The house stood nested deep within the winding alleyways of the Soldier’s Tier. The late afternoon sun barely shone down in these crooks and crannies of Minas Tirith, leaving Revion’s home in the shadows even during the peak of summer. Luthion recalled this part of the city with fondness, spending many days of his youth in play here, bereft of worry or concern.
The spy weaved through the narrow streets, between slender buildings, through shade, and emerged into the small, shadowed square whence Revion’s home had been built. The soft hush of trickling water from a nearby fountain eased his mind, and he took a deep breath. The smell of freshly baked bread, of summer flowers and sweet wine filled his nostrils. For a moment, he forgot what he was about to do. He hated this part most, delivering news of death to a relative. Placing the folded flag and pendant upon their outstretched hands, and bearing witness to the wailing and the tears. “For Gondor.” He hushed to himself, and rounded the corner towards his destination.
The doors were wrought of thick wood, yet bitten and marred by the passing of years. The once vibrant coat of azure paint had worn off, now barely a few streaks of blue glinting from the aged wood. He knocked thrice.
“One moment!” A woman’s voice called out, soon followed by the hustle and shuffling of feet as she scrambled towards the doors. “Who is it?”
“Ineth, it’s Lou.”
“Lou! I’ll be with you in a moment!”
Amenadil breathed in, his eyes closing for a moment. The croak of doors nearly gave him a fright. From the cooled shade appeared a woman, no older than him, her black hair woven in a braid that stretched down across her shoulder. Her eyes shot towards the spy. The smile faded from her lips. There, upon Luthion’s outstretched hand, she saw a folded Gondorian flag, and the pendant of her late husband.
“And he mentioned nothing else? Please, Innie, if... if you know anything, you must tell me.”
“No, no. Rev barely spoke of his work. He was working out on rooting someone out in Dol Amroth, and he believed they caught wind of it. Or so he spoke, at least.”
Amenadil leaned farther into the chair, the cup of wine clutched tightly in his hands. His hand ran over his face, a sigh escaping him. “But no names?”
“No, no. None. Lou... is...” Ineth’s voice lowered, trying to stay away from the ears of a boy playing in the next room. "Is this why they killed him? What was he working on in Dol Amroth?”
“I don’t know. Not yet, at least.”
“Valar... Damned fool. I told him not to take that case. We built a life, he had been discharged, but... he never could let go of service. Or that damned book.”
Amenadil paused. His focus sharpened, pushing aside the slight drowsiness of wine.
“Book?”
“He’d found a book on a previous assignment. The Watchers dismissed it, but he nearly became obsessed with it. Said it was a last riddle in need of solving.”
“Do you have it, the book?”
Ineth nodded, running a hand along the back of her neck. “It’s in his study. Wait, you... it can’t have anything to do with his task in Dol Amroth, can it? He’s been rambling on about it for years now.”
“Maybe, maybe not. But it’s a start. Give me the book, Innie.”
By the time he left Ineth’s home, the sun had begun to set already. The white stone and marble halls were drenched in gold and yellow light. Minas Tirith seemed like a sketch on aged paper in these hours, like some lost realm in folklore, naught remaining of it save for faded memories and fairytales.
Amenadil pulled the brim of his cloak farther down, and sunk back into the shade, making his way out towards the agreed rendezvous point. The book had been tucked away safely in the inner lining of his cloak, hidden from unwanted eyes.
“Did she know anything?” Missel slid from her hiding place.
“No, no, Revion never spoke of his work to her. She’s clean.”
His shadow tilted her head, the deep, beady brown eyes narrowing on the spy. “You sure, Watcher?”
“As sure as I can be, killer. Ineth’s got nothing to do with Revion’s defection.”
“Right.” The woman nodded twice, biting her tongue lightly with the sides of her teeth. “Well, that’s settled. Command sent word, they want you back at The Watchtower by midnight.”
“They said why?”
“No. Though I’m guessing it’s got to do with that Ranger affair. Ithillien’s been buzzing with life lately.”
“And Glamdir?”
“Drunk off his arse again. Shall I fetch him, Watcher?”
Amenadil gave nothing but a nod in response.
“Very well, Watcher. I’ll see you back at the tower.”
He risked a moment, making sure his colleague had truly disappeared in the darkness of the narrow alleyways. Then, with a deft hand, Luthion pulled the book out from underneath his coat. His eyes shot over the first few pages.
“Names. Hells, what were you looking into, Rev?”
