Patrol in the Garden

North Ithilien - Forest

The dark ruins of Osgiliath seem to end here, but the deep shadows cast by the enormous trees do not relent. The trunks loom like giants watching over some long-forgotten hoard. Dark pools of shade cast by the trees against the dying light seem to writhe and move with a will of their own. Leaves crackle underfoot against the backdrop of utter silence. Large banks of fern, over man-height, seem to hide silent eyes as they move suddenly in a wind.

Night blankets the forest in darkness, punctuated by the eerie sound of wind or the occasional hoot of an owl.

Contents:

[Tarachim(#19338)]     A light snow falls from the clouds that cover the winter\'s night sky. The flakes drift lazily to the ground amongst the ruins of Osgiliath, where the ruins fail and the forest begins. It is amongst these ruins, on the edge of the Garden of Gondor, that there is a small party of men wearing the winter hues of Ithilien. Their leader, wearing the gray gauntlets of a March-Warden of Ithilien, turns from looking into the forest to the men with him his head is covered by not only the hood of his cloak, but a suit blackened helm and a mask that covers his mouth.

\"Before we enter into the Garden of Gondor, there are some rules that must be covered first. Silence must be observed at all times sound travels clear and far in the cold and can easily give your position away. Watch and step lightly, for you do not know what there is under the snow. And always watch and listen.\"

Garbed for winter and stealth, Ceredir is among this group of men. A mask hides the Scout\'s face, and also any sign of nervousness as well, save for that his grey eyes flit about the landscape here, peering into the darkness if they might. Still, he is not so nervous as to not pay attention to the March-warden\'s instructions, and he nods to indicate he is listening, yet is already adhering to silence. The Scout wears a sword and dagger, and a bow is slung across his back. Wool gloves, fingerless, protect his hands from the cold and allow him to still loose arrows if need be.

[Daerien(#21777)]

Clad still in his uniform, for naught else is owned by this newly reconciled son of Cuthalion. Daerien has made some effort to shield his appearance from probing eyes. A thick cloak of mismatched small animals is draped over his shoulders, rats and rabbits held together with sinew and gut. His metal blackened by the carbon of a smoky fire, his shaved skull wrapped in a dull grey cloth that he has covered his face with as well, leaving only the slate hued eyes peering out, a cloud of fog with each breath gently freezing across his veil. A long skinning knife tucked into his boot, and a utilitarian longsword is cinched to his waist to prevent it rattling and giving away his position. He stares unblinking at the March-Warden and then nods his head and scooping some dirt from his boots to smear across his pale fingers to obscure the last vestiges of light hue.

[Tarachim(#19338)]     \"We shall advanced into the forests of North Ithilien we shall not go far, for the men of Cair Andros are conducting their own patrols and I have a patrol going further than this.\" That said, the March-Warden turns back to face the looming, dark forest. He remains still for only a moment before he begins to move quietly and lightly in a half-crouch until he is fully within the trees it is only then he straightens up. Some of the other Scouts in the group follow the March-Warden after a moment or two.

There is a moment of hesitation in Ceredir\'s step that betrays his nerves. But then--with a quick look to Daerien--he sets one foot in front of the other, crouches as the others before him have, and moves.

[Daerien(#21777)]

Moving to follow, here at least is something Daerien is comfortable with. Even if the sword is worn with evident discomfort, moving silently through the forest following near to the back of the patrol, his legs moving forward with his body seemingly forced to follow behind, his long arms lifted to propel him, not gracefully, but silently and quickly amongst the low hanging eaves of dead leaves, the dusting of snow at least preventing the dead leaves from crackling underfoot as the patrol moves deeper into the shadows. He does not speak, though his eyes often peer at the few who travel nearby as if about to ask a question but never daring to vocalize with this need for silence so prevalent, and though he spots no signs of the enemy, in surety they cannot be far distant.

North Ithilien - East Bank of the Anduin

The Anduin runs swiftly here, too deep to ford easily, even on horseback. The banks are higher here than to the north and covered with tall reeds, rushes and ferns that extend down into the edge of the water. The ferns grow up along the bank and into the forest that starts at the northern edge of Osigiliath to the east continues here almost to the banks themselves. Tall and closely grown are the trees of it though small clearings there are, here and there, not to be seen until you are almost upon them. Faint trails can be seen in some places, though whether made by man or by game is unknown. It is nighttime.

[Tarachim(#19338)]     The patrol led by the March-Warden has arrived now to the bank of the Anduin, which can be heard down below to the west. The March-Warden pauses while still within the wood, gesturing for two of the more experienced scouts to take up watch before he turns to face the rest, standing before a tree. His eyes flick from Scout to Scout before he speaks, quietly.

\"Tell me this: why does the Company of Ithilien fight to keep the Garden free from the Enemy? And when you answer, speak softly.\"

\"It...\" Ceredir frowns, looking about, as if the trees and the riverbank might give him an answer. \"It is not yet tainted by the enemy? The land is still blessed with sunlight and growing things--a sign that the Valar have not deserted it, and thus we, too, must not desert it?\" The young man blinks, looking rather embarrassed, suddenly, that he has spoken up so. \"Your pardon, sir,\" he then mutters, humbled.

[Daerien(#21777)]

Daerien seems about to answer himself, his smile obscured behind the grey veil that has grown frosty with the breath exhaled. He stops himself short and drops to a crouch, slowly brushing away some of the fallen leaves from by his feet and looking around now, trying to pierce the darkness with eyes unsuited to shadow. Looking back to the March Warden, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he were about to offer further comment but staying quiet rather then disturbing the environs.

[Tarachim(#19338)]     \"That is one possible answer. This land has not yet been fouled by the Enemy as so many others have, so it is our duty to fight for it. There are many other answers... for some or most within the Houses Carmayar and Cuthalion, it is to reclaim the lands that were taken from us. Another answer is that this land is still Gondor\'s and that we should not and shall not surrender it without a fight. If we did not maintain the Company of Ithilien, we would be more sorely pressed than we are currently.\"

The March-Warden falls silent before he gives a brief whistle that sounds like a sparrow the two Scouts sent to watch return before Tarachim heads eastwards.

\"And yet..it should not just be two Houses that fight for this land or that consider it theirs,\" Ceredir answers in a harsh whisper. \"For as you say, it is all of Gondor\'s responsibility, and thus all of our lands, no? But...\" A shake of his head, and Ceredir now quiets again. \"Sir.\"

[Daerien(#21777)]

Finally Daerien speaks, his voice rough from lack of use and muffled slightly by the veil. \"If don\'t fight here, where would we fight? Minas Tirith? Lebenin? Dol Amroth? The banks of the Lefnui? I would rather fight them beyond the Ephel Duath but since we can\'t....\" and with a shrug of his broad shoulders he falls silent again and lets the dirt slowly drop through his fingers, forming a small mound, a burial caern for whatever insects might lay dead beneath this winter frozen earth.

North Ithilien - Glade

The dark woods relent, opening now into a wide glade that spreads across the top of the stream-bank until it falls away on either side. Breeze from the south brings with it hints of the far-off sea, even in the midst of the primeval forest. Sweet odors rise from the anemones and primroses in their dishevelled beds across the open meadow. Deeper, muskier scents emanate from a grove of tamarisk and terebinth. Shadows gather beneath the great trees.

WARNING: The Ban of Ithilien is in effect in this room. If you are IC, and are found here, you WILL be held accountable for breaking the Ban, for which the penalty is death. No exceptions.

In the still of the night, darkness reigns.

[Tarachim(#19338)]     As the patrol comes up to the glade, the March-Warden pauses once more before he leaves the cover of the woods, turning once more to face the group of Scouts. The same two that stood watch before move off, and it is a minute or two before Tarachim speaks. \"The other Houses have their own concerns some are too far south, and others serve in the Hosts of Gondor. Of the Houses of Gondor, it is the Mormegil Houses that have the closest connection with the Garden of Gondor. Though others have fought through here, it is our blood that has stained the soil of Ithilien more often than not. Ithilien has long been settled by Gondor Isildur himself founded the city that was once Minas Ithil before it fell. The Mormegil lived here, and when Carmayar and Cuthalion came into being, they each claimed part of this land: Carmayar in the north, Cuthalion in the south.\"

The man falls silent for a few moments before he nods his head slightly to Daerien. \"Indeed. Gondor has not the strength to take the fight to the Enemy in years past we were masters of what we surveyed, and kept the Black Land in check... but that time has passed. The River forms a natural barrier against the incursions of the Enemy only in a few spots can it be crossed, and we defend those heavily. And we cannot risk the main fighting strength of Gondor by having them move beyond their fortified positions...

\"But... a Company of men that know the land well and can move with stealth and silence... they are a far better force with which to take the fight to the Enemy. We are the spear tip of Gondor we are its blade. We are also its shield, for the Enemy must pass through us first. The Hosts and the Knights... more hammers are they blunt force to crush the foe... but the Company of Ithilien is a finer weapon.\"

A sullen look sullies the younger Scout\'s face at the March-Warden\'s first words, though he checks it, controlling his temper. Ceredir\'s words are spoken evenly, though pride rings in them. \"I am neither Carmayar nor Cuthalion and yet I chose to fight here, sir. I would not wish it that only those two Houses are seen as defending the Garden because those lands were once theirs. Those of Gondor who are not nobly born fight, too, and share the love for the lands. We are not mere stepping stones on which those nobly born can tread without thought.\"

[Daerien(#21777)]

Speaking no more, Daerien just waits for a response but he does offer Ceredir a sympathetic look, his own recovery to a position of relative station and an acknowledgement to the quality of his blood being such a recent development. His palm clutching the pommel of his blade and leaning up against the nearby tree, his shoulder pressed to the bark, but careful to not leave any trace of his presence here. Finally he murmers \"Let us then be the weapon. We are no longer men are we?\" his eyes slightly upturned as if beneath the veil his lips have curved into a smile.

[Tarachim(#19338)]     \"Commoners have fought in the Company of Ithilien,\" Says the March-Warden with a nod. \"But I cannot speak for their reasons for joining but if you look, many in the Company are from a Mormegil House. I have no trouble with commoners fighting to regain Ithilien... as long as their reasons are true. Men who seek glory also court death and while that is a risk we all take when we swear to defend Gondor, those who seek glory can bring it down on more than just themselves.\"

He falls silent once more before his gaze flicks to Daerien. \"In Ithilien... we cannot afford to be men our duty binds us to be a weapon and shield. I expect any man under my command to do his duty, no matter what... especially in regards to the Ban of Ithilien. Unless by exception granted by the Captain or his father the Steward, only the Men of Ithilien may tread this land.\"

\"Truly sir..do you think that I seek glory? Do my actions ever indicate that I am part of the Company in order to make a name for myself?\" Ceredir asks, grey eyes steady on Tarachim. \"This, I freely admit, is not the time for such discussions, but I would expect you would not have me along this night if such were my attitude. I fight for the Garden because the Garden is Gondor and though I have neither name, nor House, I, too, am Gondor.\"

Silent again, Ceredir frowns momentarily, only adding in a quiet tone, \"Though I know men who seek only glory. Or worse, who seek death.\"

[Daerien(#21777)]

Daerien stands up and wipes his palms on his knees. Looking through tto the river, as if trying to discern it\'s path towards the distant sea. A smile still upon his lips betraying itself by his eyes. A shrug of his shoulders as he moves to stand behind Ceredir and lightly touching his shoulder as if in reassurance as he inclines his face towards the March Warden. \"I am no spear, but I make a good club, I am still a raw metal to be forged, and in time if in the course of time glory finds us, so be it, until then, we shall become a worthy weapon in the hands of the Steward to perhaps one day drive out the disease that even now impinges upon our lands and hearts.\" his words so softly spoken barely a whisper, a susuration in the air as he moves off to seek a shadow, preparing to venture deeper into the forests, to accept the necessity of the ban, and the rights that go with not having it pertain to him with all the responsibilities that such entails.

[Tarachim(#19338)]     \"Did I say that?\" The March-Warden\'s tone suggests he has an eyebrow arched as he looks to Ceredir. \"You are correct, however I do not bring with me those that seek glory for themselves and thus risk dooming the entire patrol. I bring those that know their duty or have promise.\" The Carmayar shrugs his shoulders slightly before his eyes flick towards Daerien for a few moments. \"Stay close we shall be ending the patrol soon. For now, however... I want to you watch and listen... learn the sounds of Ithilien at night so that next you are here, they will not be out of the ordinary.\"

\"No sir, you did not,\" Ceredir agrees now, chastised by the words of the March-Warden. A touch on his shoulder and the young Scout now turns, some sign of a smile coming to his eyes--the only part of his face that might be seen beneath his mask--at Daerien\'s gesture. \"Thank you,\" he then supports that in a whisper, nodding. \"I should not be so bitter. My fate could have been worse. I am here, am I not?\"

Further words from their commanding officer, though, bring Ceredir to silence once more, and he half kneels, concentrating to try to listen more closely.

[Daerien(#21777)]

A nod as he loosens and then refastens the veil across his face, carefully tugging the fabric lower so that his eyes can look out upon the world without any hindrance or obfuscation. Checking that his sword is still firmly caught at his side, and pulling the hilt up slightly to free the blade that has frozen partially within the scabbard before stabbing it down again into the rough cured leather. A salute offered to the march warden, respect given to this Carmayar though he knows nothing of the man who is in his charge beyond his title. His reactions based simply upon that alone. Stepping back into the deeper shadows so not only can he listen to the silence, but fading from light, becoming a part of the forest itself, no more then another blasted stump, or ill hewn stone.