Day One of a Ranger's Trip (OPEN)

[beckett]

Mithrellas looked at the city gates in disgust. The big city was never her thing, to be honest. As she always told Halbarad, she never liked the cold, stone walls. They were to restricting, and they felt like they were there to keep her in, rather than enemies out. But, alas, it had been ordered by Halbarad, and she wasn't about to argue with him. She owed him nearly everything.

She had never been to Minas Tirith, but had a pretty good idea about it, from the many tales her parents and Halbarad had told. In fact, she knew the layout quite well, thanks to the detail in which they described it. So, she knew she wouldn't get lost in such a big place.

Of course, again, that wasn't the issue. Other than the walls, it was the density of people. Mithrellas always became uncomfortable around large groups of people. The few times she had been to Dol Amroth had been hell, indeed. She needed a place to stretch out, and the packed masses of citizens didn't help that much.

But, Halbarad had sent her. So, she would deal with the discomfort, so long as it made Halbarad happy. And besides, maybe she could get used to the closeness. The assignment was of an undetermined length, so it might be some time before she escaped...

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Mithrellas was at first directed to stable her horse with the common rabble on the first tier, something which she thought amusing. But, she had little choice on the matter, as the upper tier's stable was restricted for use by the more privilaged. So, she led her horse to the stables, and payed the stable fee in full... and promised more when she returned for her ride.

She made her way through the tiers, to higher and higher levels. She would stay away from the lower levels, having heard all sorts of things about the viscious gangs and thugs that resided there. Instead, she would stay in the upper rings. Besides, she could afford it. She carried a small fortune with her, in order to get a half decent house in the city, from which she could base her operations out of.

However, housing was a lower priority at this point. She wasn't tired, as she had slept on her horse, but she was quite hungry and thirsty. And luckily for her, it was high noon, and the market was sure to have something suitible for her tastes... maybe she'd pick up a new outfit, and a cloak too, while she was at it. That was one of the few pluses of cities... you had a much better selection when it came to merchandise.

So it was to the market that she headed, intending to purchase food, drink, and whatever else struck her fancy.

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So far, the market had proven to be quite useful. She had picked up a fair amount of rations, three waterskins worth of water, and three outfits that would blend perfectly with the rest of the citizens. Not to high class, but not low class. Good for her work.

As she walked around the market, Mithrellas kept an eye out for anything and everything she could use, or want... if she was going to be forced into this hell, she best well make the most of it.

[Durion]

The day was dim, the grey colors of autumn and winter beginning an early encroachment upon the lands. It was generally assumed by the people that the growing darkness in Mordor was at least somewhat in blame, and it seemed all people cast a wary and fearful gaze to the smoldering fires of the East.

The bleak day, though, caused Durion very little by way of displeasure, though he certainly was in no fine mood. His mother had been in a rant that morning, perhaps over a ruined garment that had been harmed in the washing. Durion had paid it little mind. He had, of course, paid full attention to his mother as she ordered him to escort her to the tailor.

It was hardly what Durion had had planned on his day off, and the man grumbled mercilessly about his displeasure and distaste. He had held other plans for the day; Faeldor was back in the stables after a short trip to Lossarnach and a short break. The foul noble had heard tale that his beloved Gilwen had taken seriously ill, and needless to say the man had not been inclined to let the chance of truly irritating the man pass him by. He had wished to stop by the stables this day and first comment about the ill-mannered mount he was set to ride—it seemed he could never tire of complaining about the mare’s temperament—and then to inquire callously and with all intent to harm about the state of health of his beloved “Starlight”.

But now. Now he was walking the streets with his mother at his side, hearing her gripe and complaint about the dirty and loathsome lower tiers that the market, and therefore the tailor she wished for, was located. At once point he had addressed the point that she could have avoided the streets altogether by having sent a maidservant to fetch the order instead, though such a remark had only earned him a sharp glare and order for silence from his mother.

He had reached the tailor’s shop and firmly refused to enter, moving off toward the center of the road as to not be seen in such proximity to the dress shop. Interestedly, his eyes flicked over the crowds, and his arms crossed across his chest leisurely. Many of the ladies passing by eyed him with interest, and a few Durion recognized; their names escaped him, for truly in his search to know them intimately such things were not important. Still, most of the faces he found were plain.

He sighed, disappointed with the prospects of the market for the moment and turned away to eye the other side of the street. Something immediately caught his eye. Amidst the dark-haired sea of Gondorians was one fair-haired woman with a comely face. New; it was as if his predatory instincts knew it.

He crossed, as if making line to the bakery that was nearby, purposely bumping her in the shoulder. Against the busy streets, truly it did not seem too audacious a gesture. “Oh, I am terribly sorry, my lady.” He stopped and turned, now able to see her directly. She was a lovely piece. “These streets are always so full,” he continued in a velvety manner. “I do hope I have not hurt you any!”

[beckett]

Mithrellas had barely enough time to tighten her grip on her things when a stranger bumped into her. It wasn't too hard, only causing her to stumble, so she wasn't too upset about it. Any anger she would have had vanished when the man responsible took the time to stop and apologize, something which Mithrellas rarely saw anyone do. Clearly, this man nice fellow, for sure.

She blushed slightly, at his calling her 'my lady.' Amongst the Dunedain, such a phrase was not often used. And surely it wasn't expected too, for a woman's role among the Rangers was extremely different than that of a woman of Gondor. They did not make themselves look dainty and pretty, instead being much more practical.

So it was that Mithrellas became intrigued with this man, who spoke to her so politely and with the voice of a gentleman. For surely that was what this sir was. The mannerism, the attire, everything about this man, or at least everything at first glance, lent weight towards that guess. If only she knew just how far off the mark she was, in reality. She would likely have sunk a blade in the man's chest and slinked off into the alleys.

But, she did not know his nature, and so simply responded with a pretty smile and light blush. "Oh, no sir. I am quite alright, thank you."

In her head, Mithrellas gave thanks, for surely she was blessed if on the very first day of her adventure, she was to meet such a gentleman as this. And a handsome, gentleman, at that! Why, he was simply one of the more attractive men Mithrellas had ever laid eyes on. The men of the Dunedain were handsome, to a man, for sure, but not in the same way as this stranger. He was something else indeed.

[Durion]

"Oh, no sir. I am quite alright, thank you."

Durion marked the lady’s blush and smile. It was a bit forward, though unsure. A girl, he concluded delightedly. A girl that he was certain could be turned into a woman before the lord had finished with her.

“Well, I am glad you are unhurt. I do not know what I would have done if I had harmed such a lovely lady,” Durion mused aloud in a velvety tone.

He looked over her for a moment. She held a few items from the market in her hands, and looked as if she were dressed for travel. “A lady that is new to our fair city,” he added carefully as he read her expression to see if he had read her correctly. Though, it was undeniable that he had done so.

“My name is Durion, son of Daeron. I live upon the sixth tier.” The man’s tone was friendly enough, though beneath the light sound, Durion was coolly calculating his next move. “It must be hard to strike out in a new place, especially in times so dark as these. Are you alone in the city?” He finished straightening his tunic and smiled charmingly.

“Might I take those things from you to carry? It is the least I can do, my lady.”

[beckett]

It took quite alot of self-control to keep from giggling at the man's words. Flattery had always been one of Mithrellas' weaknesses, since she was not used to it at all. Indeed, just the small compliment he payed her about her looks was making her feel rather giddy.

She barely registered that he had noticied she was a newcomer. She was surprised, but realized she really shouldn't be. After all, Mithrellas' was wearing traveling clothes, and was busy buying neccessities. When it came down to it, it was actually quite obvious.

When the man introduced himself, Mithrellas' eyes widened. Not only was this Durion a gentleman, he was surely a wealthy and respectable one. She had heard many a story of how the higher in the city you got, the more wealthy and noble the people were. And this man, this Durion, he lived upon the sixth tier!

"Yes, sir, I am." Even as she answered Durion's question, Mithrellas realized she had just let loose a bit of information which under normal circumstances, she never would have. Despite the fact that this man was ever so charming and nice, he was still a stranger. And her she was telling him she was alone! "My.. my name is Mithrellas. I'm glad to make your aquaintance, sir."

What made her even more surprised was that she was willing to accept Durion's offer. "If you must, sir. But, I am quite afraid I don't quite have a place to go, yet. I wouldn't want you to have to carry my things for too long."

[Durion]

"Yes, sir, I am."

Excellent. Durion’s mind murmured happily to himself. The man’s smile flickered away in a show of gentlemanly manners, though, to masquerade as a true human being. “Alone you have come to our city? With the perils upon the plains, I do hope that you did not have to travel far!” Still, in his heart only satisfaction filled the twisted shadows of his soul. Alone meant fair game and a right fine piece for his already full board of players.

“Mithrellas, hm? Such a befitting name for the young lady. You match in loveliness and difference.” Durion’s charm bloomed into a smile that rivaled the best, though soon was quelled and forced to fade so that he could react as a man to her next statement.

"If you must, sir. But, I am quite afraid I don't quite have a place to go, yet. I wouldn't want you to have to carry my things for too long."

“No place to stay? I daresay that I very much shall help you, if you shall take it.” Durion extended his arms and took the items without hesitating, though inwardly frowned that he was doing such work as a servant. Nonetheless, his outer countenance stayed smoothly genteel and he tilted his head as if in thought.

“You know, I have recently come to acquire a few small houses upon the third tier. I know not what to do with them—they are truly a bother for me to have empty. Would you care to take one while you are in our Minas Tirith?”

One was that servant girls’ home, though he had a mind to keep that one empty. Still, in the quest to rid Gilwen and her family of their home, he had had to expend some pawns in the process. At least two other homes were empty and needing a renter. Perhaps this Mithrellas would prove to be helpful in more than one way.

[beckett]

Mithrellas blushed yet again at Durion's compliment. "Why thank you sir... you're to kind." She was certainly trying to retain some sort of control on the situation by pretending to be even more of a lady then she really was at heart. But she also knew she was already caught in this man's grip. He was in control here.

When Durion took her things, Mithrellas was entirelly surprised at what he offered. Never did she expect him to offer her a house, much less within ten minutes of him meeting her! Surely, this man was so much a chivalrous gentleman, to offer a woman he barely knew such a thing. Yes, her trust in him was deepening even more than it already was.

Since she had nowhere to go, and a small fortune on her person, Mithrellas could hardly say no. Especially when he was treating her so nicely. "Well... Sir Durion, I can hardly refuse! I must thank you for your generosity, sir!"

[Durion]

"Well... Sir Durion, I can hardly refuse! I must thank you for your generosity, sir!"

“You most certainly could refuse,” Durion hummed aloud, readjusting the items within his arms. “But I must say that I would feel unwell allowing you to walk away without knowing where you were going for certain. The city can be a dangerous place if one is not too careful.”

And it was. Though, what Durion failed to mention was that he was part of the reason it was dangerous. Preying on any girl that he could, the nobleman was certainly a foul addition to the already treacherous lower tiers when he was among them and working to his own advantage.

He began to walk, expecting fully for Mithrellas to follow behind. “Since you are new, I must give some advice. I would deem myself poor of kindness should I fail to mention this one thing.” Little did he mention he was short on kindness and of any good quality. “The first tier is a rightly terrifying place come nightfall. Do be sure that a lovely lady such as yourself is nowhere near it by the time the sun sets from her glorious sky.”