Of High Lore and Black Deeds

\"Thank you, sir.\" Examining the coin as they walk, she put it away with a shake of her head. \"But as for your offer, it is one I cannot contemplate at this moment. I am sworn to the Healers and as of yet, I am only an apprentice. My training takes up time and a lot of my spare time is spent studying.\"

Thingalad points at Midhwen. \"We both have returned from the war.\"

\"No doubt, no doubt,\" says Curugil. \"Yet as part of your skills surely you will be welcomed in the House of High Lore for your studies.\"

\"Both of you returned from the war!\" exclaims Curugil. \"Why then you both must come to the banquet. It is your honour!\"

Curugil continues up the street towards the grim arch of the gate.

Curugil has left.

You continue up the street towards the grim arch of the gate.

Minas Tirith: Way of Kings -- Marshalling Square

The Gate of Stone looms grim and tall over the square before it. It is martial in nature, built for defense and not truly appealing to the eye. To one side of the gate, a great fall of water pours from an aqueduct into a large basin, from which course channels to follow the roads in either direction.

The entire circle is given over to military pursuits, barracks and armouries. This broad square is devoid of decoration the stones worn by an age of feet marching and gathering. It is a parade ground in miniature, meant for gathering large groups of fighting men and little else.

Torches burn brightly on the walls, keeping the shadows of night at bay.

Contents:

Curugil

Obvious exits:

Gate to the Fifth Tier leads to Minas Tirith: Maiden Street -- Court of the Gate.

Northwest leads to Minas Tirith: Training Grounds.

Southeast leads to Minas Tirith: Way of Kings -- Armoury Tunnel.

Midhwen comes up the street from the armoury area.

Midhwen has arrived.

Thingalad frowns. \"My feet are not used to stonework after so long in the wilderness, heh.\"

\"I find that the walk is good for you,\" says Curugil. \"My departed wife always said to me, you must excercise thrice a week. Yet when put to the test, I always feel the body does not achieve as much restorative sleep and rest as it should. Yet here I am walking.\"

Curugil looks up at the Gate of Stone as they pass trhough and then at the militaristic nature of the area and says, \"Stone, stone, stone...\"

Curugil gives the password to the guards at the gate, and they allow him to pass through.

Curugil has left.

Midhwen gives the password to the guards at the gate, and they allow her to pass through.

Midhwen has left.

You give the password to the guards at the gate, and they allow you to pass through.

Minas Tirith: Maiden Street -- Court of the Gate

High above the noisome lower circles, through the daunting Gate of Stone, Maiden Street and its Court of the Gate stands a quiet vigil over Minas Tirith. To the north and west, the manors of Gondor\'s nobility are solemn and splendid.

The street is broad and tree-lined, the water channels winding along the center of the street like a stream, complete with narrow, grassy verges. Yet the silence here is eerie, sometimes it lacks the laughter and voices of children. Indeed, it seems more stark here in this place which lacks the clamor of life present in the lower tiers of the city.

As the aqueduct from higher up the tier approaches the gate, it rises on longer and longer legs until it mounts the very wall and cascades down the other side.

The manor windows blaze brightly beyond their protective walls, and torches flicker in sconces along the street under a dark velvet sky.

Contents:

Midhwen

Curugil

Obvious exits:

Northwest leads to Minas Tirith: Maiden Street - Noble Park.

Southeast leads to Minas Tirith: Maiden Street.

Gate to the Fourth Tier leads to Minas Tirith: Way of Kings -- Marshalling Square.

Telumehtar Manor and Rovacil Manor

Curugil follows Maiden Street to the Southeast.

Curugil has left.

You head southeast following Maiden Street.

Minas Tirith: Maiden Street

Maiden Street continues on its winding course straight up and into the embrasure tunnel south of here. Set on the space between the road and the walls of the upper circles stands a wide columned, open-air building. The columns are chiseled finely and comes up to a wide mantle that forms a bright arch. At the top of the arch, there are set runes of the various mottos of the fiefs of Gondor.

That place has been dubbed the Hall of Gondor, though it is more of a cloister than a hall consisting of connecting buildings around a flowered atrium. There, through a set of silver doors, the Lords of the fiefs will come to conduct their business when in the city. To the north, Maiden Street continues to wind steadily north toward the Gate of Stone, and the lower circles of the city. The water channels follow a steady path along the edge of the street, raised into an aqueduct that stands at about waist level to the average man.

Torches flicker on wall and column to light the way of the night-time passersby.

Obvious exits:

South leads to Minas Tirith: Maiden Street: Tunnel Through the Embrasure.

Northwest leads to Minas Tirith: Maiden Street -- Court of the Gate.

Chapterhouse of the Swan

Upwards...

Minas Tirith: Maiden Street -- Court of the Gate

High above the noisome lower circles, through the daunting Gate of Stone, Maiden Street and its Court of the Gate stands a quiet vigil over Minas Tirith. To the north and west, the manors of Gondor\'s nobility are solemn and splendid.

The street is broad and tree-lined, the water channels winding along the center of the street like a stream, complete with narrow, grassy verges. Yet the silence here is eerie, sometimes it lacks the laughter and voices of children. Indeed, it seems more stark here in this place which lacks the clamor of life present in the lower tiers of the city.

As the aqueduct from higher up the tier approaches the gate, it rises on longer and longer legs until it mounts the very wall and cascades down the other side.

The manor windows blaze brightly beyond their protective walls, and torches flicker in sconces along the street under a dark velvet sky.

Obvious exits:

Northwest leads to Minas Tirith: Maiden Street - Noble Park.

Southeast leads to Minas Tirith: Maiden Street.

Gate to the Fourth Tier leads to Minas Tirith: Way of Kings -- Marshalling Square.

Telumehtar Manor and Rovacil Manor

You head southeast following Maiden Street.

Minas Tirith: Maiden Street

Maiden Street continues on its winding course straight up and into the embrasure tunnel south of here. Set on the space between the road and the walls of the upper circles stands a wide columned, open-air building. The columns are chiseled finely and comes up to a wide mantle that forms a bright arch. At the top of the arch, there are set runes of the various mottos of the fiefs of Gondor.

That place has been dubbed the Hall of Gondor, though it is more of a cloister than a hall consisting of connecting buildings around a flowered atrium. There, through a set of silver doors, the Lords of the fiefs will come to conduct their business when in the city. To the north, Maiden Street continues to wind steadily north toward the Gate of Stone, and the lower circles of the city. The water channels follow a steady path along the edge of the street, raised into an aqueduct that stands at about waist level to the average man.

Torches flicker on wall and column to light the way of the night-time passersby.

Contents:

Curugil

Obvious exits:

South leads to Minas Tirith: Maiden Street: Tunnel Through the Embrasure.

Northwest leads to Minas Tirith: Maiden Street -- Court of the Gate.

Chapterhouse of the Swan

Curugil heads south into the tunnel.

Curugil has left.

You head south into the tunnel.

Minas Tirith: Maiden Street: Tunnel Through the Embrasure

Here the embrasure looms large, and the tunnel cut through its protective spur is both wide and high. Arches carved from the mountain\'s very stone soar above the street, a great vaulted ceiling giving the tunnel an air of elegance and spaciousness. The outer curve of the tunnel is carved in relief depicting the fall of Osgiliath.

The inner wall is something else entirely. A tavern, the Drovers\' Arms, has been cut into the mountain, its facade sculpted into the face of any inn. Windows look onto the street, glowing with lamplight day and night, and the sounds of merriment often spill out its stout wooden door. From above, the ever downward flowing water supply pours directly into a well, about which are set benches and potted plants. From the bottom of the well, a channel opens and flows around the side of the Drovers\' Arms and down through the lower end of the tunnel, like a stream laid into the flags of the road.

Day or night makes little difference in this wide and curving tunnel, save for the brightly blazing torches that give a false daylight within, and the dark openings of the tunnel at either end.

Obvious exits:

Southwest leads to Minas Tirith: Maiden Street: Gate of Queens.

North leads to Minas Tirith: Maiden Street.

Drover\'s Arms

You open the door and step into the famous Drover\'s Arms.

Minas Tirith: Drover\'s Arms

Laughter greets you as you duck through the low door. The mood here is light and jolity and levity rule! The barkeep dispenses his vintages with a cheery grin, while the waitresses glide easily through the tables and throngs of customers. Here all is merry, the cares of the world left at the door. Riders have no desire to speak of their hardships in the midst of a glass of Minas Tirith\'s finest! A heavily-lintelled fireplace stands against the far wall, crackling as it burns the day\'s logs and casting out its light and warmth over the room.

Contents:

Curugil

Midhwen

Elissa

Obvious exits:

Out leads to Minas Tirith: Maiden Street: Tunnel Through the Embrasure.

\"Welcome, M\'lord! Have a seat and relax. I\'m afraid we don\'t have menus yet, but our special of the day is Lobster Thermadore with a delicate wine sauce and spam. Let me know if you need anything!\"

Mithwen arrives through the door to the street.

Mithwen has arrived.

As they approach the Drover\'s Arms, a young boy in Cuthalion colours runs up to Midhwen, handing her a note. \'Tis short and Midhwen is soon done with it, an apologetic edge to her voice as she faces her companions. \"I am afraid I am needed, good day to you both!\"

She leaves swiftly, following the messenger.

Arathis arrives through the door to the street.

Arathis has arrived.

The party enters the tavern. Curugil seems caught up in a small speech, \"...after I defended the postulation that Numenorean lore was not necessarily unapproachable, but rather unhidden, the House was able to receive backing from several important lords. With that funding, we have been able to work on several projects. Right now, my people are working on a new version of a Siege Tower. Rather dull stuff I am sure, and I am almost envious of you. You are in the midst of it all, while we here in the city stay back and watch almost impotently as you give your lives and honour to our cause. Such valour! Such fortitude, not to mention the lady healers who go far beyond what is commonly seen as the realm of their gender!\"

Thingalad smiles and nods. \"Curugil, what may I get you from the tavern keeper? An ale? Something sterner?\" He looks around and points at a table in front of the fire.

Curugil heads over to the table, \"Perhaps mead will serve well, and perhaps you would care to chare some of the Roas Pheasant. I have a theory on the genial nature of this delicasy upon the digestive tract, but alas, I have not come to the point of testing in a methodical way my postulates unless I do so on myself.\"

Curugil sits down and says, \"So, I have spoken far too long. Perhaps you would wish to tell me how went the war for you?\"

Eben arrives through the door to the street.

Eben has arrived.

Thingalad sits down and settles for ale. Looking back at Curugil, he nods. \"I was able to enter the camp of the Southrons and learned much about their kind. I also found my future path down there in South Ithilien, a goal I strive for with all my might.\"

\"Ah,\" says Curugil. \"You were in their camp you say? Were these Haradrim or Corsairs?\"

\"Well, it seemed to be all manner of Southrons aligned with their war captain.\" Thingalad shrugs. \"There was even a priestess...\" He trails off at that thought.

Curugil looks carefully at Thingalad and says, \"This priestess seems to have troubled you. I would give no mind to their superstitions. What saddens me is that these are Men, corrupted as they were by the Shadow. Yet, perhaps not all are evil or irredeemable... but I am merely a man of the city and matters of such philosophical import may not be right to debate.\"

Thingalad shakes his head. \"You do not understand. She was not their priestess. She was announced as an emissary of the Nameless One.\" The man hushes after that as frowns and faces are directed his way at the mention of such things in this homely tavern.

The Lord Isilrim emerges from the doors of the Arms, pausing in brief heed at its port. Helmed, campaign\'s burden lingers upon him still. For both his mails and his garb are dirtied from evident ride it would seem that Arathis is but newly arrived to the White City.

Scattered and grouped men, donned all in the manner of the Hosts, salute the coming of the former infantry captain, some even heralding his name. But he is himself silent issuing no more than nods, he measures to an empty booth.

He raises his hand from his station. Suddenly, the activity behind the Arms\' counter quickens.

\"I am not surprised,\" says Curugil his lips thinning. \"Yet, why let these matters trouble you? You are safe now. But soft. Who is that?\"

He glances over at the Lord Isilrim, \"It seems we hold high company tonight -- for that must be the new Lord Isilrim, the son of Sirion.\"

Thingalad recognizes Arathis. \"One of the knights of Dol Amroth.\" He shrugs and turns back to his ale.

With some haste, a large plate is borne to the Isilrim Lord, accompanied by a fine chalice of wine. Upon it: a thick slice of meat, befitting a soldier, flanked by herbed potatoes and cherry tomatoes.

So the attention of Arathis considers his meal, ere relating unknown coinage to the waitress aside. Slowly, be begins to eat it, with little evident regard of those surrounding.

Curugil smiles for a moment and says, \"Perhaps I should introduce myself. I had the pleasure of knowing his grandfather when I was a boy.\"

With the Seven Stones Company back, some of the men have been put on leave, and Eben seems to be one of them. The one-eyed Man-At-Arms trudges into the Drover\'s Arms, grumbling a little as he looks to find himself something to drink.

Thingalad turns back to Curugil. \"You are a loremaster? Have you never served in the Hosts?\"

\"Yet I do not wish to dissuade you from telling your tale,\" says Curugil to Thingalad. \"I suppose you are troubled that there is an alliance between our oldest foe, and those of Harad. Yet, I am not surprised.\"

\"Nay friend Thingalad,\" says Curugil. \"I certainly have learned how to wield weapons, but my first calling is to lore and study. Strange things you may say when a weapon is of more value than a book. Yet, I deem that through our efforts we may be able to save many lives.\"

Thingalad nods. \"Do you prefer Curunir or Mithrandir?\"

Curugil laughs.

Curugil says, \"If I may say it would be presumptuous for me to prefer a wizard. Rather, I prefer the lore of Numenor\"

Arathis cuts a piece of meat, observes it in the torchlight for a moment, and then brings it to his mouth. A nod, as if to affirm the act, ends with a raise of his chalice.

But there he pauses: holding the vessel aloft, he scans around him, addressing the Hostmen particularly. Though he is wordless, some take note and raise to meet him, ere finishing with a hard gulp.

Thingalad grins. \"A wise answer and true for a Dunadan to prefer Numenor over such as the wizards.\" He raises his tankard and takes another drink.

Curugil sips on his drink and then says, \"Wisdom is a highly subjective thing, but I thank you for kind words.\"

He rises, \"Come, I wish to introduce myself to yonder knight and invite him to the banquet. For I have heard of their gallantry and this presents a perfect opportunity to invite him.\"

Thingalad calls, \"You go on ahead, sir. I bid you a good evening and wish you well in preparing your banquet. I will be sure to attend.\"

Mithwen enters the tavern, a book in her hand. Approaching the bar, she orders a drink before quickly glancing around for an empty table. She sits down and opens the book while she waits for her ale.

Curugil bows and says, \"I will undoubtably return friend Thingalad.\"

Curugil now walks over toward Arathis and says, \"Pardon me Lord. I hope I am not disturbing you, but I saw you enter and I desired to introduce myself.\"

Eben finally has a drink to hand, a tankard of ale by the looks of it. Nodding to the bartender, and paying, he turns and trudges to a seat near the fire. Sitting, he stretches out, \"Ahhhhhh...\" he grumbles, letting his sore feet relax a moment as he sips his beverage.

Silverware is momentarily laid aside, and the Lord Isilrim gestures towards the opposite side of his booth.

\"May you sit, countryman,\" he speaks, the words falling a bit dully. Another hand raises to the staff of the Arms, ere returning to gesture again towards the booth.

Curugil inclines his head and takes a seat, brushing his cape to the side, \"I thank you. I am Curugil, son of Curungol, Lord of the House Gildring. I knew your grandfather, for when I was a boy he often came to the House of High Lore seeking knowledge. I know you from your tokens and lordship, for you are Arathis, if I am not mistook.\"

Thingalad finishes off his ale and is about to order another when a ranger comes in and summons him. He follows his superior and is gone.

Soon, another chalice is carried to the booth of lords. With the faintest of grins, the Lord Isilrim observes its placement before Curugil.

\"From Dolwinion, the valley of my House, given to my forefathers ere the naming of Gondor and though much has changed in the years intervening, the soils have not, and there is ever a freshness to the wine.\"

There is an unusual lightness riddling the tongue of Arathis. So he continues:

\"Aye, well met, Lord Curugil, son of Curungol of the Gildring, ally of Sirion the Elder! And I am Arathis Alcarin, son of the late Lord Marshall.

\"High Lore, you say?\"

\"Indeed!\" says Curugil taking up the chalice. \"Yet I would not say ally, for he is of course much older than myself. Yet I am pleased to meet you.\"

\"Yes,\" says Curugil with a smile, \"the House of High Lore. Alas, not many valiants know of it these days but it stands nigh to the Academy of Ostoher on Woodwright Street. Perhaps in better times it shall become more reknowned. Yet in truth I have but lately come to the Mastery of that House and I believe it is our mission to furnish our fighting Men with the finest of arms and equipment. Therefore, that is what we have been primarily studying these days.\"

The mien of the Isilrim lord darkens, writ with brooding.

At length, he asks plainly: \"Tell me, Lord, for what did the Gods sink Numenor?\"

\"It twas not the Gods,\" says Curugil. \"But God. And I believe the answer is pride and daring to attempt to conquer the realm of the divine. It is said in the Telcontor chronicles that Man attempted to change his fate.\"

Suddenly there is a crash and a silver whirl as a dagger flies through the room

THWAP!

The dagger becomes embedded in the post near to where Curugil and Arathis are seated.

Curugil jumps to his feet and cries, \"By the cursed cats of Beruthiel!\"

The tongue of the Isilrim Lord flares swiftly: \"Alas all the more, should our troubles regard the One instead of the Many! For had not Ar-Pharazon and his legion of the prideful and impious met their fates elsewhere? Then for what was the Land of Gift, first raised by the Valar,--for what was it taken under the waves?\"

Commotion suddenly breaks out in the tavern as people drop to the floor.

Eben glances as the commotion erupts. The Man-at-arms dosen\'t seem to see the dagger, evidently suspecting a brawl. \"A fight up here?\" he blinks his one good eye, looking around to see what all the hubbub is about.

The tongue of the Isilrim Lord flares swiftly: \"Alas all the more, should our troubles regard the One instead of the Many! For had not Ar-Pharazon and his legion of the prideful and impious met their fates elsewhere? Then for what was the Land of Gift, first raised by the Valar,--for what was it taken under the waves?\"

But then:--In a speed betraying his size, the Lord Isilrim springs to his feet, positioning himself before the body of Curugil. Thus a depthless stare surveys those within the Arms, impatiently assessing the tavern\'s clientele, even as they jump to the floor. He begins to stalk among them.

\"Thank you Lord,\" says Curugil. He seems visibly shaken, \"I do not know who that was meant for. Hopefully not me.\"

He reaches over and pulls the dagger from the wood, \"Fascinating knife. But even more so is this...\"

For through the dagger is a peice of parchment. Curugil unfurls it on the table and reads:

TO THE LORDS OF GONDOR:

BE ON NOTICE. TRUE FREEDOM AND JUSTICE WILL ONLY COME WHEN ALL OF THE NUMENOREANS ARE UNITED IN THE FIGHT AGAINST EVEL. THOSE WHO OPPOSE US WILL BE MADE EXAMPLES. LET THIS SERVE AS YOUR NOTICE

THE BLACK HAND

Arathis then gestures some Hostmen towards the door, Eben among them, so as to secure the tavern\'s exit.

Curugil looks at Arathis his pale scar reflected in the evening light...

Returning to the side of Curugil, the visage of the Isilrim Lord flattens.

Scanning it quickly, he collects the parchment and crumbles it in his palm, ere tossing it back upon the table.

\"The Black Hand? Nonsense.\"

Eben furrows an eyebrow. He dosen\'t say much as he rises up, brushing off his tunic a little before heading for the doorway, taking a moment to peek outside to see if he can spot anything before he assumes a more neutral stance, securing the exit.

\"Probably,\" says Curugil. \"Though I prefer my shaves with a razor. There must be a lunatic about.\"

\"My lord,\" says Curugil. \"I wish to depart and examine this dagger further. Yet, please come to the Academy for the banquet my house is holding for the returning warriors. You would honour us all.\"

A pause and he mutters, \"The Black Hand...\"

\"It must come from our Enemies in the South, who are brethren only by blood.

\"For who else would dare the script of traitors?\"

The questions are put forth openly by the Lord Isilrim. Not waiting for an answer, he nods to Curugil with a remark--\"I shall come\"--, before himself returning to his meal.

Curugil bows and says, \"My thanks. You truly are a mighty warrior to eat after thus!\"

Curugil laughs and departs.

Rising from his booth, the Knight regards the Hostmen at the Arm\'s port as he departs. He speaks sternly, \"Be wary: there are agents, perhaps Southrons, within the White City. Bring word to the Command Post.\"

With this, he makes leave.

Arathis passes from the inn and into the streets of Minas Tirith.

Arathis has left.

fADE OUT