A Fool's Errand

[Rhiannon]

Rhiannon arched a brow, surprised that he had remembered her name. She leaned forward, resting her elbows atop the table casually as she brought her mug to her lips with both hands. After sipping from it, she placed it back down onto the wet ring it had left in the wood. As she glanced up, she paused to form her reply. "What brings me here?" she repeated the question. "The wind." Rhiannon shrugged. It was an odd response, one that even she did not quite understand. Perhaps it was her drink. "Nothing really has brought me here. I came only from a desire to see Rohan again, and to rest at least one night in the security of a city. Someplace I can feel safe." She lowered her head, studying her hands.

Clearing her throat, Rhiannon lifted her face once more. "So, the White City is your destiny. I have been there few times, but each has been a pleasure. Is that where you hail from? I would think a Rohirrim would know the way to Edoras," she added with a melodic laugh.

[Vilik]

Vilik shrugged, "You would be hard pressed to remember the way yourself after as many sleepless nights."

As to her response, some may have found her answer strange, but it was a valid reason as far as he was concerned. He had acted on the same urge to just go many times before.

"From where do I hail?..." He repeated the question almost at a loss for a reply. "I am not certain I can claim any one place as my home. It seems most places grow tired of me, or I of them before long and then I go wherever fortune may lead." He paused, reflecting back on his younger days and smiled. "I was raised in the countryside not far from Bree. I suppose I could have had a good life there, working the farm, but it wasn't in me at the time. I left when I was nary fourteen and have traveled ever since, following what ever work I could find." He took another long sip form his mug before continuing. "There are not many places about Middle Earth that I have not seen, I think though, my journeys will end in a place not unlike where they began." He smirked, "But that time is not to come too soon I think."

Vilik, becoming aware of his rambling finished his drink and set the empty mug down before him. "Please forgive my long windedness. Its late now and I think I should be finding myself a room." After placing a few coins on the table he stood and bowed. "It has been a pleasure, Rhiannon, and I thank you again for the ride." He straightened and smiled, "Perhaps our paths will cross again, but, for now I must bid you a goodnight."

[Envin]

A loud but dull crash came from the front of the room as the door was flung wide. Into the inn walked a tall man clad in dark armor overworked in a myriad of shapes and colors. And in his hand was a great red mace. He wore no cloak against the weather, but upon his head sat a great helm. He took it off of his head, and down to his shoulders there spilled long locks of red hair. His eyes were green and alert, and the goatee on his face, alone on clean, close-shaven skin, seemed to wag ever so slightly as he swept his gaze about the room. He carefully scrutinized each person, not caring if he was observed doing so, until at last his gaze rested on Vilik. He raised an eyebrow and observed. He saw Vilik begin to rise, almost as though he was to leave the inn, and then the newcomer stepped forward.

"Why, old comrade of mine!" said he as he clapped a great hand upon Vilik's shoulder. "It has been many a long year indeed since last I clasped your hand! Well met indeed, and gladdened is my heart to see you!" He did not speak overloud, certainly not in a shout, for he merely wanted to speak with Vilik alone, and chose this method to get close to him. Now, if only Vilik would not be dense and send him away...

[Vilik]

Vilik noticed the man as soon as he turned to leave. How could he not? The gleam of his highly polished armor, the forboding mace and unique helm he adorned made the man stick out like a sore thumb. He approached the man, not to speak with him, but only to pass by and retrieve his cloak from the door, and saw the expression on his face change when their stares met.

The man was happy to see Vilik, of that he was sure. He had the look of finding somthing he had sought after long and hard and then found unxepectedly by chance, long after giving up the search. Why the man would look at him this way was a mystery, though, as Vilik was quite sure they had never crossed paths before.

And then unexpectedly as Vilik neared as was to pass him, the man reached out to clasp his shoulder. Vilik's hand, as it did often these days, slipped inconspicuosly to the dagger at his side. There was, however, no malice to read in the man's face and what Vilik thought at first to be a case of mistaken Identity was something else all together.

The man knew good and well he and Vilik had not met untill this very moment. The sharade was a ploy, there was somthing else on his mind and Vilik it seemed was at the heart of the matter.

A smile never cracked on his face as he replied, eying the man inquistively. "Aye, it has been too long, old friend... we have much catching up to do..." Vilik then cast his eyes down to the large mace at the man's side. "Perhaps you should check in and make yourself comfortable before we talk."

Although Vilik felt no ill will from the man, his instincts were not beyond question. He had no desire to have his skull crushed this night, or any. If the man wished to talk he could stow his weapon and armor away beforehand.

Vilik then leaned forward, hugging the man as would be normal for two old comrades. As he did so he whispered. "Find my room... and come unarmed."

With that he gave the man a nod and went on about his way.

[Rhiannon]

Rhiannon smiled politely and gave a nod as the gentleman rose from the table. "Well, I thank you for the drink and wish you well with you travels...and the finding of your horse," she added, her eyes twinkling mischievously. She herself pushed away from the table just as a loud crash resounded from the front door. The noise caused nearly every patron in the place to jump, and Rhiannon lifted her own gaze sharply. She shrugged, however, and pulled her hair back behind her neck before heading for the door. This man meant nothing to her, and so she would be on her merry way.

Rhiannon slipped past the tall fellow and pulled her damp cloak down from its peg before stepping out the door. She surveyed the night from the establishments top step, noting happily that the rain had dwindled and eventually died out. Rhiannon tied her cloak loosely to the saddle of her steed before mounting. It would no longer keep her warm until it had dried. The maiden's mind wandered briefly to the great herd of horses she'd seen outside the city's walls. How she longed to get another look at the magnificent creatures.

Gently, Rhiannon urged Antherne forward and the picked their way down the rocky path until they had reached the gate of Edoras. It was swung open slowly, and only wide enough for her to pass through -- and so she did. Her brown eyes immediately found the herd she sought. Rhiannon realized how truly beautiful the creatures were as she rounded their midst. Swiftly, she dismounted. Her own footsteps were softer than those of her steed and she did not wish to wake anyone who might be dwelling inside the line of billowing tents. Besides, she meant no ill will. Rhiannon merely wanted to look.

[Envin]

Envin was pleased that this fellow had seen his ruse so swiftly, and grunted a sound of assurance when Vilik advised him to stow away his mace. As Vilik turned away, so did Envin, but the latter walked out the door to where his proud horse Vael stomped his hooves outside the inn. Envin strapped his great mace onto the saddle, never fearing that it would be stolen, for Vael was trained for war, a magnificent charger. Envin patted his neck and ran his fingers through his mane, and whispered soft words in his ear. "Wish me luck, mine old comrade. New adventures never flag for us."

Then Envin turned and entered the inn once more, and walked straight toward the stairs at the side of the building. There were only a few rooms above, but their doors were all closed. Envin glanced at each one of them. The three nearest him were cracked open, and as he passed them by, he saw that they were empty. The next showed a goodly line of dust around the crack of the door above the floor; it had not been opened in some time. The last door was locked tight, Envin could tell by the slight warp of the door around the bolt. But the one just on his right was shut, unlocked, and had no dust. He knocked upon this one.

[Vilik]

Vilik waited silently crouching in the shadow of his slightly open door. So well hidden was he that the Envin had stood merely inches away and not been aware of his presence. By the time the patron across the hall had time to answer the knock at the door, Vilik had sprung his ambush, seizing Envin from behind and pulling him into his own room and slamming the door shut. Vilik's dagger rested just below the man's chin, daring him to make the slightest move.

"Who sent you and on what accord?"

He pressed the dagger a bit harder against the man's neck.

"You'll do well to speak the truth"

((ooc: Since you're the pally I suppose I'll play the role of the rogue ))

[Envin]

{OOC: Wewt, nice idea!}


Envin chuckled in spite of himself, even though he had a rather sizeable dagger pressed to his throat. But he remained calm. "A well-set trap, my good fellow. I must congratulate you; it is rare that I am befuddled. If you think prudent, I would very much enjoy it if you would remove your dagger from my throat. Its point does itch so. But, I digress. To answer your question, no one has sent me hither. And the accord is mine own. I have heard vague rumours of goings-on in Rohan, in Edoras in particular, and upon further search of the city I have decided that it is you to whom I must report. I am a holy warrior, a crusader of the most Holy Paladins of the Light, and now is the time of year when most often I set forth from my Order's home in Minas Tirith, and walk abroad through the world to right wrongs and shine the light of truth upon injustice. A lofty speech, say you, and indeed over-pompous it may seem. What does my history and purpose here have to do with you, you may also say. Well then, I know not quite why I am here. All I know is that my finely trained senses, honed to perfection from years of use, speak to me of you. They say that here is one whose purpose, though perhaps not completely good, is not driven by evil, and one who is also in grave danger of meeting the most insidious evil face-to-face. Even so, I have just lately departed from an inn called The Sprinting Mare, where my path crossed with those of two very foul beings, beings whom I feel assured are here also to cross your path. Count me a friend, then, and remove your little knife." He chuckled again. "I am here to aid you, and you may be certain that few others in Middle-earth can do so quite as well as can I."

[Vilik]

Being too preoccupied with not moving, lest have his neck split open, the man had not realized when Vilik withdrew the blade half way through his preaching. He sat looking on, somewhat amused from his chair in the corner. There was something in his speech that did wet Vilik's curiosity however.

"Tell me more about these foul beings. I am no one of importance, what do they seek to gain from me?"

He suspected that one of the beings of which the man spoke had already crossed his path and knew well what it was they sought. For now, though, he would feign ignorance and see just how much this paladin could tell him. Perhaps he knew something of the idol.

[Envin]

Envin shrugged when he noticed his soliloquy had run away with him. He rose to a sitting position and answered the roguish fellow. "I do not know of them too well. I merely say that I feel from them, especially one, great tremors of evil. From the first I met this evening, now that I recall the original encounter, I am reminded of feelings which I felt far in the north from another person entirely. Such emanations of hatred can only be of the same entity, and so I am forced to assume that it is some being capable of shifting its shape. At this moment, it wears the guise of a young, green-eyed woman. Her hair is dark and is bound up above her head. Her neck is very thin, graceful, and she is clad in a cloak of blue. The second is a man, very, very tall. His features are very finely chiseled, almost angular in his face. He is clad in black and his long hair is silver. Not white, but a most unnatural shade of precious metal. I beg that you trust me when I say I have no motive in disturbing you other than to seek adventure in the cause of righteousness, and I would that I might become your ally in whatever venture you are upon; if these two indeed are here to thwart its progress, then there will be much work for me and for the mace you saw downstairs. My name is Envin."

[Vilik]

Vilik had no choice but to believe Envin's tale. The woman he describe was with no doubt the same creature that visited his camp not a week past. His thoughts then turned to other figure he spoke of. Was it possible this silver haired man was the same fellow that sent him off on this damned venture to begin with? At this point he had nothing to lose by revealing the details of his ventures. If Envin was a minion of the green eyed woman he would already know of the idol. If not, perhaps somewhere in the lore the paladins followed the idol and its origins were mentioned.

The air was tense as Vilik pondered over his next move. Nothing was clear in Vilik's mind, but, just as he sensed great danger from the woman he felt he could trust this Envin. He stood, his back to Envin as he peer out the rooms one window.

"My name is Vilik, and this woman you speak of, we have met." He turned, eying Evin with a most serious look. "She appeared to me on the plains in the form of a bat, then transformed to the woman you described." He paced back and forth as he recanted their conversation that night on the plains, describing the strange glow in her eyes, the whispers in the wind and the strange green mist that seemed to proceed them.

He then pulled the map from his pocket and told Envin about the man in Minas Tirith.

"This fellow was willing to pay a great deal for the idol pictured on that map. I believe the woman desired it as well, though she claimed she wished me to deliver the item. I sensed such deceit in her, I know not what to believe.

Vilik passed the parchment to Envin, pointing out the strange runes that covered it. "This writing I thought to be dwarvish. Can you make anything of it?"

[Envin]

Envin rose to stand, but when he saw the map which Vilik handed him, his breath caught, and he sat down again, forcibly. His eyes had taken a dark turn, and the light from the single lamp in the room glinted out of them.

"Firstly, I must thank you for the gift of your trust. I take my oath that you shall not find it misplaced. But, a man in Minas Tirith, you say? How came someone in Gondor in possession of this?!" He traced several of the letters, feeling their sharp angles. "How strange," he continued to muse, his gaze still upon the map. "No, my friend Vilik. This writing is not dwarvish, though historians of my order theorize that it was bastardized from that tongue. This... this is Andromalian. Why in all of the hells it is found upon a map of Moria I'll never guess... but there it is. And this idol. Its purpose and history are hidden from us, but given the fact that two beings of dark purpose search for it, or search for the one who recovered it... this idol is a monumentous find indeed. And when Andromalii are brought into the equation..." The paladin's breath hissed into his mouth and back out again. "The tall, silver-haired fellow. It could never be." With a sharp, swift turn of his head he stared at Vilik. "Know you aught of Andromalii, my new comrade?"

[Vilik]

Vilik shook his head in confusion. "Andromalii...." He repeated, "I know naught of them... however, it seems you know them, and their language well enough." He eyed Envin curiously. Whoever the Andromalii were, it was very apparent the mere possibility of their involvment terrified the paladin. "Please, go on," Vilik urged him as he drew a pipe from his cloak and began to smoke. "I would very much like to know of these people.... and your theory of the idol's purpose."

[Envin]

Envin was comforted by Vilik's removal of a pipe and his subsequent smoking. The paladin took out his own metal pipe from its hiding place in his pauldron and tamped it and began to smoke as well before he answered. The pipeweed succeeded in calming his nerves, and he spoke. "I see you recognize that I have become quite serious. These Andromalii are perhaps the greatest foe a paladin could ever face, save for he whom they call master. What my order knows of them is the most that is known at all by anyone in Middle-earth, and even that is almost only hearsay. Legend tells us, tales from the end of the Third Age, of a being, a fallen Maia, who dwells in the north of Middle-earth, in old abandoned Angmar. In old stories, he named himself Morsereg Dindaedel, the Black Istari. He is a servant of Namo, and considers himself the voice of insidious cruelty in these Hither Lands. Other tales reveal that he and good king Aragorn had many an encounter before the King died of old age, and even that Aragorn was able to overcome him, but that though devious means he managed to save his soul and reincorporate it. The Andromalii are awful beings, beings whose nature cannot be described, as no living person has yet to see one. They were created by Dindaedel to guard the receptacle of his soul, and they are of immense size and strength, with a vast knowledge of spellcraft and of combat. In these later years, this Morsereg has largely become a horror story to frighten children into going to bed or doing their chores, but my order is one of the few folk in Middle-earth who believes he existed… or exists. For the few writings in Andromalian that we have found and deciphered have described him as their Mephistophecles, their Dagon. They were wont to call him Baphomet, but in his dealings with them he named himself Legion. They spoke of him only in whispers, fearing even to write his true name, though in truth only few of them knew it. But we have pieced the likenesses together, and they corrolate. Tall. Hawklike, cruel features. Long, straight silver hair. Black leather. A great sword, and a smile that will curdle blood. I still as of yet have no true theories about this idol, but it is only quite obvious that you and I are meshed in a web of evil and intrigue, for I swear on the love that I have for Iluvatar… Morsereg Dindaedel is in Edoras.”

[Vilik]

Vilik's head began to ache as Envin told him of the Andromalii and their master. How had he managed to become entwined in such a situation? All he desired was to deliver his goods, collect his reward and be on his merry way. That, it had become all to apparent, was not in the stars for him. How, though, could he and this paladin stand against a being of such power? They simply could not, it was folly to believe otherwise... least not with their current knowledge.

There was a long pause as Vilik thought over the past weeks. "The man you call Dindaedel is here in Edoras, as is the green eyed woman I assume." He shook his head. "Do they work together or do they harbor each their own ambitions?" He paused in thought again, but was met only with frustration. They needed to learn more of the idol, for it seemed each of their wills was set upon having it.

He stared inquisitively at the parchment in Envin's hand, and then at Envin himself. "One would not come to own such a map by chance. The fellow in Minas Tirith must know something about the idol. I tell you, I have dealt in relics before, and in jewels. The carving I retrieved would not fetch a pound of copper from collectors of either and yet this man was willing to pay greatly for it." He pulled the small pouch of gold coins from his pocket, emptying it on the table before him. "This was just to be a down payment. Much more was promised to me upon its delivery. Perhaps we should travel to Minas Tirith together... persuade this man to tell us more."