[Kransha]

Idruil goaded his steed, not as mighty as some of the others around him, forward. He sat, almost precariously, atop his former mount, the older horse which Idruil had named Ecthelion. It seemed a fitting name, considering the beast was just as white in hue as the tower he’d been named after. Ecthelion was dull white in color and dappled with grey. He had an unkempt mane and strong legs but his uses as a riding mount had lessened as he and his rider grew older with the passing of time as summers and winters flew by.

They were headed into a more desolate ruin of earth. The limpid and darkened palette of color here deeply contrasted the majestic fluorescence of the White City and surrounding lands. There were countless crags of rock and crumbling spires of cliffs and dulled peaks, surrounded by the dying embers of life in the form of withered trees and plant life that was shriveling away amongst the crevices. It was a depressing place, despite the few outstanding sprigs of lighter color that were nestled throughout the barren zone.

Idruil, by now, was beginning to understand what he’d prematurely gotten himself into. This was a quest, a mission to seek the man Guriel Il Galoth. Idruil had indeed thought this man to be some overblown myth, but the lady Maen spoke otherwise. She certainly seemed competent enough to know what she was saying and sensible enough to lead this motley crew of folk on such an expedition. The others had seemingly accepted her as a suitably firm and commanding leader, which she was as far as Idruil was concerned. The rest of the company was also a focus of Idruil’s. Since he had come so late and so abruptly into this band of wanderers, he had not had the opportunity to get to know any of them as they had gotten to know each other prior to his arrival. There were many to become acquainted with, all of different gaits and demeanors. By now, he knew all their names for the most part. There was, obviously, Maen, the first person who Idruil had become acquainted with by name. Also, there was the Easterling, Carathir, the dark fellow who had been the first to catch Idruil’s attention. He knew now of all the others, by name more than by gait. He would have to spend more time with each if he wished to know them.

The man, feeling the cold increase both in mind and body as all conversations of the company faded from hearing and a veil of unsettling silence fell over them all. Idruil himself yearned for such conversation, the obtaining of which had been one of his reasons for joining this endeavor. He did not speak at first, feeling that it would be unwise for him to be the first to break the icy silence that had descended. He did, however, begin quietly humming a traveling song under his breath, barely audible to the ears of the others. Hearing the calming and merry words in his head comforted him enough for his confidence to rise. He had mustered up the little courage he needed.

He pulled his horse up alongside the group’s leader, Maen Il Galoth.
“You have assembled quite a company here, Lady Il Galoth.” He said almost glibly, glancing at her only out of the corner of his eye. He paused momentarily, considering what to say next.

“Ever since we first met,” he began, “I have been curious to know one thing. Perhaps you have told this to the others but I have not heard it if that is so. I was always under the impression that the person we seek, the traitor Guriel, was just a fabrication. I do not doubt now that he is real, but one question remains.” He paused again, prodding his slowing steed forward to keep up with Maen’s, “Since he is a relative of yours, I would assume you have met him some time in the past…Might I be so bold as to ask what he was like, if you ever knew him? I have been told that it is always best to know one’s enemy, so perhaps I could learn what I can about my current enemy, this traitor to Gondor and it's kin, Guriel Il Galoth.”