The scent of leather oil and old stone filled Talion's living quarters as he led Tarnes and Melina inside. The chamber was sparse but functional, carved into the black stone of the fortress walls. Flickering torchlight danced across rough-hewn surfaces, casting long shadows that shifted with their movement.
An attractive middle-aged woman looked up from her work, setting aside the cloth she'd been mending. She wore practical blue robes cinched at the waist, where a worn dagger handle caught the firelight. The bulge of throwing knives pressed against her pockets, and her calloused hands spoke of countless battles fought alongside the rangers.
Talion's weathered face brightened as he stepped forward, drawing his wife into a gentle embrace. The tender kiss he placed on her cheek seemed to ease the tension that had lined his features moments before.
"This is my wife, Ioreth," he said, turning to face their guests with obvious pride. "And you've already met my son Dirhael outside."
Ioreth inclined her head gracefully, her eyes taking in the two strangers with keen assessment. "Welcome, travelers from distant lands. Few find their way to this forsaken place by choice."
Tarnes dismounted from Torrent with fluid grace, offering a respectful bow. "I am Lord Tarnes of the Golden Tree, and a wizard by trade." His voice carried the weight of authority tempered by warmth.
Melina's response was quieter, almost whispered. "Melina." She pulled her hood slightly lower, though her amber eyes remained visible in the torch glow.
Ioreth set aside her work implements, brushing dust from her apron with practiced efficiency. "Talion has spoken often of meeting the lord of the Golden Tree, though we never imagined you would venture into this dangerous borderland yourself."
"My lady," Talion interjected, his tone carrying both affection and urgency, "perhaps you could prepare hot tea for our guests? And bring some of those honey cakes from Gondor's latest supply run."
With a knowing nod, Ioreth gathered her skirts and departed, leaving the three alone in the amber light. Talion gestured to a round wooden table scarred by years of use, its surface marked with the stains of countless strategy sessions.
Once they were seated, the ranger's demeanor shifted, his shoulders squaring as he prepared to speak. The casual friendliness fell away, replaced by the bearing of a commander facing impossible odds.
"I had another purpose for seeking you out at the Golden Tree," he began, his voice dropping to barely above a whisper. "Too many ears outside these walls, and loose tongues have a way of finding their mark."
Tarnes leaned forward, his interest sharpening like a blade being honed. The weathered lines around Talion's eyes deepened as he continued.
"I believe we have a traitor among us. Someone who has sworn allegiance to Sauron."
The words hit the air like a thunderclap. Tarnes's eyebrows shot upward while Melina's hood shifted as she turned her full attention to the ranger. Even the crackling of the torches seemed to quiet in the wake of such an accusation.
Talion rubbed his temples, gathering his thoughts like a general preparing battle plans. "The signs were there before I left for your territory, subtle but persistent. At first, I dismissed them as coincidence or perhaps tactical genius on the part of our enemies."
"What kind of signs?" Tarnes asked, his voice taking on the measured tone of an interrogator.
"The Orcs always seemed to know exactly where our defenses were weakest. Not just once or twice, but consistently, every single time. They'd strike during rotation changes, target undermanned positions, and avoid our strongest points entirely." Talion's fist clenched on the table's surface. "A commander learns to recognize patterns, and this pattern could only mean betrayal."
Melina's voice carried softly across the table. "Earlier you said 'not before.' Something has changed, hasn't it?"
The ranger's expression darkened, shadows gathering in the hollows beneath his cheekbones. "Upheaval in Mordor recently forced our traitor into the open. Desperation makes even careful spies reckless."
Footsteps echoed in the corridor outside, measured and purposeful. Ioreth appeared in the doorway carrying a wooden tray laden with a steaming teapot and small honey-glazed cakes. The ceramic clinked softly as she set it down, the sound somehow loud in the tense atmosphere.
"I helped Talion discover the truth," she said simply, settling beside her husband with the fluid grace of a seasoned warrior taking position.
Talion waited until Ioreth had poured the fragrant tea before continuing. Steam rose from the cups like incense, carrying hints of mountain herbs and distant meadows.
"During a routine patrol, we eliminated an Orc scouting party. Among their possessions was a letter detailing our guard rotations with precision that could only come from someone with intimate knowledge of our operations."
Tarnes accepted his tea with a grateful nod, breathing in the aromatic steam. "So why haven't you exposed them?"
Ioreth's laugh held the bite of winter wind. "Because we couldn't identify who wrote it. The letter contained information only our captains would know, but trying to match handwriting among twenty suspects was futile."
"Twenty captains," Tarnes said quietly, already considering the challenges. "A considerable number to investigate."
Talion's weathered hands wrapped around his cup, seeking comfort beyond its warmth. "I wanted to flush out the traitor carefully, without pushing them to more dangerous actions. But with good men dying daily because of leaked intelligence, I'm running out of time."
"The attacks have intensified," Melina observed, her perceptive gaze fixed on the ranger's face.
"Dramatically. Every assault seems perfectly timed, every weakness exploited. Good rangers are dying because someone among us feeds information to the enemy." Talion's voice cracked slightly, revealing the emotional toll of leadership in impossible circumstances.
The room fell silent except for the distant sounds of the fortress, muffled conversations, and the scrape of weapons being maintained. Tarnes studied the ranger's face, noting the deep lines etched by constant vigilance and the weight of impossible choices.
"You want to use our arrival to flush out the traitor," he said finally, not making it a question.
Talion met his gaze directly, unflinching. "I won't lie to you, Lord Tarnes. That thought had crossed my mind. But I must have your consent. If you judge the risk too great, I'll understand completely and find another way."
The wizard set down his cup with deliberate care, the ceramic ringing softly against the wooden table. His fingers drummed a quiet rhythm as he considered, while Melina waited in patient silence.
When Tarnes finally spoke, his voice carried the authority of one accustomed to making life-and-death decisions. "I'm willing to help, but under two conditions."
Talion straightened in his chair, hope flickering in his eyes like dawn breaking over the mountains. "Name them."
Tarnes raised one finger. "First, if we're going to root out your traitor, we do it my way. No interference, no second-guessing. Second..." He paused, his gaze shifting to encompass the stone walls around them. "I need a detailed map of Mordor's interior, particularly areas where Orcs congregate in large numbers."
Relief flooded Talion's features like sunrise after a long night. He'd expected demands for gold or political favors, the kind of price Gondorian nobles typically extracted. Instead, the wizard asked only for cooperation and intelligence that any ranger at the Black Gate could provide.
"Agreed," Talion said quickly, extending his hand across the table. "You have my word and my complete trust."
As their hands clasped in agreement, the distant sound of battle horns echoed across the fortress walls, a reminder that their enemies never slept.