The New Shadow

CHAPTER III: The Council of Gondor

After a quick breakfast Borlas and Othrondor made their way to the Citadel and after presenting themselves, the guards escorted them into the great hall, where King Eldarion and his council were assembled to discuss the affairs of the Fiefs and Forces in Gondor.

King Eldarion sat upon his throne, his face noble but obviously weary. He had inherited both the wisdom and burdens of his ancestors, yet the years of peace had dulled the readiness of his court. Borlas could see it in the relaxed posture of the advisors, in the faint smiles exchanged between them, as if their meeting was a formality rather than an urgent matter.

At the king's right sat Dravedir, an older man with short gray hair and a clean shaven face that had been weathered by years of important but wearisome service. His eyes held no warmth as Borlas and Othrondor approached.

The king arose and gestured for the two older men to take seats beside Dravedir, "Borlas, Othrondor, you come with urgent looks upon your faces. What troubles you in these peaceful times?" Eldarion honored them for their age but in truth it was he who was the elder, being of Númenórean blood.

Borlas leaned forward in his seat as the king again took his own. "My lord, peace is but an illusion. Othrondor and I have uncovered a cult, calling themselves the Dark Tree. They seek to poison the White Tree, using the venom of Ungoliant's spawn to weaken Gondor's light and establish some new order under one who is calling himself by the name Herumor."

Eldarion's brow furrowed, though his expression remained calm. "Do you have proof of these claims?"

Othrondor, always methodical, produced the notes he had taken during their clandestine observation. "My lord, we followed a group of these cultists deep beneath the city. We heard their plans spoken in plain words—poison drawn from the spiders of Mirkwood, the venom slow and insidious. They do not wish to strike with blade or sword, but by corruption. They aim to bring down the White Tree, and in doing so, weaken Gondor."

A murmur rippled through the court. But Dravedir rose from his seat with a stern countenance. His voice was smooth but dismissive. "How many men do you speak of? A dozen or less? I have heard tell of them before. They are young and driven by old superstitions, but surely not a threat to the realm of Gondor. Yes, let them be investigated and find out as much as we can, but let's not waste the time of the court on such trivial matters."

Borlas felt a surge of frustration rise within him. "This is no small matter, Dravedir. If the White Tree is harmed—"

Dravedir raised a hand to cut him off. "The White Tree is well-guarded. And even if your fears hold merit, a dozen men are no army. This 'cult' you describe is nothing more than a discontented faction of malcontents. They will disband soon enough when they see no support for their cause."

Another councilman, an older man with deep-set eyes, nodded in agreement. "The realm has faced far greater threats than a band of cloaked conspirators."