The Thieves of Tharbad by AliceNWonder000137  

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The Palantiri

The delegates from Cardolan tour Fornost Erain and attend the Royal Council where an adventure is proposed.  Agents of the Witch-King move to counter them.

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The Gates of Fornost Erain – Narwain 12th, 1410

King Araphor

Tharbad was by far a larger city, but Fornost Erain was better protected.  Thick white walls and towers, made of polished granite, surrounded the city and sentries patrolled the battlements, ready and professional.  Even in the aftermath of the war where the orcs had been decimated, vigilance was always the norm.  Snow lay thick over the city, and the wind blew with a howl, numbing the spirit.  Fornost Erain was further north than Tharbad and the temperature and weather reflected that.  Araphor raised the banner of the King and the gates to the city were opened.  The Princess scanned the walls, her mouth open.  She wanted to see every corner of the city.  In the far distance she could even see the beautiful Lake Melúnien, nearly covered in ice.  It was a sacred place for those in the north.

Falathar, riding next to Nirnadel, 'hrmphed', clearly unimpressed. "So, this is the capitol of Arthedain.  How puny.  Don't you think so, Nirnadel?"

Anariel gawked and scowled at Falathar. "Young man, do not be so familiar with Her Highness.  Show some respect."

Chastised, he bowed. "Apologies, I meant no disrespect.  Our city of Tharbad is by far the greater."

The party traveled on to the great citadel overlooking the rest of the city.  The Palace of the King put the Bar Aran to shame.  Constructed by Elendil with the knowledge and strength of Númenor still fresh, it was a marvel of architecture that rivaled that of the Argonath.  Araphor dismounted from his giant warhorse and walked over to Nirnadel.  He put out his arms and lifted her from her saddle, setting her gently down on the snow.  She blushed furiously; an event noted by Falathar, whose expression darkened.  Grooms immediately took the reins of horses and guided them to the stables.

As they entered the great hall, the Arthedan court had turned out to welcome their King.  Lords and ladies, dressed in robes of silk and fur, bowed low as Araphor walked past.  The men wore circlets of mithril or velvet flat caps of muted colors while the ladies wore white silk veils, called wimples, over their hair or tall, pointed hennins with black veils.  This was a place of long and deep tradition, adhering to the culture of Númenor as prescribed by Elendil.

The seer Malborn was also present and made a brief scowl, unnoticed by all except Haedorial, who mentioned it to the Princess.  The seer was dressed in rich black robes, trimmed in silver with a black flatcap over his thinning gray hair.  Araphor greeted his court. "Gracious courtiers and council members, We have returned safely, bringing the charming and beautiful Princess of Cardolan to visit our realm."  The court ohh'd and ahh'd at the ravishing Princess in her pert velvet riding suit and small red bonnet, lined with red fox fur, cocked to one side of her head.

Malborn knelt before the King. "Your Highness, forgive me, the great seer Ar-Elon," he said, referring to himself.  "Ar-Elon was shown a false vision in the Palantír.  This sometimes happens and even one as great as Ar-Elon can be misled.  Ar-Elon apologizes for allowing the King to be given the wrong impressions."

Araphor winced but waved his hand.  "Pray, don't mention it Malborn, We forgive you. We do not know who you showed me, but it definitely was not this Princess."  The warriors laughed, causing Malborn to grimace.  Nirnadel furrowed her brows, not knowing what they were talking about.

The group was then led into the Royal Hall and introduced to the Royal Family. The Princess knelt before the Queen Mother of Arthedain, Beriel.  She was dressed in a gown of blue and gold with ruffled sleeves and shoulders.  A tall, pointed hennin hat covered her hair with white silk gloves over her hands.  Though mature, she still appeared youthful with her Dúnadan blood.  The elder woman raised Nirnadel up by her hands and, together, they bowed to the Court to thunderous applause.  "My dear," the Queen Mother said, "you bring warmth to these cold halls.  I am honored to have you sit at my table.  Come, let me show you the courtesy of the Kingdom of Arthedain."

Beriel led them into the grand dining hall, where tapestries hung from the walls and the banners of the King, and the noble houses hung from the ceiling.  The staff hurried to and from the kitchen, bringing in great platters of meat, cheeses, fruits and vegetables. Many fireplaces and braziers roared, spreading warmth throughout the hall.  The Queen Mother led Nirnadel and Araphor to the Royal Table which had a blue and gold tablecloth and plush seats.  As they sat, one seat remained empty at the end with only a silver helm sitting on the table there, the seat for Arveleg, the fallen king.  Araphor sat in the middle with the Princess as dancers and jugglers entered the hall.  As her herald, Haedorial sat next to her, glowing with pride and joy.

The bard could barely contain his excitement. "I…I never…I could never dream of being at the King's Table in Fornost.  This is…this is a dream."

The chef then brought out a large platter on a rolling table with a roast pig on it.  He took the apple from its mouth and bowed low to the King's Table. "My King, good Princess, I present to you, the glazed ham.  Soaked in brine and lavished with my secret sauce, honey, basil, thyme and other closely guarded ingredients, this will be a delight for the palette and a treat for the senses." He took a bite of the apple and then took a large, serrated knife from his belt.  He bowed again and began carving.  Jugglers surrounded the chef and began their show. "Prepare for a night of entertainment, laughter and merriment!  Please, please, do not be so formal!  We live for mirth."

Araphor stood and clapped and then pushed his hands upward. "Good people, eat, laugh and be merry!  It has been too long since we had mirth in this hall.  We await good jokes and pranks!"  The young king had a much different approach to life than his dour, devout father, something not all of the nobles appreciated. However, Nirnadel seemed quite pleased.

Haedorial's eyes widened, and he leaned over and whispered into the Princess' ear. "Go ahead, Your Highness, try it," he urged in a voice full of mischief.

She pinched up her face in concentration. "We cannot," she complained.

"You can do it," he countered excitedly.  Suddenly, the roast pig on the center table began to oink and squeal.

The chef nearly fell over in surprise. "This pig is still alive," he shouted as he pulled his knife out of the ham.

Nirnadel and Haedorial exploded in laughter, followed by the Royal Table and then the rest of hall.  The Princess rose and apologized. "We are so very sorry.  It was just a sound effect.  Praythee, please, continue eating," she offered before bursting into laughter again.  She gave a deep bow to the chef. "Kind chef, please forgive us."

Araphor roared with laughter and applause.  This was exactly the kind of thing he enjoyed.  This was the culture that he wanted for the realm, one of mirth and smiles.  While he appreciated the tradition of the kingdom and his father’s adherence to it, it was time to make his own way.  Even his mother was laughing joyously.  It was a good sigh of the times to where he could make his own mark on Arthedain.

Malborn sat next to Falathar Girithlin, cutting his roast duck with his mithril knife. "How rude for the Princess to behave as such.  So juvenile.  She will not be a good match for the King.  Perhaps someone like yourself would be far better for her.  I, Ar-Elon, see how you look at her.  You could teach her.  You would be the perfect couple."

Falathar nodded with his jaw clenched tight. "Yes, I think she likes me and not that King."

Malborn smiled at the seed he had planted. "Yes, you are the one and Ar-Elon will help."

Fornost Erain – The Royal Suite - Narwain 14th, 1410

Nirnadel

It was now two weeks into Narwain, the first month of the year.  The Princess and her entourage had been shown the wonders of the northern kingdom.  A tour of the fortress city had been allowed so the party could stretch its legs about town.  Arthedain revealed itself to be an ordered, cultured, and well-tended society.  Song and poetry were highly revered in the fair city and Haedorial melded right into Arthedan society.  Mercatur, however, was supremely uncomfortable being around the artisans and players of Fornost Erain.

During this time, the Princess quietly celebrated her seventeenth birthday.  Her friends gathered to pay their respects and to wish her well.  In the lounge of the Royal Palace, she sat on a thick floral themed rug, woven in reds, blues and silvers.  Kaile, Galadel and Anariel sat with her as she opened presents.

The Princess opened one box that was wrapped in colorful paper with a bow.  She read the card.

Warm wishes and a happy birthday – House Tarma

Inside the box was some type of green cooking pot.  She stared at it for a few seconds, turning it around in her hand. "Does anyone know what this is?" she asked, never having cooked a day in her life.

"Cheese pot," Kaile said, beaming with pride. "You melt cheese in there and then dip crackers or bread in the melted cheese.  One of my favorite things for sure," she said and Nirnadel handed her the pot.

"Delightful," the Princess said, not entirely with enthusiasm.  "Would it be inappropriate to regift this to Firiel?"

Anariel snorted. "Of course it would be.  You will write a kindly worded letter of thanks to House Tarma for their cheese pot.  Am I understood, Your Highness?"

Nirnadel gave a big fake smile and nodded. "Of course, dear Anariel.  Nothing gets past you."

Anariel returned the big fake smile. "And it is about time that you realized that, dear girl."

The three younger ladies all squealed and began to giggle.  Anariel even joined in.  The old nurse sighed.  "It is so good to feel young again and in such youthful company. I was born under the rule of King Tarastor, son of King Tarcil.  Tarastor was the last in the direct line of Isildur.  Ah, it was a glorious and dreadful time…much like we have now.  You know, Your Highness, if you were to actually study your lessons like I tell you, you would know this."

Nirnadel sighed and rolled her eyes like teenagers are known to do.  "Yes, good nurse, yes.  I will get to it," she said in a singsong voice.

Anariel smiled.  She loved the Princess as a daughter and fretted constantly about her safety, education and happiness. "I am the sister of Hir Calantir and our father fought with King Calimendil at Cameth Brin.  He was one of the few to escape the rout that brought about the great civil war that followed the death of the king.  I have served the last three queens, including your mother, my dear."

Nirnadel had to respect her experience.  Anariel had been like a second mother to her for some time now. " My mother," she said, looking down. "I barely knew her.  She was generous…but distant to me.  What was she like?"

The nurse gave a bittersweet smile. "She was…a force to be reckoned with.  She and your father were the life of the kingdom.  He was a dashing knight errant, and she was the proud lady.  When your brother, Thôrdaer, was born the bells rang for hours all day. Then followed Braegil and then, of course, you.  Your mother cared deeply for all of her children.  I can still hear her singing in the conservatory.  I know she was stern and seemed distant, but she would be proud of the woman you've become."

The Princess wiped away a tear and gave the nurse a nod.  "I am deeply honored, good Anariel," she said as she grasped everyone's hands and placed them in the center between each person.  She put her hand on top. "We sisters will stick together through thick and thin.  And you will be my family."

There was a knock on the door and Galadel ran to answer it.  It was the King.  Galadel and the other ladies knelt as Nirnadel rose to greet him.  The Princess did a perfect curtsey, knees bent outward, back straight with head tilted down.  She had always been taught how to behave and adhere to custom.

The King bowed low from the waist, one hand behind and one over his heart.  He was dressed in a gold and green doublet and leather knee high breeches that were rather tight fitting.  Nirnadel tried not to stare as she rose.

"Good King, to what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?" she asked.

"We have heard that it is your birthday today and We are bringing Her Highness a birthday gift," he said with a beaming smile.  He held up a pair of mithril earrings with emeralds set in the metal and surrounded by flecks of malachite.  Kaile and Galadel gasped with delight and moved in behind the Princess.  The King held one up.  "May I?" he asked and Nirnadel turned her head to show him her ear.  He clasped it on, somewhat awkwardly. "This is not something that is within my skill set," he said, scrunching his face up.  "Ah, there, I actually did it," he said with a humorous edge.

Nirnadel turned the other way, and the King clasped it on, this time more skillfully.  She found the touch of his fingers to be warm and her ears tingled.  "Such a magnificent gift," she said as she looked into a mirror that Galadel held up. "This is simply too much, good King."

He waved his hand. "Nonsense.  We…I wish you to have it.  It belonged to my grandmother, Elbeth.  She, in turn, got them from the elves of Imladris.  I understand that the stones have the properties of healing and wisdom."  He looked her in the eyes. "I have to say that the jewels accentuate the color of your eyes.  How do they feel?"

The Princess gazed into the mirror, holding one of the earrings. "They have no weight. And I…I feel wonderful.  I sense the enchantment within," she said and then curtseyed again. "I thank you, good King."

He grasped her gently by the shoulders and looked down on her with a smile.  "They suit you very well and it is our pleasure to see you wear them."

She blushed furiously, sensing Anariel's disapproval at having a man so close.  She could not meet his gaze. "I…I will…wear them with pride and will always remember so noble and kind of a King that you are."

He released his grasp and stepped back, suddenly seeming nervous.  "I am…I am…sorry. I must go.  There will be a council meeting this afternoon, called by the Seer Malborn.  It would be an honor for you to attend.  We will discuss matters of state that will likely involve Cardolan.  I would value your input." He bowed low. "Your Highness. Ladies.  I bid you good day."

Fornost Erain – The Council Chambers

King Araphor

The Royal Court was assembling in the hall to hear what the seers might have to say.  The power of these men was great, and their word was held in high regard, a tradition since the days of Númenor.  Araphor walked with the seers towards the semicircular chamber where seating was arranged to either side of a crimson and gold throne.  The chamber was carved of white marble that showed veins of gold with the walls covered in banners and tapestries that showed the sigils of the noble houses of Arthedain.  The King looked back at his seers and scowled.  "She will be here to attend the council meeting.  We have personally invited her and Our word stands."

"But Your Highness," one old seer protested.

Araphor pointed at him and leaned forward.  "I am the King," he said to end all dissent.  He broke eye contact and climbed the steps to the throne.  As he sat, two heralds blew on horns to play a flourish as everyone in the room stood.  The King was dressed in Númenórean style robes, woven to accentuate his powerful physique.  His jet-black hair was closely cut beneath the ancient crown of Arthedain.  The King lifted up the Sceptre of Annúminas to signal the commencement of the meeting and the lords and ladies of the court bowed in respect, and each announced their name and title.  Nirnadel sat in a seat reserved for honored guests, while two Royal Guards, Kaile, Galadel and Anariel stood behind her.  Kaile could barely contain her excitement, practically bouncing on her feet.  Only weeks before, she was but a simple assistant healer and a peasant girl before that.  Now, she stood with sovereigns and heads of state.

Malborn approached the throne wearing his finest robes of blue and black.  His balding white hair was slicked back under the gold circlet of the High Seer.  He bowed from the waist, a hand on his heart.  He glanced briefly at Nirnadel with a sneer and then looked back to the King.  "Your Highness, in the retreat from Annúminas last year, the Royal Library was abandoned.  However, it has come to Ar-Elon's attention that the library has remained nearly intact," he said and then looked at the interlopers from Cardolan.  "My King, they should not be here.  It was not that long ago that we were mortal enemies with…them."

Araphor sighed deeply.  This was becoming tedious. "Malborn, We have already spoken.  You must accept the King's will.  Pray, continue," he said impatiently with a flick of his hand.

Malborn snorted in obvious disagreement. "Very well, my King,” he said, a smile returning to his thin lips.  “The tomes contained within are priceless, detailing the vast history of our people from the days of Númenor.  Also contained within are tomes detailing the wisdom of the ways of essence and channeling.  There are spells and wards guarding these tomes, but they will not hold long against the enemy if he tries to recover them.  These tomes would prove to be a powerful tool in the wrong hands."

Araphor nodded.  He hated to admit it, but the seer's words were true.  Though a warrior by trade, the King knew the power of essence and channeling.  He knew what these powers could do against his kingdom.  "We understand.  The wards put on these tomes would prove difficult to defeat, but how long will they last against a determined foe?"

Malborn stroked his chin, seeming to regain his momentum. "Though placed in the rooms and halls of the library by Arthedan mages, none now living know the nature of these incantations.  All of those dedicated mages were slain by the Angûlion and his armies in the fall of the city."  It was true, a desperate sacrifice by the guardians of the tomes.

"Very well, Malborn.  We will contemplate your wise suggestion and give an answer on the morrow," spoke the King.  "You may withdraw and craft a plan to recover the tomes." The seer bowed again and returned to his seat, delivering another glare to Nirnadel.

Other minor business followed, such as the winter crop and spring planting, but this did not seem to interest Malborn.  During the lively discussion of planting corn, Malborn slipped out of the Council Chambers.  Araphor made note of this as he tried his best to pay attention and seem interested.  He knew that these issues were important, and he would do his utmost to be a good king.  Still, he would much rather be jousting or talking with Nirnadel than listening to intricate details of seed storage.

When the discussion had ended and the court was dismissed, Araphor spoke with an elderly female seer named Malwë.  He motioned Nirnadel to join them and she approached.

"We would like your assistance in determining a course of action," the King told Malwë.  While he put less stock in the seers than his father did, he knew enough to consult them.  Plus, he had it in his heart to impress someone.

The old seer nodded.  "Why of course, Your Highness.  Might I suggest a look into the Palantír?"

The King smiled. "That is what I was hoping you would say," he said.  Turning to Nirnadel, he added, "You, dear Princess, are in for a treat."

Leaving behind the guards and Nirnadel's ladies, the three journeyed to the Royal Tower.  Well-armed Guardians of the Stone came to attention as the King passed.  He clapped each of them on the shoulder in a warm way, brothers in arms.  They climbed the stairs to the pinnacle of the tower, where doors constructed of an odd metal barred their way.  The seer held out her hand and a symbol on the door appeared, shining in a silver glow.  The doors parted, revealing a circular room with glass windows.  Situated in the center of the room were two dark crystal spheres mounted in mithril atop marble pedestals.  One sphere was much larger than the other; so large, that it could not be lifted by a single man.

Nirnadel gasped.  "Are these…are these the fabled seeing stones…the Palantíri, that my father spoke of?  He viewed one once, in the tower of Amon Sûl."  Araphor felt her wonder and it warmed him.

Malwë nodded with a smile. "The mere existence of these stones is shrouded in secrecy.  Only the very learned even know of their presence in the city."

Malwë stood three feet to the east of the stone and focused her energy to the west. Araphor and Nirnadel stood behind her, gazing into the stone.  The crystal was dark, but a flickering flame could be seen growing inside.  An image appeared in the Palantír, showing the now desolate and ruined city of Annúminas.

Nirnadel blinked and her mouth fell open.  "Is this truly an image from miles away?"

Soon, the Royal Library could be seen nearly intact, covered by snow.  Orcs and trolls had little use for books.  In excitement and awe, Nirnadel grasped Araphor by the arm.  The scene slowly faded, bringing another of men and orcs fighting near the library.  There was blood in the snow.  That image also faded, followed by a scene involving an observatory.  Several of the tomes could be seen on a desk inside of the building.  The Palantír then went dark.  Malwë glistened with perspiration, breathing heavily. "I am not so young anymore.  Even a few minutes leaves me drained," she declared.

Araphor stroked his chin. "The enemy is trying to recover the tomes.  We must act now," he said decisively, smacking his fist into his open palm.  During the war, the seeing stones helped him and Lord Tarma to organize the defense against such an overwhelming foe.

Nirnadel tugged the sleeve of the seer, her eyes bright with a big smile. "May I burden you for a small peek to the south?" she asked sweetly.

Malwë smiled warmly, wiping the last of the perspiration from her brow.  "Why of course child.  I occasionally sneak a look at my home far away."  The seer moved to the north of the stone, looking south.  "Come, stand here, young woman."  Nirnadel stood beside her and gazed into the sphere as it glowed to life again.

Malwë motioned the Princess forward.  "Focus on what you want to see," she instructed.  Nirnadel concentrated, bringing forth an image of Thalion.  Soldiers in armor drilled on the snowy grounds.  Next, Tharbad was visible.  Wagons and people moved about the icy streets.  She then focused on the Bar Aran, where Nimhir could clearly be seen strolling through the gardens.  Finally, an image of the Houses of Healing appeared.  Three patients were departing and waving to Firiel.  Then the sphere went dark.  Both Malwë and Nirnadel sighed from the exertion.

The Princess wiped her brow. "Thank you, kind seer.  We feel better knowing our lands are safe.  Is it true that these stones were crafted by none other than Fëanor?"

Malwë nodded.  "It is.  The greatest of elven smiths crafted these eons ago in a land, far off and eternal.  They were gifted to the Edain at the end of the great War of Wrath and taken to Númenor.  They escaped with Elendil and his sons before the fall and now reside in Arnor and Gondor."  The seer then bowed.  "I thank you for allowing me to show you my craft.  I shall leave you now," she said and withdrew.

Nirnadel looked at Araphor. "We will ask our people to assist you.  We understand how important these tomes are to your kingdom."

The King smiled. "Thank you.  If... no when we recover the tomes, We shall grant Cardolan access to them.  It will greatly enhance both of our lands."  She held her hands over her heart and he thought that this woman might be someone that he would like to know better.

The Royal Chambers

Nirnadel

The Princess gathered her entourage in the lounge near her bedchamber.  The party sat around her, waiting to find out what was in store.  Her eyes were set and determined. "We have met with the King of Arthedain and have consulted with the Guardians of the Palantíri.  There is a matter of great importance to both of our kingdoms.  When the beautiful city of Annúminas was sacked by the Witch-King's forces last year, the Royal Library was left nearly intact.  There are tomes contained within which hold great power and We have agreed to assist.  We are willing to go personally, so We ask for your help," the Princess said, telling them of the task.

Ostomir Tinarë raised his hand. "Your Highness, with all due respect, you cannot go on this journey.  The risk is simply too great.  There are still enemy forces lurking about," he said as Galadel nodded.

Kaile agreed. "The kingdom cannot afford to lose you.  I will go in your place and accept the risk." The rest of the entourage voiced their agreement.  Nirnadel contemplated this for a minute.

"Brave friends, what shall We do then?" she asked.  One by one, they all stood, saying they would go to uphold the Princess' honor.  Nirnadel smiled. "You all put us to shame. We are truly blessed with such loyal followers."

Baranor, respected by all, stood and spoke, "Four Royal Guardsmen will remain behind to guard Her Highness.  Anariel will stay also...no offense Anariel, but I think your adventuring days are over."  Laughter erupted from the crowd and Anariel sighed with relief, putting her hands over her heart.  "Besides, who will keep her in line?  The rest of us can begin preparations and coordinate with the Arthedain party."

Mercatur leaned over to Valandil and said quietly, "There's got to be some gold action there. You think?" Valandil chuckled softly, nodding.

Fornost Erain – Narwain 15th, 1410

Mercatur

Lord Mallon Eketta, a devout man of great learning, was chosen to lead the Arthedan group.  He was the brother of Harros Eketta, the head of the house.  Aerin Eldanar, a woman of profound knowledge, was to be his assistant.  Twelve other ohtari rhyn, or mounted warriors, would accompany him.  The ohtari rhyn wore black chainmail shirts, cut to suit the ways of horse archery.  For weapons, they also wielded a longsword, shortsword, and two daggers.  In times of war, they would also carry a lance.  However, for the purpose of this expedition, they would forego the lance.

Mallon's family lived at Bareketta, a mansion along Lake Nenuial, north of Annúminas.  House Eketta was considered to be one of the most powerful in Arthedain, second to House Tarma.  Mallon's faith and wisdom were held in high regard by the Royal Council. Aerin belonged to House Eldanar, a family dispossessed when the forces of Angmar took their ancestral home, Barad Eldanar, in 1325.  Aerin's father, Elenuil, was the lord of the castle and made numerous attempts to retake the ancient hold.  Elenuil died brokenhearted only a few years ago, unable to regain the ancestral home.

In preparation for the journey, Mercatur led several of the Cardolan party members on a shopping spree to outfit themselves.  Valandil, Ostomir, Annael and the ladies wandered about the shop, looking at various accessories.  Mercatur was like a kid in a candy shop as adventuring was his life.  He tossed the others some backpacks to carry supplies over the desolate land west of Fornost Erain while Annael tried on some fur-lined boots.  Down another aisle, Valandil grabbed several lengths of fine rope and a number of waterskins.  A tent and compass were also added to the list.  Annael purchased up a lock pick kit, "I think we're going to need this," he commented.  When finished, they took their booty to the counter and poured out an assortment of silver, bronze, and copper coins.  The clerk took the coins and passed back a few coppers in change.  Mercatur looked at the coin in his hand, eyeing the image of King Arveleg on one side and the seven stars on the other.  "Hmmm, Arthedan copper," he mused as he bit the coin.  “Eh, it’ll do.  Now Rhudauran copper…no one can beat that.

The Castle of Barad Morkai

Ulduin, the Dog Lord

The mutated sorcerer, Ulduin, had come to Barad Morkai, one of the castles near the Angmar border.  Sitting in the meeting room of the Great Hall, he commanded fear from the men and orcs seated around him.  Ulduin was not above killing and eating an orc for no reason, just to shock his followers.  Ulgarin entered and gracefully sat down.  Her pretty smile could be seen beneath her veil, hiding the evil within her heart.

"Ulduin, I have met with our man in Arthedain,” she said.  “He has convinced the King to launch an expedition to Annúminas to recover the tomes.  Our plan is to let them recover the books, exhausting themselves.  When they emerge, we will take the tomes from them.  This way, they face all the traps in the library," she said gleefully.  "Our man indicated that at least twenty people will undertake the expedition; some from Arthedain and some from Cardolan.  He also says the bratty Princess of Cardolan is in Fornost," Ulgarin told Ulduin.

The dog-faced monstrosity replied, "Good, I will lead the Sharkai and Urughâsh tribes while you lead the group that we have hired.  We should dispense with them quite easily," he said in a growly voice that was not entirely human.

Ulgarin interjected, "Do not underestimate them.  These men have proved to be… unpredictable."

The dog faced sorcerer laughed. "That is why I have invited some friends." He extended a clawed hand summoning two of his thanes: an eight-foot tall, bloated cave troll with a huge, enchanted war hammer and a ghastly Uruk chieftain with a saw-bladed scimitar.  “I do not foresee a problem.

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Chapter End Notes

For the clothing and fashion, I'm using the Tudor Era as a template.