Activities in Tirith Annun

Tirith Annun: Main Area

A large oval shaped cave stretches out before you. In the middle is a large table with a number of chairs, with a second table and more chairs stacked against a part of the wall out of the way. Set not too far from the head of the table is a large stone fireplace. About 6 feet away, the underground stream bubbles up into a shallow natural basin, providing clean air and water for the cave before it goes back underground to carry away the smoke from the fireplace. Above the hearth, carved into the stone are the words, \"Brother to Brother, through Life unto Death\".

In one corner of the rooms are bunks for the scouts, each with a chest at the foot for the scouts belongings. There are extra bunks down in the storage room. In another corner is a desk, littered with maps and drawings, with more maps on the walls around it. There are a few extra chairs there, while futher down the wall is a small work table, large enough for two people. Two stools are there, one in front and the other to one side. Next to that is the sloping passage down to the smaller cold storage room. The passage out is almost at the other end of the table from the fireplace and there are no windows, only torchs held in wall sconces and the fire illuminate the room.

Contents:

Aearion

Obvious exits:

Out, Training Room, and Storage Room

Ceredir has arrived.

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Weather:            Rainy

Time:               Late Morning <12>

Season:             Spring

Date:               Orgilion - May 13, 3047

Real Time:          Mon Jul 06 09:50:12 2009

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Rain pounds down outside this stony shelter, but the only sign of it are reports of a small patrol of Scouts that returned earlier this morning. That group now sleeps, while another readies for the afternoon\'s patrol.

At the fireplace, Ceredir kneels adding another log before he stands up and brushes off his pants, turning back to the room.

Daerthor, having returned to Ithilien recently, is sleeping lightly in his bunk, calm and unmoving. The earlier patrol had been tiring, but thrilling all the same - some would say that Daerthor had \"gone soft\" in Minas Tirith not with regards to his developing skills in arms, for he was certainly not allowed to languish idly, but his senses felt reawakened in a land where stealth was paramount, with every sound important and indicative. The sudden roar of the fireplace stirs him slightly, and now awake, he blinks sleepily, squinting at the figure of Ceredir.

Aearion slept deeply, but briefly after the morning patrol. It had been his first as an active scout. He wakes to the sound of Ceredir putting a log on the fire and relaizes that he is cold within the confines of the refuge. He draws his cloak over his arms and turns onto his side. His eyes catch Daerthor and he catches sight of the afternoon patrol getting ready. \"I never slept so soundly, even after a long day at the quarry,\" he says to Daerthor in a low voice.

A grin lights Ceredir\'s face. \"Ah, the two beauties arising from their rest,\" he says, looking first to Daerthor and then to Aearion. \"If you slept soundly tonight, then you\'ll sleep even better as we head south. The accommodations grow more and more luxurious.\"

Mulling on Aearion\'s statement, Daerthor smiles and mutters softly in reply. \"Tis the work of a scout,\" he says. \"It drains you so. But one gets used to it.\" Upon hearing Ceredir\'s voice directed to him, he sits up straight, tossing off his scant blanket and blinking away the sleep in his eyes. Hearing the sarcasm in Ceredir\'s voice, Daerthor turns towards him, the smile still on his face. \"Indeed, sir, we slept well. And I have oft wondered, during my few ventures south, if the grass of Ithilien really makes for as good a mattress as some of my fellow scouts seem to imply.\"

They are speaking Sindran to Aearion, he has heard so much of Ithilien, but in the early morning he seen little of which to be impressed. He listens to the conversation between Ceredir and Daerthor. The master scout\'s sense of humor was sharper than Aearion had thought and it usually brings a smile to his face, but not much else. He watches the scouts leave and feels even colder. \"Sir, would you mind putting another log on the fire?\" He wasn\'t used to being out of the sun\'s warmth and had never really thought about that fact when he gave his oath as a scout.

\"Grass, Scout?\" Ceredir says, grinning to Daerthor. \"Yes, soft as sleeping on a down mattress. We should head south today. The rain will give us cover enough, though it washes away any clues of where Amrundirn and I traveled. Still, we can keep a sharp eye out,\" he says, falling serious as he speaks.

Aearion\'s request brings a raised eyebrow. \"If you need to warm up then you can get out of bed and give me 200 pushups. That ought to do it.\"

Daerthor pauses, now, and gets out of his bunk, bending over to make his bed. Smoothing the sheets down, he pauses and turns to face Ceredir. \"Sir, are we to retrace your steps today, in the hopes of finding Amrundirn?\" he asks.

At Ceredir\'s other statement, Daerthor throws a significant look at Aearion, chastising him for asking the Master Scout to do a task he could do himself.

Aearion wordlessly complies, rolling out of the bunk smoothly. He pounds out the push-ups steadily until a fire is built in his shoulder and arm muscles and each repetition becomes slower. Soon his arms are trembling as he counts out the last of the ordered push-ups. Sweat streams from his brow and the room feels incredibly hot. He would learn to keep his mouth shut, especially since he was an apprentice and quite out of place even speaking to the Master Scout, let alone asking him to do a meanial task. Aearion finishes the last pushup and stands to the position of attention. \"Permission to keep my mouth shut and sleep sir?\" the young man asks curtly.

Ceredir laughs. \"Go back to bed if you can after that,\" he says, shaking his head at Aearion. \"Better to save your energy for now. And yes, that\'s exactly what we are going to be doing, Daerthor. THough I think there is little hope for it unless he is held in the Southron\'s cams south of the Poros River.\"

Once permission is given, Aearion climbs back into his primitive bunk and dedicates himself to spending the rest of his alotted time conserving his energy in idleness, if not sleep. The sweat cools him at first and eventually dries as he slips back into a sound, dreamless sleep.

Shrugging, Daerthor finishes placing his solitary pillow in place at the head of the bed. The scant few hours of sleep appears to have rejuvenated him well enough. He walks towards Ceredir now, stopping before him. \"Yet there is nothing we can do but try, sir, is it not? When do we depart?\"

\"As soon as Aearion has had enough beauty sleep to look pretty again?\" Ceredir grins, then adds, \"in two hours. Enough to get the reports of this morning\'s patrol, if they return, eat, and leave. You haven\'t been out on patrol before?\"

Daerthor smiles at the mention of his friend\'s slip-up. But at Ceredir\'s question, he frowns in confusion. \"I have, sir I just returned from the dawn patrol but a few hours ago. Nothing much happened beyond the usual orcs and trolls lumbering around in their camps, and the roads were as quiet as they could be.\"

\"Good at least,\" Ceredir nods. \"Better that their activity is normal than that all is too quiet and they are up to something. No sign of the Southrons? They were the ones who ambushed us--foresting in the trees north of the Poros, defiling our lands.\"

\"No sign at all, sir,\" Daerthor says pensively. \"Don\'t know if this means they have returned to their lands, or if they are just too good at hiding and disgusing themselves. But no one reported any sound of movement beyond what would be expected for the wind in the trees. That should be a good sign, or I am hoping so.\"

\"Could be good, could be bad,\" Ceredir says. \"We won\'t know until we see what the Southrons are up to. Just...don\'t get yourself captured, yes? It won\'t do Amrundirn any good to have company in their slave pits. Or worse, have you in the cold ground.\"

\"I\'ll try not to,\" Daerthor replies. \"I have no wish to experience the slave pits of the Southrons. It would be a most... unpleasant... experience.\" Just then, a few other scouts in the room begin to awake, stretching and stumbling out of their bunks. One of them calls for food.

\"If you survive getting captured at all,\" Ceredir notes dryly, adding, \"though in my experience, the Southrons have an odd sense of honor. If you want my advice, if you -are- captured, claim that you seek an audience with the Pretender to the throne of Gondor--the Southron Alphros, who claims his lineage extends back to Gondor\'s throne. It might save your neck. If they believe you.\"

\"An odd sense of honor?\" Daerthor looks perturbed. \"I\'ll remember that, certainly. But I thought there was no one of Dunadan blood in Harad, or so I was told. Perhaps that person was mis-informed.\"

The scout who called out blushes and goes towards a small cupboard hidden in a corner, pulling out a large package of biscuits to tide everyone over. He opens the package and tosses small packets to everyone... except Daerthor. Presumably this is because Daerthor is near the Master Scout.

Out of the corner of his eye, Ceredir watches the blushing scout distribute the biscuits--he snorts as he notes that he and Daerthor are left out, but says nothing of it.

\"Do you forget your history, Scout?\" he says to Daerthor. \"Do you not recall that the Corsairs--the first Corsairs--were men of Gondor? That there was a split between our kind? Of course there are Dunadan in Umbar, and it is likely that the heritage that Alphros claims is true. But...does that mean his claim to the throne is right and just?\"

\"And if you are hungry,\" he adds, nodding toward the cupboard and scout there, \"best claim your meal.\"

Daerthor winces as Ceredir expounds on Gondor\'s history. How he could have forgotten, he does not know, for the Kin-strife is heavily entwined with the history of his house. \"Sorry, sir,\" he says, \"I do not know what made me temporarily forget the Kin-strife. Alphros claims to descend from our kings of old, but now I remember the words of my previous teacher: that Castamir\'s descendents were wiped out a mere few generations after he established his people in Umbar. Yet Alphros could be descended from another branch of the royal family...\"

Trailing off, he suddenly comes to his senses and goes for the biscuits, rolling his eyes at the other scout. He takes two packets, and offers one to Ceredir.

Ceredir nods a thank you, taking the biscuit, then looknig to the scout who handed them out. \"You. Make us some water for a cup of tea,\" he says, then turns back to Daerthor. \"And how did they know this? Did they go to the Southrons\' lands and trace each and every blood line? How could they possibly make such a claim? I am the bastard son of a nobleman who didn\'t have the moral fiber to marry the noble woman he had impregnanted--instead letting grief and anger kill her when he took her infant son away from her rather than take responsibility for his actions. To this day, my father and his bloodline deny me--have sworn to kill me if I ever claim my rightful heritage, or so much as mention my bloodline. Yet am I not of my father\'s line despite all they do? How do you know the same does not exist for Umbar?\" A strange light has briefly crept into Ceredir\'s eyes as he speaks--one of intense conviction.

The scout runs to fetch the water and tea leaves at Ceredir\'s orders. Meanwhile, Daerthor listens to Ceredir\'s story, rapt with attention... but a secret fear grows within him, as he sees the strange light in Ceredir\'s eyes. Yet his appearance does not give anything away, and Ceredir\'s argument does make sense, after all. He quickly quashes his feelings, setting them aside to ponder over later, and attempts to say something appropriate in reply. \"I do not know, sir,\" he says tentatively. \"Yet I reserve my judgement on great matters such as these. I prefer to wait until events... surface.\"

\"It\'s not my place to make decisions of such monumental importance,\" Ceredir says, snorting suddenly and brushing off all traces of that light. \"And you\'ll forgive me--talk of my father makes me particularly angry and vehement. But all I am here to do is find a trace of the Ranger Amrundirn if we can.\" He shrugs taking a pace that brings him toward the cave\'s exit. \"Might want to wait to dip that biscuit in some tea. Unless you like broken teeth,\" he advises, turning to go.

Daerthor nods slowly as Ceredir turns to leave. \"Yes, sir,\" he says automatically, opening his packet of biscuits. He stares at one for a moment, contemplating the challenge of his teeth strength, before deciding that he would rather not find out, and heads towards the steaming tea at the back of the room.