On their first day in Minas Tirith the maiar decided to walk the main road which ran up through the city, from the main gate to the entrance of the seventh level.  Thorongil was impressed with the city's defenses while Elerína was disappointed with its aesthetics. They were denied passage into the seventh level and thus were unable to see the White Tree.

It was late at night when the two weary travelers returned to the lower levels of Minas Tirith.  Wandering in search of lodging, they found themselves accosted by three thieves in a dark alley.

"Hand over your valuables and no one gets hurt," said the leader of the bandits.  They carried clubs, and covered their faces with cloth.

Thorongil drew a small silver knife in each hand from behind his back.  As he prepared for what would have been an incredibly short fight another figure stepped up behind them.

"You'd better have something better than clubs," he said, stepping between the bandits and their intended marks.  He held out a longsword in challenge. The criminals took off down the alley and quickly disappeared into the shadows.

"You should not wander the side streets of the lower levels this late at night," warned the man.

"Thank you for helping us," Elerína replied.  She sounded very relieved - though it was not because she had been in any danger, but rather because the situation had been resolved without any casualties.  She knew that her husband had killed humans during the War of Wrath, but she wasn't ready to see it in person. Their mission was not to purge the world of wickedness, it was to counter those of their own kind who wished to harm the children of Ilúvatar.  Thorongil had a tendency to take a more expansive view of their mission.

"Are you in need of a place to sleep?" inquired the man.

Elerína told him they were, and he suggested they rent a room at an inn on the first level at which he was staying.  They agreed to his suggestion. On the walk down they learned much about the young man.

His name was Eddil, and he was the son of a knight of Dol Amroth and a nurse of the Houses of Healing.  He would have followed in his father's footsteps except he was terrible with horses and was afraid to ride them at speed.  He and a few of his friends fancied themselves adventurers, and they were planning something of a rescue mission into Mordor.

"If you are planning to go to Mordor you should take Thorongil with you," Elerína suggested.  "He loves that sort of thing."

"This isn't a joke!" Eddil exclaimed.  "A company of the King's rangers has disappeared near Cirith Ungol, and my beloved is among them!"

"She did not jest," said Thorongil.  " You would be hard pressed to find better help than mine."

"Do you even have a sword?" he asked.

Thorongil drew his blade and from countless tiny runes along it’s surface came a pale red glow.  Eddil was speechless. Maybe there was hope for his quest after all.

"I guess you didn't need my help back there," he murmured.

“That does not make what you did any less heroic,” Elerína answered, patting him on the shoulder.

"The king has offered no reward for this quest," continued Eddil.  "Indeed, all travel to Mordor is forbidden, so if we go, we must deceive the King's men and perhaps face his wrath on our return."

"I am no servant of the King," Thorongil replied.

"So you are elves?" asked Eddil.

"Something like that," Elerína answered.

Eddil laughed.  "I have a friend who fancies himself somewhat of an expert on 'something like elves.'"

They reached the inn, The Drawn Sword, and Thorongil and Elerína rented a room for the night.  Both they and Eddil soon retired to their rooms, agreeing to meet the next morning to discuss their plans over breakfast.

When they came to the common room in the morning the maiar found Eddil at a table with three comrades, all men of similar age to him.  One wore the green and white of Rohan, one the black and silver of Minas Tirith, and the last wore plain blue clothes befitting a common man of the country.

"This is Thorongil," explained Eddil to his friends.  "He has offered to join us in our quest."

"Let me introduce you to Gram, Aldamir, and Timothy," Eddil said, turning to Thorongil and Elerína.  "Gram is quite good with an ax and shield, and knows how to handle horses. Aldamir is a practiced duelist, and his family's business connections across North have proven useful in our travels.  Timothy is ..."

"Don't say it," interjected Timothy, though from his voice it was clear he knew Eddil would say whatever it was.

"... a wizard."

"I am not a wizard!" exclaimed Timothy, both laughing and angry.  "Just because I know the elder tongues and lore, am far more clever than any of you, and a maia occasionally hears my cries for help, that does not make me a wizard!"

The last item on his list understandably peaked Thorongil’s curiosity.

"A maia?" he inquired.

"The servants of the Valar," Timothy began to explain as Elerína held back laughter.

"I know that," interrupted Thorongil.  "I presume there is a good tale or two regarding their aid to you?"

"I am an orphan," he began. "I can't remember my father, but he was something of the village seer.  Whenever a child was born he would divine some sort of sign for them. When I was born, he gave me this."

Timothy held out a blue stone into which was carved an elegant 'I' surrounded by fourteen stars.  It took all Elerína's practiced composure not to turn white as snow or cry out in shock. To her surprise Thorongil seemed unmoved - if he was as disturbed as she was, he hid it well.

"My mother, who taught me elvish history, told me it was the sigil of Ilmarë - Manwë and Varda's greatest servant," he went on, oblivious to the shock of his listeners.  "One night, when I was playing in the fields with my friends from the village, a wolf came to attack us. I was only seven, perhaps too young to understand my true peril, and I walked towards the beast holding up the stone.  The wolf charged and I cried out to Ilmarë for protection, and I swear on the grave of my father that I saw a great flash of light, and the wolf ran wildly about as though it were blind. Since then I have taken to holding the stone and calling on Her Grace's aid in my times of need, and my friends and I have gotten out of some pretty tight spots."

"It has been said that the name of Elbereth does more harm than a blade to many servants of the enemy," said Thorongil, speaking quickly lest Elerína say something foolish.  "I would not be surprised if her handmaiden's name holds power as well."

"It's quite a tale," nodded Gram, "and I don't deny that you have far more luck than any man deserves, but I'll trust to my ax and my shield over elvish legends."

Aldamir disagreed.  "And I know better than to mock the Powers of the West.  We may need both strong arms and elven legends if we are to brave the stairs of Cirith Ungol."

"So we all intend to undertake this quest?" Eddil asked his friends.

"I will go as far as the base of the stairs," said Timothy.  "I am not quick footed, and I suspect that while you might sneak into Mordor, you will not sneak out."

"I am resolved to go," added Aldamir.  "I will not abandon Caranel to the denizens of Mordor."

Gram nodded.  "I will go with you.  I'd rather die than live knowing I turned aside when the road darkened."

The four adventurers turned to Thorongil and Elerína.

"I will go with you," smiled Thorongil.  "Mordor is lovely this time of year."

Eddil slammed his fist on the table.  "Do you take anything seriously?"

"Certainly," he replied.  "The Spider, for instance.  What news of her?"

"None but the King's men are allowed into her tunnel," answered Aldamir.  "The Rangers do not discuss what they find with us."

"Why would a complete stranger want to face death on a fool's errand such as this?" asked Gram.  "There is no fortune to be made on this quest."

"An honorable cause can be its own reward," replied Thorongil.  "And I have an interest in what is going on in Mordor."

"I want proof you can handle yourself," said Aldamir.  He took two training swords that had been strapped to his pack and handed one to Thorongil, who grinned as he gripped it.

"Shall I face you one at a time, or all at once?" Thorongil taunted.

"I'm going to enjoy this," Aldamir whispered quietly to Eddil.  He felt certain he would easily win - he had studied under the best instructors money could buy - and wipe the smug grin off Thorongil's face.

They all walked outside into a small courtyard.  Aldamir took his stance, one of a professional duelist, and Thorongil turned his back to him, his sword held out to his side.

"Attack," said Thorongil.

Aldamir went to strike him hard.  He now felt certain he wanted no part of Thorongil's company, and thought him likely a con man of some sort, having no real intention of going to Mordor.  He intended to give Thorongil a broken bone or two for wasting their time.

As Aldamir swung Thorongil spun to face him, quick as lightning.  He parried the blow and with his free hand easily ripped the hilt of Aldamir's weapon from his grasp.  Before Aldamir could react Thorongil elbowed him in the face. As he lie on the ground dazed, Thorongil stood over him holding the two blunt blades crossed on his throat.

"At this point I suppose I should hit you as hard as you tried to hit me," threatened Thorongil.  "But it would be unwise to take a broken arm to Mordor."

Thorongil handed one of the swords to Aldamir and helped him to his feet.

"You said you might need both strong arms and elven legends on this quest," smiled Thorongil.  "Fortunately for you, I am both."