(Archive) The Fellowship of the Sword 11 - An Interview with Saruman

The Fords of Isen are cloaked in darkness. There is no moon, and all is silent apart from the gentle flow of water. No movement comes from the Gondorian camp, for everyone is sound asleep, save for the few squires on sentry duty. One such squire, Morrandir leans against a tree, carving a small piece of wood with the knife he recieved from the Steward.

Mathollor Stands wrapped in his cloak and with the hood pulled up against the drizzle. His back is to the fire that casts an errie half light as it spits, hisses and dies under the onslaught or the rain. He shakes his head in disgust scattering large drops of rain before a large sneeze convulses him followed by bright laughter. This is a night for no sentries or many more, as I cannot see my hand in front of my face. I think the cold will carry me off faster than any assasins knife Morr."

From the main tent, Indilzar emerges in full travel gear. He then calls out, "Squires! Present yourselves!"

Looking to Mathollor, Morrandir grins. "Indeed friend..." he pauses at the arrival of the Lord Bragollach. Casting away his carving and sheathing his knife, he walks toward Indilzar and bows. "Sir?"

Mathollor snaps up straighter as he finshes speaking his body moving reflexively into a parade ground stance that scatters water and knocks his hood back. This causes water to run down his face and helmetthat he ignores as he stares straight ahead.

Indilzar looks to those present and then says, "Break down the camp. Today, we shall come to Isengard and the halls of the White Wizard."

Hastily leaving the tent he was in, the squire Maernus goes to present himself before Indilzar. He salutes the Knight. "Yes sir!" He just as hastily clods off, starting to dissasmble a nearby tent.

Morrandir's eyes widen. "Of course, Sir." he stammers, joining Maernus in the disassembling of the tent.

Mathollor snaps off a quick bow his face brightening and the firelight reflecting off his bright grin as he jumps to his task. The foul weather seems forgotten in his eagerness to be travelling on once again.

Indilzar looks to the fords and then mounts his black horse, Morang. Glancing once again to the fords he then calls his friend Huan to his side. The great hound comes by him and he pets his great head, "Now Huan, together we have journeyed far. May our luck hold still."

Mathollor finshes gathering his assigned material and after depositing it onto a cart he runs to the picket lines. Quickly he saddles his horse and moves it up beside Lord Indilzar.

Indilzar looks backupon the campand then nods, "Come now, let us go forth." Then with a click of reins, he begins to lead the party on the way to the fords.As the company rides onward, Indilzar looks through the mists and up north toward the wizard's vale. He then says to Mathollor, "Our own folk built that place: Isengard it is called by the folk of Rohan, but also Orthanc."

"So I shall finally gaze upon the Fourth Tower of Gondor..." mutters Morrandir as he rides.

Nodding to Morrandir, Indilzar says, "Indeed, but it has been long since our own folk have dwelt therein."

"Angrenost, Circle of Iron," Doran remarks, almost casually as he checks his horse to a trot behind the Bragollach's steed. The studies of the squire have been of little use up until now. He draws the hood of his dark blue cloak further down in front of his face as he crouches forward in the saddle. The young man shivers against the chill of the heavy mist.

"Does not now Saruman hold Isengard in the name of Gondor, sir?" Maernus inquires, as he rides along the road. He scans the road left and right, seemingly nervisouly.

"Then learn it well Mathollor-Squire," says Indilzar slowly as his breath steams in the mountain air.

Then Indilzar smiles for the first time that day at Doran's words and he says, "So it was called. A fair place it is said."

"Aye Maernus," replies Indilzar to the squire, "the Stewards long ago gave its keeping to Curunir, whom the Rohirrim call Saruman. No folk of Gondor dwell here now."

"If memory serves Sir, was it not simply forgotten by Gondor?" inquires Morrandir, riding up beside the Bragollach. "Until the last few Gondorians were driven out by the locals?"

The sun rises over the fields of Angrenost and Caradhras glows to the north.

"No Morrandir," says Indilzar as they grow closer to the Rock even as the dawning comes, "we were not driven out, for no foe has ever taken that place. When you see it, you shall know why."

"Really Sir? I inquired about it to the few Rohirrim I met. They said...well what would they know..." he mumbles, and is silent."

"They say that Angrenost is unbreakable, that nothing can break that great circle. Is it that correct or just rumor spread by the Rohirrim?" Maernus says, riding slightly behind the the squire Morrandir.

"Many rumours surround the pinnacle of Orthanc," says Indilzar, "and the Men of Rohan have sung that it was wrought by the hands of giants. Yet that is not so, for the craft of Numenor was used by Elendil and his sons to make that place. It is strong and hard and can withstand the blows of anything that we may contrive in this latter day, save perhaps some violence of the earth that may rent it asunder. But Morrandir, do not say what they would know, for the Rohirrim are wise in their fashion. They keep no books, but sing many songs."

Mathollor looks out across the land his face calm and distant as he listens. "I wonder how long it has been since men of Gondor walked here"

"Aye, Sir. They can certainly sing..." says Morrandir, gazing about him in wonder. "Well, this White Wizard must be great indeed for the Stewards to present him with a stronghold such as this..."

"Amarthion was here," says Indilzar, "as well as Sirion. Yet come, let us seek out Curunir."

Indilzar rides silently through the vale, looking upon the trees and then the river Isen. He does not comment on what Mathollor says, he seems lost in thought.

The shield-bearer of the Prince has fallen silent now, his mount's pace slackening until Doran finds himself at the rear of the party as they jog along. He makes no effort to catch up to the leaders now, though, and is content to scan the surrounding countryside. His keen eyes lock on to the dreadfully high pinnacles of Orthanc for a few moments, before he wrenches his gaze back to the road before him. It seems to take some effort to tear his eyes from that looming, black tower. Shifting in his saddle he slumps down to scan the roadway leading to the circle of Isengard.

Padraig arrives from the north.

Morrandir's horse whinnies gently, looking about with interest. Morrandir pats it gently on the neck, still gazing about in awe.

Even as they ride up the company can see the gates. It is then that Indilzar calls the company to a halt. He waits silently looking up at them.

Mathollor looks quickly between the Knight and the gates. His horse begins to prance slightly as it reads his mood"

The Great Ringwall of Isengard rises up out of the misty dawn. Atop its walls, and its barbican are small figures that move about under the snapping banners that mark this stronghold as the home of Saruman the White. Suddenly a trumpt blast from atop the wall, and a the gates begin the slow process of opening.

Glancing to the others, Indilzar laughs, "It looks like we are expected."

Mathollor pulls back on his horses reins as it starts at the momentary noise before drawing himself up and sitting straighter. "It would seem so My Lord, hopefully as honoured guests"

"And why not Mathollor?" says Indilzar pulling the gloves on his hands tighter, "Are we not allied with Curunir?"

The clean-limbed steed of the young Isilrim capers a bit nervously as the trumpet rings out from the mall. Mastering his horse and glancing about, a slightly sheepish expression on his face, Doran remains at the rear of the small mounted company. He does, however, lean forward to hear any word that may come from the leading knights.

[Morrandir(#24549)] Morrandir nods to the Bragollach, forcing a grin. "So we are finally to meet Curunir the wise..." he says slowly.

Mathollor nods his head "Yes Sir we are, but this quest has me on edge till I am jumping at my own shadow. I think I never wish to hunt again" as he finishes speaking he shakes his head as if to clear it. As he speaks his head tilts upwards to study the mighty walls before them.

[Morrandir(#24549)] "And we are allied to our Lord Steward also," says Morrandir, "Though falling beneath his stern gaze is never a pleasant experience..."

[Indilzar(#10108)]
"Not allied," corrects Indilzar, "for even the Prince is in Denethor's service."

[Maernus(#17520)] "I wonder how long our approach has been known, perhaps before we even got out of Gondor." Maernus says, watching the walls with his dark eyes. The squire looks to the sides, on occassion still. He glances towards Morrandir, "We are servants of a servant of the Lord Steward, Morrandir."

"Curunir has many friends," says Indilzar to Maernus, "and we have not made our errand secret. There is no doubt the wizard has known of our quest for some time."

A lone rider stands in the opening that was the gates. He is simply armored, a suit of fine studded leather, each stud glittering in the morning light. In his stirup a long spear is firmly planted, the small banner at its top moves gently in the wind. "Welcome Travelers!" He shouts out, the long tunnel behind him echoing his words. "The Lord of these halls have been expecting you since you entered into the Vale. He makes no move, but continues his speach, "No enemies come to seek Lord Saruman, and so he surmises that you are friends. Afirm his words to me, and entrace you shall have."

Mathollor tilts his head to one side and glances at Morrandir then Maernus. " And there is long road ahead of us in his........." his words drift away as he turns in his saddle towards the rider in the gateway, his eyes narrow as he studies him.

It is Indilzar who speaks now to the messenger of Curunir, "Friends we are, servant of Curunir. Men of Gondor are we who have ridden the long leagues from the sunny fields nigh the Anduin to seek our ally for counsel at need. I am Indilzar, son of Indilkhor of the House Bragollach of Gondor and a knight of the Prince Imrahil by the sea."

The rider tips his spear in honor of the reply given. "Then Knights of Gondor, Saruman the Wise welcomes you into his home as honored guests. He awaits you as we speak in the Tower of Orthanc beyond the Ringwall. Follow me, and I shall show you the way." He turns his mount around, and begins to head into the darkened tunnel that leads into Isengard.

With a nod to the others and a click of the heels, Indilzar follows the rider of Saruman, leading his company.

Indilzar passes between the open gates of Isengard under the watchful gaze of many guards.

At last the company comes to the tower and Indilzar looks up at it, "BEHOLD! Orthanc! Mount Fang, whither the Lords of the West wrought the defense of the west."

Here stands a tower of marvellous shape. It was fashioned by the builders of old who smoothed the Ring of Isengard, and yet it seems a thing not made by the craft of Men, but riven from the bones of the earth in the ancient torment of the hills. A peak and isle of rock it is, black and gleaming hard: four mighty piers of many-sided stone are welded into one, but near the summit they open into gaping horns, their pinnacles sharp as the points of spears, keen-edged as knives. Between them is a narrow space where a man might stand 500' above the plain. This is Orthanc, the citadel of Saruman, the name of which has a twofold meaning in the elvish speech _Orthanc_ signifies Mount Fang, but in the language of the Mark of old, the Cunning Mind.

Roads spoke out from the center piece, in each of the cardinal directions. While a smaller road wraps itself sungly around the tower in search of the entrance.

The party now comes about the tower and follows the messenger of Saruman to the place appointed.

[Maernus(#17520)] Gazing up at the tower, Maernus stammers out. "You could probably see Gondor from on the top of this...." his muttering dies out and he follows the others along the path.

Padraig dismounts, another man standing watch takes the reigns, he nods to those arriving. "Thank You Stable Master." Padraig says, "You may leave your horses in his care, he will see to it that they are taken to the stables an propperly tended too."

Indilzar nods and then dismounts from Morang. He then glances to the others and says at last to Padraig, "Our thanks, you serve your master well."

Mathollor smiles and dismounts his hand already reaching for the reins of Lord Indilzars mount. as he takes the reins he leads both towards the stable master before hurrying back.

Indilzar nods to Mathollor, "Well done squire."

[Morrandir(#24549)] Morrandir dismounts, almost falling as he gazes upward. "Remarkable..." he says, leaving his horse in the care of the stable master.

Padraig says, "I am but a humble man, graced with the good fortune to have come under the care of Lord Saruman." He points to the tower, "Few enter into there, and many an audiance is held here, undernerth his favored balcony. You however are honored with the chance to enter into the tower, Saruman awaits your arriave within. Follow, if you would.""

Maernus leads his horse to the stable master, after dismounting, before walking back to where Indilzar stands. The squire still looks up at the tower for the most part, nearly tripping himself a number of times.

Indilzar nods and then says to the others, "Lead on then."

Mathollor bows his head quickly as he falls behind Lord Indilzars left hand side.

Silent as he enters the tower, Indilzar looks upon the doors and his eyes narrow.

[Erchirion(#29344)] Nary but a step or more behind the Bragollach comes Erchirion, son of Imrahil, quiet even as his eyes flow about the room taking in as much as he can.

Padraig pushes the Shapire Door open, "Saruman the White awaits within. I shall stand watch here until you are finished. I regret to say that no one is allowed beyond this chamber, save for the Shapire door." He holds that door open.

Mathollor Eyes seem to look over the room in a lazy indolent manner, though none the less they never stray far from their guide.

[Indilzar(#10108)]
As the company enters the hall, it is Indilzar who is first. Immediately his eyes are captured by the banners of the various languages. These take up his thought and he says aloud, "Why that one is the Adunaic! And there is one in Quenya."

[Indilzar(#10108)] Indilzar until his first words has been silent. He then says, "Our chambers? We did not intend to stay."

Erchirion turns now to the Lady and the Lord, "Perhaps my Lord Indilzar," Erchirion speaks again, "But I believe the White to have made different plans for us. We should do as we are bid, for I believe it to be the quickest way to learn what we need before we begin again on the road."

Mathollor looks to the Knight before turning back towards the woman his face curving into a polite smile as he bows quickly.

[Sarrah(#28194)] Stopping and turning to face Indilzer, lowering her eyes. "I am sorry if that was not mentioned before you arrived, but Saruman requests your company for dinner and felt that this might be more of a relaxed visit?" Smiling up to all the different faces

Indilzar glances back at the company, "We would not wish to disappoint Curunir. Show us the way."

Erchirion falls once more into silence with a flash of a smile upon his lips.

[Maernus(#17520)] Nodding to Indilzar, Maernus quickly and slightly bows to Sarrah. He glances towards Mathollor and Morrandir, then goes back to staring at the banners.

[Sarrah(#28194)] Standing quietly as the guests decide what they desire? Looking from face to face. "Will you stay for the meal or did you just want to wait here? I still can show you to a place to freshen up." Turning again to a door..

Mathollor half starts forward to follow the Lady before stopping to study Lord Indilzar.

Indilzar turns to Arnafel and Erchirion, "Let us follow the Lady then meet with this wizard."

Indilzar nods to the Lady and says, "By your leave Lady, lead on."

Erchirion nods, "I hate to tarry, but I do not wish to anger our host."

[Sarrah(#28194)] Waiting at the door with a small smile and watching the guests..Sarrah stands tall. "He will be pleased you too decided to stay" Showing to your rooms and returns to the hall to wait

[Indilzar(#10108)]
After a span of time, the company, now refreshed from the long road once again meets in the chamber.

Indilzar emerges and shakes his head as if questioning something in his mind. He waits for the others.

Mathollor paces idly along the hall, his boothells ringing on the floor as he waits on the others.

Mathollor turns quickly and moves to join the Knight.

[Morrandir(#24549)] Morrandir wanders in behind Mathollor, looking rather nervous, yet not unhappily so.

But a few moments later, Tamran also appears in the chambers. He gaze is fixed upon the knight and squires, which he quickly joins.

[Erchirion(#29344)] Returning to this place after his time spent washing away the dirt and grime of the long days of travel, Erchirion takes note of all those present, waiting for the rest to join them, his eyes upon the banners.

Mathollor speaks quietly as he sees others approaching "Is something troubling you My Lord ?"

Maernus enters around the time that Morrandir does, however he looks around. He notices Tamran, "Oh...so there you Tamran. I was wondering where you went off to."

[Sarrah(#28194)] Smiling, "welcome back. Saruman is expecting you and I have been given charge to show you to his chamber." Stepping lightly accross the floor towards the group. "Follow me please"

High Council Chamber(#18068Rn)
A great council room of white marble walls flecked with gold and silver. High ceilinged, this windowless hall is lit by candles and braziers enough to shower every corner, the walls themselves aiding in the distribution of light by reflecting the beams as needed. A long table is stood at the centre, carved from a single block of ebony and trimmed with flowing script of silver. Each high-backed chair is marked with a single rune. Many other tables, desks and chairs lie beside this central piece of furniture.

On the wall just behind the master's chair can be found a prominent map of Isengard and its surrounding regions while at its sides, smaller maps detail specific regions as well as depicting a more general view of the known countries of Middle-earth.

Isengard -- The Fabled Tower of Orthanc. It is everything the legends make it out to be, and still, the lengends fall short. What will its master messure up to? Yet all thoughts of Saruman are secondary at this point. Passing through the halls, and chambers of Orthanc you have come to expect something extrodinary at each turn, this chamber is no differnt. The High Council Chamber of Saruman is bedazzling in the light of a the hundred candles that burn about the room. The walls themselves sparkle, as if made of diamond, enchanted to lift the simple light of a candle to the elevation of the sun.

The chamber is not only dominated by the light, but by a great table laden with food. Hams, hens, fish, venison, steak, vegtables, soups, and of course a dozen bottles of Dorwinion Wine. Yet somehow, you fail to notice the old man that sits at the head of the table in a massive stone carved chair.

Indilzar, entering the halls of the wizard then says, "It would seem that Curunir does not lack. That much is certain."

Then the grey-eyed son of Indilkhor looks to the others and laughs, "Well now, here is an unexpected feast."

Mathollor nods his eyes wide and a broad grin spreading upon his face "He seems quite the generous host"

[Sarrah(#28194)] Sarrah pushes the doors open for the guests to enter. Continues into the chamber and quietly walks towards the old man sitting at the head of the table. Leaning over and whispering something to him and moves back to stand to the right of the old man.

[Morrandir(#24549)] Eyeing the food, Morrandir smiles. "This shall make a change from that dreadful stew we have been forced to eat upon our journey..."

Forth from the Company steps one who has kept his own counsel till this moment -- the Lord of the Isilrim, tall and clad in travel-stained raiment, yet no less noble in mien for it. And in his gaze -- thoughtful, undiscernable -- which sweeps over the chamber, there might be seen a flash of wonder.

Yet, the marvels seen in the chamber hold him but for scarce moments, for it is as if he searches for something -- someone -- else thither. And to those with him, he murmurs, "Remember well what I have told you of forethought, Squires."

[Indilzar(#10108)]
Then Indilzar follows with his eyes Sarrah and then he sees for the first time the wizard. Unable to contain his surpise he cries, "Curunir!"

[Maernus(#17520)] Entering rather silently, Maernus glances at the food. He smiles slightly, about to say something when he hears Arnafel. Then he simply says, "I shall, Lord Arnafel." He then goes back to looking at the food, then he silently glances towards the old man.

[Erchirion(#29344)] The room, ladden with food and light, greets the eyes of Imrahil's son, yet he speaks not as he crosses the threshold into this room, for there is little more to say.

His eyes do however follow the rest to the head of the table, and there they spy the figure, the Master of the Tower, and it is then he speaks, "Hail lord Curunir," he calls forth, "We thank thee for this fine feast, and for your counsel in our quest."

[Doran(#16967)]
Close behind his kin and lord follows Doran. He nods slowly to Arnafel's words, though he remains silent himself. The squire still seems captivated by the chamber's magnificent decor. At Indilzar's words, the young man starts, his keen eyes suddenly alighting on the inconspicuous wizard.

[Arnafel(#29017)]
Swiftly Arnafel turns at the Bragollach's cry -- "Curunir...", he echoes if less loudly, more calmly. Yet, his arched brow speaks of the startlement which cannot be hidden.

And in the manner of the Men of Belfalas he bows then, with sweeping cloak and arms crossed upon his breast, "Hail Keeper of Orthanc!"

[Indilzar(#10108)]
A glance is spared to the others and likewise Indilzar crosses his arms over his chest and inclines his head in a respectful salute. He rises and then looks uncomfortably at the wizard.

The Old Man is not nearly as shocked by the outburst of Indilzar as its creator seems to be by his presence here. Nodding to the young girl Sarrah before he reacts, Curunir, or Saruman as he is called by those in this region, pushes out his chair standing slowly. He speaks softly, his voice draws the attnetion of all around him, tucking away doubt and fear mearly by the power of his voice. "Well..." he says with gentle question, "...greeting to you as well Knights of Dol Amroth, and Gondor." A wrinkled hand waves away the formalities of court and knightly ways, "Come now sit, away with these formalities. There be no need for them among friends, and friends already do I count you." He lowers himself back into his chair. He commands in the most humble of ways, "Sit."

[Indilzar(#10108)]
Indilzar with a brief look into the eyes of the wizard follows this request. He seats himself more toward the head of the table facing a map of Eriador.

Erchirion does as he is bid and takes his seat across from the Lord Indilzar at the table of Curunir.

[Maernus(#17520)] Gazing towards the wizard, seemingly mixed with awe and suprise, Maernus takes a seat near to those of Morrandir and Mathollor.

[Tamran(#30063)]
Tamran also chooses a chair, near the squires. Slowly he sits at the table, his gaze looking around the hall.

[Arnafel(#29017)]
And though the old man bears no high title nor kingly mantle, his command is obeyed -- by the Silver Knight at least. Yet, there is a moment even as he searts himself when Arnafel pauses, his brow furrowing -- a moment which passes swiftly.

And he inclines his brow to Saruman then, no less courteous in turn, "Fair words Curunir, and we thank you for them. I am Arnafel son of Arminas, and these are..." -- yet, even as he begins to turn to his companions, it is as if a sudden thought strikes him, for he pauses. And slowly he says then, "But perhaps you have little need for me to tell you of them."

Doran does as all have been bid, moving to set himself down close to the man of Minas Tirith. The movements of the squire are indiscriminate and nearly silent.

Mathollor Smiles lightly as he looks between the wizard and Arnafael before grinning at Maernus.

An aged hand reached out from the one darkned area of the room, Saruman's Chair. You notice, perhaps for the first time, perhaps not, that though the chamber is radiant with unnatural candle light, that the recess of the wizards chair is not party to the illumination. His hand grabs hold of a golden wine goblet already poured with its rich crimson liquid, he tilts his head, his great white beard shifts with him, "Sarrah, our guests goblets are emtpy, fill them would you dear." Still his voice is entrancing, "Nay Arnafel of son of Arminas, I am wise, but I am not clairvoiant, these men's names are not known to me." he sips his wine slowly, "If it pleases you, I would know your names." he in turns looks at each man at his table, his eyes linger only a moment on each, but you can feel their gaze long afterwards.

Mathollor stands quickly and bows before he speaks "I am Mathollor Isilrim squire of the order of Swan Knights My Lord." As he finishes speaking he drops quickly back into his seat, glancing over the rest of the company as he does so.

[Sarrah(#28194)] Bowing her head, "as you wish" as Sarrah takes a carafe of wine from a side table and slowly walks to the table. Smiling as she fills each goblet in turn.

[Indilzar(#10108)]
Indilzar sends a killing glance at Mathollor...

Mathollor pales and bows his head quickly at the the Knights displeasure.

[Erchirion(#29344)] Rising from his seat even as the aged wizard bids him speak his name, the tall man smiles softly, looking down the length of the table, finally drawing his eyes to their host, "I am Erchirion Imrazor, son of Imrahil the Fair, Guardian of the Tower."

And with his name thus spoken, the man returns once more to his seat.

Rising from his seat it is Indilzar who now speaks, "I am Indilzar, son of Indilkhor. A knight from the south."

He then motions to Mathollor, "And Mathollor is unfortunately, my impertinant squire."

[Sarrah(#28194)] Chuckling to herself as she passes Mathollor and grins at the chastised squire as she pours the wine into his goblet. Sarrah moves to the next guest

Mathollor ducks his head his face red with embaressment, if anything it makes the pale skin of his scar stand out giving him a fierce expression.

[Arnafel(#29017)]
"Not clairvoyant perhaps, but far-seeing indeed -- for such is said of you in Gondor and elsewhere."

And the Isilrim motions to the Company then, "And these others are Doran and Amano of the Isilrim and Maernus Calgar -- Squires of the Order of the Swan...as", he adds, perhaps somewhat dryly, "...Mathollor."

Maernus watches the knights introduce themselves, sitting silently as he watches each in turn. The he watches Arnafel for a few moments, before turning to glance at Saruman again.

Saruman voice is for a moment harsh, and unkind, yet it passes as quickly as it arrives, "Sarrah, there will be no luaghing at our guests, no matter what errors they may commit, should this be a knightly court." he smiles, setting his goblet down, his frienly, grandfatherly voice has returned, "Yet this is no court, and is simply my home and study, and Mathollor Isilrim Squire of the Order of Swan Knights has not offended me." the old man smiles to the squire, "Sarrah, you shall serve this young man dinner first, at my request."

He leans back, deeper into the shadow, ans he continues his spellbinding voice, speaking in turn to Erchirion, Indilzar, and Arnafel "What is it that brings the son of Imrahil, the Lord Bragollach, and The Silver Knight to my humble home?"

Saruman lifts a hand, to stay a reply as of yet...

Mathollor bows quickly towards Saruman, before composing himself again.

Saruman continues, looking at Indlizar who speaks for the others, "And the last..." he motions to the quite Tamran, "Not a Knight nor a Squire I would guess. Yet he travels with you, intresting." He lowers his hand, "Continue."

[Indilzar(#10108)]
Looking indignant for a moment Indilzar says, "A fell errand wizard. A sad tale has befallen the land of Gondor. Amrothos, the son of the Prince Imrahil has been taken captive by a cursed horror of the ancient world. To free him, we seek the sword of Anarion - Anaril the brilliant - it was named. Our lord Denethor bade us to find Curunir the wizard and ask for his counsel. There is also more, for according to our lore, the sword has been broken and has been scattered across the wide world."

[Sarrah(#28194)] Blushes and her hand slips alittle on the carafe as Sarrah hears Saruman. Turning to the wizard she lowers her eyes and nods, and quielty whispers "yes sir, sorry Mathollor." Filling the last goblet heads towards the table and drops the carafe off on the table and then stands to wait to serve dinner.

[Arnafel(#29017)]
"It was for this reason, I deem, that the Lord-Steward bade us come to you, Curunir" -- the Lord of the Isilrim takes up the tale where Indilzar had left it -- "for you are held to be a master of lore and knowledge of the ancient days by all. And perhaps you may know of where the shards of the blade were sent after its breaking, where no other might."

Saruman lifts his hand to his mouth, crossing his lips with his pointer finger, while gently stroking his beard with the rest. He is quite, silent for an uncomfortable amount of time. If not for the barely percpetible movement along his beard, you might think that he was dead there among the shadows.

"Dinner!" he calls out breaking his silence. Yet his hand does not move, and his eyes, his eyes linger on a thought of long ago and far away. The reflections of some great battle, of some event lost now to time plays out in those cold empty orbs that stare blankly at the far wall. He whispers, "Dinner Sarrah...." and is silent once again in thought.

Indilzar reaches for a goblet and sniffs it for a moment before he drinks. He then says, "Curunir, do you know aught of this matter?"

Mathollor takes up his goblet and gently rolls it backwards and forward on the table in front of him as he listens.

Leaning back in the carven chair, Arnafel casts a fleeting glance to his fellow Knights with arched brow, yet he says naught.

And in the hushed silence of the chamber, Indilzar's question lingers for long moments...

[Sarrah(#28194)] "Yes Saruman" as Sarrah picks up one of the large trays, laden with food. Moving quickly towards Mathollor and stops, lowers the tray to the squire.

[Amano(#30032)] Quiet and perhaps expectant after the introductions have been made, and questions asked, though his grey eyes are veiled and his countenance devoid of expression, Amano watches the exchange, something in his mien belying restlessness. The answer, not yet in coming, seems to intrigue the Squire, and he gives the impression of waiting for it, unable to even take a drink from his wine.

Mathollor smiles as Sarrah reaches him and moves out of the way to let her lower the tray more easily, speaking almost inaudibly as he does so.

[Sarrah(#28194)] Smiles, and nods to Mathollor as she waits for him to help himself.

Maernus picks up his goblet, partaking slowly of liquid held therein. He splits his gaze between watching Saruman and watching the knights. Silently he remains, but he seems active in listening to the going-ons.

[Sarrah(#28194)] Sarrah winks at Mathollor as she moves to serve another guest

Mathollor grins before quickly composing himself and turning back towards the table. He drinks lightly from his goblet as he watches the Wizard.

"Arnil, Noble Devotion in one speach of the Elvish folk. I know of it, and I know its history, and of its proposed whereabouts." He leans in again and takes a sip of his wine, "Yet I would know more of this quest you are on, why you seek it again, and..." he stops and looks to Indilzar, "You spoke of a horror, tell me, what evil besets the son of Imrahil?"

[Indilzar(#10108)]
"It was a month ago," begins Indilzar in a solemn voice, "that the Prince called a hunt in the greenwoods and hills of Belfalas. For a long time we hunted, and upon a sudden we saw a pale hart. The hunters gave chase and long we rode under the moon. At length, we came before the Stone of Erech, and there Amrothos was taken by devilish art. It was then, that a figure, clad in green came forth. He did not name himself, but it was a wraith, an Undead who trysts about the great stone. He then told us his sorrow and that we had to seek the sword Anaril and bring it to him. Only then would he free the Prince's son."

Indilzar then looks on to the company, "Our company then set forth immediately from Belfalas and made haste to see Denethor, wise in the lore of Gondor. He then told us the tale of the sword, and how it was broken during the siege of the Land we name not. Then the Steward told us a part of the Lay of Anarion saying these verses:
:
Anarion was a kindly king,
Come from the sea that sadly sunders.
His helm was tall, his glance was cutting,
His horn sounded like mountain thunder.
More marvelled still was his brilliant blade,
Anaril the bright was its right known name
Few foes could bear the sword that Telchar made
Ages ago wrought by that dwarf of fame.
But long ago Anarion waged war,
And fell dead by dart beneath his bright blade
In Mordor where the shadows are.
Long laments then the sad harpers made,
Of the fair King and his steely sword,
To four parts it flew, blackly broken,
Aged Anaril now only a word,
Of mindful memory mere token.
Four by four were the shards flung afar,
One to the Dwarves in stony hard hills,
Hilt high to northern kin under the star
One to elves where enchantment thrills,
The last was laid in monument of stone,
By the kings kin, in the hidden hill,
Of Aragurth, silent and last alone
Where wonders woven in fate fill."

"As you can see," says Indilzar, "it is a hard road. Yet verily, if you know more on this matter I would for my part be glad. For Denethor bade us to also seek the house of Elrond Half-Elven. Yet the only Dwarves we know of are far to the east, and that is not whither Imladris is rumoured to be."

Indilzar then drains his cup and sets it down, the grey-eyed and proud knight looking at the wizard.

Indilzar shakes his head at the girl, only turning his proud glance to the woman for but a moment.

[Arnafel(#29017)]
"Time weighs ever more heavily upon us, Curunir" -- alone of the Company, the goblet before Arnafel remains untouched -- "and it is not given to us to wander in far lands and hope to stumble upon that which we seek. Our path must be swift and true..."

And even in this light-dazzled chamber, it is as if the dread horror of Amrothos' torment can be glimpsed in the Silver Knight's words, grave and solemn, "...for the suffering of the Prince's son grows apace for each day that we spend on this quest. And thus we come to you."

[Sarrah(#28194)] Sarrah nods and glances to the other goblets but moves to Saruman and refills his and returns it to the table and continues to serve food..

Saruman looks to the rest of the table, to Erchirion espically, he lingers there on the other son of Imrahil, to the brother of the man captured, then he turns to Arnafel, "No suffering shall men of Gondor find at the hand of Saruman the White. I shall lend you my aid, and my knowledge of this blade, so that you might save your Lord's Son." He has not touched his meal, yet it still steams and is hot, his voice twinkles in the light, dancing brining peace, and a sence of safety here, for that is the power of Saruman voice, to entrance those with whom he speaks. "Indlizar speaks only a small part of an ancient Lay, wise if Denethor, and vast is his library of aged texts." He leans back, his eyes vanish from view, and he speaks to the whole company, asserting his power over all, hoping to ensnare each knight and squire at his table, "The Steward Denethor maybe wise, and perhaps this sword will break the curse that is on your friend, but it may not. I must know more about this...this wraith that holds him captive."

[Indilzar(#10108)]
"We have received this," says Indilzar rising and reaching into his cloak. From it he takes out a scroll, "Therein lies all the lore concerning this matter. It gives an account of the Hillman king who was cursed after betraying Anarion, and now seeks his vengeance from beyond an unquiet grave. It also tells the tale of the sword, and how the four parts were brought to four corners of the world. And then this: The prophecy of Glormal, which tells of the union of the sword in latter times."

Indilzar lays the scroll upon the table before the wizard and then looks to the company with his piercing glance, "Such lore we have. Whether or not some other craft might free the Prince's son is beyond my ken. Yet for my part, I am bound to seek out this thing if by

Maernus quietly drinks from his goblet. He, fasinatedly, watches Indilzar and Saruman as they talk of the quest. He barely touches the food before him, watching more than anything else.

[Arnafel(#29017)]
"Chance is a fickle ally, Bragollach -- one we can ill afford to trust upon this quest. We must know for a certainty."

And to the wizard Arnafel glances in silent question, yet he says naught for the moment.

[Thorondur(#23126)]
From one who has not yet spoken, there is a clearing of the throat. Polite and indifferent -- reflecting its source. Fair and fey, the Lord Girithlin wears yet the glamour of youth, but in his piercing eyes lurks the wisdom of the Dunedain.

"As are we all, Indilzar," Thorondur reminds his comrade -- and looks to the wizard. "Yet you are not bound as we are, Saruman the White." The unspoken question implicit in his words remains unsaid, but all the same it hangs brooding over the table.

Saruman reaches out, from the shadow of his chair to the scroll. He takes it in a wrinkled hand, the old man before you breaths in deeply the smells of the dinner that is laid out on the table, it is a grand feast for weary travelers. "I shall read this, and study it, we shall see what I might make of it to aid you." He slips the scroll into the sleave of his great robe. Still his voice plays over the table, dancing like the light of the hundred candles that illuminate the chamber.

He looks down at his plate, for the first time this evening. With a silver fork he stabs a bit of something, and pops it in his mouth, chewing slightly, slowly, and with great effort he swallows it. For the first time he speaks to Thorondur, "You have been quite, and you have listened, and so I shall answer that question that you will not ask me." He smiles, and the power of his voice continues, "I shall help you, friends."

[Indilzar(#10108)] "Was it chance that brought us to the Stone of Erech," asks Indilzar quietly. He then looks to the wizard and says, "Certainty is something we do not have. For an age of the world has past since the deeds that have come forth to us in this unhappy hour have occurred."

"Truly Thorondur Girithlin," says Indilzar at length, "it is true that nothing but the bounds of friendship and league - as well as the lease for this fine tower -" at this Indilzar laughs uncomfortably, and you can see in his glance a hope that Saruman will catch on well to the jest, "binds you."

[Thorondur(#23126)]
With the words of the wizard, the Lord Thorondur is quiet again, a long moment -- and at length does he nod, satisfied it would seem. To Indilzar he glances from the corners of his crystalline eyes, and cracks the barest hint of a knowing smile.

[Arnafel(#29017)]
"It was Doom, Bragollach..." -- quiet as the question is the answer -- "...not Chance."

And he falls silent for long moments then, his thoughts undiscernable in his cool reserve, ere speaking again, "Then you must know of where the shards are...or some of them at the least. For it is said that Saruman the White gives aid not with gifts and strength of arms, but counsel and knowledge."

Saruman drops his fork and leans forward suddenly, his voice lifts the anger, the hint of distaste is on his tounge. There can be no doubt that he is roused, that you have opened up a door that you should never have even touched, on his words comes a heat, a crackling fire that is ready to explode, yet doesn't for the restraint of this wizard is too great, "Indilzar, do not threaten me with eviction. For Isengard no longer belongs to Gondor, this is /my/ home now. I have welcomed you into my home, and have spoken my words of aide to you, and you threaten me, an old man with homelessness?" He stands up suddenly. Without warning, half of the candles go out, dousing the room in a passing shadow, "I am Saruman the White, High Wizard of my order, and chief of the council of White. Dare never to speak to me again knight! Or you shall know why is it I hold these ranks!"

[Sarrah(#28194)] Sarrah moves to stand near the Old Man..inhaling loudly as she looks to the Knight and then to Saruman..but moves back to her place

[Thorondur(#23126)]
The candlelight dims in a fell, sweeping motion of the sorcerer's hand. Blue flash Thorondur's sapphirine eyes in the flickering that remains, yet still he holds his tongue. Though his gaze tracks the wizard, he lays a restraining hand on the arm of his colleague.

[Arnafel(#29017)]
Flowing water against leaping flames, calm and even -- thus the Lord of the Isilrim says from his seat:
"He spoke in jest, Curunir. Now is not the time to speak of who is master of Isengard or not, and it is not for that reason that we came here."

[Indilzar(#10108)]
Indilzar looks into the eyes of the wizard and for a moment his eyes flicker as if in doubt. He opens his mouth to speak, and he seems at once daunted by the eyes of the wizard. Yet the touch of the hand of Thorondur Girithlin seems to clear his eyes and a resolve comes over the fiery master of the House of the Sudden Flame. Then at last he speaks, his words controlled and even, "By no means did I threaten Saruman the White, but jested. That is all. In my own land we have many customs, and among them, is a reverence for the Wise. Therefore, Curunir the Wise, I offer apologies to you formally and whole-heartedly."

Maernus nearly drops his goblet when the anger of Saruman is unleashed, he visibly swallows as he watches Saruman and Indilzar. The young squire looks to the other knights for a few moments, before intently watching Indilzar.

Saruman lowers himself back into his seat, his face turns back to a gentle set of wrinkles hidden underneath his beard. "I too am used to other things, and I did not offendI pray." He folds his hands together in the now much darker shadow of his chair. "I forgive the jest Indilzar, and I hoe you forgive mine." He waves his hand and the candles relight, fifty of them burst into fire all at the same time."

"Enough of this, to your captured kinsman, and to the Shard."

Indilzar crosses his arms over his chest and bows and even as he does so looks swiftly about the hall as the candles light. He then sits down quietly and looks to Thorondur knowingly, "This is why *your* the herald."

[Amano(#30032)] What tension there lay in the air even as the shadow fell, is reflected fully in the expression in Amano's face. For a moment, the goblet he held in his hand forgotten, clenched in white fingers, he had gazed uncertainly at the wizard, troubled. The moment having passed, he heaves no sigh of relief, but he finally raises his wine to his mouth, gripping the cup a little too tightly. His eyes now fix themselves on the knights, as though wondering at what other course this council might take.

[Arnafel(#29017)]
As if the wizard's wrath of but a moment past is forgotten -- but those grey eyes in which the light of the candles leap, study the wizard for perhaps a moment too long -- ere the Isilrim speaks.

"Then tell us Curunir...do the old staves speak truth? And if they do, whither should our path lead us -- East or West?"

[Thorondur(#23126)]
A liquid peal of laughter escapes the Lord Girithlin's lips at that, and -- casual as may be -- he leans backward in his chair. For a moment, it seems as though he might kick his mud-splattered boots upon the tabletop--!

Yet he does not. And only does the Herald, Thorondur, add his own words to Arnafel's: "Indeed. And to that, I ask: North or South? For is it not odd that the sword of a King of Gondor should lie anywhere but within the bounds of his own realm of old?"

Saruman's voice continues to work its magic on those gathered, making up for the break in his kindness, he speaks witrh earnest, with a haste that is already set within the party. The old man, the wizard, the wise, focuses his words to 'the Herald' to Thorondur, "You have looked far and wide already have you not Thorondur? I can see it in your eys, you know the realms of a traveler, but without ever leaving your home kingdom. You have seen the land of your enemy, and you know the face of fear, yet you will not look away from it." With all he powers, all the hundreds of years of skill, and pratice, Saruman the White consentrates on Thorondur with his powers, "You must go where you have not seen yet, you must move to the east, and to the north." He point over his shoulder to a small map of Erebor, "To Dain, and Erebor you go Herald, to the Dwarves. Seek not Rivendell, and its hidden paths, but instead go where you will find what you look for...."

He lowers his arm, "And in the mean time, I shall seek further wisdom on this matter, in a place where my own library is equalled, in Gondor, in the scrolls of your Steward Denethor."

[Thorondur(#23126)]
In the ears of the Herald rings the pronouncement of the Wizard, and for a long time Thorondur is still.

And then, all at once, he draws a deep breath and slolwly, slowly ows his head. When he raises it, it is to regard the elder's unfathomable eyes with those piercing orbs of his own, and to say, "Very well."

"To the dwarves and their Lonely Mountain we shall go, if my brothers are so willing as I."

[Sarrah(#28194)] Sarah walks to the table and begins to clear the plate and trays of food..Stackin them up on the side board..When all is clear she gets the desserts..and passes them among the guests

[Indilzar(#10108)]
"We hear you Curunir," says Indilzar slowly, "to Erebor. It is just as well that Numandil made his journey so recently."

[Sarrah(#28194)] Carrying another decanter with a darker liquid Sarrah quietly asks each guest if they would like some..

[Arnafel(#29017)]
Strands of gossamer, waves of light -- such is the wizard's power, and it is great indeed. But it is upon the the Lord of the Girithlin that it is bent -- and it leaves others in the Company free to question. Others, such as the Isilrim.

"Turn away from Rivendell?" -- slow and considering, the words -- "But such was the counsel given to us by the Lord-Steward. Was he mistaken then?"

[Indilzar(#10108)]
"Maybe," says Indilzar, "yet I deem we shall have to go thither by the end. Yet also remember thus: That one of the pieces went to the elves. Are there not elves in the forest nigh Erebor?"

Saruman holds a finger up. "A good point Indilzar." He turns in his chair and look at one of the maps behidn him, "Elves yet dwell here in Mirkwood..." he circles a large area in the norther half, and do not forget Edhellond, which is very close to you in Dol Amroth..." he pauses a moment, "...did you seek the shard there yet?"

Indilzar shakes his head and then says, "Nay, for the Elves have not been in Gondor in long years. Also, the tale says that these things were brought into the north."

Saruman continues to look at his map of Middle-earth, "Ah, but the north could be simply a first trip, something to lure The Enemy into thinking the shards were out of his grasp. Lindon has a harbor, and do not doubt that Elves yet dwell in Edhellond, for that is what they wish the third born to think...and it seems they have done well in making you think so."

[Arnafel(#29017)]
"The fair folk dwell yet in Edhellond?"
And now, for the first time, there is open startlement upon Arnafel's visage -- and he casts a swift glance to the Girithlin one in which the other may read much.

[Thorondur(#23126)]
The Girithlin, for his part, says nothing of the Elves. Only a glance does he give to Arnafel, and the same for the wizard -- the better part of his attention turns inward. Finally does he say, "It matters little to us now, I deem, for we must go north ere ever thinking of Edhellond. It has been said."

[Arnafel(#29017)]
For a moment longer -- a brief one -- the Isilrim holds Thorondur's gaze. And then, a faint nod ere he turns to the wizard, "Then so it shall be, Curunir. The Company will head north to Erebor as you have counselled. And perhaps its lord will tell us more of where we may seek the other shards."

Saruman nods to Thorondur, "He is right, forget the Elf Haven for now. You must move to the Dwarves, and seek the shard they have. They may have more information about the next piece you need, but bewarry, the Elves may not welcome you, no matter which home you head to, for they are distrustful of man, and their crimes against man can not go unheeded." He drinks a bit of the dark liquid Sarrah has poured for everyone, "I think you know your next task, and we have come to an understanding about things....if not listen."

"I shall trade you." He smiles, "I have several maps of the area, from here to there, and back again, something that I doubt you have, something of such detail. "So I shall give you willingly, and freely my maps of Erebor, and Dale, and in turn, I would hope that you can provide me with a Writ of free passage into the vaults of Imrahil and Denethor, so that I may continue my study on how best to defeat our enemy from the land that we will not name."

[Thorondur(#23126)]
The request is met by a supple shrug from Thorondur Girithlin, and a smile of apology -- so, too, is the cast of his tone. "To the libraries of Dol Amroth I can grant you safe passage," the Herald answers the Wizard, "in the name of my Prince. But for the Steward of Gondor I cannot speak."

[Arnafel(#29017)]
"But" -- the Isilrim adds with the grave courtesy which is ever his manner -- "the writ to the libraries of the Marble Citadel you shall have for free, at the least...for Numandil of the Nimothan journied far to the North but a year past, and brought back maps of those distant lands. We have little need of any other."

Saruman continues to speak, to Arnafel, "Do you have those maps with you? Do you have those maps that shall take you over the Wold, through Mirkwood, and to Dale? If not, they are yours, simply so my friends and allies will not befall trouble on their trip. If you have them, then I shall keep my set here, and they are at your disposel if ever you need them."

[Thorondur(#23126)]
"We thank you for this gracious gift," interrupts Thorondur, ere Arnafel can say more.

Saruman nods to Thorondur, "You are wise beyond your sight Thorondur." He glances at Sarrah, and somehow something passes. "I think, that we are done now. Your rooms are prepaired for you, and breakfast shall be at daybreak, so you may set out at first light on your most holy quest...." he lingers a bit.

[Sarrah(#28194)] Sarrah glides to the doors that everyone came through and opens them for the retreating guests.."If you need anything please don't hestiate to ask. I will be available to assist you" as she bows to the Knights and squires

[Arnafel(#29017)]
And to Thorondur, yet another glance -- one which lingers for a moment longer, keen and sharp -- ere the Isilrim turns back to the wizard.

"If ever we are in need, we will remember your promised aid, Curunir. And we thank you for it."

One last thing remains in the candle lit air....something of a general feeling.

Those that listened unwarily to that voice could seldom report the words that they heard and if they did, they wondered, for little power remained in them. Mostly they only remembered that it was a delight to hear the voice speaking, all that what it said sounded wise and reasonable, and desire awoke in them by swift agreement to seem wise themselves. When other spoke they seemed harsh and uncouth by contrast: and if they gainsaid the voice, anger was kindled in the hearts under the spell. For some the spell lasted only while the voice spoke to them, and when it spoke to another they smiled, as men do when they see through a juggler's trick while others gape at it. For many the sound of the voice alone was enough to hold them enthralled but for those whom it conquered the spell endured when they were far away, and ever they heard that soft voice whispering and urging them, but none were unmoved none rejected its pleas and its commands without and effort of mind and will, so long as its master had control of it.