Rahlsma entered the tavern and subtly studied her new surroundings. The space itself, from the dim lighting to the scratched wooden furniture, looked similar to many other such places she had visited before. From small villages in remote areas of Middle Earth to here in the great city of Minas Tirith, some things always seemed the same. There were a few small groups of men scattered throughout, but she knew there would be more as the light outside continued to fade and evening chores or jobs would either be finished or put off to complete until the morrow. Ignoring the glances and even the more blatant stares, she moved towards an empty table in the corner closest to her.
"Oh, hello miss," she was greeted after she had sat, the barmaid trying to hide her apparent surprise at serving a fellow woman. "What can I be getting you this evening?"
Rahlsma looked up at her but did not smile. "A mug of ale and a warm meal, please. And a place to stay the night, if you have a room available."
"Of course," the woman replied, hesitating as she looked around the room. "And will anyone else be joining you?"
Rahlsma simply shook her head in response.
"Well, I will let the Innkeeper know you would like to stay and will return shortly with that drink, then."
Alone at the table, she reached down into her pack and pulled out her pipe and pipeweed, stuffing it carefully yet being sure to raise her eyes regularly. She lit it as the barmaid returned with her drink, nodded at her in thanks, and began to enjoy her smoke and ale. She waited patiently for her meal and for more customers to arrive, which was the true reason she was there at all.
As she expected, more and more men continued to enter – and to drink – the longer she was there. A couple approached her with probing but harmless questions as her food arrived and she began to eat. She was neither rude nor friendly in her answers, managing to satisfy their curiosity enough for them to return to their relative tables and share what they had learned about the strange woman in their midst.
She listened to the many conversations taking place around her, paying special attention to anything said by the other few loaners in the establishment, assuming they were just passing through, like herself. But it was as she was dipping the last of her bread into the remnants of her stew that she finally heard something worthwhile, her hands pausing their movements just for a moment before she forced them to continue as if nothing had changed.
"It may not be the most exciting post in Minas Tirith," a man was shouting at his friend, "but Gandalf the Grey has been there quite frequently of late! Have you had any wizards needing your services?"
His friend made an incredulous noise. "Gandalf? Wizard or not, he's naught more than a forgetful old man, if you ask me!"
"Is that so?" Another asked. "Well, you can go tell him that yourself, then, seeing as he's probably still tucked in the back of the library as we speak!"
The raucous group burst into laughter at their friend's sheepish look. The subject of discussion soon changed, but Rahlsma's attention covertly stayed with those men. Her table was cleared and her meal and room payed for, and she took her time cleaning out her pipe before storing it back in her bag. There was a slight anticipation in her chest, like she was hunting, but she waited as patiently as she could until the one who first brought up Gandalf indicated he would be leaving soon. This being what she had been waiting for, she scooped up her bag quickly and slipped out of the tavern into the cooler night air.
As soon as her target exited the building, Rahlsma acted like she was returning and purposely bumped right into him.
"Oh," she said, smiling this time, "Please excuse me…I am so sorry."
He smiled back. "No problem, miss. The fault is probably mine…I have had a few drinks," and he winked at her in a friendly manner.
"Oh, yes," she responded, feigning sudden recognition. "I was in the tavern earlier. Was it not you who are posted at the library?"
His eyes widened as he realized who she was, then slightly narrowed in suspicion. "Yes, you were…I am not accustomed to seeing lone women in the taverns I visit. Especially not ones who drink ale and smoke a pipe."
"True, my life is not exactly usual," she shrugged, then quickly continued, "but it would seem that neither is yours. Is your post really concerning Gandalf the Grey?" She did her best to look impressed, which was certainly not an emotion she often experienced, much less displayed.
His expression changed, pride seeping across his skin. "Well, I should not be boasting about it, but yes, the wizard has been researching our extensive history section often these days."
"I wonder, then, if you would mind delivering a small message to him…if it is not too much trouble, of course."
"Do you know him?" he asked, curiosity poorly hidden in his eyes and tone.
Rahlsma was already moving towards the door. "Just tell him that an old acquaintance from the valley is here," and then she quickly turned and left him alone on the street, wondering about the strange woman whose name he did not even know.
She went straight to her room, second on the right after a small flight of stairs in the back of the establishment. Immediately after locking the door behind her, she grabbed the small wooden chair nearby and wedged it beneath the doorknob. She did not unpack a single item from her bag, nor did she change into bedclothes. Instead, she dropped her pack to the ground next to the bed, removed her boots and placed them there as well, upright and ready to be slipped on if need be.
Leaving on even her cloak, she climbed into the bed and drew up the blanket to her chest, then leaned over and blew out the lantern on the bedside table. Laying in the dark, she pulled out the necklace that hung beneath her outer shirt and rubbed it with her thumb as she slowly drifted off to sleep.
Rahlsma managed to leave the tavern in the early morning without encountering anyone else. With her pack slung over one shoulder, she walked down the mostly empty cobblestone path back the way she had come the day before. She passed by the Great Gate, pink light beginning to shine above it, and continued on until she had made her way into the visitor stables.
She greeted Muineth, her horse, with a quick pat, wanting to first check that her twin swords and bow were still stored safely with her saddle and extra gear. Satisfied that all seemed untampered with and in its rightful place, she returned her attention to the black horse currently trying to nose her way into the pack still on her shoulder.
"Okay, girl, just a moment," the woman told her, reaching into the bag and pulling out an apple, which Muineth quickly bit into and set on the floor to continue munching. Rahlsma stroked the animal's sleek but muscular frame as the treat was noisily finished, then the dark nose was sniffing yet again, searching for something else to eat.
"No more for right now," Rahlsma told her, allowing Muineth to search her open palms with her muzzle. She then ran her hands over the horse's face, stopping to scratch between her ears. She did not stay long, anxious to learn if her message had indeed been delivered. "Rest while you can," she said before turning away, and then she left the stables and made the short walk back to the tavern.
Upon her return, the place was still empty save three figures. The first was one of the travelers from the night before, eating a simple breakfast at the bar. The same barmaid was there, as well, sweeping under the tables on which upside down chairs were set. And in the far corner on her left, drinking his morning tea, was none other than Gandalf the Grey or, as he was first introduced to Rahlsma, Mithrandir.
He made no indication that he had seen the woman arrive, but she knew that he was always aware of much more than he ever revealed. It was a quality that she greatly admired, yet it also unnerved her. Rahlsma preferred to keep much to herself, yet she wondered how much the wizard might know as she moved across the room towards him.
"Your messenger said you were an acquaintance," he spoke as she drew close to his table, "yet I would like to consider you a friend." He sipped his tea, his eyes now on her, piercing yet kind. She stood before him, lowering her head briefly in greeting. "I wonder, did he change the word you gave him?" He gestured for her to sit, and she did, laying her pack on the ground at her feet.
Rahlsma leaned back into her chair, hoping she looked more relaxed than she felt. "He did not," she answered after a moment. "Though I did not mean to offend." When Gandalf continued to gaze at her, unspeaking, she added, "Friendship is a luxury I find I cannot often afford."
"Interesting," he mumbled quietly, placing his cup upon the table and folding his long fingers together. "I find friendship to be a necessity more often than not."
The barmaid came over then and asked Rahlsma if she would like anything, which she did not. Gandalf, however, happily accepted another pour of tea into his cup, and added a couple of lumps of sugar before stirring it and staring at Rahlsma once more.
"Although you did not give a name along with your message, the description the man gave me was enough to make your identity quite clear. But I imagine you already knew that," he said, a slight smile showing through his beard.
"Yes, I suppose there are not many women walking around in men's attire."
Gandalf chuckled. "A few. But no, not many. And only one did I meet in Rivendell."
"I come with a message from another who calls the valley home," Rahlsma said, leaning forward, not wanting to speak any names aloud that may be overheard and repeated. Gandalf became still, his cup halfway to his mouth. "His search of many years has come to an end, and he brings what has been found to the North of the dark wood."
One of his eyes twitched slightly, and he took a small sip of tea before setting the cup back down on the table.
"Alive?" he asked.
Rahlsma nodded. "But we may not have been the first to find him."
Gandalf took to sipping his tea once more, but his eyes looked wild as he glanced around the room. He placed the unfinished drink down along with a few coins. "There is something I must show you, but then we must leave with haste."
The woman nodded once more, ignoring her growing feeling of dread as she picked up her bag and they quickly departed.
Ascending a few more levels, Gandalf getting them both through each gate with ease, they soon were walking through the library's large, wooden doors. The guard she had used as a messenger was standing post there, and she gave a slight nod in recognition as they rushed past him, thinking that tonight she may be the story he boasted of at the bar. They did not come to a stop until they were deep in the rear of the building where a table with piles of parchment was waiting.
Gandalf muttered to himself as he searched through the stacks.
"Aha," he said quietly when he realized he was at the right one, flipping through the pages until he located the exact sheet he had in mind. "Look at this drawing and read what is written."
With a curious expression, Rahlsma accepted the parchment. There was a rough sketch of some type of blade, ornate and decorated with intertwining snakes. The writing was in a language she did not recognize.
"What is it, Mithrandir? I cannot read this…"
"Of course," he replied, moving next to her and gazing at the words. "It is basically a description of a set of daggers that were supposedly made by the Dúnedain of Cardolan to fight the Witch-King of Angmar...a long time ago. The blades are said to be shaped like leaves and have red and gold serpents on them. No man in this region has ever laid eyes on them. It is more of an account of an account, if you will."
"Witch-King? Of the human kings who fell to Sauron's rings? I thought those were just old legends that the Elves tell."
The wizard looked at her and she struggled to tell what he was thinking. His eyes then returned to the image of the dagger, and hers followed. They stood like this, silently, until he snatched the parchment back from her and returned it to its pile.
"Some legends may prove true, I am afraid," he finally answered, his voice low and face serious. But then he placed a large hand on Rahlsma's shoulder and gave her a slight smile. "Procure whatever provisions you have need of. We have a fierce ride ahead of us."