Prisoner of Númenor RPG

[TomBrady12]

Marsillion listened attentively as the respected captain articulated his plan. It was solid, so far as Marsillion could tell, and at any rate, something must be decided immediately. “Very good Captain,” Marsillion said at the conclusion. Feeling the eyes of the party on him in this moment of decision laid heavily on the young man's mind as he strove with all his being for wisdom. Father, send me your guidance, he prayed as he began to speak.

“Your plan is well thought out my friend, yet let me add more. With no objections, the party shall hence forth be split. Captain Azarmanô, you shall lead Thoronmir and Abârzadan west with all speed toward Rommena. The King's Men will see you ride. Let them. With luck, they might presume that you have abandoned the mission and have gone to seek refuge. Ride hard, and hide not. Circle the city before approaching from the east. Disguise yourselves and enter the city in secret. As for myself, my noble cousin, and the brave Tiru, we shall ride slowly and secretively through the Valley of the Tombs. Halting and hiding often, we may be able to occupy the soldiers long enough for the rescue party to find and free my uncle,” Marsillion said, clasping his fingers tightly around his heavy leather belt, hoping none of his comrades would see the shaking of his hands. “Once inside the city, seek out Monôizindu Igmizadan, he may be able to aid you. Gentlemen,” Marsillion said, facing the three proud men of Númenor, “you are still free to leave. Your stake in this affair is small, yet you risk death. Proceed only if you feel you must.” The faces of the three remained still, the solidity of their resolve showing blatantly. Even the mysterious Abârzadan's face shown with grim determination. Seeing their faces hard as stone, Marsillion knew they would go on. “The speed and strength of Tulkas I wish for you,” Marsillion said quietly. “With the grace of the Valar, we shall all meet again soon.”

With that, camp was hastily broken, and the Kariborim readied. Shortly before leaving, Marsillion pulled Azarmanô aside to speak to him in private. “Captain, I thank you for your dedication to my family,” he said in a low whisper. “I ask you now for one last favor. Keep both eyes on this Abârzadan. How the King's Men know of our plans I do not know, but be sure Abârzadan is kept close.” Azarmanô's sharp nod was all the confirmation needed. With that the two men clasped arms briefly, and led their two parties off down the slow descent of the lone hill in separate directions.

[Meneltarmacil]

The party discussed their options. It was agreed that part of the group would ride as fast as possible to Romenna while the others would stay in Armenelos to rescue Abarpanaru. Thoronmir listened until Marsillion was through, then spoke once he had the chance.

"Marsillion," Thoronmir said. "A word with you, please?"

"Yes?" the other man said.

"No offense, but I really do not find the idea of running away from this place while Abarpanaru remains here appealing. I request that I be allowed to stay and help in the rescue effort. I know the layout of the city well and could be of some service to you here."

"No," said Marsillion. "I'm sorry, but it really would not be best to have someone as conspicuous as you wandering the city here. The King has already declared you a criminal, after all."

"You're probably right," said Thoronmir. "I suppose I'll start leaving. I wish you luck. I hope we meet again soon!"

With that, Thoronmir walked off to get ready to leave.

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Inzillomi's eyes widened as she rode into view of the sea. Time was running short. Sails danced in the distant wind like captured clouds. The sea breeze tickled her face, teasing strands of her hair from her braid. Her skirts flickered gently about her ankles as she rode as slowly as humanly possible.

A guard trotted up beside her. "My lady, it is here that we leave you. Your party will continue on to Romenna... it is there, m'lady... just in sight. We will stay upon this ridge and watch... to make sure there is no trouble."

"I understand." she stated softly. He grasped her arm, looking into her eyes. Their horses danced, nervous to be so close.

"Inzillomi... may the Valar bless you and keep you in their sight." As her eyes widened in pleasant surprise, he blushed faintly and rode away, calling to the group.

"You will ride on! Our escort ends here. Romenna is there-" he pointed. "and you will reach it very swiftly. The lady Inzillomi assures me that arrangements have been made for your living. Ride straight to the shore. Farewell, and ride safely. I would hate very much to be forced to come after you."

With those final, seemingly uncaring, words, the guard of the King's Men gathered together, leaving the large group alone, and looking small and scared. Inzillomi dismounted, walking from family to family.

"We have made it, friends... In the distance you see Romenna... we will soon be in the company of my father, Elendil, and my brothers, Isildur and Anarion. Our trip has been long, and filled with unfortunate accidents... with luck, we shall find solace here. Come, my friends, and let us ride!"

With that, she mounted her mare once more, and rode onward to the city, the dignified head of a line of weary travellers. Varda may you light the path for my daughter, and the darkness for my husband. Aule, I pray for strength for us all... The time has come when our hastily conceived plans must come to fruition, or not. Eru above, please bless us and all of our endeavors.

[littlemanpoet]

"Ah, Mabalar Melethroch," Sauron whispered, "you see your doom."

Mabalar swallowed the bile in his throat and said nothing. If this was the end, there was nothing he could do. He raised his eyes and silently besought the good will of Eru.

"Bring the victim forward!" Sauron cried suddenly. Mabalar looked in surprise at Sauron as a young man in chains was dragged up the stairs of the dais to the altar. He begged for mercy, tears and spittle staining his face. Sauron grinned and faced Mabalar.

"I would have you watch your doom. And know, Faithful," he spit the word, "that I give you one last chance to turn away from the lies of the supposed gods of the illusory western lands, and swear your loyalty to me. If you do, I will promise you great power, for if you earn my favor I have a great reward. I see in you, Mabalar, a strength of will that I would not see wasted upon the sacrificial altar. I have Rings of Power, and I would give one to you, to be a lord of one of my realms, if you but foreswear the Valar. What say you?"

Mabalar was silent for a moment, allowing the evil one to stand upon a glimmer of hope, thinking that he would betray his family and friends, and the very gods. He opened his mouth.

"I would sooner die the death of a cursed dog than be a lord under the werewolf Sauron."

The evil one's visage turned into a mask of hate and malice.

"I will give you one more chance, fool." He turned on the guards. "Place the victim on the altar!" He turned back to Mabalar. "I will have you watch this fool's dying agony, powerless to stop it."

[Regin Hardhammer]

Azarmanô recognized immediately the brilliance of Marsillion’s plan. If the eyes of the guards were focused on the group that they thought was bound for Armenelos, Azarmanô could easily enter the city through a circuitous route and escape their detection. They would have to use deception if they wanted to reach the dungeon alive, since Sauron was undoubtedly waiting for them, waiting to strike and slay them all on his altar. And this plan offered the perfect solution for entering the city undetected. Azarmanô was still quite unsure, however, of how they planned to rescue Abârpânarú once they actually arrived in Armenelos. Surely rescuing a high priority prisoner from the dungeon of Sauron himself would not be easy. Although, in his heart, he felt that somehow they would devise a method for freeing their leader. But the group must solve their problems one at a time, and the first one they had was how to get into the city without getting killed.

Of course, they would need some sort of spectacle to dramatically announce the splitting of the party. Otherwise, the dim-witted guards might not understand what was going on and which section they were supposed to follow. It would have to be melodramatic and theatrical, for Azarmanô wanted to make a profound impact when he announced the group’s fissure. Besides, he rather liked trying his hand at acting a second time, although this go around he found the character he was to portray much more to his liking. Afterwards, he hoped, there would be no doubt to any guard within ten miles what the intentions of the group were.

He leaned forward toward Marsillion and whispered in his ear, “I want to make sure our guard friends know which group to follow. Play along”

Spinning around he assumed his character with an arrogant grin, he bellowed loudly, “I do not care you lout. I will not go another inch accompanying you on this folly mission to Armenelos. I value my life too greatly to throw it away on some crazy rescue mission. Come I am abandoning this quest and returning home. Let every man who wants to live follow me. There is too much danger in trying to continue and I do not wish to find my fate on the altar like our leader. We must leave immediately.”

After his harangue, Azarmanô leaned close into Marsillion again and whispered as softly as before, “The trap is set; let us hope that the mouse will bite. Thoronmir, Abarzadan, and I shall leave in a period of ten minutes. At which time you must find a hiding spot and keep quiet till nightfall. After we ride west for half a day’s journey we shall inspect to make sure we are not followed, turn around, and approach the city from the east. Fear not for we shall ride with speed and shall not stop to rest, though we may be weary. With regards to Abarzadan, I have suspected his loyalty for quite some time and will be sure to watch him closely. He shall not try any trickery on us without my knowledge, for I have a keen eye for treachery, one trained by many years of commanding crews on the sea. Far thee well.”

“Onward men,” he shouted and lead Abarzadan and Thoronmir away from the rest of the group. As he watched the others fade slowly in the distance, he wished fervently that they would unite once again with Abârpânarú free to lead them.

[Meneltarmacil]

After arriving in Romenna and having something to eat and drink, Thoronmir stood on the balcony outside his room, waiting for the rest of the party to return. Clouds of smoke blocked the stars from view in the west and obscured Thoronmir's view of Armenelos. Thoronmir felt uneasy, as if something terrible were about to happen. Was it his imagination, or were the seas and the mountain more restless than usual lately?

He continued to watch for any signs of people coming from the west. If the unnatural turbulence in the land and the sea continued, they would need to get away fast. If they waited too long, they very well might be killed. Either way, none of them would ever see Numenor again.

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Inzillomi walked alone through the streets of Romenna, her eyes fixed on the ghosted face of her husband. She saw everything, yet noticed nothing. She had spoken to her father just moments before, sharing a tear-filled reunion. Elendil was unhappy to learn of the capture of his son-in-law, and unhappier yet to learn that his grandchild accompanied the rescue party. Inzillomi had begged of him more time, but feeling the groaning of the earth beneath their feet, Elendil promised her nothing, stating only that they must hurry. Now she reflected, wishing that she could share her thoughts.

She had seen to the comfort of her travelling companions, unveiling small bags of sweets for each child. As their faces lit up with enthusiasm, Inzi could not surpress a smile, but now as she walked, a troubled look adorned her pretty face. Suddenly a familiar face snapped her from her reverie. Was it her imagination, or had Thoronmir just walked past her line of sight?

She sped up, half hoping, to meet the man whose seeming so matched the man she had known for many years. She was not mistaken... it was him.

"Thoronmir!" she cried, drawing him to a stop. She fell silent with a look of utter confusion. It changed to tenacity just as she opened her mouth, but he hastily covered her lips with his palm, drawing her into the shadows.

"My lady, do not fear. All is still well."

"Do not play tight-lipped with me, my lad." She spoke quietly and kindly, but every word was punctuated with an uncharacteristic sharpness. Why are you here? You have my forgiveness and my pity if you have left the mission, but I do not see the look of one such on your face. Where is my family?"

"My lady, I do not know." He silenced her with a raised hand. "I will lead you to Azarmanô. He will explain."

"Azarmanô is here?" she began, but he silenced her once more, taking her by the hand and swiftly leading her through the shadowed streets, avoiding the gaze of the curious.

"Azarmanô will explain." Thoronmir stated once more, performing a seemingly random series of taps upon a heavy oaken door before disappearing as quickly as he'd came into the crowd of people in the street.