An Impossible Alliance

Cast of Characters:

Gondorians:

Denethor – Steward of Gondor (played by Angbor)

Gilherion – Man at Arms

Endaerion - Ranger of Ithilien

Saeltavor – Master at Arms

Visitors of Gondor:

Nauthcel – Ranger of the North

Silvarion – An Elf

Emissaries of Far Harad

Jahtori – Son of the Emperor Tor-Mitari (played by Lominakh)

Javad – The Silent Smiling Emissary (played by Arahtam)

Nuzhah – The Dark and Mysterious Emissary (played by Lehka)

Aghward – A Guard (played by Yaslyn)

Tower of Ecthelion: Great Hall

 

Before you stretches a deep hall, lit by recessed windows in the wide aisles at either side, beyond the rows of tall pillars which uphold the roof. Monoliths of black marble, they rise to great capitals carved in many strange figures of beasts and leaves and far above in shadow the wide vaulting gleams with dull gold, inset with flowing traceries of many colors. No hangings nor storied webs, nor any things of woven stuff or wood, are to be seen in this long solemn hall but between the pillars there stands a silent company of tall images graven in cold stone: an avenue of kings long dead.

 

At the far end upon a dais of many steps is set a high throne under a canopy of marble shaped as a crowned helm behind it is carved upon the wall and set with gems an image of a tree in flower. At the foot of the dais, upon the lowest step which is broad and deep, there sits a stone chair, black and unadorned: the seat of the Steward. Also in the shadows unseen, yet felt in presence of will and resolve, are lined the many Citadel Guards who keep watch upon this most sacred of chambers.

 

The sun\'s golden light filters in from the windows above, lighting the hall with a warm glow.

 

Obvious exits:

 Dais leads to On the Dais.

 Out leads to Tower of Ecthelion - Entryway.

[Denethor]

The pale sun of the early morning lends colour to the austere Great Hall of the Tower. Stark grey columns rise gravely from the floor to the high ceiling, and the black stone chair at the dais looks ever unforgiving, cold and chill. Denethor sits, his eyes searching over the small throng that has gathered at the Hall.

Some present petitions to the Steward others merely wait to request an audience. A Citadel Guardsman marshals the line to one side of the hall, as heralds proclaim an entry of yet another lord who is made to wait. Ever-roving is the sharp gaze of the Lord of Gondor.

[Saeltavor]

Saeltavor is in line yet again this day, for the usual report on the Company to the Steward. His uniform was unrumpled, as always, and the new cables sat on his arm, carefully arranged just so. He remains quiet, a scroll clutched in his hands as he waited with a stonelike patience.

[Jahtori]

The newest entrants are unlike the rest. Darker of skin, hair and eye than those of Umbar, there is no way for these to blend in with the others who await an audience with the Steward.

The group of four is motioned to wait with the others, but one amongst them seems to have trouble understanding the directions.

\"We came to speak with your leader,\" he tries to explain, but it seems to be of no avail, and the guards continue to point them towards the waiting area.

[Javad]

Darker of skin, hair, and eye they may be, but a guardsman is a guardsman is a guardsman. Short by the measure of the Gondorians and his own people alike, one of the four bears a martial countenance all the same. His hand strays to his bright-colored belt where no doubt a sword hung -- but hangs not in the Steward\'s presence. And his eyes -- obsidian-black -- stray constantly over the hall, the silver-wings of his counterparts\' helms glittering in them.

And he leaves it to their leader to find the proper place. Javad merely...watches.

[Aghward]

Another colorfully clad visitor from a foreign land follows the Emissary, three steps behind. He carries with him a box which, for lack of a better description, would be just the perfect size to carry a head. The box is wrapped in a colorful fabric, with colorful ribbons adorning the package.

[Denethor]

The disturbance at the line does not go unnoticed. Sharply, the Steward\'s gaze pierces the group of four he opens his mouth to speak a rebuke, but something stays his voice, and instead he nods, slowly and deliberately.

\"Let their delegation come forth,\" he says, quietly and gravely, yet in a voice that reaches the furthest corners of the hall. \"It has been many a long season since men from such lands have visited the Tower of the Guard.\"

A Citadel Guardsman ushers the four forward, guiding them before the dais, enlisting the waiting Master-at-Arms Saeltavor to help him with his duties. The guardsman remains close by the visitor with the box.

[Saeltavor]

Saeltavor blinks at this and the scroll is tucked into his belt as he obliges, stepping out of line - and hoping his place would be kept, to assist in escorting the four forwards, although he watched them warily, suspiciously - remembering perhaps a previous encounter with their kind or their close kin. \"Just this way.\" he guestures, but moves to stop them at the appropriate distance from the Steward.

[Jahtori]

The leader of this group, Jahtori, by name, finally allows himself to be led to the line of others who await the Steward\'s attention. Only to be called forth a moment later by the Guardsmen.

There is nothing threatening about the scholarly Jahtori. Everything about him, from his wide eyes, to his sloped shoulders is non-threatening. Motioning for the others to follow he moves to the designated area and bows deeply to the Steward.

\"Your greatness,\" he says in lilting Westron. \"We have been sent to you by His Emminence Tor-Mitari, Emperor of Far Harad.\" Those wide eyes lift from the floor to look upon Denethor.

\"His Emminence wishes to make friendship between your lands and his.\"

Silvarion arrives from the huge carven doors, which the guards swing open silently.

Silvarion has arrived.

[Nuzhah]

Yet another of these four, Nuzhah, all now ushered forward, is perhaps perceivable as a woman, though foreign and dark of skin as well. Her armor is tight and her boots heavy, for the last of her foot falls echoes through the halls as she comes to a halt even after the first words of Jahtori. Her eyes cast left and then right, over her kin and over the hall\'s guards about. No play is in her visage, but even her coarse skin cannot rob her of her feminine features. Those eyes, darkly rimmed, unnaturally most likely, turn and fall on the Steward quietly from her distance, and she too in turn dips her head now.

[Saeltavor]

Saeltavor remains by their side. He was on duty now, and remained to offer any assistance, the man looking over each one, a little startled perhaps that he was rather at the same height as they, on average. Remaining silent he looks from Lehka to Jahtori and back again, hands clasped before him

[Endaerion]

Off Denethor\'s shoulder stands a solitary figure. Grim in appearance and with a distant expression, he might be mistaken for one of the many statues adorning the great hall. A pair of green gauntlets mark him as a Ranger of Ithilien. His attention seems centered elsewhere while the regular procession of affairs is addressed before the Steward\'s court. At the mention of the emissaries, however, Endaerion turns his gaze to the visitors.

[Javad]

Motioned forward, guided forward, the emissaries of Far Harad approach -- their leader first and foremost, and the guardsman hovering not far behind. Where Nuzhah\'s heavy boots echo, his steps are almost silent where Jahtori is bookish, he is martial--

--and he smiles as his heels click and he makes his soldier\'s bow. It is not a dull smile, either.

As he rises, his eyes continue about the room and they fall on teh Guardsman beside him -- Saeltavor -- and for a long moment, he stares.

He does not blink. He stares.

[Aghward]

The colorfully clad escort of the Emissary follows. When the Emperor\'s name is uttered, he bows his head, chanting what can only be presumed as words of praise and glory to the Emperor.

Saeltavor blinks back at that, looking confused as the man stares at him. He glances down, then around and back, quirking an eyebrow as though to say \'what\'? His grey eyes dance to the others in the unit, to see if they were acting the same way, then to the colorful one at the back. Finally he returns his focus to Javad and holds those eyes, his face still puzzled and impassive.

[Denethor]

Cold and grave, Denethor\'s countenance is as unyielding as the black stone chair upon which he sits. Silence reigns for a dozen heartbeats, before the Steward lifts his head to speak. \"Friendship, with the Emperor of Far Harad. Does your Emperor have more to say? Friendship I have oft found to be hollow without deeds.\"

[Jahtori]

Jahtori gives an affirmative nod to the question of the Steward. \"Tor Mitari, may he live forever, also sends gifts,\" he then motions for the colorful Aghward to step forward. \"However, if you need more than gifts, allow Emminence\'s deeds speak for him.\"

He unrolls the scroll he holds and begins to read. \"Tor-Mitari, may he live forever, has ceased all trade with the criminal rulers of Umbar. The mumakil traders have been ordered to deliver no more beasts to Umbar, and the ships of Far Harad now attack all ships of Umbar found within our waters.\"

He lowers the scroll and looks back to Denethor. \"Tor-Mitari, may he live forever, wishes to join you in your battle against the Criminal Lords of Umbar.\"

[Javad]

Why /does/ he stare? Javad doesn\'t answer, but his eyes remain on Saeltavor for a long moment -- and then he smiles. Again, he smiles.

And he turns his attention back to the emissary, to his greetings, to his offers, and then to the Steward.

Small, dark eyes pause there, and there remain.

[Nuzhah]

Nuzhah\'s eyes surge darkly with life at this moment, at the words of Jahtori, a dark twilight not quite rivaling the chair upon which Denethor sits nor its earthy cold, but almost parallel to its other qualities: dark, resolute, and strong like its stone surface. Yet where all these qualities might insist hostility, her eyes do not bow to such and stay faithfully resolute. They do not sway from him, though neither are her eyes met at present. Her posture fails to shift, and thus no instinct is made to check for her absent blade. Her hands wait harmlessly at her sides.

She listens with the others, the refracting light upon her armor betrays the length these went to in presenting themselves, and Nuzhah\'s is no different, catching bits of light and throwing rods of them about the hall, like a few pale apparations on the distant wall.

[Silvarion]

Near the rear of the hall, mostly out of sight and in those same shadows which typically conceal only Guardsmen of the Citadel, stands another visitor to the realm of Gondor. Tall, and somewhat slight of form and figure, the visitor appears to be little more than a wandering traveller and sometime trader out of the north, though in truth it would be hard to place either his mild accent or his unusual appearance.

Silvarion peers out from the shadows at the Haradrim with unabashed curiosity, relishing this unique and rare opportunity to lay eyes upon the folk from the far south, all the while keen to stay out of view of the Steward apparently the perceptiveness and clear sight of Denethor is known even in the North.

Saeltavor furrows his brow at that, then shrugs it off as he turns back now to listen to the conversation, hands folded in front of him as he stood beside the four, listening with keen interest.

[Denethor]

\"The Emperor\'s deeds are welcome,\" Denethor intones gravely.

From the black stone chair, he continues to speak. \"Works that are against the men of Umbar are worthy, but our lands lie many leagues apart as the falcon flies. The Emperor must have other reasons he has commenced such a policy, than simply friendship with Gondor, welcome though it may be. I would know something of his mind, ere I form an opinion, and lest I make a decision in haste.\"

[Aghward]

Aghward steps forward and falls on his knees, raising the colorfully wrapped box which he holds reverently with both hands, high above his head, offering the gift.

\"A gift from the Emperor Tor Mitari, may he live forever, himself, of which I am not worthy to carry. A token of his sincerity and promise of what is to come.\"

[Gilherion]

Unremarkable perhaps is just another soldier of Gondor, his gaze aimed straight forward, as impassive as any. He stares not at the visitors, nor at anything or anyone in particular, but rather remains perfectly still at his position, seeming more than comfortable. And so Gilherion listens-- patiently, quietly, contentedly.

[Javad]

And still Javad watches. Jahtori is sent to be the Emperor\'s mouthpiece and Aghward bears the gift. Javad? His are but the eyes.

Standing still behind the emissary, his arms snake over his chest and he stands there, expectant -- and glances once more to the guardsman Saeltavor, laughter dancing in his beady eyes.

[Saeltavor]

Saeltavor misses the look towards his short, bearded countenance, instead being the honored \'escort\' of these people as he stood there, back straight as his eyes are the only things taht move between the Steward and the Emperor\'s Mouth.

[Endaerion]

\"It sounds like some device of the Enemy,\" intones Endaerion cautiously from where he stands perched, overlooking the mission, \"standing here listening to these men of the South offering trinkets and tokens of peace.\" A green gauntlet rises to scratch at the Ranger\'s chin. His gaze scans the assembly and for the first time he takes notice of the strange unspoken exchange between Javad and Saeltavor. \"You will understand if we of the North are.. skeptical.\"

[Endaerion]

\"It sounds like some device of the Enemy,\" intones Endaerion cautiously from where he stands perched, overlooking the mission, \"standing here listening to these men of the South offering trinkets and tokens of peace.\" A green gauntlet rises to scratch at the Ranger\'s chin. His gaze scans the assembly and for the first time he takes notice of the strange unspoken exchange between Javad and Saeltavor. \"You will understand if we of the North are.. skeptical. What, exactly, sways your Emperor\'s allegience away from the Dark Lord\'s minions in Umbar?\"

[Denethor]

A swift nod from Denethor sends a Citadel Guardsman stooping to receive the gift. Once taken, the guardsman opens it - without peering at its contents inside - and offers it to the Steward upon one knee.

The Steward looks within, and at a word, the Guardsman grasps the object and holds it aloft an ivory carving of a mumakil, inlaid with sparkling jewels. \"The Emperor is most generous. You shall excuse the forthrightness of the speech of Endaerion here, yet I would have you answer his question if you would. And what does the Emperor ask of Gondor in return - for I have found many friendships perilous in the making.\"

Saeltavor inhales a little bit himself as he blinks at the carved elephant. His eyes glance to the party once more now with keen interest, eager to hear the questoins\' answer, as no doubt, many are.

[Silvarion]

A ghost of a smile flickers across the face of the concealed Elf, as one of the Men of Gondor refers to his land as \'North\'. Nonetheless, it is a shortlived amusement, and the gravity of the matter imposes a frown on his shadowed lips. Discussion has quickly turned to the Lord of Mordor, and the intentions and sincerity of the visitors in this matter is precisely what the hidden visitor came here to learn.

[Jahtori]

Jahtori, wrinkles his scolarly brow in tought for a moment as he translates the Stewards words in his mind. Then finally he gives a nod and a small smile.

\"His Emminence, also knows of the many leauges between your lands and ours,\" he replies. \"A distance made even greater due to those who control Umbar. Tor-Mitari, may he live forever, in his infinite wisdom wishes to make that distance less. Tor Mitari, may he live forever, wishes only to better Far Harad\'s position through trade. To do this the den of vipers, that is Umbar, must be wiped out. A task that will not be easy, but can be made easier by our joining forces.\"

He turns then to man at the Steward\'s side who speaks. \"Of course you are skeptical, only a fool would be otherwise. Tor-Mitari, may he live forever, knows the men of Gondor are not fools. It is why he wishes your friendship.\" He then purses his lips in thought momentarily. \"Umbar has made Far Harad suffer in its shadow for years. We can not trade as we wish, because of these Corsairs. Tor Mitari, may he live forever, is swayed by the desire to be his own man, not the puppet of some far away Lords.\"

He smiles as the Steward accepts the gift. \"Tor Mitari, may he live forever, asks little of Gondor and her people. Only that they continue to stand against the vipers of Umbar.\"

[Javad]

The scene seems to amuse Javad there seems little enough sinister in his smile, but his eyes laugh outright.

\"Minions,\" he repeats Endaerion\'s word softly with the intonation of one who does not understand it -- but likes the taste of it on his tongue, and the sound of it in his ear.

And he smiles still.

[Nuzhah]

Nuzhah continues to stand with those of her folk, a silent guard insistent on her silence and lack of movement and in this only her eyes are left taking Denethor and nothing else, not the other voices, nor the guards, nor the magnificence of the hall. She just stands and watches the Steward\'s eyes and posture, all of his antics, she unresponsive to anything else, even the repetition of the phrase, \'May he live forever\'.

[Gilherion]

The eyes of the silent Man-at-Arms flicker momentarily, perhaps gaining a glimpse of the ivory mumakil as the Guardsmen holds it high, though they leave not whatever distant place they are fixed upon. If any were watching, they might notice the corner of his mouth twist upward ever so slightly into a wry smile, before ultimately being forced away. Gilherion\'s solemn demeanor soon returns, and again he remains just as he was before.

[Denethor]

\"The price of your friendship is one that Gondor has already paid, many times over. The men of Umbar have been enemies for many a year.\" The voice of Denethor is chill correct and stark. \"If this is the sole wish of your Emperor, you may tell him that our realm has stood against Gondor long before he ascended to his rule, and that we will continue to do so while he rules, and long afterwards, shall that come to pass.\" A sardonic smile graces his features for the briefest of moments.

[Denethor]

\"The price of your friendship is one that Gondor has already paid, many times over. The men of Umbar have been enemies for many a year.\" The voice of Denethor is chill correct and stark. \"If this is the sole wish of your Emperor, you may tell him that our realm has stood against Umbar long before he ascended to his rule, and that we will continue to do so while he rules, and long afterwards, shall that come to pass.\" A sardonic smile graces his features for the briefest of moments.

[Aghward]

He remains genuflected, his hands upraised above his head which is kept low. But as the precious artifact is raised, Aghward slowly rises to his feet.

\"The enemy of our enemy are our friends.\"

The large guard clad in a billowy garb utters. Grasping the sleeve of his loose tunic, he pulls it up over his arm until it bares his well defined bicep - upon which is a tattoo of a golden tower that is set upon a wave. For those in the know, it is the symbol of Seaward Tower - but through it, is a tattoo of a large dagger, stabbing the Tower, and blood seeps from the wound. He clenches his fist, making his muscle flex. Death To Seaward! It seems to say.

Then quietly, he lets the sleeve drop over his arm and once again, he returns to his neutral, albeit respectful, stance.

[Silvarion]

Silvarion\'s eyes dart from Jahtori to Aghward, perhaps judging the sincerity of the messengers, and the truth unseen behind their words. What the old elf perceives, who can say... Yet he continues to frown, obviously distrustful of the Southrons and their message, however benign and undemanding it may seem. Unfortunately, he is unable to draw nearer or leave his place in the shadows, lest he fall under the keen gaze of the Steward.

[Javad]

Javad\'s eyes roll heavenward at the larger guard\'s display of his tattoos his own billowy sleeves remain settled over his arms, and whatever they may hide remains concealed.

And he smiles.

[Jahtori]

Jahtori nods in reply to the words of Aghward. \"If you are the enemy of Umbar then you are the friend of Tor-Mitari, may he live forever,\" he says turning to the Steward. \"His Emminence, knows of Gondor\'s long fight against the vipers of Umbar. Forgive me for saying, but it is a fight that you have yet to win. It is His Emminence\'s greatest desire that you join with him in crushing these Tower Lords of Umbar.\"

He drops down to his knees. \"His Emminence wished I beg if necessary, so I humble myself before you and your people. Come to Bozisha-Dar, the Jewel of the South. Meet with His Emminence hear his plans and judge for yourself if you wish to join with us.\"

[Saeltavor]

Saeltavor cannot truly see the tattoo from where he stood, although his helmeted head tilts curiously, brow furrowed. again, he glances to the others. But at Jahtori\'s words, his head comes back up, eyes narrowing as he shifts uneasily, but remains at ease.

[Nuzhah]

Nuzhuh continues to peer at Denethor, in a way that might betray she knows little of the common tongue compared to the rest, or that she at least struggles with it, she also having been one of the primary to struggle with the commands prior, before being summoned to the head of the line that continues to wait on this group, though likely with interest.

Still this one, the lone woman among the foreign group, peers on resolutely as if a shadow, only she is not of one color and expression, though steady of stance and bearing she is, even as Jahtori kneels.

[Javad]

Thin lips curl into something less than a smile but more than a frown as Jahtori falls to his knees, and he mutters words in a tongue unknown in these climes.

[Denethor]

\"The Steward of Gondor is ever needed at the Tower of the Guard, and we do not often forsake our duties here. If your Emperor still wishes to meet in person with one of us, an emissary I shall send to the Jewel of the South imbued with authority, he shall be a lord of Gondor, and one worthy of your Emperor\'s company. As he meets with your ruler, you shall treat him with the respect that you give me, and only then may Gondor give an answer to your Emperor.\" Denethor\'s pronouncement ends and with it, the implication that the audience is at an end.

[Nauthcel]

Remaining still as if a statue, Nauthcel watches the diplomatic proceedings intently with only his ashen gaze following the debate. Yet, he does not remain still longer as a passing glance falls upon the ellon. Towards the disguised edhel he steps quietly, placing himself next to Silvarion. He whispers then to the elf, his voice low as to only allow the other to hear. \"... ... ... ... ... ... me, ... ... ... ... upon ... ... ... ... ... ... .... ... ... ... ... ... in ... ... would have ....\"

[Silvarion]

To the Elf, the invitation to meet the Southron emperor sounds like a particularly uninventive trap, yet he is a poor judge of what other Men may make of this tempting offer. He remains in the shadows as Denethor answers, unwilling to step forward even for a moment to watch the Steward as he speaks.

Glancing toward Nauthcel, Silvarion makes a soft noise of agreement, nodding at the Haradrim. \"I know little enough of Numenor...\" he answers in a hushed whisper. \"I was not one of those elves who visited it, nor have I made it subject of study. Yet they speak as those fallen lords of Numenor spoke... \'May He Live Forever\' is a chilling echo of the desires of your forebears to live forever. I am mistrustful of these Men... Such are the ploys of Sauron, who works by guile more oft than acts of open strength.\"

[Aghward]

The tattooed guard from Far Harad bows respectfully to Denethor. He takes a step back, and waits for Jahtori.

[Jahtori]

Jahtori lowers his upper body to the ground. \"Thank you, your Greatness,\" he says. \"Tor-Mitari, my he live forever, will be honored to accept any you send to meet with him. To show his sincerity he gives you, me. Jahtori al Mitari, his son and heir. I will be your prisoner until your Emmisaries have returned safely.\"

[Saeltavor]

Many do not seem convinced, and Saeltavor was amongst them as he examines Jahtori carefully, then each other person in the party without a word, remaining quietly as always.

[Javad]

\"...may he live forever.\"

Javad\'s voice is low, gravelly, and soft his lips twist still at the bowing emissary. And these words -- these are familiar to his tongue, though they trip off it with an accent foreign to these lands.

An still -- still he smiles.

[Nuzhah]

Nuzhah glances to Jahtori at his words, for the first time removing her eyes from Denethor since they fell upon him. Still as of yet no smile has faltered the coarse skin of her face, nor strayed the look in her eyes. She stands as though ready to depart.

[Aghward]

\"If this great Gondorian Lord you send to Emperor Tor-Mitari seeks an escort, we shall gladly provide,\" Aghward offers. \"Otherwise, Scholar Jahtori will chart the maps for you, and prepare the invitation that will allow you entry into Our Great City.\"

Aghward gasps, horrified! And quickly adds, \"Emperor Tor-Mitari, May he live forever!\"

[Nauthcel]

\"... ... ... ... ..., .... ... had ... ... ... ... ... the Enemy and song ... that it ... those ... ... ... for ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...,\" answers Nauthcel as his gaze continues to study the one who speaks on behalf of the Emporer. \"... evil ... ... ... ... planned, ... ... Kingdom ... ... ... ... all costs,\" he adds continuing to keep his voice low.

[Denethor]

\"You shall be an honoured guest,\" Denethor says, accepting Jahtori\'s offer. \"And I thank you for your offer of an escort, but the lord of my choosing shall choose men of valour from his own land with which to go. If there is nothing left for us to discuss, I invite you to speak with one of my men who can arrange lodging for you, to rest before you begin your return journey.\"

[Saeltavor]

Saeltavor bites his tongue at Aghward, but looks to the man with some respect indeed. Respect was a big thing in Gondor and as the Steward speaks, he looks up, half expectantly, half ready to volunteer. Finally working the nerve up, he speaks his first words the entire scene: \"My lord Steward, I have acted in such a role on many occasions before...\" he looks to the four beside him, then back \"I would be honored to assist in arranging accomodations and such for our allies.\"

[Javad]

\"Accomodations,\" Javad agrees gamely, his smile remaining as conclusory words are spoken.

[Endaerion]

Endaerion observes the remainder of the exchange with little movement. Always, a glint of his stare is directed towards the smileing Javad. As the affair draws to a close, however, and the assembly makes ready to depart, the Ranger of Ithilien draws a step closer. \"Save our Lords the bother. If this great Emperor of the Southern Lands might trouble his servants the trip, and further trouble my Lord, the Steward of Gondor, to make the journey, why then does he not stand before us now? Surely no greater sign of his sincerity in these matters could be made.\" The voice is cold, and the words roll off his tongue like a chill wind.

[Silvarion]

Silvarion inclines his head in agreement with the Arnorian, murmuring in answer, \"This Steward is a sharp one, and I worry not that he will be easily ensnared... Mithrandir forewarned me, and I am staying well clear of his sight. I would not willingly pit my will to conceal myself against him. Were not the temptation to see the Southrons overwhelming, I would not have come so close. Still, a foolish risk, at the end of a successful journey.\"

[Jahtori]

Jahtori rises from the floor and gives a final bow to the Steward. His exit, however, is cut short by the words of the Ranger. \"Tor-Mitari, may he live forever, much like your own Steward, is hard pressed to get away from the lands he rules. His Emminence, has not sat the throne long, and he feels it would be unwise to leave Bozisha-Dar at present. He wished to come himself, but was unable, so instead he has sent and given you his son. A man is only as great as his sons. That is an old saying in my land, and Tor Mitari, may he live forever, has given a portion of his greatness to your keeping.\"

[Denethor]

\"Peace, Endaerion. They have come for their audience, and it has been granted, and here let it end. Your counsel I shall have in private.\"

And indeed, the audience is at an end.