Prisoner of Númenor RPG

[littlemanpoet]

It was midnight. Mabalar had eaten his fill and soothed his throat with cool, clean water. Târik stood just inside in Mabalar's cell, informing him that the unholy temple of Sauron was engorging itself on victims sacrificed to Morgoth.

"I asked of Tar Miriel last we spoke. Tell me of her now."

Târik nodded. Sorrow came to his face. "She suffers. Not by Sauron's or any man's hand. But she endures a living death. Faithful she is, but cannot show it or say it."

"Are you then Faithful?" Mabalar asked.

Târik's face became eager. "Aye, lord! I would flee this accursed isle with the Elendili had I the chance!"

Mabalar smiled grimly. It could be that the boy spoke the truth. He exhibited a naiveté that suggested idealism; but that could be a ploy of a devious mind. He would have to search out this boy's heart and make his own judgment.

"Tell me of the Queen."

"She hides deep within her rooms each night when the Temple is ablaze with its unholy red light. But in the morning she climbs the Meneltarma and looks west over sea. It matters not what the skies let loose, weather hail or storm or portentous thunder.

"The black sails of Ar Pharazon have long since disappeared beyond the horizon, but still she looks, but not for the King. I think she looks for some sign of mercy out of the West."

"None shall come," remarked Mabalar. "Not now that the fool has gone on his blasphemous quest."

Târik nodded. "Aye. She looks without hope, for she cannot cease. 'Tis an evil time to be the faithful queen of an unfaithful land and lord. I do not envy her lot."

There was a clanging noise down the corridor. Târik looked back fearfully. "I must not be seen here, my lord!" He passed out of the cell, locked the door, and slipped away. Darkness closed in as his torch disappeared around a corner.

Another dim light from another torch came slowly toward his cell. There were five guards. "Open the gate," ordered one. "'Tis this rogue's night to join the line. We shall see how hungry the altar is, eh?"

The guards laughed as they forced Mabalar to his feet and reclasped his chains so that he could take small constricted steps, surrounded by guards bristling with knives.

[Himaran]

Abarzadan awoke with a splitting headache. He had gotten them often as a child, when many a night was spent crying himself to sleep with both hands clasped to his forehead in a futile attempt to make them leave. Now, the pain only increased his poor mood. Each morning, he found himself with a group of strangers that he was following for an unknown reason. Pushing the nagging thought to the back of his mind, the man poured some water from his canteen onto an old rag, and pressed it to his forhead. The liquid was far from cold, and did little to numb the pain. Cursing, he tossed the useless scrap aside and stomped outside the tent. Unwelcomed sunlight hit his unajusted eyes, furthering his discomfort.

Glancing around, Abarzadan saw Marsillion dash out of the woods and bend over momentarily, catching his breath. The man motioned to everyone nearby, and called out to those not seen. Once the party had gathered, the self-appointed leader proceeded to relate the short tale of his run-in with the King's men, who obviously knew a lot more bout the group than any of them had anticipated. "A new plan must be constructed," Marsillion boldly stated, and looked around the circle, searching for suggestions. Azarmanô answered his silent call, and talked briefly about hiding out in a series of tombs. Just what I've always wanted to do.

Suddenly, Abarzadan had the feeling that many sets of eyes were boring into him. What, they think I'm a mole? That I tipped the guards off, and all this was due to me? Actually, the idea was not that far fetched. The man realized that he did indeed fulfill most of the requirements necessary for being spy; he was relatively unknown, yet had showed up at the captured man's house and presented himself as an old friend. Furthermore, he had indeed acted rather strangely recently. He decided to keep his mouth shut for the time being. Better not act like I know anything about the guards and their operations. I'll just sit this one out.