Unsatisfied with the Wizards' work, the Valar send another Istar to Middle-earth, Nerwen the Green, with the specific task to find the Ents, apparently vanished form the face of the world. During her mission, Nerwen will meet old friends and acquain...
They found shelter in a rather elegant inn, The Silken Thread, not far from the royal palace; the room was large, bright and well furnished, and the bathroom had a huge tub in enamelled copper. Being almost dinnertime, Aryon and Nerwen hurried to freshen up, before heading for the common room to eat. On the waiter's suggestion, they ordered one of the local speciality: a fish typical of the lake of Orrodal, similar to salmon but with a more delicate flavour, grilled and served with equally grilled vegetables; with it, they drank a cool white wine, which slight flavour of green apples pleasantly surprised Nerwen.
After dinner, they exited for a stroll in the narrow, but well kept streets of Orrodal. When they got back, they went to bed; however, before falling asleep, they used the comfortable bed for another purpose.
OOO
The following morning, after breaking their fast, they headed for the palace to meet king Túrion; the monarch of the Kinn-lai, after a short wait, received them formally in the throne room. Under the icy and irritating gaze of his green eyes, Nerwen curtseyed the bare minimum, while Aryon took advantage of his rank and simply nodded, barely within the limits of good manners.
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"Well, well..." the king said pungently, "What takes the First Sword of the High Sovereign to my kingdom, this time?"
"I'm not here on official business," Aryon answered in an equally pungent way, not bothering informing the king that he didn't hold the position of Firs Sword anymore, "but I wanted nonetheless paying you a courtesy visit."
"Oh, how kind!" Túrion cried ironically, standing up and descending the dais on which his throne stood; he was as tall as Aryon, but much more slender, almost skinny, and looked vaguely effeminate, "Indeed, I was reported you arrived in town with a... lady friend," he cast a contemptuous glance at Nerwen and approached her, trying to daunt her with his stature, "I wasn't aware you liked women of the race of Men..."
At his insulting tone, the prince narrowed his eyes and his face darkened dangerously. From her part, not in the least intimidated by her interlocutor's height or by his arrogance, the Istar stared Túrion right in the face and hurled him a ferocious sneer that looked perfectly like one of Aryon's:
"Appearances may be deceiving, Your Majesty: it's not advisable judging without knowing," she admonished him, "As a sovereign, you should know better than anyone else," she added, in the same sarcastic tone he had used with her.
The haughty monarch felt utterly irritated, but at the same time, a shiver of fear shot through him and this unsettled him: what was so threatening, in this tiny woman? Nonetheless, the feeling of danger persisted and this annoyed him even more.
"Be that as it may, there's no accounting for taste," he replied, dryly; then the noticed that the human foreigner spoke in perfect Avarin. He frowned, while his mistrust grew, "Who are you, and how do you come to speak so well my tongue?" he asked in an inquisitive tone.
