Relics of the Third Age: A Lord of the Rings Quest

Finding a New Home​

"Why can't I just stay with you?" I found myself asking. It felt wrong to want to stay with someone who'd been an enemy of Lord Sauron and might have even fought against my parents, but at least I knew him. He'd fed me and treated me decently, and most importantly he had a nice and beautiful horse. That was a lot more than I could say about any of the strangers he'd asked to take me in.

Gandalf sighed and slowly shook his head. "I am sorry, little one, but the path I must walk from here on is not one you can join me on." He let out a soft chuckle and added. "Besides, I doubt you'd enjoy my company. I have it on good authority that I am frequently grumpy and entirely too fond of speaking in riddles. I gave some thought to bringing you back with me when I returned to Minas Tirith, but..."

I scowled and clenched my fists at my side. "I will not be handed over to the Gondorians as a spoil of battle."

"Yes, that," Gandalf murmured, half to himself. "And any troubles you might have in Nurn on account of your parentage might well be worse in Gondor. King Elessar might wish for peace with the other realms of men, but thousands of years of blood and hatred are not easily forgotten. Nurn is a new nation, not caught up in so many old hatreds. A nation that might need..." He trailed off and shook his head. "I really should remember to speak to Tom soon. There's nobody better to speak to regarding the fine art of moss-gathering."

He let out a rueful chuckle. "Wizards, you see, are entirely too fond of meddling sometimes. It's one of the many pitfalls that come from holding power: the desire to use that power. To see a problem and immediately insert ourselves into it as if it were any of our business. And as if the world isn't perfectly capable of solving its own problems without a wizard getting involved."

I could barely understand half of what he'd said, but I think I got the most important part. "Shouldn't we make the world a better place? What's wrong with helping people when they need it?"

"Nothing," Gandalf agreed, before leaning in with a knowing smile. "But isn't it a touch arrogant to assume they need our help in the first place? It's a fine thing to want a better world, but I daresay there are as many opinions on what that better world should look like and how to reach it as there are people to hold them. Who's to say which of them, if any, is right?"

"Then why bother doing anything?" I snapped back at him. "Why did you go to war with Lord Sauron?"

"Do not mistake a cautious respect of power for passivity," Gandalf answered. "It is a terrible thing to impose your will upon another by force of arms, never to be done lightly even if sometimes it is the only way to prevent a greater evil. I should like to think that I am wiser than most, so I shall leave you with one final piece of advice, young lady. If you are ever in doubt about the right course of action, be kind. I cannot promise that your kindness will always be rewarded or that the cruel will never prosper, but I have seen far more evil come from Men doing what they deemed 'necessary cruelty' than from showing kindness and mercy to those who would take advantage of it."

He cleared his throat and mounted Shadowfax. "And with that, my dear Arphazêl, I bid you a very fond farewell. I do not think we shall meet again, but if I am wrong ... well, then we will have met again." As he started to ride away, he softly sang to himself.

The Road goes ever on and on
Out from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the Road has gone.
Let others follow, if they can!
Let them a journey new begin.
But I at last with weary feet
Will turn towards the lighted inn,
My evening-rest and sleep to meet.

Still 'round the corner there may wait
A new road or secret gate;
And though I oft have passed them by,
A day will come at last when I
Shall take the hidden paths that run
West of the Moon, East of the Sun.

---

I watched Gandalf ride away to the west until he and Shadowfax vanished completely from sight. I still wasn't sure what to make of the strange man. He certainly wasn't the terrifying figure I'd imagined Sauron's greatest enemy to be. He'd been ... nice. I felt a bit dirty saying it, like I was betraying my parents' legacy, but I would miss him.

Maybe they would understand? Even if they'd been enemies, he'd fed me and gotten me out of the ruins of Barad Dur. They'd understand if I was grateful for that, wouldn't they?

I suppose there was no way to ever really know. The one thing I could be sure about was that they would want me to survive. They'd always said they loved me, that part of why they'd joined Lord Sauron was to give me a better life. The life of a proper Numenorean noble, rather than ... whatever we were in Umbar. I'd never really understood what they did for a living before we left. But maybe if we'd stayed there ... I would've been happy with less as long as I had them.

I didn't cry. I felt like I should, remembering my parents and missing them once more. I think perhaps the pain was too deep for tears. Or maybe I'd just spent them all in the days after Barad Dur fell and I finally accepted that they would never come back. Perhaps I'd emptied out all my grief and sorrow into the volcanic ashes, and now all that was left was the hollow shell of what had once been Arphazêl.

I slowly made my way down into what had once been Sharaglobronk and was now a village in dire need of a new name. It wasn't much to look at, little more than a collection of hovels and crude huts made out of sticks and mud. Most of the proper stone buildings lay in ruins, either from the ancient battles when Sauron first reclaimed rule over Mordor or the more recent clashes when Sauron's rule collapsed. People were using whatever stone walls were still standing to pitch tents, or trying to rebuild them into passable structures.

Still, there was a curious sort of energy to the town. Whenever I'd seen these sorts of slave hovels before everyone looked downtrodden and listless, but now there was a constant bustle of activity. It wasn't the sort of frantic press of bodies I vaguely recalled from Umbar, a mass of people all on urgent business with no time for anyone who wasn't of use to them, but it was a lot more than I'd seen the in past. It felt like ... hope.

It wasn't hard to find the barracks, it was one of the few stone structures that had survived somewhat intact. Or at least, the walls were still standing. Once I got inside I realized that the interior had been thoroughly gutted, though whether that was by deserting soldiers, freed slaves, or Gondorian looters was impossible to say. In all likelihood, it was some combination of all three. Where the armory should have been there was nothing but empty weapon racks, I doubted the supply room was in any better shape, and not even so much as a single stray bit of stuffing from a bedroll had been left behind.

"You are Arphazêl, then?" Someone asked in heavily accented and slightly stilted Westron. I followed the voice to find a woman studying me with a contemplative frown. I took an instinctive step back at her frown, and while her expression softened slightly her face still seemed severe. Or maybe it was just the ragged half-healed scar running down one side of her face, interrupted only by an eyepatch. Either way, it was hard not to be a little intimidated.

"I am," I answered, quickly remembering my manners and dropping into a polite curtsey. "Arphazêl of House Shakalzôr. Daughter of Abrazân, Captain of the Horse for the Morgul Host, and Aglaril, Lieutenant of the Morannon."

"That is what the wizard said too," the woman murmured. "Best forget those titles, they will not win you any friends here. I doubt anyone cares that I was once Tigkiz, Black Dragon Knight in the service of Celestial Emperor Shalkazur XXXVIII of Rhun." She scowled and shook her head. "Not even my comrades cared enough to take me with them when they fled. I still do not know why the people here kept tending to me instead of leaving me to die of my wounds. Leofwyn said they could hardly kill me in my sickbed, but I doubt that would have stopped them if I was an orc or one of their overseers."

The easterling woman shrugged. She had a warrior's build, though her skin looked slightly paler than usual and her muscles a bit slack. Considering she'd mentioned being sick and wounded, she was probably still recovering. "In any case, the wizard wanted someone to take you in, and I offered. I am told that one of the Morgul captains found me on the battlefield and ensured my wounds were treated. I doubt it was your father, there were a lot of captains in the Morgul Host, but whoever it was is probably dead now. I suppose this is the closest I can come to paying back that debt."

She waved a hand across the empty, gutted barracks. "As you can see, our town militia is in fine condition. I doubt most of the people here even want a militia, they have had enough of soldiers wandering the streets. Still, someone needs to be able to protect these people if trouble comes. Which it will. There are a lot of hungry orcs and deserters out there, and someone is bound to remember that villages like this were responsible for feeding Sauron's armies."

That sounded likely. If there were people out there who'd been as hungry as I was while scavenging in the ruins of Barad Dur ... I can't say what I would have done if I had come across another person with food while hunger gnawed at my belly. Petty banditry was unworthy of a child of great Numenor, but so was slowly starving to death.

"So." Tigkiz gave me a once-over. "We will need to do is get you some proper clothing and shoes that are in half-decent shape. I cannot have my page looking as ragged as you are. You can read and write, correct?"

"Of course!" I answered, a bit offended by the question. "Westron, Adûnaic, Black Speech, and a little in Sindarin."

"I see." Tigkiz stared at me for a second, then shook her head. "A noble education, then. While I can read and write in several languages too, you would not be familiar with any of them. I need someone who can attend to scribing duties until I can at least learn to read Westron. I can speak it well enough to manage, but your writing is different. In addition to scribing, there will be all the usual errands to attend to, and I will also expect you to keep up with your training and education as best we can under the circumstances."

"Oh." I suppose it shouldn't have been a surprise. My parents had talked about having me serve as a page to one of the other Numenorean houses once the war was over. It was a traditional way to continue education building bonds with other families. "Right, well, I can do that."

"We shall see." Tigkiz cocked her head to the side. "One last question. The wizard found plenty of people willing to take you in. Why did you pick me?"

---

Why did Arphazêl choose Tigkiz for a Guardian?

[ ] Legacy
My mother and father were soldiers too. I want to be a warrior like them.

[ ] Loyalty
I wanted someone who served Sauron before. I felt like you would understand me.

[ ] Familiarity
My mother and father were soldiers, so I guess it's what I know.

[ ] Write-in

---

Up to this point, I've been putting points in Arphazêl's stats and skills based on character creation choices and a couple of baseline story-driven skills. For the final stage, I'm giving a few free points to put wherever you want. Feel free to round out Arphazêl's skills or really focus on what you want her to specialize in.

Please use plan format for point expenditures (Otherwise keeping the votes straight will be a nightmare).

Arphazêl has 5 free stat points.
No stat can be taken past 4 ranks at this time. Points cannot be placed into magic at this time, that's locked until some story stuff happens.

Arphazêl has 7 free skill points
No skill can be taken past 3 ranks at this time. She'll be working hard and training, but there's only so much she can do in the time given to her. Moving past three ranks requires practical real-world experience.

---

Finally, Arphazêl has gained her first of many titles and names from her accomplishments in the prologue. Vote for whichever one you think suits her best.

[ ] Survivor of Barad Dur
+1 to Survival Rolls to find food and shelter.

[ ] Horse-Friend
+1 to Animal Handling Rolls with horses

[ ] Noble Daughter of Numenor
+1 to Social Rolls in High Society

Suggestions and write-ins for titles will be accepted if they feel like a valid accolade for her actions in the story, though QM retains the right of veto and final say on any mechanical benefits.