[Himaran]

Abârzadan sat quietly in his study, reviewing some papers regarding the state of his inheritance. The news was far from pleasant; the Inheritance Tax, which had never affected the Faithful, was being revised. Even those living outside of the King's sphere would be forced to pay. That, combined with the fact that his father was labeled an exile, meant that much of Abârzadan's estate would be reposessed. He shook his head, leaning back in the elegant chair. He had heard rumors about the Faithful sailing away from the island, but had thought little of it; never expecting that he himself might want a place one of the departing vessels. And that holds true. I need to go deeper into Númenor, not flee from it.

Again Abârzadan thought about his recent visit to the inn, and the story that had reached his ever-alert ears. If the informant there had been accurate, trouble was brewing. A member of the Faithful had been kidnapped, or perhaps urdered, by the King's guards. Or, perhaps, he had been a criminal, and the men he had overheard were accomplices. Whatever the scenario, a man was missing; taken away in chains or in a casket. Now what was his name? Abârzadan pulled an old, dusty book out of a nearby drawer and paged through it, looking for a familiarity. The names flew by him as quickly as the pages, but nothing seemed to stick. Then, suddenly, something caught his eye.

Abârpânarú.

Was that it? Had he been the one mentioned by the two secretive men at the inn? Abârzadan wasn't sure; the conversation had been held in such low tones that nothing was certain. The man looked for the location of the residence, memorized it, and put the book away. Should he trust the hunch and investigate? While it was quite possible that everything he had just surmised was a complete load of hogwash, Abârzadan decided that he needed a break from the tiresome duties of paperwork as it was. If nothing else, he might be able to find out a bit more about Númenor; and that in itself would be worth the journey.

Without bothering to clean up his desk, Abârzadan left the study in its current state of disarray and hurried down the curving set of stairs outside the room. He pulled on a light coat, strapped on a pair of boots, and grabbed a short knife from the countertop. He then made for the door, but paused; surveying the symbol of the House of Batânzâira as he had done so many times before. The one thing the man wished more than anything was to bring pride back to his family's name, which had been diminished for many years. Perhaps this very trip will help you to reach that goal. With that final, optomistic thought, Abârzadan tucked the knife into his belt and left the house, locking the door behind him. One could never be to sure, these days.

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Abârzadan had reached the house. It was a fair distance from his own, but the man was far from tired; hours of endurance training had made him surprisingly immune to exhaustion. Looking around, he noticed a large set of stables; obviously, Abârpânarú was a lover of horses. Abârzadan walked quickly up the stone steps and took hold of the bronze knocker; pounding several times on the heavy wooden door. He waited, and it eventually opened, revealing a woman who had a distraught look in her tired eyes. "Who are you," she said curtly. Knowing that his unexpected arrival deserved such a remark, Abârzadan merely smiled and asked, "Is Abârpânarú Karíbzîr here? I would like to speak with him."

The woman's look darkened. "Abârpânarú is not here as this time. May I ask who you are, and why you are interested."

So, it was this man that was taken. Abârzadan scrambled for a reason to be at his house, and then remembered the stables. "My name is Abârzadan Batânzâira. I used to sell horses to Abârpânarú. Good business partner. Recently, I have heard rumors that something might have happened to him. I came here hoping to find that I had been misled...

The woman paused, and slowly her suspicious look faded. "Please, come inside, Abârzadan. My name is Inzillomí; Abârpânarú is my husband." Abârzadan followed her into the house, hoping that the mystery might finally be solved.