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Tags: Indoron,  Sul,  Baradil,  Tuil's Logs

Short Summary: A farmer's son, Baradil, comes to Minas Tirith in search of his fortune and a new pair of boots. Indoron does what he can to help.
Date (real-life): 2014-03-07
Scene Location: Minas Tirith: Before the Great Gates
Date (in-game): May 12, 3061
Time of Day: Dusk
Weather: Clear

Minas Tirith: Before the Great Gate(#1247RtAo)

Long ago, the Kings of the Sea came and established the city before you, naming it Minas Anor, the Tower of the Setting Sun. Since that time long ago, it had been renamed to Minas Tirith, the City of Stone, yet in shape it remains as it was wrought in the ancient world.

For the fashion of Minas Tirith is such that it is cut from the hard horn of Mindolluin and it has been built on seven levels, each delved into the hill, and about each is set a wall, and in each wall is a gate. Yet the gates are not set in a line and only by going back and forth through the levels with their walls of glistening black stone, cutting through the vast pier of rock whose huge out-thrust bulk divides the city can one achieve the High Court and the Place of the Fountain before the White Tower.
Even though it is night, there are many lanterns and lights coming from the city. Restless lights ever on the watch against the foes of Gondor.

Obvious exits:
 South leads to Festival Grounds.
 Stables leads to Stables.
 East leads to Pelennor Fields: Crossroads.
 North leads to Anorien: North of Mount Mindolluin.
 Gate leads to Minas Tirith: Inside the Great Gate.

Weather:            Rainy
Time:               Nighttime <00:50:39 >
Season:             Spring
Date:               Oraearon - May 12, 3061
Real Time:          Fri Mar 07 15:16:53 2014

The sun has fallen behind the looming peaks of the Ered Nimrais, leaving the sky a fading crimson below the gathering inky shade of evening. The day has been warm, the air filled with dust from a caravan that clatters through the gate. The smells of the city are also borne on the air, both exotic and less so.

Before the gate, walking steadily a tall man comes. Around him a dusty cloak is bound; his roughly shod feet stumble as if lame. His stubbled jaw is set in a deep grimace as he spies the caravan ahead.

Indoron is among those guards who stand before the Great Gate of Minas Tirith and direct the caravan forward while inspecting for the purpose of taxation and interdicting contraband. The captain nods to his subordinate and then turns to look across the Pelennor. In doing so, Indoron sees the man in the dusty cloak stumble forward towards the gate. Seeing him looking this way, Indoron waves for a couple of soldiers to accompany him and then he walks out to meet the newcomer.

In the Common Speech, Indoron calls, "Hail, are you in need of assistance?"

The mans gaze shifts to follow the movement of the tall man emerging from the gate. His eyes move quickly over the man to his uniform and then his gaze falls. With a sigh he begins to pad carefully again. Yet as the soldiers voice rises in greeting, the youth raises his head again.

"Good evening M'Lord. I am well enough..." a bitter smile softens Baradil's face and he nods towards his feet. "Nothing wrong with me that a good pair of boots wouldn't have helped. But it seems boots walk off themselves on the road these days. May I enter the gate M'Lord? I need to find work and lodgings before night falls proper."

Indoron looks Baradil over with judging eyes and then answers, "All Men of Gondor who have not been outlawed may enter the lower levels of the City without having to know the Lesser Passwords."

The captain motions for Baradil to continue forward, "If you wish, my men will carry you to the Old Guesthouse on a litter where your feet will be tended by a healer. I doubt you will easily find work in your current condition. Few will wish to hire on a lame man."

The younger man shakes his head. "No M'Lord, my thanks but I will be well. My feet have blistered is all." With a flush of red in his cheeks the young man clears his throat. "My boots - my fathers boots rather were stolen whilst I was washing on the banks of the Lossarnach. I hoped to enter the city clean and as presentable as a poor man might be. Yet my boots - well like I said, they just upped and walked off." He motioned to the caravan. "I was hoping them fellows had espied my boots as they were passing about the time my boots ran off. Maybe they might have heard the sounds of my coin jingling- little though it was."

Looking towards the gate his eyes raise upwards. "In truth it is even more vast than my childs memories." his voice was soft with awe, spoken almost to himself.

Waving off the soldiers who accompany him, Indoron turns back to Baradil, curious now. "The White City is a city out of memories, yes." He smiles at the thought and then asks, "What work do you think you are fit for? Have you any skills?"

"Ought save farming. My fingers carry a blight or so my father said. Now he was a farmer - I was able to help him, but he passed on this winter. I thought to try to hold the farm, yet every day that followed Spring it was clear that it was not for me." He looked at the guard and shook his head. "No proper skills more than that though M'Lord. I can shoot a bow well enough, I have shoed a horse. After my Ma' passed I learnt to cook. I have caught fish, though I am no fisherman."

He smiled "I am big enough and I am fool enough to try anything. I hoped Minas Tirith would have need of such folk."

Indoron rubs his chin as he thinks. "You are not a farmer. Hmm. Have you thought at all about soldiering? It seems natural for a man who knows how to shoe a horse and use a bow. A man with such skills would be very useful. And," Indoron smiles here, "One of our soldiers, a lad named Silmir, is a fisherman. No doubt he would bend your ear with anglers' lore should you wish to know more."

The youth lifts his gaze again to Indoron, but the grimace that he had worn returned. "I am almost a score sir. I would have thought you would seek lads younger than I to soldier. I never swung a sword that weren't a branch. I fear I would have much and more to learn." He chuckled and shook his head. "M'Lord I will stop telling you my ills lest I do make soldier, for you all shall find them soon enough."

Turning his head back towards the gate."Who would I speak to about... soldiering? In truth, I could see myself earning a days meal with a bow, mayhap even a spear."

"I am captain of the Company of the Silver Ship and it is within my power to admit you should you wish to take the Oath." Indoron nods while looking at Baradil. "A man who has seen a score of years is not too old. A sword is not the only weapon we use. The spear, the bow, both of these are our weapons as well. And as I said, shoeing horses is not a bad skill to have as we have outriders to guard our line of march."

Indoron turns to Baradil. "Joining the armies of Gondor is not for the timid. It is hard, sometimes even daunting, but we serve a greater purpose, the defense of not only Gondor, but all of the Westlands."

Baradil's eyes widen a little, again his gaze falls. His voice rises solemnly. "M'Lord Captain, I am not timid, nor am I fool enough to doubt that it will take less than all my strength to serve well. Yet I would take your oath. I would speak it this very moment... yet I have a question."

Looking back at the caravan as it began disappearing from view into the bustling street, torches flared offering their wavering light, the young man raised his gaze to Indoron. "Is it fair to say, a man who was looking to be a soldier and say the oath shouldn't go and find that theiving bastard who stole my Da's boots and beat him bloody?" He looked again back to the Captain. "Those boots will be sold on the morrow and they'll be gone to me. My few coins they'll be spent tonight. I would rather find the fellow and convince him he made an error before he parts with them." The young man rubs his chin and sighs. "Yet I shall heed my Captain."

Indoron shakes his head. "That conduct is frowned upon, yes, though the man no doubt deserves it if what you say is true. In any case, should you join, you will be fully outfitted with gear, including boots. Have no fear! The armies of Gondor are not what they once were, but they are not in such a state that their men must walk into battle barefoot like savages."

Baradil nods "I will leave that man. It is well I met you, for I fear I might have been thrown out fo the gates for the bother I had in my mind. The matter is ended, but know this a thief was among that caravan. I may not beat him, but I hope you catch him at it." Bowing low the youth speaks in a clear voice, without hesitation. "M'Lord Captain tell me the words to speak. I will serve Gondor with my life. I will use the last of my strength, standing before any foe that dare challenge." He looked up at the captain smiling. "My name is Baradil M'Lord Captain and I am ready to serve."

"'"Here do I swear fealty and service to Gondor, and to the Lord and Steward of the realm. To speak and to be silent, to do and to let be, to come and to go, in need or plenty, in peace or war, in living or dying, from this hour henceforth, until my lord release me, or death take me, or the world end. So say I...'"

Indoron speaks the words for Baradil to repeat and then adds, "At the end, declare yourself and your father so that all know your name and that of your kin."

"Here do I swear fealty and service to Gondor, and to the Lord and Steward of the realm. To speak and to be silent, to do and to let be, to come and to go, in need or plenty, in peace or war, in living or dying, from this hour henceforth, until my lord release me, or death take me, or the world end. So say I Baradil, son of Barlam." the words are spoken slowly and carefully. The younger man nods once, resolved and smile spreads across his face; a mixture of pride and embarassment mingling in equal measure. Holding his tongue Baradil awaits the Captain's response.

Standing tall, Indoron delivers solemnly his own part of the ancient formula.

"And this do I hear, Indoron of the House of Telumehtar, Captain of the Company of the Silver Ship of the Hosts of Gondor, as representative of Denethor, Ecthelion's son, Lord of Gondor, and Steward of the High King: We will not forget it, nor fail to reward that which is given: fealty with love." Here Indoron firmly rests a hand on Baradil's shoulder and then he goes on. "Valor with honor, oath breaking with vengeance." The last clause is delivered with great warning.

He waves then with his free hand even as he finishes and calls out to the soldier who responds, "Man-at-Arms, you are to escort this new Soldier of Gondor to our barracks. There he is to be outfitted and his feet treated. Teach him the Lesser Passwords. He will serve under Master Gilion."

Baradil rises, bowing to Indoron. "My thanks Captain." The Man-at-Arms hastens to follow the instructions and Baradil, watching his salute to Indoron does his best to mimic the action. Following the soldier, the younger man walks through the gait that spoke not of blistered feet or weary limbs, but of pride and a determination to keep step and time with the well drilled soldier. Only the clamped jaw of the erstwhile farmer belied his apparent ease.
The sun slowly rises in the sky, spreading its brilliant light upon Gondor.

Indoron walks back to the rest of the guards. To the chief among them, he speaks quietly, "Inform the City Watch to keep the men of this latest caravan under watch. Should any thefts be reported in the district of the city were they are lodged, they should be investigated first. Our newest soldier claims one of them likes to steal. We know how to deal with itchy fingers."


Date added: 2014-03-08 15:09:44    Hits: 83
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