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ToRivendell
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Post RE: The Battle for Ithilien
on: June 26, 2009 12:33
The Lord Faramir finished his mostly administrative piece, and stepped back. There was a pause in the council's discussion, and then Tenuvian rose slowly, his chair moving back from him.

"With my Lord's permission, I would wish to say a few words."

The King nodded to him, and Tenuvian turned to the council.

"My friends, we have seemed to have reached in impasse in our deliberations. The Lord Durnuar has been unable to produce any evidence of his claimed lineage except for his own word. While I am sure he is trustworthy, I will not take him at just that."

At this moment he turned adn faced Durnaur.

"I challenge the Lord Durnaur to produce evidence of his lineage. Physical evidence. The King Aragorn has the sword of Elendil, and the Ring of Barahir. You have produced nothing. Do you have anything to show?"
Mirach
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Post RE: The Battle for Ithilien
on: June 26, 2009 01:46
Lenar's eyes widened slightly. "Imrahil is your uncle?" He was at loss for words for a while. Aerdaneth needed an advice, but he wasn't sure if he can give some. He sat down on the bed, playing with the comb absentmindedly. "I actually enjoy it, you know?" he finally said quietly, seemingly unrelated to the question. He looked up to her, and smiled slightly. "And now I'm speaking in riddles... I remember how annoying it was when she ordered me to comb my hair, or be home early. But then I joined the rangers, and I was away from home for months... I realized that I miss it... And I think that she knows it. And so, when I'm home for a short time, we pretend that I have never left. It feels better then reminding her that I will leave again..."

He looked at Aerdaneth. "It is good to have a home that feels as if you have never left when you return... I have heard only good things about Price Imrahil. Maybe... maybe you can have both? By defending your father, you could show Imrahil his mistake in casting him out. And if he will see that, that he will see you for what you are - his niece..."

He smiled embarrassedly. "I'm sorry, I'm not good in giving advice..."
Erucenindë
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Post RE: The Battle for Ithilien
on: June 26, 2009 04:01
"Good morning, lady. Did you rest well in the..." she looked slightly confused "...in the garden? Lenar told me that you walked there instead of sleep... I hope he wasn't impolite to you, was he?"


The elf maiden smiled slightly. She has no idea. Briefly she wondered if perhaps she was the first time Marthal had met an elf. "No milady, Lenar was most kind. We elves simply rest differently. It was my choice to go out there."

At that moment Aerdaneth walked in.

Eowilindë watched the Haradrim carefully. There was something off about the woman. Something was bothering her, that was certain. But the elf didn't press it. Aerdaneth would tell in her own time. At least, the elf would let it go. This time.
------------------------------------------------

King Elessar approved of Faramir's "speech", so to speak. Faramir was one who he could count on. Loyal to the end.

Faramir sat down, and silence reigned briefly as everyone chewed over what had just been said. But then, to Aragorn's suprise, Captain Tenuvian jumped up. And to his even bigger surprise (and secret happiness), Tenuvian challenged Lord Durnuar quite effectively.

Aragorn's eyes flickered over to Durnuar. He then smiled slightly, though the few that saw it each interpreted it different. Durnuar, no less, most likely saw a smirk.
Sava-Tennoio
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Post RE: The Battle for Ithilien
on: June 27, 2009 03:44
Such tender affection played on the young ranger's face as he spoke softly of his mother. His eyes softened, and twinkled slightly, the muscles in his face and body relaxing from their subconscious tensity. Aerdaneth listened to him, with ear and heart, and felt that longing rise once more to the surface of her heart.

What it must feel like to have family...

"I'm sorry, I'm not good in giving advice..."


Aerdaneth shook her head, a gentle smile on her face. She reached her hand out without thinking and dropped it on her friend's shoulder--a sign of affection and respect.

"On the contrary, my friend, you give me all the exhortation I require. I have somehow in the course of this world learned pride, but should I let that pride keep me from what I desire most? Or maybe both can work together. Imrahil did not seem as I thought him to be. Almost...almost he looked as if he might feel sorrow for the deeds of the past..."

Aerdaneth paused, her gaze flickering to the open window. For a moment she was lost in thought. Shaking her head suddenly, she looked back at Lenar and quickly removed her hand.

"Ahh, but I ramble. Your mother will worry, Lenar. Let us return to them..Thank you," she said, her voice assuming a more earnest, open tone, "Thank you for your advice and,...and friendship."
Mirach
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Post RE: The Battle for Ithilien
on: July 04, 2009 12:09
Lenar blushed, and he was suddenly very busy with the comb. "Thank you for your... friendship.. too..." It sounded a bit clumsy, as if he wanted to say something else. But suddenly he put the comb aside resolutely, and nodded. "Yes, they are waiting for us. Let's go..."

The breakfast was already prepared. As Lenar saw his mother, he realized that he should explain to her what happened yesterday, and what are they going to do. He considered for a moment how he can tell her without making her too worried. Then he took a deep breath, and began to explain a very short version of their meeting with Gaius... no drawn blades or trapdoors...

"...and he told us to question Durnaur's guards." he finished. Marthal looked at him, as if she knew that he didn't tell her everything, but didn't question further. Then she smiled. "There are still some cookies left. Take them with you, and give them to the guards... I'm sure they will be more cooperative with full stomach. And be careful, all of you..."
Sava-Tennoio
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Post RE: The Battle for Ithilien
on: July 06, 2009 07:20
"I challenge the Lord Durnaur to produce evidence of his lineage. Physical evidence. The King Aragorn has the sword of Elendil, and the Ring of Barahir. You have produced nothing. Do you have anything to show?"


A long, tense silence filled the room, and suddenly it's seemingly more than adequate space seemed to be stuffy, and confined. Durnaur stood. His face, so pale and lifeless, flushed in the faintest way, almost giving color to his facial features. His eyes burned into the Captain's for a very long moment, and were he a creature, he would have exposed fangs, or growled menacingly.

Being, however, but a mortal, he only glared. His eyes turned slowly about the room, reading faces. They all supported Tenuvian's challenge, yes, even those whom he had supposedly converted.

Fickle men.

Finally his gaze came to rest upon Lord Aragorn's and beheld there a smirk most irritating. It was Durnaur's final undoing. Any last grip he had held on his composure slipped from his sickly, clenched fingers.

Anger rippled through him, an unyielding wave battering the unforgiving rocks.

"Did I have some proof to offer," Durnaur sneered, his once syrupy voice now laced with seething rage, "I would offer you none. I have given every effort to be reasonable, to be patient, but you will not be reasoned with. So be it. If you cowards will hide behind your councils and your walls, then do so. I must have misjudged the folk of this land. Cowards, yes, cowards, I name you!"

Durnaur spit on the ground at the word, and then focused the full volume of his rage heavily on Aragorn's shoulders.

"You call yourself a King, and yet you will not stand for your supposed rights. You will not fight for your throne. Gondor sees now the true nature of its king, the child who cowers in the dark. A true king must have passion, must fight for the truth. I challenge you, Aragorn," he said the name like a curse word, "to your throne. To a duel. Best me if you can, but I do not think you will emerge the victor."

There was a shocked moment of silence, and Durnaur could not contain himself.

"What say you?!" he roared, his voice echoing in the halls, "What say you?! I challenge you, what is your answer?"
Erucenindë
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Post RE: The Battle for Ithilien
on: July 06, 2009 11:37
Aragorn stared at Lord Durnuar for the longest time, not letting go his cold gaze. An anger burned within him at the words that Dunuar had said. Did Durnuar not know who he was dealing with? Did Durnuar not know his skills with a sword, learned from more than 60 years of practice?

King Elessar stood, anger matching Durnuar's. But he kept it in check. His eyes betrayed his anger and his jaw was clenched.

"You have insulted me and this country in every possible way." Aragorn laid a hand on Anduril. "Nevertheless, I accept your challenge. Name the place and time, Lord Durnuar. After this, do not show your face to me again."

He continued to hold Durnuar's gaze, not bothering to hide his fury. He could almost feel Arwen's eyes boring into his back. He knew she probably disagreed. But noone insulted him or his kingdom like that and got away with it.

Noone.
Sava-Tennoio
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Post RE: The Battle for Ithilien
on: July 14, 2009 12:01
Durnaur's mind was sharp and quick as a wolf's, and it took him only a fraction of a second to determine when and where the fate of Gondor should be decided.

"Tomorrow as the sun sets. Near the white tree of Gondor. There I will show you who is truly lord and master of these lands, and there you will fall to your knees--then it is you, my lord," Durnaur snarled the term, "that shell never show your face to me again."

With this said, Durnaur whirled on his heel and departed, ignoring the hasty attempts of the guards to catch up with them. He easily outpaced them until they had to break into a jog to keep up. He headed straight for the place of his temporary captivity, finding there the Lords of the Haradrim. Breezing into the house, he slammed the door in the faces of the guards.

Turning to his most trusted man, he growled an order.

"Tomorrow our fate shall be decided. Tonight I want your legions on the move. Attack not in a concentrated form, but harry the borders of Gondor as you never have before. Send word to our friend among the orcs--they should do the same. And to our special friend among the rangers, demand of him news of Aragorn. I want to know what he's up to, how he prepares...and I need Arwen alone. Very alone. Aragorn will rue the day he so easily and disdainfully cast me aside. Vengeance will be done upon him, and I shall be the one to deal it."
Mirach
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Post RE: The Battle for Ithilien
on: July 31, 2009 10:25
The council ended. Arwen was in her chamber again, looking from the window. It was like a weight pressing her down - how much she can lose tomorrow... Everything... If the slimy deceiver would gain the throne... it would pain her - but still she would have her love, the one that she lived for. But this... She was not prepared for this. Not so soon!

"Estel is a warrior. There is noone that would wield the sword better then him. There is noone mightier... no Man." he repeated to herself over and over. But is Durnaur a Man at all? He is a master of lies...What deceive will he use? There was something sinister in the future, a dark cloud. She shivered.
Erucenindë
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Post RE: The Battle for Ithilien
on: August 04, 2009 08:16
Aragorn walked up behind Arwen, silent as Rangers do. Yet even for all his skill Arwen still heard him, with her elven hearing.

He could feel her worry.

He put his arm around her. "My love, everything will turn out alright. You'll see. I can best this man." He didn't mention that it was highly probable that Durnuar would somehow cheat... all Aragorn could hope for was the he would be able to catch it or combat it in some way.

"If.... if the battle goes ill..." The look in her eyes told him she didn't want to hear it, but he continued anyways. "If it goes ill I have arranged passage out of the city to somwhere safe. Faramir will take care of you. For I do not think Durnuar will be kind in his reign."

She's trying not to cry... Aragorn looked out past the balcony, pain and sorrow in his eyes. Sorrow for the pain Arwen would feel if he should be cut down. Durnuar would not spare him. He would find some evil and mischievous way to cover up the "accident".

Aragorn turned and left Arwen, who hadn't said a word. She wanted to be alone, and he needed to think.

The King walked out to his favorite place, on the pinnacle of the White City, looking out over the Fields of Pellanor. He sat down and pondered what would happen. Would he spare Durnuar? Or would he kill him?

He couldn't answer either one.
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Post RE: The Battle for Ithilien
on: August 10, 2009 10:31
Tenuvian was stunned. His challenge to Durnaur had worked well, perhaps too well, and now his King had accepted a duel with the Lord Durnaur. He didn't like where this was headed. Durnaur would use some trickery against the King, knowing that Aragorn could easily best him in mastery of the blade.

The council broke, and Tenuvian headed back to his headquarters, praying to the vallar that Lenar had made some progress with his investigation. The fate of the kingdom could depend on what he had discovered.
Mirach
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Post RE: The Battle for Ithilien
on: August 24, 2009 08:00
JP with Adara:

Durnaur stalked through the halls of Minas Tirith, his well worn shoes making absolutely no sound as he carefully set them down on the marbled floors. Any sound would echo in the halls, too harsh of breathing would alert others to his sinister presence. He controlled his breathing, taking slow, shallow breaths. His eyes glittered in the dark from underneath his midnight hood--his eyes burned as a cat stalking its prey might.

At last he reached the bed chambers of the queen of Gondor. The door was slightly ajar, and through the faintest crack, Durnaur could see her. She certainly made a hauntingly beautiful picture in the moonlight--her back turned to Durnaur, her eyes out on the city.

No grin yet played on the dark lord's features. His intensity, his concentration was much too focused to allow yet for pleasure. Not until the mouse was safely squeezed between his hands. Elves heard abnormally well.

It was a challenge Durnaur had been preparing to meet for many, many years of his life. Now he was here. At the time it mattered most, he must make every move perfect, every methodically practiced step must be rehearsed even more stealthily than before.

At last he was right behind her, right where she could not help but notice him--for he allowed his breath to fall on the back of her ivory neck...

Arwen shuddered suddenly. Someone was in the room. A shadow... shadow over the sun. In the very moment when she realized its presence, the shadow was right behind her, and his breath made the little hair on her neck stand. She turned harshly, and reached for her dagger in the same movement. She wanted to cry out, but for a split of second the breath froze in her throat. His face was just inches from hers, and his eyes met hers. Cold, cruel eyes...

For one fraction of a second in all the long moments of time, Durnaur did not move. He stood towering over the elf queen of Gondor and lingered in the glory of it. Eyes blazing, he at last reacted when she moved for some hidden weapon. His arms flew to her thin wrists and wrapped both his and her arms cruelly around her, facing her back toward the window--her back against his chest. He tugged harder on her limbs as she struggled, pulling them to the point of either dislocation or breaking.

His arms were like bands of steel hidden by scraps of all cloth, surprising strong for their appearance. His lips hovered near her ear, his mind willing into her head every befogging thought, and dark shadow he could conjure at the moment--everyone he had prepared so long.

"Don't move, my lady," he whispered with a sneer, "No one will hear you now. Do you find your lips will not move? Do you find your limbs grow weak? This is little compared to the pain before you. You will languish and Aragorn will die...See him now. See him dying."

With that Durnaur painted in both of their minds, image after image of Aragorn's death. Each time it was in a different, more horrible way. Always his blood stained the streets, stained the lady herself...

Arwen felt like frozen by the voice. She wanted to cry out, to struggle, but she couldn't move, as if her body was buried under heavy stones, like in a dream that she can't wake from. No voice came through her lips. The darkness of the man assaulted her, and disgust of his closeness rose in her with every moment.

Then came the images... the most terrible sight that she could ever see. No! No... her heart ached with sobs that couldn't come out. Estel! She wanted to reach for her love, but she couldn't move, couldn't do anything... His blood... She felt something breaking in her. But in that moment she sudenly realized that it is an illusion. No! This is not true! It can't be true!

And with the realization she found the strength to move. She struggled with all her might against the rough grip, although she only hurt herself. "It is a lie!" she cried out.

"It may be only a lie yet, fair one," Durnaur hissed in her ear, tightening his grip on her wrists unmercifully, "Yet I will make it into truth while you lay paralyzed and dying in your bed. You will see all of this come to pass and be able to do nothing to stop it."

At last tired of her struggling, her spun her to face him. Keeping her at least mostly captive with one hand, he slipped his other into a fold of his cape and pulled out a small vial filled with a thick, inky substance. He held it before her eyes and grinned.

"This is going down your throat, one way or another, my lady. I suggest you be still or it will go down rather hard."

The vial before Arwen's eyes... She realized that this small bottle contains the shadow that she felt in her thoughts, the unclear menace that hung over them that now became very clear and concrete. When she was alone, looking from the window in thought, she felt something was amiss - and it was in this vial.

It was... pain? death? Yes, that was it for her, but it didn't matter to her now. But she feared the vial for Aragorn. Her pain was his, just like seeing him in pain was unbearable to her. Her death would break him. That was the treachery behind the duel, that was the thing that she feared for Estel. That was the only thing that could make him to sunder the crown of Gondor to an unworhy man. He loved her too much, she realized, but she suppressed the tears that welled in her eyes with that thought.

She tried to free her hand from Durnaur's one-handed grip. She struggled desperatey, determined to not touch the dark liquid with her lips. "No!" she cried out. "No! Estel!" She hoped that somebody will hear her, will come to help her.

Durnaur quickly realized that he was unable to hold her and force the poisonous mixture down her throat with only one hand. Surprising her with his speed and power, he flipped her sideways and allowed both of them to fall hard on the marble floor. There he used both knees to keep her pinned beneath him. Pressing the vial into the back of his palm, he used both wirey hands to slowly pry her jaw apart.

Staring her in the eyes, he willed a blinding darkness upon her. Fears, doubts, torments all swirling down upon her in the hour of his own need. For a moment her struggling ceased and her jaw went lax. That was all the time he needed to jerk the cork from the vial and shove it between her lips.

Slowly the thick, inky substance slipped down her throat...

She was overwhelmed by the dark images. It took just a moment... for that moment she ceased to fight in the real world. She needed all her strength for an inner fight. to summon the light deep in her soul against the blinding darkness. The moment was too long... The moment decided.

She felt like sinking under dark, murky surface. A moment took her to find the light within, and swim to the surface. She broke through it! Again she was aware of her body, and she began to struggle with a new strength, born of the light... mixed with despair. It was one moment too late...

She jerked her head to the side, and managed to free one her hand. She lashed out with it, desperate to get the vial away from her lips. The vial shattered on the floor with a loud sound. But the liquid already burned on its way into her stomach, and her vision blurred for a while. It was one moment too late...

This fair elf beneath him was not an easy one to vanquish, Durnaur found out for certain the moment she knocked the vial from his hands. It shattered on the floor and for a moment he stared blankly at it. Looking back at Arwen's pale face, he quickly ascertained that what she had swallowed had been enough. His plan was not foiled.

She was slipping away.

He heard footsteps in the hall, and was not surprised. He had expected them earlier. He allowed himself one long triumphant laugh--hoping it echoed eerily in her tortured dreams--and pressed his taunting, twisted lips against her already hot brow.

"Goodbye, my lady. May you dwell long in the land of shadows. I do not think even your Ellessar can save you now," he sneered at her as he jumped to his feet.

Out the window, through the courtyard, it did not matter how he escaped. He was seen and heard by none. All the guards had heard was the elf lady's cries, the shattering of a tiny glass and his maniacal laughter ringing in the night. They saw naught else of him. Within moments he was back in his chambers, grinning fiercely up at a pale moon.

"I have accomplished your will, my lord. I hope you are pleased with my actions..."

The sound of his laugh turned to darkness, his lips leaving a mark of utter dread upon her brow. Then he dissappeared - without trace, like a shadow of nightmare. There were only one other lips that could wash away that sign. She felt hot and cold at once. She tried to rise, and call for help, but then sank to the ground again, exhausted by the effort. Weakness came with the strange poison, a weakness that she didn't know before. So she lay in her chamber, helpless and despairing. A silent tear flowed down her cheek.
Erucenindë
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Post RE: The Battle for Ithilien
on: September 04, 2009 07:18
Aragorn was standing on the pinnacle, looking out over Pelannor Fields, contemplating events. Suddenly a feeling crept over him, one of dread. He was confused as to why he felt like that, but he knew something was very, very wrong.

It wasn't but a minute before a paige came running over to him, yelling with much urgency, "Lord Aragorn, Lord Aragorn!" His heart fell. "My Lord Aragorn!" The paige gasped for breath. "It is the Lady Arwen!" He had not a chance to say anymore, for Aragorn was already practically running back to the room.

It wasn't hard to find the grim party, men holding torches like those who wait on the dead. They parted for him, and he walked briskly into the room, and fell to his knees at the bed where the love of his life lay, deathly pale. At first he feared her to be dead. But he saw her chest barely rise and fall, and knew her to be alive, still yet.

Never had he felt so crushed in his life. Never had he hit rock bottom and had no hope of ever rising again. Who knew that fate would be so cruel, to separate them in their prime, so young, so fair. So innocent.

The doctor came by the King's side. "She was poisoned, my Lord. We know not who did it. And it is a poison we have never known. I have tried every cure I know of, my Lord." He paused, hesitant. The next news would be hard. "She is not expected to live."

The words.. he heard yet they did not register. He stared, eyes wide in shock, at that face he knew so well. Breathing hard. Trying to wake up from this nightmare so horrible. Breathing.

Breathing.

Who knew one could be beaten down so low.

"Leave me, for a moment." Aragorn barely got that much out. The few who were in the room simply nodded and left to wait outside the door, ready in an instant at their master's call.

The tears came, unstoppable. Emptiness swallowed him whole. He wanted to scream, he wanted to do something, anything. You are the purpose in my life, darling! Don't leave me! He caressed her cold face, willing the world for her to wake up. Anything to pull this knife from his heart. Oh, the pain!

He squeezed his eyes shut, and tears dropped down. Gritted his teeth from the pain. Whoever said physical pain was greater than emotional pain was a liar. Eru! Illuvatar!

Memories unbidden leapt to his mind. One, of a beautiful maiden, walking through the dim trees, singing a song. Another, soft light falling on her shoulders as he held her close on a bridge somewhere in Rivendell... and yet another of her, clad in green, looking at him with those deep, blue eyes that could swallow you in their mystery.

A voice somewhere distant, called him. It took Aragorn a few minutes to realize someone was actually shaking him. He turned and looked to see the doctor. A frantic plan came to his mind. "Get Tenuvian, Lord Faramir, quickly! With haste for time is short!" the Kind ordered, standing up as he said it.

His voice held slight bravado, perhaps even hope. His eyes betrayed him, holding nothingness. Void.

Empty.

[Edited on 9/5/2009 by Erucenindë]
Mirach
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Post RE: The Battle for Ithilien
on: September 06, 2009 11:07
There was a hill. She stood on the top of it, and watched the lands below. No, it was no hill... it was a giant volcano, and she was shackled to a high seat near its top, with sheer rock faces all around her, with no escape, no way down. She could just sit there and watch. Just watch... and do nothing. No, no! What was it? A dream of her feverish mind? It was the torment of Húrin, the cruel device of Morgoth... But Morgoth was long thrown outside, into the Void, and the pinnacles of Thangorodrim were thrown down... Was it a doing of Sauron then? No, not Sauron... he is defeated, too, no more then a whisper of the breeze, a spirit dissolved in the fires of Orodruin together with the gold of his Ring. Then who?

Durnaur.

Durnaur was the name of her tormentor, the one that shackled her here, so that she could only watch - watch and do nothing. She felt Aragorn's presence. She felt his breath on her face, felt his hand stroking her cheek. She heard the words. She is not expected to live... Her heart seized. No! No! There was so much to live yet! The fulfillment of her love lasted so short! There were days there weren't lived yet, that had to be lived! There were children that weren't born...

She felt the slight trembling of his hand on her cheek. She felt his pain. She did not want to live those days for her alone - she wanted to live them for him... Estel! She wanted to cry out, to tell him that she lives still, that she is still with him. She wanted to let him know that she didn't leave him yet, they are still together, that she knows that he is here, she feels him. But she could do nothing. Only watch with her mind's eyes, watch his pain and not be able to sooth it, feel the tears in his eyes and not be able to dry them.

Oh Estel!...

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lenar closed the door of his mother's house. With that sound of soft click he became the ranger. At house he was just Lenar, it was a safe haven where no rangers were needed, although he knew that this is just an illusion of the peaceful times that came with the reign of king Elessar. With a grave clearness he realized that it really is that - an illusion that can end, and soon, if this Dark Númenorean would take the gondorian throne by some treachery...

But it will not be a treachery among the rangers!, he decided resolutely. He turned to his companions. "We need a plan. My mother's idea to give the guards cookies to make them more willing to speak is nice, but we need to know what we are going to ask them. What question do you ask to reveal a traitor?"
ToRivendell
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Post RE: The Battle for Ithilien
on: September 08, 2009 04:10
Tenuvian slept in his quarters, gear hanging neatly on the dresser next to him, ready to be put on the next day. He was a man of action and movement, and less so of words. The day of council had taken his toll on him, and he missed the woods of Ithilien dearly.

For once, he dreamed. He was deep in the forest of Ithilien as evening fell on the land. He walked alone down a small path, garbed as he had been during the war of the Ring. A shadow moved ahead along the trail, just out of sight and unable to be seen in the fading light. He quickened his pace, attempting to catch it. Ever he came closer, drawing near to the shadow as it moved amoung the trees. As soon as he felt he was upon it, it suddenly vanished. He spun in a circle, looking for it, but it had gone. He now noticed that the light was completely gone, and night had taken the landscape. But it was much too dark. Mist crept amoung the trees, and an aura of gloom surrounded him. Something was wrong, he could feel it. This darkness dwelled in his closest of friendly places. And then he understood.

The evil that was causing him so much grief was close to him, and close to his heart. Probably in amoungst that which he valued most.

Tenuvian awoke with a start. Someone was pounding on his door, shouting his name.

"Captain! The King requests your immidiate council!"

Tenuvian opened the door while strapping on his blade.

"Tell the King I am coming immidiately."

The mesenger nodded and left quickly.

Tenuvian had gained some insight now. His trouble was close to home. It was however, up to Lenar to discover its true face.


-----------------------------------------------------------------------

"Tell your master that the others suspect nothing. Tenuvian may be growing wary though. He did not rise to the rank of Captain of the Rangers by being a fool. He may soon be looking for me. Don't worry though, he will not find me, and soon our business will be concluded."

The shadow moved away from Durnaur's quarters, slipping quietly down the street. Soon afterwards he stepped out into the light of the street, after he was a decent distance from the house. It would not serve his purpose to be seen near that place. Soon he arrived back at the barracks, walking to his cot.

"Did you enjoy your walk, Primus?" asked another Ranger.

"Indeed I did friend." he replied. "The night air did me some good."

Primus took off his Ithilien cloak and gear, and lay down on his bed, ready for a nights rest, a barely noticable smirk crossing his face.
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Post RE: The Battle for Ithilien
on: September 16, 2009 05:20
For a moment all three of the companions remained silent, each thinking how best to expose the cursed traitor. Aerdaneth leaned against the wall, her head tilted up toward the early morning sun. The rays felt warm and comforting on her face.

She longed to see the same rays glistening on the waves of the sea.

Shaking her head, she focused on the problem at hand.

"Well, one would think the traitor would be wise enough to leave no traces of his identity, but...a good place to start could be in figuring out who guarded Durnaur on the nights he escaped his guards. If it was all under the same ranger's watch, perhaps that is the ranger we should pursue."
Erucenindë
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Post RE: The Battle for Ithilien
on: October 01, 2009 05:27
Eowilindë leaned against the wall with her companions and absorbed the sunlight. It seemed so warm, almost a lie in this cold world. Or maybe, up where She was, the sun knew no cold?

The elf shook her head. She should be comtemplating how to find one certain traitor, not what the Sun thinks. How unusual the Elven mind works.

"I think your idea is legitamet, Aerdaneth. Though one has to wonder if the traitor would be dense enough to leave traces like that. But stranger has happened, and it would not hurt to check."

She stood up from the wall. "Let's go, immediantly. The sooner we find this traitor the better."

The three went to the barracks, to see who had been on watch. Upon their arrival, they found the soldiers to be buzzing with hushed tones. Eowilindë could feel the tension and worry in the air. Something had happened.

"What is it Lenar? What evil has befallen the city now?"
ToRivendell
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Post RE: The Battle for Ithilien
on: October 17, 2009 06:46
Tenuvian sprinted up the steps leading to the King's chamber, and burst throught he doors. A small party sat within surrounding a bed on which lay the Queen Arwen. Tenuvian strode forward quickly speaking,

"My Lord, I come as you..."

Tenuvian stopped. suddenly All attention was focused on the Queen, who Tenuvian could now see was pale and cold, as if dead. He could see her chest rising and falling however, so Tenuvian knew life was within her still. It was very clear however, that something was indeed very wrong.

"My Lord, what afflicts the Queen so?"
Mirach
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Post RE: The Battle for Ithilien
on: November 03, 2009 06:59
Lenar shook his head. "I don't know... But something happened, and it feels very wrong..." a sudden fear seized his insides. "I fear for the King..." He looked around. "Wait here for a moment!" he ran to the nearest soldier, one that he vaguely knew, although he couldn't remember his name...

***

After some moments Lenar returned to the two maidens, and his face was pale. "It's the Queen..." he breathed out. "She has been poisoned... Durnaur's work, no doubt..." he muttered darkly, and then he looked up, where Ecthelion's tower stood high above the city. There, in some of the chambers, lay the beautiful queen of Gondor fighting a deadly poison, and he had no doubt the the King was at her side. He sighed. "Our king has the hands of a healer. We can only hope that some cure will be found..."

"We must find the traitor!" he said resolutely. "Maybe he will have some clue for the cure..." He didn't believe that Durnaur would entrust something like that to the traitor, whoever it was, but they couldn't do anything else... He didn't wait anymore, and headed to the house that was assigned to Durnaur during his stay. He nodded to the guard that was currently positioned at the door. "I have orders from Tenuvian," he said. "I need the schedule of all the guards on this post!" He did not think about it, but the tune of his voice was an order.
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Post RE: The Battle for Ithilien
on: November 05, 2009 07:00
The sun was shining, and yet the day seemed dark. A cloud of gloom, confusion and despair had fallen over the great city of Minas Tirith. It was almost as if the black shadow of Mordor had returned.

But no, this was not the work of Mordor. This was the work of Durnaur. With such cunning and masked malice he had woven this tapestry of pain and fear. Now he stood admiring his handiwork. Everywhere, faces were clouded. The guards did not smile, and the sun seemed only blasphemous to shine so when the queen of Gondor lay in torment.

Durnaur laughed, his heart rejoicing in this evil. He hoped his works pleased Morgoth, wherever he abode. Durnaur hoped that his dark lord could see Middle Earth from the depths of the void.

Durnaur hoped, with an evil hope, that Morgoth was pleased.

As pleased as Durnaur was.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aerdaneth followed the others, ever silent but watchful. She wondered at the change that had taken place in Lenar. In the course of only a few days she had seen him grow from a sapling shivering in the wind to a tall oak, stern and willful. Danger, for himself and those he loved, made him strong, as a hammer beating upon a sword while it is yet hot.

Aerdaneth also wondered that she felt not out of place in those hours. Her friendship with these two companions was growing fast and strong, and it seemed a long time since she had dwelt alone by the sea.

She must go back one day. The ocean called to her. Ulmo or Osse, Valar or Maiar, had a strong hold on her. The music of the ocean was woven in with her blood, and she could not long abide away from it.

Still, she felt as at home in Minas Tirith as she supposed was possible.

These were dark days, and she longed to have some positive effect on the lives of these now troubled people. Lady Arwen was deathly ill, and who knew if she would recover.

Aerdaneth blinked rapidly as Lenar's sharp order to the guards jerked her from her reverie. She watched the guard fumble under the intensity of Lenar's voice, and then hastily reach for a scrap of paper on a nearby barrel...
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Post RE: The Battle for Ithilien
on: November 17, 2009 12:17
Lenar took the schedule with just a barely perceptible nod of thanks, and then took a few steps to the side to be able to concentrate on the names on the list without the current watch at the door peering through his shoulder to find out why he needs the list. He didn't realize that the soldier wouldn't dare to do it. In the worry for the royal couple he almost forgot that he is a lieutenant now, he didn't even realize that his request was an order and that it was obeyed as such.

He went through the list and frowned in thought as he tried to remember when exactly was Durnaur seen in the city. Aerdaneth saw him in the morning... who had the morning shift? And then Tenuvian came looking for him when he was visiting his mother. That was shortly before dusk. Lenar found that place on the schedule. The same name.

Dinelhir.

The traitor?

Lenar felt a cold weight sink in his stomach. He knew Dinelhir. The man was in his own unit... He took a steadying breath. When he returned the piece of paper to the guard at the door, his face was already calm. He walked quickly away from Durnaur's house, as if he could feel the black Númenorean's look on the back of his mind, watching him. First when they were further from the guarded house, he turned to his companions.

"I know the name of the traitor," he said.
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Post RE: The Battle for Ithilien
on: December 09, 2009 08:27
The air was cold. Bitterly cold. He stood.. no, he was on his knees, panting for breath. At first he thought it was because he had been running, but he soon found out it was not so. Heavy strips of leather snapped his skin, while shreds of glass tore it up even more. Yet strangely, the pain did not come from his back, even as he felt blood trickle down. Nay, it came from his heart.

Despite the cold, sweat and blood dripped from his brow. He stole a glance at where he was, between the lashes. It was dark, terribly dark; the shadows seemed almost alive, threatening to engulf his body and unknown torturer. Yet, even so, it looked familiar. Suddenly he realized where he was.

The throne room of Minas Tirith.

His vision seemed to focus only on what was in front of him, his tormentor suddenly gone. There he knelt, in front of the throne of the King of Gondor. The dark shape of a man stood in front of it, holding a bloodied sword. A deep, mocking laugh came forth from the cloaked darkness of the man when a prone figure was suddenly revealed to him.

There was no mistaking the figure on the floor. It was Arwen, in all her grace and beauty, stabbed cleanly through the heart. The sword hovered over her chest, fresh blood dripping down and staining her perfect corpse.

He opened his mouth to scream, but nothing came out. The dark man stepped forward, toward him. Aragorn could not move, even though his will screamed for him to do so. The dark man stopped right in front of him, sword underneath his chin, forcing Aragorn to look up. "Just as I have mercilessly killed your wife, so shall I kill you, King Elessar, and all that you ever held dear. So, despair in your weakness, pitiful Heir of Isildur, and think of how your whole life has gone to waste in these last seconds of your useless life."

He drew back his arm, and without hesitation stabbed Aragorn through the heart. All Aragorn could do was stare up at the man as the shock froze his body, mouth open in surprise. Strangely, there was no pain.

Then the world began to fade into blackness, the only thing in his vision being the faceless murderer. Before it could claim him, the dark man's face was shown, contorted in the sick pleasure of killing with mad desire.

It was Durnaur. Then he knew no more.

"My Lord, what afflicts the Queen so?"


Aragorn snapped back into reality, deep from the depths of his misery. Surely this is just a nightmare... I will wake up... I will wake up. Nothing changed, however, just as he knew it wouldn't.

He had no time to ponder his terrifying dream. Tenuvian was here, waiting. Here came the hardest decision of all: the decision between his duty to his country and to his wife. Duty called him to protect and lead Gondor where e'er she may go; thus duty also called him to protect his wife and care and love her. Two mistresses of his heart, both jealous for his attention.

He straightened his back, looking forward, then turned to face Tenuvian, resolve back in his eyes. There was no time to wait for Faramir.

"She has been... poisoned." he stopped as his voice wavered. For Arwen. "I duel Durnaur in less than 6 hours. You must find the antidote! I have reason to believe Durnuar has it, or knows of its whereabouts."

Then it dawned on him: the dream. It had been based off his emotions, but yet it had revealed to him the single most important thing. Elven blood still flowed through him, his gift of foresight had not failed him. Thank you Eru...

"I know who poisoned her, though I have no proof. I may never have proof, but by the will of the Valar, vengeance shall be acted upon this night!"

He strode from the room, determination in his step, vengeance fueling his resolve.

Blood would be spilt this night.
----------------------------------------------

The sun was setting. Ironically, it was a deep red - blood red, as if a sign to the night's forthcoming events.

Aragorn stood in front of a mirror, staring back at a reflection he did not recognize as his own. There he stood, donned in his royal armor, Anduril hanging by his side. That was not what drew his attention, it was the face that stared back at him. Haggard it was, aged drastically from the decades it spent free from the curse of men. It seemed he now really felt his age now.

His hand found its way onto the hilt of his sword. It was now time to face Durnuar.

He walked out into the corridor, then finally outside where a circle of people had gathered in the eerie torch light. Faramir was there, but Aragorn did not look at him. All who saw the King noted his face was like stone, yet his eyes blazed with a fire. Yet those who knew him best knew something was off, something was missing.

Aragorn stopped inside the ring, back straight. The torch light made him look like one of the Kings of old, brought back to life. Tonight, he would fight with all the cunning and power he possessed. There will be no holds barred, Durnuar. I am skilled with the sword, and you will know it.

You will know it.
Mirach
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Post RE: The Battle for Ithilien
on: January 17, 2010 11:45
"Dinelhir..." Lenar said gravely. "I know him... or I thought I knew him. It seems I was mistaken." He sighed, and led them through the city, to a certain house that he knew. He did not speak for a long time, and stayed alone with his thoughts, but soon it became unbearable, and he had to speak to his companions to get rid of the turmoil of thoughts in his mind.

"He is from my unit... I'm responsible for him... I know I have been a lieutenant for a few days only, and I still don't know what to do, but... it feels as if I would be the traitor myself. What should I do to him if he is really guilty? Should I punish him? And what if it's just a coincidence and he is not guilty?"

He did not truly perceive the way as he was speaking, actually more to himself than to his companions, and he startled when he almost ran into an older ranger from his unit, Verain, apparently looking for him. "I'm sorry, I didn't see you..." he began to apologize, but Veraine waved it away, and Lenar immediately silenced, seeing how serious he was. "What is it, Verain?" he asked. "Did something happen?"

"I have a message from captain Tenuvian," the old ranger said. "The queen has been poisoned..."

"I know," Lenar replied gravely.

"Tenuvian wants all units in full preparedness. The King will meet Durnaur in a duel. At dusk."

Lenar's eyes widened. "He accepted? So soon?"

Verain sighed. "Yes, and surely it is no coincidence that the Queen has been poisoned just now. Tenuvian wants us to search for any information that might lead to the antidote."

Lenar nodded. "Thank you, Verain... Tell the men to be prepared. I will join you soon. I will..." he hesitated for a moment, unsure if he should tell Verain about Dinelhir's possible treachery. They were both from his unit... whom could he trust? "...I will tell Dinelhir myself, I need something from him," he finished, and released Verain.

Then he continued on his way to the house where Dinelhir lived, pondering the situation that Verain informed him about. At dusk... At dusk Gondor may have no king...

They reached the house, and he knocked.

[Edited on 17/1/2010 by Mirach]
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Post RE: The Battle for Ithilien
on: January 18, 2010 06:46
Dinelhir had just started to relax, preparing for a late noon meal while already considering the benefits for turning in for an early night. He stirred the fire so that the heat would be even dispersed as he cooked his simple meal of vegetables and meat.

He straightened, then went to sit at the small rough table that sat before the fire. Yes, retiring early would be a good idea. He hadn't slept that much the night before, and should Duanar need him again, he must be ready. And, it wouldn't be good for the others to start asking questions either.

He just started to eat when a knock sounded on the door. Dinelhir wondered who would come to call on him, and his eyebrows narrowed slightly. He made sure he knew where his sword was, then hastened to the door, opening it. "Ah... Lieutenant Lenar, how kind of you to call." he said upon recognizing the young man. His tone carried the slightest hint of mockery, but it was well masked. "Is there something I can help you with? And, who are these women? Your ...entertainment for the afternoon?"
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Post RE: The Battle for Ithilien
on: February 04, 2010 07:29
"He is from my unit... I'm responsible for him... I know I have been a lieutenant for a few days only, and I still don't know what to do, but... it feels as if I would be the traitor myself. What should I do to him if he is really guilty? Should I punish him? And what if it's just a coincidence and he is not guilty?"


Aerdaneth glanced over at Lenar as he mused, speaking more to himself than to either her or Eowilinde. She felt for the man--couldn't imagine what he must be feeling at the moment. Instead of speaking she dropped a comforting hand on the man's shoulder, let it linger for a moment, and then returned her hand to her side.

At the news of the duel, Aerdaneth's face grew grim. With every passing moment, it became more evident just how cunning Durnaur was. The last hope of the city lay square on Aragorn's soldiers...and in a much smaller way, on their own as well.

They approached the home of the traitor and Aerdaneth felt her muscles tense. Her hand rested on the sword at her side. Her eyes grew fierce as the door cracked open and light spilled forth from inside. Scanning the traitor's face, she listened to his light-hearted words, detecting the traces of something darker in their echo.

And, who are these women? Your ...entertainment for the afternoon?"


"You had best watch your tongue," Aerdaneth snarled, unable to contain her righteous anger at the insinuations of this traitor, "You speak to women far above your league. You would do well to learn some respect, before someone beats it into you."

Having finished her rant, Aerdaneth shot an apologetic glance to Lenar and fell silent. She kept her fiery gaze on this traitor, not trusting him for a moment.

She expected him at any minute to bolt.
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Post RE: The Battle for Ithilien
on: February 17, 2010 12:25
(JP with Openmeadow)

Lenar wanted to retort something, but for a moment he was too shocked by the suggestion, feeling almost ashamed that somebody could think it at all... When Aerdaneth defended her honour, he nodded gravely.

“I will not suffer this, Dinelhir!” he said sharply. “And after we are over with what I came for, you will apologize to the ladies! That is an order, and I’m your lieutenant, might you like it or not!”

Dinelhir smirked. "No need to wait, Lieutenant Lenar. I'd hate to keep ladies of such a high class waiting." With that said, he took a short step back, positioning himself so that he could grab his sword at a moment's notice. He made a deep, mocking bow to them, not bothering to bow his head.

When he straightened once more, he glanced at Lenar. "What precisely was it that you came for?" he asked, "I don't believe I heard you say what exactly it was"

With two steps Lenar was between Dinelhir and the women, subconsciously protecting them, and he looked the man straight into the eyes. „We will speak about a proper apology later. Now I would like to hear what do you have to say about Durnaur, and his wandering through the city during your watch!“

Dinelhir's expression did not change, but sudden understanding made it's presence known. So someone had noticed.... "Durnaur? On my watch?" he asked mildly. "One might have thought I would have told you if I had noticed anything amiss on my own watch. After all, as you so kindly reminded me, you are my superior."

„You want to tell me that he slipped out of the house and you didn’t even notice?“ Lenar’s voice was dangerously cold.

"What I tell you is the truth!" Dinelhir said firmly. "I watched the entire time, as was my duty. I would not want such a man loose in the city. If he did manage to escape, then it was by some power that only he possessed."

„The power to persuade, maybe...“ Lenar retorted sharply.

Dinelhir's fingers crept to the sword, itching to yanked it out of the sheath. He paused, waiting only a moment. Then, he acted, slipping off the sheath and bringing the point to rest between the two of them. "You seek to accuse me as a traitor."

Lenar put his hand on his own sword. „I hoped I won’t have to... but you are prooving yourself guilty!“

Dinelhir leveled him with a cold glare. "You came, to my house, already convinced in your mind, that much was evident. It was nothing of my doing."

“And I wish I would be wrong, but it seems I wasn’t... Do you know what he has done, Dinelhir, while you let him out of the house? He poisoned the Queen! Don’t you feel any remorse for that?”

"When I let him out of the house?" Dinelhir hissed. "The queen can be saved." he muttered, just within earshot, though quite unintentionally.

Lenar narrowed his eyes. “So you know about it... How can she be saved? Tell me, and maybe you won’t be judged as a traitor!”

"Know about what?" Dinelhir asked, mentally backtracking as he realized what he had let slip. The cold fingers of fear crept around his heart. If Durunar were to find out....

„You know he poisoned her... And you know that there is an antidote, don’t you?“ Lenar asked coldly, drawing his sword.

Dinelhir swallowed, bringing his own sword up before him. "You accuse with no evidance." He said angrily.

„I wish it would be so...“ Lenar sighed quietly, and searched the room with his eyes, the sword still drawn. It was sparsely furnished, and the only decorated thing was a small wooden box at the mantle. Lenar made a few steps to it, never turning his back to Dinelhir.

Dinelhir's expression tightened. "You have no right to enter this house!" he exclaimed. "I demand that you leave."

Lenar frowned. „If you have nothing to hide, then you would let me search your house to prove that I accuse you unjustly...“ he reached for the box.

Dinelhir growled, then swung at Lenar, intending to startle him enough so that he could get between the lieutenant and the box that had -until now- been a safe hiding place for the vial the Durunar had entrusted him with.

Lenar brought his sword to parry the blow in the last moment, all his hopes that Dinelhir could be innocent, shattered now.
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