Newbold Leafcutter wiped his mouth and reached for another of the golden buns drizzled with honey.
"These are good..," he said taking another large bite.
Lindovor smirked slightly, though the idea of a scholar with an empty stomach was hardly a new one.
"I bought them in Combe...there seem to be some skilled cooks in that place."
"Ughnmmm." nodded Leafcutter as he chewed contentedly.
Swallowing his last bite, he turned to face Lindovor and asked, "Did you find it then?"
"Yes, it was the only stone that bore the marking of the seven stars...but no name that I could read."
Newbold Leafcutter wiped his hands on his trousers and turned to the bookshelf behind him. He climbed upon a small stepstool and searched the topmost shelf, his hand resting upon what appeared to be a very ancient, leather-bound volume.
Lindovor leaned back in his chair and watched, raising an eyebrow at the dust that flew from the top shelf.
He asked, "And how long has it been since the Southrons and Easterlings have invaded this land? In the past two days I have met two such persons. In Gondor and Belfalas I would expect this, but here? Is it not strange?"
Leafcutter stopped what he was doing and looked over at Lindovor an expression of worry ...and was that apology?...crossing his countenance.
"For the past generation, there have been such strangers among us...though to be fair they've kept to themselves. But now -" Leafcutter shook his head "They seem t'be all over the place."
Lindovor rubbed his temple as though to order his thoughts into proper line.
"This one called herself 'Altan' or some such thing. She said she had lived here many years." Lindovor made a scoffing sound. "She spoke of the Halls of Mandos and the Elves...strange from the lips of a Haradrim, though they tend towards the superstitious..."
Newbold Leafcutter took the old volume in his hands and, stepping off the stool, offered it to Lindovor. "Aye, well...she's not the only one who'll speak of elf-folk, though properly there be none in these parts." He pointed out a faded ribbon marking a place in the book. "There" was all he said.
Lindovor read:
"Of the Starred Warriors little was known, save that they dealt with men great and small with both strength and honour. Yet it was one of their number who, after the struggle before the gates of Norbury , fell to temptation and sought to learn the arts of Angmar, perhaps believing he could turn their own devilry back upon them. This sorcerer-knight cost many lives, for such is the price of this manner of power, and his brothers were forced to turn upon him and subdue him lest more innocents perish in his reckless course. At the end, the Shining One appeared before him and rebuked him and in his remorse he repented. Laying aside his arms and his runes he became as a hermit, dwelling among the simple men and striving to better their lives until time claimed his. Yet those he had helped in latter days buried him with honour, marking his resting place with red roses and the sigil he had once worn proudly."
Lindovor looked up a frown creasing his brow.
"This does not help me much, though that woman I met spoke of some sort of Order. Do you know aught of that?"
Newbold Leafcutter looked at him blankly.
"Order of mendicants, most likely..," Lindovor muttered. "And what of these 'Starred Warriors'? Not the sort of men that would be overlooked that easily?"
Leafcutter shook his head, "Mind, these things happened an age past...who's to know if it is fact or fancy?"
Impatiently, Lindovor lifted out the the silver brooch that he wore around his neck. The seven stars upon it glinted in the candlelight. "This I found not a fortnight past, and it is real as you or I am."
Lowering his voice, he said in a calmer tone "I thank you for the help you have given. I told that Haradrim to come to you should she find some news of that brooch. You'll send word if she does?"
Newbold Learcutter eyed the last of the honeybuns then faced Lindovor with a a forgiving smile.
"Oh, aye. Count on me." he said.
