Fornost: to the north and across the river.
Lindovor grimaced in frustration. He would need a map if he were to have any hope of finding some trace of the 'Silver Sickle' in the northlands without getting hopelessly lost. Newbold Leafcutter had spoken of strange carvings depicting the Seven Stars that lay within the ruins of Breeland. They could have some meaning and connection to the silver brooch he had found. The 'scholar' of Bree had also spoken about inscriptions telling of the 'Ancient Wisdom' that served in the light of the Seven Stars. Lindovor ran his fingers through his hair; this was becoming infuriating. Ale....ale would help. He began to walk towards the Prancing Pony.
He stopped momentarily as the smell of the place hit his nostrils. By the Powers, this place reeked! He shook his head and walked over to where the stout Innkeeper stood. Tossing some coins in front of Butterbur he said,
"Ale, if you please." It was difficult to keep the sharp tone of command out of his voice. He had found that Breelanders did not generally respond very well to the resonant tones of the house of Aerion, and he needed people who would speak with him, if indeed they knew anything.
For a moment, he sat and looked over the room. Halflings, farmers and assorted others filled the place. Taking a sip from his mug, he lifted the sliver brooch from the chain around his neck. Even in the dim light, the seven stars upon it glinted and sent piercing darts of light into the blackness. He tucked the brooch back into the collar of his tunic as he espied a man at the far corner of the room with a pile of parchments at his feet. Rising, Lindovor walked over to him.
"Do you have maps?" he asked. The man nodded.
"Fornost?
Harvi the mapmaker reached down and drew a parchment from the pile at his feet. He handed it to Lindovor.
Looking over the map, he took in its details. It seemed to be carefully crafted enough that he could use it. As he studied the parchment, he noticed a dark skinned maiden standing close by watching him. Lindovor glanced up and the maiden took a step back.
"Do I trouble you?," she asked.
Lindovor consciously softened his expression, though he studied coarsely garbed girl more closely than ever. She carried both a bow and a blade. Her scarred face was easily two shades darker than any Breelander's and her almond eyes shone bright under her lashes.
"You are not from this place," he said, looking back at the map but keeping the maiden in the corner of his eye. A harper began to play in another part of the common room. The maiden answered in a voice that was almost inaudible.
"No, I am not..."
Lindovor smiled. "Be at ease, neither am I." The maiden glanced over at the harpist nervously.
"The music is pleasant," she said shifting her feet.
Lindovor grimaced slightly and continued to study the map.
"There are skilled musicians upon every corner of the White City. At least there is some small measure of that here..."
"You are from Gondor?" her expression became guarded.
"Yes." Lindovor looked up and noticed her unease. "There is no love of southerners in place...you will find no harsh words from me."
He handed a few coins to Harvi the mapmaker, then headed towards the door, tucking the map into his belt with a stiff bow to the girl. Once outside he walked towards the stables and proceeded to saddle his horse. He heard a small sound behind him and turned, still holding his horse's bridle. It was the maiden he had spoken with.
"Do not tell them of me...please." Her voice was raspy with worry.
Lindovor paused. He was anxious to be on his way, but this young woman was obviously in distress.
"The true sons of the house of Aerion are knights of Gondor; they will do their utmost to protect the innocent from the unjust. I would say nothing that would bring you harm." No need to tell her that his grandfather did not regard him as a true son of Aerion, his words were truth nonetheless.
"I am Lindovor."
The maiden bowed quickly. "I am called Sarnai....but..."
Lindovor waited, and she finished her thought. "I am not innocent..I...I have killed," she said.
"Whom did you kill?"
"A straw-headed man of Rohan."
Lindovor felt his muscles tense, but he stayed perfectly still. "Why?"
"Because he drew upon me first..."
"Then...you were defending yourself. There is no blame in that."
Sarnai's head rose defiantly. "If my kin were to go into battle, my arrows would fly alongside theirs...I am a warrior."
Lindovor mounted his horse. He did not have patience for this Eastern rhetoric. "Then you will not know peace if you always answer battle with battle."
"But...I wish for peace.., " Sarnai's voice trailed away.
Lindovor looked down at her and paused. Somehow she seemed a wistful child just then.
"Then seek it out and it may find you soon." He then added, "If you should need help on your way and our paths cross again, you may call upon me." And with that he turned his horse and rode towards the western gate.
