The Cisterns of Minas Tirith ran throughout most of the city, bringing fresh water from Mount Mindolluin to all buildings from the Hall of the Kings to the Keep of the Keys. Few residents of Minas Tirith knew that the ancient architects and builders of Minas Anor had also designed and carved secret tunnels and passageways into the rock beneath and behind the structures of the city. Those who knew the cisterns well enough could climb as high as the fifth circle through those tunnels and secret passages.
A dark, cloaked figure was standing in one such passageway, an ear pressed against the cold, moist stone wall. A flickering light from the torch he was holding was the only source of light in the darkness.
The figure suddenly stretched up and started walking down the narrow corridor. The cold passageway reeked of mold and death. Slippery moss climbed on the eroded walls. The floor was paved with stones. The walls were craggy and slippery with mold and fungus. Some species of fungus glowed with faint fluorescent light.
After a while the figure came to an opening, half-covered by a rotten door. The figure turned to the opening and lifted up his torch. The light revealed craggy, moss-covered walls made of big stone tiles. The floor was covered with pale green moss. Rats, spiders, beetles and bugs of all kinds retreated into their crags and holes to escape the bright, revealing torchlight. The doorway led into a massive corridor carved into Mindolluin. The passageway was about five feet tall and so narrow that the hooded figure could easily touch both walls at the same time.
Holding up the torch the figure started to advance into the tunnel. After about fifty steps the ground began to descend. Many times the torch flickered and was about to snuff out in lack of fresh air, but every time the figure stopped and waited until the flame burned steadily again before moving on.
After another hundred and a dozen steps the figure came to a stairway descending into the darkness. He counted the steps as he walked down the stairs. He came to a short lebethron door equipped with iron fittings. The fittings were dark brown with rust. Blossoming fungus formations had eaten their way into the wood. Slowly and carefully he pushed the door open. The hinges squeaked only faintly.
The dark-clad figure came to a stone room with walls slick with damp. The air was thick with the scent of old earth and decay. A single torch flickered at the far end of the chamber, casting long, wavering shadows over a second hooded figure who stood motionless, waiting. Without a word, the first figure stepped forward, the dim torchlight catching on the edge of a carved emblem depicting a dead, gnarled, leafless tree.
”Greetings, Seedwarden Magolben”, said the second hooded figure. ”What news have you?”
”She went to sleep, Sapmaster. And Captain Bangion’s men from the other apartment left to The Thirsty Seer. I do not know if they intend to come back tonight.”
”Is there nothing else, Seedwarden?”
”Someone came to visit her tonight. A man called Tangaron. He wanted her to come with him to The Thirsty Seer, but she turned him down.”
”Do you know who he is?”
”Yes, Sapmaster. He is a young scholar in the Houses of Lore. Quite new there.”
”Is there nothing else?”
”Nothing, Sapmaster. Have we received any other news about the man from our other sources?”
”We have heard some rumors about a farmhouse in Arnach, but it is all very vague still. So far the woman is our best chance. Go have some sleep now, but return to your post tomorrow, when she comes home from work. Good work, Seedwarden Magolben! Let us hope she will lead us to him eventually.”
Magolben bowed and retreated back into the shadows.
