Prisoner of Númenor RPG

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Inzillomì looked sadly about her stable yard, taking in the sight of her companions in the mid-morning light... and of all of their sizable load of personal items. She smiled at the thought of mischief to come. Her brothers remembered fondly her childhood tricks... Inzillomì had never lost her spirit.

She rode a placid gelding today, his finely kept tack gleaming in the morning sun. His sable coat shone as brightly as his mistress's flowing locks. She looked to her companions, meeting Ziraphel's eyes with an inconspicuous nod.

"No!" she called, riding over to the stable hands that were loading the last of her heavy trunks into one of the wagons. "Put that beside the other, not on top, you fool. If my belongings are damaged before this trip even begins you will not have a happy day, m'boy." Despite her words, her voice was pleasant and her eyes kind. A man with a small boy on his shoulders came over.

"M'lady, my family is gathered. What would you have us do?" His eyes held a small amount of fear, kept severely at bay. He would not frighten his son, Inzillomì saw. She looked at a small cluster of well-dressed but plainly frightened people. Of all, only the old woman looked completely unperturbed. Inzillomì dismounted, handing the reins to the man.

"Will you excuse me for a moment?" she asked with a bow before walking toward the group. "Grandmother," she addressed the woman with a deep curtsy. "I welcome you. Could you spare a moment?" The women of the group greeted the lady with curtsies as deep as her own, eyes wide.

"Of course." she cackled. "Where would you have my old bones take me, child of Elendil?"

"Not far, I assure you." she smiled. "Just this way?" They walked together, Inzillomì's arm around the old woman. "Grandmother, your message has reached me only this morning. You say you have special needs?"

"Special needs indeed." she winked openly. "These old bones of mine can't travel for naught but a few hours each day, and these few and far between. Would they have me in pain?" she laughed with the lilt of one quite used to getting her own way. Inzillomì smiled. What fun! she thought.

"Grandmother, the King's Men arrive soon. We should be prepared to leave ere they come." She led her companion back to the stables beckoning to the erring stable boy. "Young man, Grandmother Nîlozâira will require a comfortable position in the front of one of our wagons. I trust in your abilities."

She returned to the man, winking at him. "All shall be well, friend. I have but one request of you. Some of our younger companions are not yet used to their mounts. Could you watch over them on our travels?" He nodded, glad to be put to use, and walked away with his boy tousling his hair.

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When the King's Men rounded the final bend to the home of Abârpânarú Karíbzîr and his kin, their eyes met a large group of impatient travellers. Three heavily laden wagons with a respected grandmother enthroned upon their faces glared at the guards. Inzillomì held her mount steady and waited for the captain of the guard to find her. He rode forward, stopping a respectful distance and half bowing in his saddle.

"Mistress Inzillomì, I must object to the size of this party. My orders are to escort yourself and your family with as few necessary items as possible." He looked around in awe at his childhood friend's audacity.

"Captain," she spoke with polite disdain. "These people are my family. Do you see? This man," she gestured to he who tended the young ones, "is my husband's cousin. My sister Ziraphel rides beside me. Do you see these children? They are my relatives by marriage. Would you have me move to the further shore and leave behind those I have become so utterly close to?"

He looked at her, lost for words. "I... well... m'lady... as they are family, I am sure there will be no problem, but I may have to summon more escorts, and surely this entire load is unneeded?"

"You question me?" she asked with a sidelong glance. "There are a score travellers, which requires sleeping arrangements for each. Would you have a grandmother sleep on the ground with the dogs? I thought not. In my party are children. Would you have them leave behind all fond memories of their youth? Of our ladies, would you request that they leave their romantic letters of their courtship? The young men requested simply their hunting items. Shall I deny their only request? Also, we carry meals for ourselves, unless your men had planned to provide for us? Not to mention clothing and cloaks. Shall I have my people unload our carts and saddlebags? I was under the impression, Captain, that we were in a hurry, and you, m'lad, are keeping the King's orders waiting."

He nearly laughed at her unexpected argument. "My lady, it is unnecessary, but I am under orders to..." he paused, not wanting to continue. "I... must check your... bags." he finished lamely.

Inzillomì glared at him. "If you must know, my bags contain my womanly necessaries. Can a woman have no privacy?"

As he turned away flush-faced, she smiled mischievously. "My people!" she cried. "Our journey begins." With a final look at her home, Inzillomì rode, at the beginning of a long and slow moving line, into the bright sun, with the wind in her hair and the past at her back.

[Regin Hardhammer]

Azarmanô listened attentively as Marsillion informed them of the three men of the king’s soldiers that spied on the party, paying attention to every detail of his account. The news was devastating, particularly so because they had just escaped the clutches of this same foe scarcely a day before. His premonitions about future encounters with them had indeed been verified, although Azarmanô sincerely wished that this had not been the case. Their mission seemed to grow more perilous as it proceeded. And he was also sure that there would be more such tribulations in the days to come as they inched closer to Armenelos, Abârpânarú’s prison, and Sauron himself.

But how had the enemy gotten word of their mission? Azarmanô looked around at his companions with suspicion. Had one of their own men betrayed the party? Such a question had never entered his mind until now. There were strangers in the group, men whom he did not know well enough to be certain of their loyalty. Thoronmir, one such stranger, was rash and impetuous, but his quick actions seemed to be done for the benefit of the Faithful, if not with careful consideration. But Abarzadan loomed large in Azarmanô’s eye, especially due to his caustic, sour attitude, and a clear separation between him and the Faithful. He had been quite an enigma up until now, and Azarmanô still did not know his true motives. Although he had not been interested in digging up these secrets, recent events had caused him to view the situation in a different light. Why had the king’s men confronted them to begin with if their mission was one of espionage? The only reasonable conclusion, at least the only one Azarmanô could draw at the moment, was that someone on the inside cooperating with the king had staged the whole incident. And hadn’t Abarzadan been the first one to try and appoint himself as the leader of the group escorting the prisoner? Perhaps he had arranged the ambush so that he could win validity and trust from the group by saving the day. Of course, this was only a theory spun by the onset of shock, but Azarmanô’s suspicion of Abarzadan and his furtiveness nonetheless grew.

A new plan must be developed indeed. The party could not simply march into Armenelos, knock on the dungeon door and ask to speak to the leader of the Faithful. Now that they would be watched, an additional element of secrecy was needed for their entrance into the city. Azarmanô did not relish the thought of arriving at Armenelos and stepping right into the trap of Sauron, earning himself a cell next door to Abârpânarú’s. He spoke with a measure of authority because, he believed, the group was in need of strong leadership at the moment.

“Thank you Marsillion for alerting the group to the king’s spies. Although we scarcely need more dangers in our mission, we will have to deal with them. A new plan is needed. If we act covertly, we may be able to escape their detection, at least for a time. We shall have need of disguises, although I do not know where to obtain such raiment. Perhaps an opportunity shall present itself along the way. We must pose as ruffians whom the king allows to prey upon a group of hapless Faithful. We can boast how we slay them and stole their mounts. Perhaps at night we might hide in the Noirian, the Valley of the Tombs, final home to our kings and queens. I have even heard rumors that there are long, dark passageways within the underground labyrinth connecting the ancient tombs to the dungeon hallways, though I know not if they are true. How does this plan strike you?”

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Inzillomì woke with the dawn, smiling at the sight of silently sleeping children. She knew that the quiet would not last, but it was a small blessing to know that the younglings saw this trip as an exciting adventure. When they realized that they would not be going home after a few days away, things would change and the tension would rise.

"My lady, a word?" A young guard spoke to her. It was not so much a question as a command, but Inzillomì followed wordlessly a short distance away from the group. "They are precious, are they not?" He nodded toward the children and she allowed him a smile.

"Yes. They most certainly are. They do not understand this trip, and I would prefer that it long stay that way. There is no need for them to be afraid."

The guard bristled. Though he worked for the King with devotion, he was kind and compassionate. "Inzillomì Elendili, we guards are no fools. Any tricks and your mounts will be given into the service of the King and his men. Should any mishaps occur this day, we are on a tight schedule and will not stop. Care should be taken by your people."

She looked at the man shrewedly. He knew of the fall, that much was apparent. What she did not know is if he had seen fit to share that knowledge. His eyes were kind... he understood their reluctance, and knew that a certain number of tricks were to be expected. He was young, but he was one of the brightest. "Sir, I thank you for your words of wisdom," she said, revealing nothing. "I can only hope that no more unfortunate accidents will happen... we cannot afford time lost, and I would hate to see a good man such as yourself blamed for our tardiness."

She walked back to camp to take a crying infant into her arms. He calmed quickly as she walked slowly beneath the trees. There will be no tricks this day... she thought. We cannot afford to draw suspicion... I can only hope that my Cerveth is safe and travelling quickly... There is nothing that I can do now to help...