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“I have done as you desired, Captain Ferethor.” Perahil murmured. “The sentinels will stay by the outer garrison until darkness falls.” Then he handed a small key to Ferethor. It was silvery key gilt with gold and etched with an ensign of White Tree of Gondor – the key of the entrance of the concealed Hall of Archives.
With a breath of relief, he thanked the Gondorian youth. However, Perahil avoided his gaze as if he was uncomfortable. Ferethor wondered for a moment of this strange behavior, but dismissed it casually. A fatal mistake.
Ferethor approached Maen silently, near enough to overhear her last comment, “Of course, if some does not want to come in like our friend Ferethor, they are welcome to stay put. There is the entrance! It’s just that we need to find another way in…”
He could not restrain himself from a smile. “As it happens, the craven who doesn’t want to come in could aid you.” Pretending to not notice their guilty surprise, he opened his hand. “The key.”
“Where did you obtain it?” Maen asked sharply. Ferethor shrugged off that inevitable question, saying “You need not know. Surely, you won’t back out at the last minute, Maen Il Garoth? Let us enter.”
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