, making her feel uneasy. She didn't exactly like it when they looked like they were conspiring together. It made her feel as if they had a scheme or a dangerous plan of their own in their minds and possibly at work. She didn't know any of them and she wasn't sure how much they knew each other.

Yet she felt she could trust Atharen. She stopped the thought once again. The only person she could trust was Maen, the leader of this motley crew. This company of quest seekers for justice and revenge. How odd it was to gather such shady people for a mission such as this, yet she understood what Maen had done it. She would have done the same thing if when her father and her love, Arthur, had died. She would have if her father hadn't been so demanding and kept her at home with her overly protective nanny.

Crystal and Maen had a lot in common. They were a similar type of women. They weren't like the others, they weren't stuck up. Yes they were of higher standings, but both acted like any normal human should. It was one of the reasons Crystal trusted Maen so. Crystal had met a lot of higher standing women before, but all had thought so highly of whom they had married and what they had, but Maen was exactly like her in the aspect of not truly caring about the standings of society or social status.

Crystal wouldn't admit in a million years that she was semi-similar to other women in the thought process of finding a man attractive and even falling for him. She wouldn't admit that Atharen had captured her thoughts. Possibly even her heart in time, but it was just a silly crush that was pulsing through her. Why she had no idea, it wasn't as if she even truly knew him. Yet, there was something about him, his eyes perhaps, that made her feel this way. Yet again she shook away the thoughts. She didn't want to think this way, not on this mission. She had many other things to do then try to ponder the unponderable. She had to be wary of several of the other men in the company as well as protect Maen. She also had to make sure that her reflects didn't falter, that she was on guard at all times and at all places. Even when she felt even remotely safe. It wasn't the time nor the place to be thinking such thoughts and she wasn't going to entertain them until the quest was finally over.

As she promised this in her heart she began to wonder how she could even keep this promise. She had promised herself that when she met Arthur, but she couldn't keep that promise either. She sighed inwardly and decided she would have to deal with the feelings and thoughts as they came. It would be easier then breaking another promise to protect her own heart.

She stood, waiting for Maen's response as she continued to watch her surroundings.

[Kransha]

The figure, now with his hood removed, strolled around the gleaming white side of the archives and toward the subdued color of the sandstone-built library beside it. It was a less imposing structure, still looming above him but in no way foreboding or ominous, like the shadowy corridors of the Minas Tirith Military Archives. Idruil didn’t doubt that many of the dusty shelves hadn’t seen the hand of any man in years, unnoticed and neglected by all who past them. In some ways Idruil felt that he could identify with those volumes, despite the gnawing fact that they were inanimate objects. Many of them had seen the battles he saw, at least in a sense, and had had their day, read fervently by all in excitement and eagerness. Now they were useless tactical manuals of a forgotten time, nostalgic records of what had been that barely ever saw the light of day. Idruil supposed he wasn’t quite as old as he imagined, still only a little over his prime years, but he couldn’t see a way around his uselessness, unused and unneeded by most.

He wandered into the library, letting fort a heavy sigh which slowly became a yawn. It was still midday, but he was strangely tired. He saw many people milling around, tending to whatever business they wished. Idruil didn’t try to interfere, though he yearned for human interaction. No one in a library would have any solution to his problem. What he needed was that thrill of fiery action that he’d so long ago lost track of. He wanted to feel the cold warmth of a blade in his hand again, swinging mightily and smiting down his foes. Those days were over and the weathered man knew that. He walked around slowly, his feet dragging wearily behind him. The library wasn’t as calm as it usually was when Idruil came here. There were several people, both men and women, bustling around the place conspicuously. They didn’t really stand out, but some of them seemed to be trying too hard to look common. Idruil didn’t care, though. He had no reason to pry into other's affairs.

Despite his cynical and aimless nature, Idruil still enjoyed a good read about those nostalgic glories of long ago. He came to this library whenever he had time and leafed through the ancient volumes until he found something he could drown himself in. It was better than ale or pipe-weed in his opinion, even though a good draught could be very satisfying every now and then. Idruil knew the place well and could navigate its narrow halls with ease. He’d accidentally committed the contents and layout of the place to memory after coming there enough, so he felt at least partially at home in the building. He could walk within it and feel safe and as content as he could be, surrounded by tales of lore and war and things of reverence, some forgotten and some remembered still by Arda’s generations of the Fourth Age.

[Melisil]

Aelimur stood boredly outside. Del started to say something, Aelimur missed it though as he was thinking. He looked up a moment later to ask what he had said, but he had already moved inside.

Now the only one left standing outside of their company, Aelimur walked over to the door of the Library. Inside, he noted that the company had split into small groups. Ferethor and Atharen were talking in hushed voices, Maen and Crystal were standing together, looking around at certain parts of the Library. Roryn and Del were for the moment not doing much it seemed.

Aelimur walked over to Del, seeing as it would be more interesting talking to someone. He would have normally gone up to Maen to ask if there was something he could do, but at the moment she seemed fairly busy.

"Del, were you saying something to me earlier?" Aelimur asked, trying to start a bit of a conversation.

[Eorl of Rohan]

"Well, it just seems that we are out of the picture, doesn't it?" Del waved his hand in the general direction of Maen. "Look at them. Maen and Crystal is off examining some cracks in the wall, your serious and silent chum Ferethor stowed himself and Atharen in some corner talking in low voices, and Roryn is busy trying to divert the librarian. Well, what are we doing here?"

Aelimur was about to answer thoughtfully, but Del spoke first. "And your pal Ferethor is a strange chap. He and Atharen drew blades against each other about an hour ago, and now they look like they have been comrades for ever. He opposed the adventure into this building from the start, yet he doesn't look like a skulking coward. I mean, that's strange."

[Amanaduial the archer]

"Perilous, yes - but what isn't?"

Atharen regarded the man unblinkingly, then sighed. "If you wish to put yourself in danger, I will not stop you." He leaned back against the wall, one foot flat against the wall to hold him, resting his head back, and watched Ferethor from under his eyelashes. "But what of your alliance to Gondor? Does that not hold you from this?"

"I promised Maen my services and I do not intend to harm Gondor anyway - I will simply protect the quest." Ferethor's voice was slightly harder than before. Atharen let his eyes flit up towards the sky and shrugged very slightly.

"Fair enough, fair enough..but it is a capital offence. Do you not wonder why?"" His murmuring voice was once again infuriatingly calm and Ferethor glared at him, replying curtly, "Does your so called alliance to Gondor not command you to stop me?"

Atharen grinned slightly, his eyes still facing upwards. "Well, I'm not the one doing the breaking and entering now, am I?"

"If you have a better idea, ranger, speak up!" Ferethor snapped, his old distrust rising once more. Atharen held up his hands but didn't say any more. Ferethor sighed angrily. "I know not how I can be expected to trust you when you give me so little reason to, ranger!"

Atharen's head came down sharply and he looked Ferethor in the eyes. "I haven't given you reason not too, have I?"

Not knowing an answer to this, the hot-tempered guard didn't reply, just glared frustratedly at Atharen before sighing angrily and turning on his heel to walk towards Aelimur. Atharen smiled to himself, then it faded as he watched Aelimur and Ferethor conversing. No matter what the man said, Atharen very much doubted he would trust him at all if he had not guessed his secret mission - this way, Ferethor was quite probably only trusting the ranger because he didn't really have a choice. Now it was Atharen's turn to sigh, not angrily but frustratedly. Such hot-headedness, impulsiveness and distrust did not bode well for the future, and the ranger was beginning to wonder why exactly he was here.

Glancing over at Maen and Crystal, Atharen was surprised to see Crystal jerk her head back to Maen as he caught her gaze, and if he wasn't very much mistaken, the tips of her ears had gone slightly red. He raised his eyebrows. What have I done to make her feel uncomfortable? And why would one of such a fiery disposition keep so quiet about her discomfort in this way? he thought, frowning slightly. His dark eyes lingered on Crystal for a moment, but when she didn't turn, he looked away, his eyes moving onto the traveller...who was watching him with quite as much interest.

[Eorl of Rohan]

Atharen locked his gaze with Ferethor's for a split moment. "I haven't given you reason not too, have I?"

Ferethor turned his face away to avoid revealing his impulsive fury at the Ranger's insolent attitude. However, he knew that it would be of little use, for Atharen would see through him anyway. "Atharen is not the enemy I have to battle." Ferethor thought, brutally casting his anger from his thought to allow for more rational and logical plans. "The Renegade Il Garoth is."

[Aredhel Ar-Feiniel]

Maén barely cast another glance in Crystals direction as she strode towards the library entrance. “ We are looking for a way in. I don’t want to have to go in through the window above where we were outside. Maén was glad that Crystal had come with her and was not afraid of a challenge, an adventurous spirit to her was always favourable in a woman. Perhaps in time she would consider Crystal a friend. Besides, the blade of the young girl might come in handy in an assassination attempt, after all Maén’s abilities with a sword were limited and she was small in frame and stature that any many who may attack her with a blade might in fact come off better than she, stealth was Maén’s friend and ally, that she could always be sure of.

“Ive been here before.” She muttered to Crystal who tagged along behind her as she wandered in and out of the endless shelves of books. “A long time ago, very long time…” most of the place was dark, lit only in other places by torches, a true building of old.

“Ive never seen anything so big before” mentioned Crystal staring around with awe.

“And that’s why it’s going to be better for us to go in today.” Maén noted mischievously, “of course, if some don’t want to come in like our friend Ferethor, they are welcome to stay put- ” she stopped dead before another hall which was behind closed doors. “-That’s where we need to go, sugar! It’s just that we need to find another way in, if only we could ask someone… insane of course, but never the less.” She looked about her with a questioning look on her face, hoping that by some chance someone would know how.

[Hama Of The Riddermark]

Roryn looked exasperatedly at the librarian. "I know that its a very obscure subject...no...no I don't want to go and look for it myself, I want you to show me it..." Finally the librarian sighed and mutterd "Right." Roryn followed him up the steps into the section he was looking in, and gave a nod to Maen. Look now, and be swift.

"What subject did you want again?" The librarian asked. "Anything you can find on the mechanisms of the troll body." Roryn chuckled, he could scarcely think of a more pointless subject, so it was bound to keep the librarian looking for a long time. He continued to look along the bottom shelf, then, faling to find it, moved to the top...Roryn looked down...Maen was still there, he gave a mroe pronounced now, and a hand gesture, Hurry.

[Melisil]

Del looked at Aelimur, "Well, it just seems that we are out of the picture, doesn't it? Look at them. Maen and Crystal are off examining some cracks in the wall, your serious and silent chum Ferethor stowed himself and Atharen in some corner talking in low voices, and Roryn is busy trying to divert the librarian. Well, what are we doing here?"

Aelimur was ready to reply, when Del continued, "And your pal Ferethor is a strange chap. He and Atharen drew blades against each other about an hour ago, and now they look like they have been comrades for ever. He opposed the adventure into this building from the start, yet he doesn't look like a skulking coward. I mean, that's strange."

Aelimur nodded laughing slightly, "It doesn't leave us anywhere in particular. And as or Ferethor," he nodded in his direction, "even I cannot say what is going round his head."

This was really one of the first times, but certainly not the last, that Aelimur felt slightly pressed to lie. He had not fully lied though, as though he had an idea of what Ferethor was doing, it wasn't much of one.

Aelimur cast his glance around the old building. "You would not think this place was made for public audience, would you?" he whispered softly to Del. The Library was beautiful. Gracefully carved designs on everything, many of the books were jewel encrusted.

It mistified Aelimur quite completedly.

[Eorl of Rohan]

“I have done as you desired, Captain Ferethor.” Perahil murmured. “The sentinels will stay by the outer garrison until darkness falls.” Then he handed a small key to Ferethor. It was silvery key gilt with gold and etched with an ensign of White Tree of Gondor – the key of the entrance of the concealed Hall of Archives.

With a breath of relief, he thanked the Gondorian youth. However, Perahil avoided his gaze as if he was uncomfortable. Ferethor wondered for a moment of this strange behavior, but dismissed it casually. A fatal mistake.

Ferethor approached Maen silently, near enough to overhear her last comment, “Of course, if some does not want to come in like our friend Ferethor, they are welcome to stay put. There is the entrance! It’s just that we need to find another way in…”

He could not restrain himself from a smile. “As it happens, the craven who doesn’t want to come in could aid you.” Pretending to not notice their guilty surprise, he opened his hand. “The key.”

“Where did you obtain it?” Maen asked sharply. Ferethor shrugged off that inevitable question, saying “You need not know. Surely, you won’t back out at the last minute, Maen Il Garoth? Let us enter.”