The Tower Guard

Seven Stars and Seven Stones and One White Tree.
Master Torturer
Points: 2 588 
Posts: 3018
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 11:22 am
Image

From the great gate, bastions and ramparts of Othram and throughout the seven concentric city walls right up to the walls of the Citadel
wherein stand the Tower of Ecthellion, Merethrond, and the King and Queens’ house; the Tower Guard are active.
Minas Tirith, the Tower of Guard, is a virtually impenetrable fortress. ‘ So strong and old that it seemed to have not been builded but carven by Giants out of the bones of the earth.’
Yet from Rath Celerdain to the Place of the Fountain this monolith of might needs the men and women of the Tower Guard to help protect it.
In times of war and in times of peace, for ever does evil lurk, and not at all times does this evil merely exist outside of the White City.
When such darkness threatens, the guardians of justice, the protectors of the peace by which the common man can sleep soundly in his bed, known as the Tower Guard; step forward.


Image

There are different area's where the Tower Guards patrol, those are namely:


Rammas Echor (Ehtyar)
Pelennor Fields (Yantyar)
Othram (Cuner)
Great Gate (Peleconner)
Hill of Guard (Hyandaner)
Citadel (Tirdinen)

New rules!


- This thread was for Rangers only. Given this is a Nuplaza and we do not yet have enough members for this to be the case right now, this thread is for those who would like to RP a Tower Guard. If you happen to be a Ranger as well, great! The Ranger ranks are in brackets to show where you would then be stationed as you would have been in times of old.

- The Tower Guard will effectively be the "police" of Minas Tirith, they go on patrols and enforce laws, rules and regulations and have the authority to arrest anyone seeing to be breaking any.

- The Tower Guard will also be working closely with the City Gaol and the Royal Dungeons, although only occasionally taking prisoners to the Royal Dungeons as those are less used than the Gaols.

- All Plaza rules apply

- The Tower Guard is run by Captain Baelthor, npc'ed currently by Winddancer.

- Please state where you are in the top post along with your name

- Please keep an eye out for orders or summons if a serious crime has been commited

- Some light sillyness is allowed, but it is overall a serious RP thread, please respect that

- Feel free to pick any rank below Captain, however do not assume that gives you permission to order PCs around without their permission, only the Captain can do that

Thanks to Naith for allowing me to copy the old thread

Master Torturer
Points: 2 588 
Posts: 3018
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 11:22 am
Image

Bealthor, Captain of the Tower Guard

A long sigh rustled the many papers before him and sent some sliding. Annoyed, he slammed his hand down on them to stop their flight across the table. When had this job become more about paperwork than actually dealing with his guards and the people of Minas Tirith? The moment you accepted your promotion, you dullard.. a voice grated in his head.

Letting out another sigh, though this time more wary of his papers, Baelthor began sorting out the reports into neat little piles. Petty thefts, drunken brawls, lost dogs, noise disturbances and everything inbetween. Honestly he should be grateful for just having to deal with minor misdemeanors like this, remembering not that long ago when it had been several murders. Guiltily he pushed away the niggling feeling of wanting something more interesting to happen, other than Fat Tom streaking across the square. Again.

Like this report from the Head Laundress at the Garrison laundry, claiming that one of her young girls had disappeared after having stolen two coins from her. He had heard the rumours of Ms. Irma and how she likely fudged the accountant books. The girl likely just stole what was stolen from her in the first place. But without any proof, he would have to have his men pick this young girl up. Scratching tiredly at his beard, he placed the report in the petty theft pile and picked up the next report, sighing once more.

With all the reports finally in neat little piles, he leaned back, a permanent scowl fixed on his tired face as he waited for his men to arrive and receive their orders. Blessed tree, what he would give for a dark ale right now..

OOC: Do NOT feel obligated to come to Baelfor to get your orders, feel free to just jump in and rp your shift as you would like, this is just for those looking for a prompt

Ent Ancient
Points: 2 696 
Posts: 1830
Joined: Sat May 23, 2020 11:34 pm
Hathaldir, hoping he doesn't get fired already

From the site of the brief confrontation outside the Houses of Healing, Hathaldir set off with the thief in tow. The girl was remarkably compliant. Regrettably, the near-boiling Ms Irma came with them though he half-hoped she might lag behind the brisk pace he set. Her testimony, and therefore her presence, were both unfortunately required to settle this matter. Until then, he had no wish to listen to her spout on about the stolen wages or her dissatisfaction with his own manner.

This woman would likely not be pleased no matter what he did. All he cared about was getting the job done and this was his first arrest. Joining the Tower Guard was a means to an end and that was all. He had little interest in petty thieves but it would take patience and loyalty to get what he wanted. At the moment, he was feeling rather short on one of those qualities.

It must have looked quite the picture as he arrived with the girl in cuffs, who seemed more dejected than ever, and Ms Irma trailing their footsteps. Hathaldir half hoped she was too breathless to say much; he wouldn’t put it past her to make her poor opinion about him known. The feeling was mutual but while in uniform, he could try to be courteous.

The matter of the thievery seemed simple enough to him but before proceeding, he paused to ask their names. He didn’t want to look like a total idiot in front of his superior officer. “You have made your grievance with this girl very clear and I, ah, appreciate that. If you give me your name, ma’am," he told Ms Irma, “and yours,” he added to Thea. “So I may report to the Captain?"

Master Torturer
Points: 2 588 
Posts: 3018
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 11:22 am
Thea

There was nothing remarkable about the building they entered. It looked much like any of the other buildings here in Minas Tirith, but by the look on Thea's face they might as well have arrived in Mordor. Face pale as snow with a tinge of sickly green, her huge wet eyes looked up at the massive gate they walked through, visibly jumping as it slammed shut behind the trio. Again she felt her stomach clench painfully, forcing her to stoop forward a bit as her bound hands clutched at her belly in an attempt to ease the pain. Trying to swallow the bile back, she stumbled forward at the guard's unrelenting fast pace across the courtyard that did not stop until they stood outside the doorway that would likely lead to the office of some superior or the cells themselves.

Even when the guard paused, she kept her head down and her eyes on the ground before her, mumbling out "Thea" once Ms Irma had finished her self important introduction.

"I am Ms Irma! Head Laundress at the Garrison Laundry!" She huffed out self righteously. "I have worked there longer than any of you two have been alive! And I work directly under the Commander himself!" Red in the face from having to run most of the way here and huffing and puffing like the bellows at the blacksmith's Ms Irma threw her skirts down with indignation at not being known by this upstart of a guard. She would definitely have a few choice words for his superior when she was done with accusing Thea of theft. Thea's despondent stance did nothing to soothe her rage towards the girl, even more intent on seeing the girl end up behind locked bars for taking what was hers.

Ent Ancient
Points: 2 696 
Posts: 1830
Joined: Sat May 23, 2020 11:34 pm
Hathaldir
He took a great amount of satisfaction in having set such a brisk pace and yet Ms Irma would not be silenced so easily. The Head Laundress. That explained much. He should certainly know someone with such an important and distinguished job within days of arriving in Minas Tirith. What an inflated opinion she had of herself! He'd be sure to steer clear of her in the future. Thea was quiet as a mouse in comparison. Caught in a trap like one, too.

“And I am Hathaldir,” was all the introduction he supplied as if impatient to get on with it. “Now we are all acquainted, I will go speak with the Captain about your case.” But before he left them in the hands of a few capable guards milling about the place, whom he gave respectful but distanced nods, he paused abruptly. His focus was entirely on Thea. He had overlooked one very important detail.

“And what’s this?” he growled, his gaze settling on the dagger she wore at her waist. Without hesitating, he reached forward and removed it from her belt, immediately seeing this was no ordinary dagger. “Did you steal this too?” His eyes narrowed in suspicion. What was this girl doing with such a fine weapon? Was it possible there was more going on here than just simple stealing?

“Keep an eye on her while I meet the Captain. She’s a thief if not something worse,” he warned the other guards as he weighed the dagger in his hand.

With that, he stepped toward the Captain’s office and awaited permission before entering. When he stepped into the office, he straightened his shoulders and saluted. “Sir. I have made an arrest outside the Houses of Healing. A girl's been accused of stealing by one Ms Irma, who informed me she is the venerable Head Laundress of the Garrison.” His brow twitched slightly at this declaration but that was all that betrayed his opinion of her. “I've brought both of them here. The girl, Thea, came without a fuss." He held out the dagger. "And she had this."

Master Torturer
Points: 2 588 
Posts: 3018
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 11:22 am
Thea

Her life was over. She was going to rot in a cell for the rest of her life, thanks to one stupid implusive decision. Slow tears fell down her wet cheeks, her shoulders slumped with defeat and humiliation, her head hanging forward as her blurry eyes stared at the ground before her. What would father and mother think of her now if they could see her? Her heart ached with longing for them both, for the comfort and love they had provided. But it also ached with a humiliation so cutting she was actually glad they were not alive to see her in this predicament. They would be mortified. Their only daughter a petty thief. It did not matter that she had just been taking back what Ms Irma had initially stolen from her, she was nothing more than a thief. And now she would be paying that price.

Drawing in a ragged breath to stifle the sob that was making her throat tight, she did not look up to see what it was the guard had seen. That was until he suddenly reached out for her. She jumped in surprise at his sudden movement, bringing her shackled hands up to her chest protectively. Oh no.. the dagger. She had completely forgotten about it. Blinking the tears from her eyes she looked at the ornate dagger in the guard's hand and swallowed hard, wincing as he accused her of stealing that too.

"No! I did not steal it! It was given to me! I did n-"

"Liar! Of course you did!" Ms Irma interjected. "There is no way you could afford anything as expensive as that on your wages!" Red in the face she glared at Thea, the young girl bursting into tears once more, though shaking her head at the accusations.

"She’s a thief if not something worse." The words hit Thea like a punch to the stomach. Tom. Her shaking legs gave in, crumbling to the floor under the hatefilled stare of her former employer and to the annoyance of the guard who tried to get her back on her feet.

"I'm sorry. I am sorry.." she wailed inconsolably, unable to stand on her legs despite the guards insistance.

"Get up, girl!" Ms Irma hissed with venom. "Stop acting like a fool and stand up and take your punishment!"

She was right. She had to get up. Sobbing still, legs shaking uncontrollably, Thea slowly and awkwardly got to her feet with the help of the guard, standing before the door even more dejected than before, though now resolved to take the punishment she so rightfully deserved.

Ent Ancient
Points: 2 696 
Posts: 1830
Joined: Sat May 23, 2020 11:34 pm
Hathaldir
The office provided a momentary reprieve from both Ms Irma’s anger and dissatisfaction and Thea’s muffled sobs he could hear through the closed door behind him. After he reviewed the situation and shared his suspicions about the dagger with the Captain, he knew he could not put his duties off any longer.

To think the day had been boring until now. As someone who didn’t even like people very much, he was starting to second guess his decision to take this job. With the dagger in one hand, he suppressed a sigh and pushed the door open. A guard was helping the girl to her feet; she looked really rather pale and frightful. “Save your tears, little mouse, they won't help you,” he told her, shaking his head.

He turned on his heel and faced the Head Laundress. “Ms Irma,” he addressed her in a rigid tone, “if you would follow me, I will speak to you first and you can tell me the whole story.” He held out his arm for her to follow him into a small room with a pair of hard-backed, uncomfortable looking chairs on opposite sides of a table. “Have a seat if you like.”

Hathaldir chose to remain standing and resisted the urge to cross his arms defensively even though he was the one asking questions here. It irritated him that she seemed to be taking the measure of him. He’d slain many orcs in his time. They were vile creatures yet he almost thought he would sooner converse with one of them than this woman.

“If you would stick to the facts, please,” he pressed Ms Irma, attempting to use a patient and even tone, hoping she would not shout at him again. “Start at the beginning. You said she stole two weeks’ wages. I gather that means she is,” he paused to correct himself,” was your employee? Do you have a ledger recording the missing sum? Did you see her take the money yourself?”

Master Torturer
Points: 2 588 
Posts: 3018
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 11:22 am
Image

Bealthor, Captain of the Tower Guard


He watched the new guard exit his office with quiet thoughtfulness. He had yet to size up this new guy that had joined the ranks only recently. But he had given a short and consise report of what had happened and had found the girl in question quickly. As far as he could tell, nothing to fault, right? Rubbing at his stubbled chin, Bealthor leaned back in the old chair ignoring the squeaked protest at the new position and continued to stare at the closed door in front of him. No, leave it to the new guy, if nothing else at least leave him to interrogate Ms Irma. He was in absolutely no hurry to talk to that woman again. Ever. He also had to trust that his men were capable of doing interrogations as there was not enough time in the day to do all the interrogations of all petty crimes himself. Sighing once more, sending the papers fluttering in front of him, he returned to his papers while wishing for an ale.

Image

Thea

The uncontrollable sobs still racked her body as the closed door opened to reveal the guard once more. A tight knot grew in her stomach, her heart thumping so hard it hurt.

“Save your tears, little mouse, they won't help you.”

And there it was, wasn't it? He was right, there was no saving her now. She had taken the coins, she would never be able to convince them otherwise as it was the truth. They would not care that Ms Irma had stolen them from her first, they would likely not even believe her if she told them.

Dejected she tried to wipe her wet cheeks with her shackled hands, letting out a small gasp of surprise as Ms. Irma rudely barrelled past her and unbalanced her enough to make the guard tighten his grip on her arm. Of course they would talk to Ms. Irma first. And of course they would believe her. Dropping her hands down in front of her, she let the slow tears to fall on her cheeks and onto the front of her dress as she looked down at the ground before her.

Image

Ms. Irma

The selfrighteous vindication shone on her sweaty red face as she continued to glare at Thea while they waited for the guard to report to his superior. She had already spoken with the Captain, at length, only a few hours ago and was positive that this would be an open and shut case and that this vile girl would be thrown in a dungeon and locked up for good. How dare she steal from her! How very dare she!?

As the door opened, Ms. Irma grinned even more with satisfaction as the guard told Thea that her crying was not going to help her. Indeed they wouldn't! Pleased that the man was not going to be swayed by Thea's pitiful attempt at garnering sympathy, she puffed up her huge bosom and prepared herself to hear the verdict of Thea being thrown in jail.

“Ms Irma, if you would follow me, I will speak to you first and you can tell me the whole story.”

Oh for the.. Her already red face took on a tinge of purple as the rage grew. Tell her 'story!?' 'Story??' This was not some fabricated STORY! It was the truth! Letting out a growl too low for them to hear she grabbed her skirts and headed to the door that the guard pointed to, though declined to sit on the chair in the room. As soon as she was in the room she turned on the guard, unleashing the pent up fury.

"STORY!?? STICK TO THE FACTS!?" she yelled at him, pointing a finger at him. "HOW DARE YOU! she yelled as spittle flew from her mouth. "I demand to see the Captain THIS INSTANCE! I will not have an upstart like you try and tarnish my reputation by implying that I made this up!" She finished off by jabbing her finger towards him before crossing her arms across her huge bosom, her face looking like it was going to explode.

Ent Ancient
Points: 2 696 
Posts: 1830
Joined: Sat May 23, 2020 11:34 pm
Hathaldir, attacked by spittle
Augh! Hathaldir cringed as a hailstorm of the woman’s spit sprayed him right in the face. How undignified and disgusting! Who knew what pox lurked in her spluttering drool…he might have to visit the Houses of Healing now in search of some cleansing anti-Head Laundress elixir. Hathaldir had spent the best years of his youth fighting orcs and enemies, trudging about the wilderness through mud and muck and spending long cold nights sleeplessly and for what? To protect someone like this?!

His modicum of professionalism disappeared in his anger; Hathaldir did not spare her a dirty look as he wiped his face with the back of his hand. Yes, he would most certainly rather have tea with an orc and that was saying a lot because he didn’t even like hot drinks. Or orcs. At least he could lob their heads off.

He forced himself to stand still, resisting the urge to clasp Ms Irma by the arms and shake some sense into her. His shoulders grew tense and rigid even as he stood his ground. A clenched jaw and flared nostrils betrayed his rising temper threatening to overflow. Oh, if only he could give this ruddy woman a piece of his mind…! And the way she wagged her finger at him like he was some kind of schoolboy!

“Would you kindly remain calm!” He reprimanded her loudly, no longer able to control his tone in the face of her wretched tantrum. “I am doing my job,” he said through clenched teeth. A job that was rapidly becoming a headache. The desire to storm out and give up his position was almost too much to resist.

“There is a due process to these things as I am sure you are aware.” His words dripped with condescension. “The Captain has other matters that require his attention.”

He longed to give her exactly what she wanted; he’d wrestle her by the arm, drag her into the Captain’s office and let Bealthor deal with her. Did the Captain give any more of a shire about such a low-level crime than Hathaldir did? Two weeks’ of a laundry girl’s wage hardly seemed worth the trouble and he had half a mind to march the both of them out of there and let them deal with it themselves. That was not the way to win over the Captain's and his fellow guard's trust and respect. He counted to himself so he wouldn't lash out: one, two, three, four... and thought of a better idea.

“If that is all you have to say to me, Ms Irma, then this interview is concluded.” With a shrug of his shoulders as if he did not care what she had to say (and really he didn’t), he strove for a neutral tone. “I will now speak to the girl and see what she has to say for herself.” He swiveled on his feet and turned to open the door, hiding a self-satisfied smirk from her. Would she change her tune and offer up the information he asked for or continue her rampage? With any luck, she might scream herself to an early grave the way her face was turning red.

Master Torturer
Points: 2 588 
Posts: 3018
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 11:22 am
Ms Irma

Ms Irma's eyes widened in disbelief at the loud reprimand, mirrored unseen by Thea on the other side of the closed door. It was loud enough that even in the young girl's dark despair, she looked up in amazement, gasping softly. No one yelled at Ms. Irma..

Ms. Irma's face took on a tinge it had never before sported, going from red to almost a dark purple as the insolent young man dared to yell at her. She was the Head Laundress! She deserved more respect than this! And she was the victim here!

His condescending words only fuelled her rage, her eyes so dark with hatred that they could have killed. However when he threatened to end the interview, she just about burst a blood vessel and was about to scream several insults at him when he said the only thing that was likely to sober her up. While she knew Thea was likely to just sit there and cry and possibly be stupid enough to claim innocence, Ms. Irma could not take the chance that Thea brooch the topic first of why she had stolen them in the first place. She had of course gotten rid of the evidence, the book hidden away where no one could ever find it.

Between equally clenched teeth, she hissed out "Fine.." and took a seat on one of the uncomfortable chairs, ignoring it's rude creaks as her huge body tried to make itself comfortable.

"Thea has worked for me for two years and has been nothing but trouble the whole time!" Her voice spat out the words in anger, glaring at the guard still. "She and her little buddy Lily, those two were constant troublemakers, either sneaking off to do no good or meeting up somewhere hidden to conspire against me." Pulling out a hankerchief from one of her pockets, she wiped her forehead before continuing with a huff. "I have fired Lily, the wench knew of the theft and did nothing to stop her friend! Absolutely disgusting behaviour! You should arrest her too for aiding a thief!"

Ent Ancient
Points: 2 696 
Posts: 1830
Joined: Sat May 23, 2020 11:34 pm
Hathaldir
Sweet victory! That was a clever move. He managed to halt her yelling and get her talking with only his wit. With his back still turned to her, he reached out for the door handle, hoping to make her sweat. Hathaldir waited a beat, giving himself a moment to wipe the smug smile from his lips before he finally spun around. With slow deliberate steps, he marched forward undaunted by her glare. He hoped his looming height would remind her who was in charge here while he looked down at the woman wedged into the groaning chair.

"Well that does sound troublesome," he admitted with a frown. The expression was not one of sympathy, however, it was because he did not like to agree with this awful woman.

One hand reached up to stroke his stubbled chin as if in thought. “If you can tell me where to find Lily so she can be questioned, that will help your case. In the meantime, it looks like Thea will be spending some time in custody with nothing to do but reflect on her poor decisions.” His eyes remained dark and cool even as his lips twitched into the semblance of a grin.

It rankled him to mollify her but it seemed like the inevitable next step if he wanted to get rid of her without getting his head bitten off again. “You may rest assured that I will do everything I can to get to the bottom of this crime and see those responsible get what they deserve." He attempted a placating tone. It sounded more like he was bored.

“One last question and you can be on your way.” And please, he thought, let her be gone, far away from here. He held up the dagger with a flair of drama and waved it back and forth to draw her full attention to it. “Did Thea often wear a blade? It seems unusual for a simple laundry girl to have it." And if Thea did carry it, it was a wonder she had managed not to stab Ms Irma with it and wind up here anyway!

Master Torturer
Points: 2 588 
Posts: 3018
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 11:22 am
Ms Irma

She flinched as the guard suddenly made a move in her direction, her eyes widening for a brief moment until she realised he was just stepping closer. The hatefilled glare never left her eyes, looking at him as if he was something smelly that was stuck to her shoe. But even so, she leaned back a bit as he loomed over her.

At his words she nodded with self satisfication that he was agreeing with her, though was annoyed that it had taken him this long to figure that out. "Lily? Ha, that wretched wench is likely at home crying her eyes out to her parents and telling them one of her sob stories! They live in the third circle, number 14.

She gave a small nod of approval at the mention of Thea's imminent future in a cell, again pleased to hear that the girl would be locked up. Nobody stole from her! Giving an approved sniff, she delicately wiped at her forehead as she shifted to reposition herself on the hard chair, wincing as it dug into her hip. She even offered a semblance of a smile at his words of reassurance that the girls would get what they deserved. That was all she asked for, afterall. "Good, I am glad to hear that.." her voice dripped sickly sweet, the colour in her face slowly returning to something more normal.

Again she leaned back a little as the guard waved the dagger in her face and for a brief moment she thought to claim it as hers, that thing looked like it would catch a fortune. But she bit back the response and instead shook her head. Afterall she had claimed not to know of it, so she couldn't just suddenly say it was hers now. Damn.

"No, of course she never wore a blade, she is a laundry girl! Obviously I am not the only victim to her foul thefts. She must have stolen it from someone as there is no way she could afford to buy something that valuable!"

Ent Ancient
Points: 2 696 
Posts: 1830
Joined: Sat May 23, 2020 11:34 pm
Hathaldir
“Yes. I thought as much,” he declared with a cold, satisfied grin. Hathaldir certainly could not imagine why a laundry girl would need a dagger or how she would come about one and he did not want to share any suspicions with this woman. Ms Irma might think she was an important person around here and he was not about to give more substance to those delusions by letting her in on any speculation.

Satisfied with her information now, he took a step away from the table and stood with his hands behind his back. “It must be frustrating to be the victim of such theft,” he commented, attempting a tone of sympathy though he felt none. This woman obviously had no idea of real suffering, real horror or the worst kind of crimes that could be committed. What were a few coins compared to a life taken or harmed beyond repair?

“We are done here,” he said tersely, not wanting to give her a chance to complain further. “Thank you for your cooperation. I will not forget it. Someone will pay Lily a visit to see what she has to say.” Anyone but me, he hoped, wanting nothing more to do with this after today.

At least Ms Irma seemed almost pleased now. Let her be if it meant she left this place in peace. He managed to force a crooked smile onto his face but it faded fast when he looked at her squashed in her chair, her gaze following him with those unpleasant eyes. Always watching, always waiting for one misstep. Do not give her another chance to find fault with him.

He swung the door open and held it for her, waiting for her to exit, no doubt with as much drama as her entrance. A brief glance at Thea told him she was still looking as pathetic as ever but he kept his focus on Ms Irma for now. If she still insisted on speaking to the Captain and voicing her complaints, he would have to be prepared with a defense.

Master Torturer
Points: 2 588 
Posts: 3018
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 11:22 am
Ms Irma

Her hatefilled glare and the apparent disgust for having to talk to someone other than the the Captain lessened just a little at the guard's words of sympathy. Indeed it was highly frustrating and inconvenient. But she would tough it out for as long as she needed to, to make sure that Thea got the justice she so rightfully deserved. This should show all the other girls a thing or two and discourage them from trying to do what Thea had done and leave well enough alone. They got more than enough to live off of. It was not like she was starving them.

With another satisfied haughty sniff, she wiped her face as delicately as she could, dabbing at her forehead lightly. For a brief moment the ire rose back up in force as the guard tersely dismissed her, but she saw the sense in him getting on with things. Afterall he had to gain information from Lily and interrogate Thea. A slight smirk formed on her plump lips as she thought of Thea resisting and being "made" to answer. It would serve the wench well for being stupid enough to steal from her! Maybe part of the punishment could include lashings? Was that still done?

Tucking her damp hankerchief back into her pocket, she twisted in the chair in preparation for getting up and scowled as the chair groaned loudly under her weight. How rude of them to have chairs that were so badly made! However as she shifted again to free her hip from the confinement of the arm, a loud crunching sound filled the small room quickly followed by a shriek that was shrill enough to wake the dead.

With the door opened to the room where Ms. Irma had been questioned, Thea's head shot up in surprise at the loud shriek. Mouth agape she watched as Ms. Irma flailed about on the floor screaming bloody murder and cussing enough to put colour on her pale cheeks. The guard who had a tight grip on her skinny arm, tightened it even more as he took a couple of steps forward with her in tow, making Thea wince in pain. Even the Captain heard the scream and immediately jumped from his chair to come running to the door to see what all this commotion was in "his" offices. Was someone being killed?

Ent Ancient
Points: 2 696 
Posts: 1830
Joined: Sat May 23, 2020 11:34 pm
Hathaldir
It all happened in slow motion to Hathaldir’s eyes but in reality, it was merely seconds. One minute, Hathaldir was sure he was getting rid of Ms Irma at last and he watched her wriggle herself from the chair she was wedged into like an overstuffed pastry. Then, the arms of the chair bowed out around her and there was a great creaking, groaning sound. He swore he saw splinters fly. He watched her mouth grow wide and her eyes bulged out beneath crooked brows, her skirts billowing about her like the unfurled sails of a ship as she fell down onto the floor. And shrieked.

“Oh son of a…” he grumbled, ready for another barrage of screams to assault his ears. And it came in a flow of colourful words, some of which Hathaldir filed away for use later. Who knew someone who cleaned clothes for a living could have such a dirty mouth?

It was almost amusing watching her flail around like a fish out of water and he bit back a bark of laughter. If only he could leave her like that. Hiding an amused snort behind a cough, he took his time moseying around the table, booted steps thumping in a slow, unhurried rhythm beneath her ravings.

There she was rolling around in a sea of skirts and broken chair spindles and the look of murder in her eyes was enough to chase away any last humour he found in all this. He knelt down and did what he had to do, the most undignified, unbearable, repulsive thing imaginable: he reached out to help her up. “May I offer you a hand, ma’am?”

The sight of his Captain looming over them definitely sobered him further and he inwardly cursed the woman for no doubt drawing his attention.

“Ah, Sir, Ms Irma was just leaving, you almost missed her!” He said as if that might somehow be regrettable, aware of the irony in his words and the fact that anyone would surely want to miss her. “And I am glad to say I am getting to the bottom of this thievery,” he told the Captain with all the confidence and dignity he could muster from his position on the floor beside the almost feral Head Laundress.

Master Torturer
Points: 2 588 
Posts: 3018
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 11:22 am
Ms Irma

One of the chairs broken legs was digging into her backside and another barrage of swear words flew out of her mouth. Gone were all presumptions of trying to be a dignified upper class citizen, which was hard to maintain when you were on the floor and your knickers were on display for all to see. Her face had gone a dark purplish red as she quickly leaned forward to try and re-establish some kind of decency by pushing her voluminous skirts back down over her legs. For a second she mistook the guards intentions, slapping at his hand as she thought he was trying to reach for her skirts. What did he just say? He was going to do what to her bottom?

"Captain!!" She shrieked shrilly. "Save me!" As soon as she saw the Captain, she began swatting at the guard's hand even more feverishly while at the same time trying to push her skirts down as far as they could go. "Stop touching meee!!" she squealed at Hathaldir as if he had tried to grope her, completely misinterpreting his intentions. "Captain!! Get him off of meee!"

Both Thea and the guard holding her arm tightly stood with their mouth's agape watching the scene before them, neither of them truly believing what they were seeing. While Thea had the common sense not to laugh, it was becoming apparent that the guard holding her did not, as he suddenly started to laugh in loud snorted guffaws that sounded like a donkey being butchered.

The Captain who had been rooted to the spot for the moment, shook himself out of his stupor and gave the guffawing guard a deadly look before he darted into the room and offered his hand to the fallen woman. It took an immense amount of muscle to lift the heavy woman off the ground as she only partly helped, still screaming at Hathaldir and slapping him. Sweating profusely and with veins popping out on his neck from the strain, the Captain finally managed to get her up enough that she could help by pushing up and finally Ms Irma was off of the floor after almost pulling him down on top of her. Even the mere thought of that made his stomach flip and he hid an acidic burp behind a shaking hand as Ms Irma continued her vile stream of cussing.

"Ms - I.. - Ple-" Each time he tried to speak she cut him off with her non stop screaming and finally he had to yell back.

"MS. IRMA!"

The room suddenly went deadly quite. Even the guffawing guard went quiet at the yell from the usually quiet Captain, pulling Thea a step or two backwards in hopes of removing himself from the ire of his surperior.

"Ms Irma.." he continued at a more reasonable and apologetic tone. "I am so sorry, please, follow me to my office." Stepping aside he waved his hand out towards his office and as the large woman huffed and stomped in that direction, he gave Hathaldir a look as if to say that there better be a damn good explanation for this commotion before following her. As he passed the guard holding Thea, he hissed under his breath as he passed. "My office, one hour" ignoring how the man's face paled.

As the door closed behind the Captain, he could be heard apologising before he offered the woman a stiff drink.

Ent Ancient
Points: 2 696 
Posts: 1830
Joined: Sat May 23, 2020 11:34 pm
Hathaldir
Things were going so well. Maybe not well but better than disastrous which was pretty good in Hathaldir’s book. The certainty he was close to having this whole situation done and dusted fell to pieces just like that damn chair. It was all the chair’s fault! If it could have held together another few seconds, Ms Irma would have been out of here, he’d have Thea in a cell and he’d be off having a well-earned drink.

Sure, he privately thought the clever word play was fairly hilarious and hadn’t seen the harm in it. Unfortunately Hathaldir really had no idea the extent of Ms Irma’s ire but he was about to learn...

His eyes widened with horror and disgust at her accusations (surely things no man would do intentionally or otherwise), then narrowed with contempt when she began hitting him. The back of his hand stung where she slapped away his gracious offer for assistance and his brow began to twitch dangerously. He also made attempts to explain himself but like the Captain got absolutely nowhere. Her sweaty little hand smacked him full in the face with more force than he would have wagered and he stumbled backward. It was by some blessed luck that the Captain chose that very moment to yell “MS IRMA!” with a ferocity that made Hathaldir’s hair stand on end.

Standing up ram-rod straight with shoulders tensed, he attempted to tidy his black coat and gather himself. His dark hair, so neatly tied away before, was now flapping about in his face. “I was only trying to help!” Hathaldir insisted indignantly with his hands clenched into tight fists at his sides. The Captain and the loathsome woman disappeared into the office and his words may have gone unheeded.

To say he was disgruntled was an understatement. Now his face was red, his brows knit tight together and his teeth were grinding so hard it hurt his head. He pinched the bridge of his nose then spun on his heel with arms held out in a hapless stance. “Thanks for the warning, lads! I see you’ll just let me deal with that crazy-” He seethed at the other guards then stopped short as his gaze landed on Thea. The weeping, wide-eyed girl was a sharp reminder of what all this was about. “With that woman,” he finished, pursing his lips.

“Make yourself useful and bring the girl,” he snapped at the guard holding Thea before glaring down at her. “Your turn, little mouse.”

Hathaldir kicked away some of the debris and set the other chair where Ms Irma’s had been. His fellow guard dragged Thea in and he held up a hand to stop him before the girl was shoved into the chair. “I am going to search your person thoroughly,” he told the girl. “I am not being fresh and this guard will ensure nothing...untoward happens.”

Now he technically did rifle through skirts some but with the utmost modest decorum and unfeeling hands. Even so, he could tell she was a skinny thing. At least no more chairs would be breaking!

With a triumphant flair, he grasped the cold metal of coins and drew them out in his fist. The other guard clumsily placed her in the chair and Hathaldir slammed his hand on the table, spilling the coins upon its surface. A few circled around and rolled down onto the floor. “Are these coins the property of Ms Irma which you stole right under her nose? Do you care to explain yourself and your actions?” he demanded.

Master Torturer
Points: 2 588 
Posts: 3018
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 11:22 am
Image
Thea

She was rooted to the spot, shocked into silence as she saw the events unfold before her. As the guard started laughing, she could feel a bubble of laughter build in her own stomach, however the ire from Ms Irma as she started slapping the other guard quickly sobered her. She had been on the receiving end of that woman's hand more times than she cared to count. Most of the girls had in one way or another. Instead her mind tried to comprehend the events of the day, unable to make sense of all that had happened so far. She even found herself trying to discern whether there had been some kind of forewarning when she got up this morning, or whether it had been a full moon last night. But there was nothing that could have given her an idea of how crazy this day would be. Was she dreaming? Was that it? Was this all just a nightmare? For the briefest of seconds her hopes soared enough to make her stomach flip, but then the Captain's loud yell and the subsequent tightening of her upper arm as the guard who held her flinched and stepped back, pulling her with him and almost making her stumble.

The pain of the tight grip brought her hopes crashing to the ground. There was no pain in dreams. At least no physical pain. Only that of the heart. No, this crazy day was really happening and the worst part was that it wasn't even over. With huge frightened eyes she was pulled into the room, her hands clutching at each other in their bonds, her whole body quivering as the other guard set to searching her. Little mouse. She was, wasn't she? Like a little cornered mouse, with two huge cats looking down at her as if it was their next meal. Trembling like a leaf she endured the indignity of having a man rifle through her pockets and pat her skirts down, the small hairs on her neck rising as his hands slid over her waist to see if she was hiding anything in her bodice.

As the guard produced the rest of the cursed coins and tossed them on the table, she watched them with almost hypnotic intensiveness as they twirled and rolled on the table. Those few pieces of metal were the reason she was here. Something so small, yet their impact was so tremendous. A couple of the coppers were hers from before today, meant to last her the rest of the month. Not that they would, not with how expensive everything had become after the War. She would never condone theft, but Ms Irma had stolen the money from her in the first place! They would never believe that though.

Her eyes lowered to her hands in her lap, remaining silent for a brief moment under the two guards scrutiny. Taking a deep wavering breath she spoke, her first words cracking. "Ye-yes they are mine.." Her hands writhed as she clutched and re-clutched them in her lap, her eyes looking at them but not seeing them. "But Ms. Irma stole them from me first!" There was fire in her voice, her head shooting up and her wet eyes looking defiantly at the guard if only for a moment before she wavered and lowered them again.

New Soul
Points: 1 672 
Posts: 1138
Joined: Wed May 27, 2020 7:12 pm
Nessa de Argosy

The practical solution, she supposed, would have been to go to the Tower of the Guard from the Houses of Healing. However, Nessa gave her word to Quintus de Scardena that she would go home to her husband and daughter. She intended to keep her word, for a person’s soul was in their breath, and therefore in their voice. Oaths and promises, once given, needed to be honoured.

So Nessa left the Houses of Healing, stopping to the treatment room beforehand to pick up the ointment for Thea, and swiftly walked to her home in the 4th circle of the city. As she neared her house she was certain she made the right choice; she needed to think, strategise, not rush into this like a fool. She wanted to help Thea, but she needed to do this taking into consideration her reputation and the reputation of the Houses of Healing…

To say, Turin, her husband, was not amused by her plans was an understatement. Still, she persevered, despite being pressed for time, and eventually, he reluctantly relented. They were both aware that their relationship was already strained, and adding additional pressure on it weighed heavily on both of their hearts. Nonetheless, he helped her prepare, giving as much information as he had about the place and the men he knew as she changed and fixed her hair.

She chose a modest soft grey dress and braided her hair in a loose side braid, pulling some locks out of the braid to make it softer and messier. She wanted to appear soft and gentle, a concerned young healer… She wanted the guards to be reminded of their younger sisters or daughters when they saw her, rather than a strict healer who would berate them. Taking a basket that she had the housekeeper fill with clean clothes for Thea, her healer’s tools and ointments, along with plenty of sandwiches, she said goodbye to her husband and hurried over to the Tower of the Guard.

When she arrived at her destination she couldn’t help but notice how tense everyone was and she wondered what happened to cause this. Pushing her curiosity aside, she approached one of the guards at the entrance and smiled softly at him.
“I apologise for bothering you sir,” she said deliberately keeping her voice low and soft. “I was wondering if you could help me? I was informed that a patient of mine was brought here for questioning…” She trailed as if uncertain and proceeded to give Thea’s name and description.
“Ah, the wench who stole from Ms Irma!” The guard replied and she winced at the term he used. “Begging your pardon milady, I didn’t mean to use such language in front of you,” the guard said apologetically, although his coarse language hadn’t offended her. It was the judgemental tone like everyone had already found the girl guilty.
“That’s quite alright,” she told the guard with a demure smile. “Would it be possible to see her? She ran away from the Houses of Healing before I could finish her treatment. You’ll think me foolish…” she continued giving the guard an embarrassed smile although she wanted to slap herself for acting like a simpering girl. “But I cannot just let her out of my care, especially given that she was quite ill…” she stressed the last part.
“Well, milady…” the guard started speaking when he was interrupted by a shout of MS. IRMA! And this time they both winced.
“Oh my! Perhaps we should wait until the situation calmed down a bit,” she suggested to the guard who gave her an embarrassed smile. Thinking on her feet she decided to use this opportunity. “I hate to inconvenience you, but would you do me a kindness and go and check if anyone might have been hurt?” Nessa asked the guard who seemed hesitant. “Please, just tell them a healer is here to check up on the girl and anyone else that might need help.”
“Oh alright milady, I’ll go,” the guard replied wishing that he got a calmer shift. Nessa beamed at him and it softened him a little. At least the cute healer was nice and polite to him, unlike the regular lout he had dealings with. “Please stay here milady,” he told her as he went to inform the new guy, Hathaldir, who was in charge of this matter.
She/her.
Solitudinem faciunt, pacem appellant
Image

Ent Ancient
Points: 2 696 
Posts: 1830
Joined: Sat May 23, 2020 11:34 pm
Hathaldir
Hathaldir had to stifle an impatient sigh at Thea’s response. The coins littering the table and floor taunted him. All this nuisance and headache over such a small amount of money! If there was a hunger in the girl’s gaze at the little bits of metal that seemed hardly worth anything to him, he did not take note. When you have not gone a day hungry in your life, it is difficult to understand the desperate need for a few copper coins.

Standing up straight once more, hoping his stature would intimidate her into a confession, he placed the dagger upon the table with a heavy hand so that it thunked loudly and leered at her. For a brief moment, there seemed to be some fight in her; so she had a spine after all, no matter how weak and spindly it seemed to him. He supposed working for a woman like Ms Irma would require some amount of fortitude or perhaps the red hair had something to do with it.

“The coins are yours but Ms Irma stole them first,” he repeated, voice dripping with scorn and disappointment at the lack of ease with which this investigation was going. “I suppose you expect me to believe that.” He lifted his brows in question. “And do you also expect me to believe that this dagger has nothing to do with the theft and I suppose that you did not steal it either?”

He stood in place, tall, with his shoulders back, and crossed his arms. Perhaps stillness and calm would help ensnare the mouse within his trap. “Tell me what you have done.” His voice was softer now, offering a lull in the madness that was this day but his dark brown eyes bore into her searching for truth.

A knock sounded on the door. He did not turn to answer immediately, waiting to see if Thea would seize her chance and speak. After allowing her a moment to speak her piece, he answered the door and found, to his relief, another guard and not the Captain.

The guard passed Nessa’s message on and Hathaldir briefly wondered if a strong drink counted as help in which case he could definitely use one. He glanced at Thea through narrowed eyes. “There is a healer here to see you. I will go see what this is about if you would keep an eye on her,” he told the guard still in the room with himself and Thea, who was possibly nearing the end of his own career after his bout of uncontrollable laughter.

He smoothed his hair dark back in an attempt to repair his dignity as he left Thea with the guard and approached Nessa. She seemed harmless enough but he wondered why she would go to all this trouble to see a thief.

“Good day, miss,” he nodded at her a bit stiffly. “I am Hathaldir. I understand you are here to see Thea but I am in the middle of speaking with her. It would be best if you wait to see her until I have finished.” He spoke with firm poise but his voice softened in spite of himself. Though he did not have sisters nor daughters nor even a wife, he was not wholly immune to the airs of a kind-looking lady.

Master Torturer
Points: 2 588 
Posts: 3018
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 11:22 am
Thea

She flinched reflexively as the guard rose up before her, hands tightening around each other even more though she manged to stifle the meek little sound she almost made as well. She could feel the guard's stare bore into her, as if he was capable of drilling through her skull and reading her thoughts and she had to swallow the bile that had begun to rise, leaving a stinging sensation in her throat.

As he heavily placed the dagger onto the table she jumped, this time unable to stop the squeak from eascaping, body shaking even more than before as her eyes shot up to meet the guard's leering smile before dropping down to the cursed dagger on the table. Instantly the image of the stranger flashed up before her eyes as the woman handed her the dagger.

With each word the guard spoke, her shoulders slumped and drew in, as if trying to protect herself from the accusation. He was right though. How could she prove it? She had been dumb enough to leave the ledger behind, the ledger that could have proved that Ms Irma had been stealing from all the girls working for her. Heck it even showed how Ms Irma would buy inferior supplies and make it look like she was buying the more expensive ones. Absentmindedly she rubbed one of her red hands, the result of too much lye in the poorly made cheap soap they were forced to use.

"What!? No! I did not steal the dagger! It was given to me by.. uh.. a woman.." Her words trailed off to a mumble, realising once again how stupid it sounded as she didn't even know the stranger's name. Geez how dumb was she? Taking such a large amount of money and an expensive dagger from a woman whos name she did not even know?

As the guard loomed over her, arms crossed and eyes locked on her, she wished for nothing more than being an actual mouse so that she could scurry off and hide in a hole, tears beginning to pool in her eyes. After a long moment that seemed to drag out forever, causing an uncomfortable prickling down her body, he finally spoke, his tone dramatically changed. A small sob escaped unbidden, tears falling down her cheek as she began to babble incoherently.

"I took the money, but Ms Irma had been stealing from us first, so I thought I would take back what was rightfully mine, I can't prove it as I did not take the ledger as well, but it is all in there, just find the ledger and you can see for yourself that she is stealing not only from all the laundry girls but even from the garrison itself, the dagger was given to me, along with-"

Her tirade was interrupted by a knock on the door that made her jump, looking over her shoulder with fear, hoping it wasn't Ms Irma returning. She visably relaxed with relief when she saw it was just another guard, though his message had her jaw dropping open. Nessa? Nessa was here? To see her? She could not help but feel a little hopeful, quickly wiping the tears from her face with her bound hands.

New Soul
Points: 1 672 
Posts: 1138
Joined: Wed May 27, 2020 7:12 pm
Nessa de Argosy

As the guard went to deliver her message to his superior officer Nessa moved a little bit to the side so she wouldn’t be in the way of the guards and people that came in and out of the entry hall. Holding her basket firmly in front of her she mused about her next move. There were so many unknown factors at play… Starting from Thea herself – Nessa had trouble believing that the girl was a thief, underneath all that rough exterior there was a kind and gentle soul. However, there was no denying that something was not right and she had a feeling something terrible must have happened to the girl to get her in this situation.

Another unknown factor would be the person in charge of this investigation. She wondered if they would be willing to keep an open mind and look beyond the surface, or would they be prejudiced against Thea because she was a laundry girl… Finally, there was Ms Irma herself. She had never met the woman, and although Minas Tirith was a big city rumours and gossip travelled quicker than wheels. It was whispered that rangers garbs weren’t the only thing that was laundered by the Venerable Head Laundress. She wasn’t sure if she believed in that particular theory but judging from the state of Thea’s hands she was scrimping on the soap.

Her musings were interrupted by the arrival of a tall lean man whose hair was smoothed back. By the way that he carried himself, she assumed that this was the person in charge of the investigation. She tried to observe the man who introduced himself as Hathaldir as discretely as she could. He appeared to be a shrewd man and something in his bearing told her that playing a simpering girl would not fool him for long.

“Pleased to meet you, sir,” she responded politely looking him in the eyes. “I’m Nessa de Argosy and I work as a healer in the Houses of Healing,” she introduced herself and then continued. “Of course I can wait, it’s not a problem. I don’t wish to inconvenience you…” she paused and looked at Hathaldir perhaps a bit longer than it was proper, but she was a healer and the man before her looked haggard. She could see no visible injury, but the shout she heard before in addition to the atmosphere in the Tower Guard indicated that some sort of incident happened. “I’m sorry… Ah, I know that I came here to check up on Thea, my patient, but has something happened? Would you like me to take a look at your hand?” she asked concerned gesturing at the scratches left my Ms Irma’s nails.
She/her.
Solitudinem faciunt, pacem appellant
Image

Ent Ancient
Points: 2 696 
Posts: 1830
Joined: Sat May 23, 2020 11:34 pm
Hathaldir
Hathaldir did not believe for a minute that Thea had been given the dagger. A woman, she said. No name, no description, nothing. Just that. Could she not have tried to be a bit more creative with her lies? Then she had dissolved into tears again, shoulders shaking and looking really quite pathetic again. And that’s about how he left her for the moment.

At last, Hathaldir had what he wanted! A confession.

Anything that came after that mattered so much less. Something something about a ledger, yes, he would ask about it. But the confession! It was as sweet as victory in battle.

So it was when he met Nessa de Argosy that he was quite pleased and felt more relaxed than he had since his encounter with Ms Irma and the girl in the streets outside the Houses of Healing. He still had questions for Thea but the important matter of the theft from Ms Irma was now a done deal in his mind.

If Thea was a mouse, then Nessa was a doe from the forest, not timid but proud as she looked up at him wide-eyed with a steady gaze. He listened patiently as she spoke, still unable to puzzle out why she would bother to come help a thief.

“Thank you for your understanding, miss de Argosy,” he told her, vaguely wondering if he’d gotten the honorific right. The surname name did not ring a bell but he wondered if it should. He really needed a Who’s Who of Minas Tirith.

“Ah. It is nothing but thank you.” He flexed and unflexed his hands feeling the pull and sting of the scrapes but his brow twitched ever so slightly. What a viper that Ms Irma was. “Just a few scratches. I assure you I have had much worse before.” The barest corner of his lip curled upward at her. How polite she was to offer.

If Thea had mentioned an illness, he might have thought the whole thing was some concocted plot. She had been near the Houses of Healing when he found her...and based on her story so far, she did not seem half so clever as to come up with such a ruse. Maybe she really was ill. He rubbed his chin idly in thought.

“Your dedication to your patient should be commended to come all the way here,” he complimented Nessa but there was an undertone of warning there to say if she was up to something more, he would find out. And he would have no choice but to act no matter how innocent and pretty she might look. “I suppose you could see her when I am done. I did notice her hands were quite red. It’s not,” he lowered his voice and gave her a wary look before muttering, “contagious, is it?”

Master Torturer
Points: 2 588 
Posts: 3018
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 11:22 am
Thea

It was more than apparent that the guard felt it beneath him, that he had to guard a "lowly" petty thief. He had aspirations. Sergeant. Oh yes, to be the one to tell others which circle to patrol, to assign cells to those they brought in, to basically sit on his arse all day long like that good-for-nothing Beldir, the current Sergeant. He had been putting in so much effort to rise in the ranks and now he was getting shown up by this newly hired upstart Hath something. And the laugh! Oh drat, the laugh. Scowling even more his stomach dropped, fearing what the outcome would be of the meeting he was going to have shortly.

Thea kept her head down, eyes locked on her hands as they nervously rubbed at each other. Having looked up briefly and seen the sneering scowl from the guard, she had quickly lowered her gaze. She could not feel any worse, though the guard sure was trying. The tears had dried on her cheeks and the shaking had subsided, however she still felt the horrible tight knot in her stomach. Between rubbing her hands she would press them in against her stomach, trying to alleviate the discomfort.

Her gaze moved slowly from her red hands to the shackles wrapped around her thin wrists and she had to swallow another sob. Shifting a thumb she fingered the chain that bound the two together. Her stomach twisted again and she let out a low moan that garnered another scowl from the guard. "Might as well get used to those.. thief.." She curled in on herself at the derision in his tone, her eyes welling up once more.

New Soul
Points: 1 672 
Posts: 1138
Joined: Wed May 27, 2020 7:12 pm
Nessa de Argosy

Hathaldir, the man in charge of Thea’s case, managed to surprise her in the first few moments of their conversation. Firstly, he had thanked her for understanding the situation. She couldn’t help but wonder what did he expect would happen, a temper tantrum? Although, considering she heard shouting not long after she came in and seeing the scratch mark on his hands… Perhaps she shouldn’t have been surprised that the man was prepared to deal with the worst humanity had to offer.

When he called her miss de Argosy, she felt her cheeks flush slightly… She was surprised, pleasantly surprised she admitted to herself, for she didn’t think she looked that young, despite taking the effort to appear soft and gentle… Of course, he probably didn’t notice her wedding ring, covered by the sleeve of her dress. She thought about correcting him, as he assured her that the scratches on his hands were no trouble (if he only knew how many wounds got worse because men thought they were just superficial scratches and didn’t bother cleaning them properly, or getting them looked at), but ultimately decided that it didn’t matter what title used as long as there was respect between them.

“It’s the least I can do for her, considering she saved a boy’s life,” she replied when Hathaldir commented her dedication to her patient. “She came to the Houses of Healing carrying a little boy, Tom, who was injured,” she told him and then paused, uncertain how to explain what Thea told her. “At first, by her behaviour, I thought that she and the boy were siblings, and were being abused by a family member or someone close to them…” she paused again and bit her lip. She knew things like this happened in the City, and more times than not there wasn’t anything you could do without causing more harm. She shivered slightly but forced herself not to think about that, to continue to speak.

“Thankfully, this wasn’t such a case…” she said and felt relieved just by saying the words. “Tom was injured in the City library, by accident. Thea witnessed it, and by what she managed to tell me…” she paused again and looked at Hathaldir in the eyes. “She was distressed and scared and she kept repeating that it was an acciden over and over again... Finally, she said that there was a woman there and that the woman opened the door withouth looking and hit Tom by accident. The injury is consistent with her story and I believe her. I don't know what really happened, as I wasn't there, but whatever happened it scared Thea to death!” she said with conviction in her voice.

“I’m sorry, you probably think me very foolish,” she told him with an apologetic smile. “And that’s not what you asked me. Again, I apologise…” she bowed her head and closed her eyes for a moment. She breathed deeply for a few moments so she could focus. She opened her eyes and looked up at Hathaldir, calmer and steadier. “You asked about Thea’s hands. It’s nothing contagious,” she said quietly. “Her hands are raw and read because, in the laundry, she worked at, she washed clothes in hot water with cheap soap that has too much lye in it. I’m aware there are a lot of rumours going around about Ms Irma,” she started carefully. “I’m not inclined to comment on them… However, judging by the state of her employee’s hands it’s obvious that she’s using the lowest quality soap she can get.”

“I’ve brought ointment to treat her hands,” she told the guard showing him the basket. “The roll with my healing instruments is also in there and I’ve added some clean clothes and sandwiches… Feel free to look at the basket, if there’s something I shouldn’t bring in because of safety reasons, could you please keep them for me until I’ve finished?” she asked him. “Oh!” she exclaimed suddenly, her right hand covering her mouth. “I’m so sorry, I forgot my manners. I packed more sandwiches than necessary, and I really should have offered you one. I’m so sorry, it’s been a long day,” she said sheepishly.
She/her.
Solitudinem faciunt, pacem appellant
Image

Ent Ancient
Points: 2 696 
Posts: 1830
Joined: Sat May 23, 2020 11:34 pm
Hathaldir
“It’s the least I can do for her, considering she saved a boy’s life,” Nessa began explaining and Hathaldir almost had to ask her to repeat herself. Did he hear her right? Thea, the snivelling little mouse who was a sopping, sobbing mess, saved someone’s life? It did not add up to him, not at all, unless Thea had something to cover up with her good deed.

Still, he listened to Nessa patiently as she told the story and he soon found that he did not doubt a word the healer said. The way she looked him right in the eyes and spoke with such intensity, he was convinced now that she was not part of some scheme. He honed in on the mention of the library and may even have leant forward with slightly narrowed eyes betraying his interest in the matter to one with a keen eye. Hathaldir did have a special interest in the city’s library and he did not want anyone to know about it.

For a moment, he feared he would have another weeping woman to deal with and was relieved when she took a calming breath to steel herself. That was when he saw a glimpse beneath the surface; beneath the gentle face and the soft words, this healer was tougher than she looked. And then she declared herself above rumours, offered to allow him to search her basket along with sandwiches. Nessa de Argosy was an intelligent woman, there was no doubt about it. That was something he could admire in a person.

“Hm,” was all he said at first. As much as he was convinced of Thea’s guilt, it seemed Nessa was convinced if not of her innocence, then of her good character. It was good to hear he was not going to be come down with some strange illness having been in close contact with Thea. "Well, I am glad it is not contagious."

“I do not know any rumours about anyone in this city having newly arrived here,” he conceded. “And indeed you are right not to comment on them. There is no place for gossip in an investigation such as this. It is the facts that matter and nothing more.” He explained as kindly as he could.

“You understand, then,” he continued explaining to Nessa, “that even one who saves the lives of hundreds but murders one must still be held accountable. The law is the law and must be upheld.” Even as he spoke in a low voice, attempting to be somewhat sympathetic, there was a bitterness in his tone. His lips thinned and there was a darkness in his eyes for the hatred of all criminals who deserved punishment.

He glanced down at the basket and felt strangely reluctant to rifle through it though he gave it a quick sweep. It was as she said; some ointment, some healing tools he felt he had no business touching and the enticing sandwiches that would go down well with a nice cup of ale. If only.

“I appreciate your generosity but I’m afraid I could not accept such an offer while on duty. I am sure it came from a place of kindness but you must understand how it might look if I should choose to accept anything from someone who knows the accused.” He raised a questioning brow at her, hoping she understood. In other words, he did not want it to look like bribery for both their sakes.

“I think you did the right thing in coming. If you would like to discuss your concerns with the Captain, I do believe he would be willing to listen. However…” Hathaldir lowered his voice and leaned in toward her. “He is with Ms Irma at present so I would caution against knocking on the door.” There was a very faint smile on his face as he straightened once more. “If there is nothing else you need at present, I will return to Thea and summon you when I am done. I do have more questions for her now…”

Master Torturer
Points: 2 588 
Posts: 3018
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 11:22 am
Baelthor and Ms Irma

"Yes..yes.. of course. I understand. Yes.. yes.." He leaned back and necked another shot, eyeing the bottle hungrily though thinking it was probably not very professional to get completely plastered in front of Ms Irma. From what he could tell, when he actually paid attention, she was still harping on about the girl who had stolen a couple of coins. "Inexcusable!" He exclaimed with faked empathy, wondering if maybe he could just have one more, especially if he sipped it slowly.

As for Ms. Irma, she was tartly sipping at her drink, trying her utmost not to neck it herself while trying to make it look like she despised drinking. However the small burst blood veins, that were ineffectually covered with powder, gave away her penchant for the strong liquor.

"I will make sure she is punished to the fullest extent of the law!" He said as he slammed his hand down on the desk, bottle and glasses clinking and causing Ms. Irma to squeak in surprise at the sudden outburst. "We-well yes, thank you. That would be expected." Taking another sip, she added "Is there corporeal punishment still?" As if to hide the eagerness in her voice, she quickly carried on. "I mean, I am of course not in favour of it, but if it is the law, it's the law.." She let the words hang heavily in the air, the Captain raising one eyebrow increduously at her. She wanted the girl beaten too? It wasn't enough that the girl's life was likely over with, but she had to be whipped as well?

Rising so quickly he bumped the table, sending the empty glass skittering across it. He only just managed to stop it from falling off and smashing onto the hard stone floor, letting out a nervous cough as he ignored how Ms Irma jumped at his sudden movements.

Walking around the table, he took the glass from Ms. Irma and pulled her to her feet in a flurry of words and movements. "Well it is a possibility, if that is what the judge gives as a sentence. We just lock them up and process them here, if you know what I mean!" He chuckled as he lead the large woman to the door, a feat in itself. "But not to worry, justice will be served Ms Irma, don't you worry, I will see to it myself. You head home now, your work here is done. I am sure you will be called if the judge needs to hear your testimony, though that might not even be necessary if the girl confesses! Good day to you Ms Irma, you take care now! And thank you for reporting it!"

At his last words he had managed to get her through the open door and now carefully, yet insistantly closed the door in her face. With a relieved sigh he leaned against the door, though as soon as his eyes fell on the bottle he made for it, taking a sip straight out of it.

The large woman paused on the other side of the door for a long moment, unsure of whether she had been thrown out of whether the Captain had important work to do. With a small "Hmrph" she smacked her lips and straightened her hair and her bodice, before she stalked out of the building, heading straight for where Nessa and Hathildir were still talking.

New Soul
Points: 1 672 
Posts: 1138
Joined: Wed May 27, 2020 7:12 pm
Nessa de Argosy

Hathaldir was quiet for a long time after she finished talking. The man was most likely mulling over what she said, and granted there was plenty in to think about. She was thankful that he listened to her without interrupting or dismissing her outright and she could only hope that he would take what she said into consideration. When he finally spoke saying he was glad that Thea wasn’t contagious she struggled to contain her laughter. But the corners of her lips curving upwards and a glint in her eyes gave away her amusement.

Nessa observed Hathaldir as he spoke about the importance of facts, accountability and the need for the law to be upheld. She heard the rancour in his voice and couldn’t help but wondered what had caused it. Still, despite the unknown resentment that hung around him like a mantle, there was something about this man… A certain quality in him, she supposed, that made her trust him. A kind of honour she supposed, that made her trust him.

And as reluctant as she was to admit it, he was right. If Thea had indeed stolen the money from her employer, no matter how repulsive Ms Irma was, Nessa could not stop the wheels of justice turning. She could only help by advocating for the girl and make sure she did everything she could that the powers that be listened to the girl and consider her side of the story before giving the final verdict.

“It’s quite alright, I understand,” she told him when he kindly, but firmly rejected her offer about the sandwiches and she was glad he did. “I would rather talk to the Captain after I tend to Thea. I’ll wait here until you’ve finished talking to her…” she paused for a moment as a movement caught her eye. A woman with an overly powdered face, that did absolutely nothing to hide the blotchiness of her cheeks was trampling toward them. “But you might want to head back now…” she said quietly. “If I’m not mistaken, Ms Irma is heading right toward us… I wouldn’t want you to receive a tongue-lashing or a report for speaking to me…”
She/her.
Solitudinem faciunt, pacem appellant
Image

Ent Ancient
Points: 2 696 
Posts: 1830
Joined: Sat May 23, 2020 11:34 pm
Hathaldir
“Very well,” he agreed with Nessa. “You may speak to the Captain when you like.”

Detecting the change in her demeanor, he glanced behind him and saw the Head Laundress approaching. A glint of anger sparked in his eyes. Not that blasted woman again! He'd had his fill of her a lifetime.

He longed to high tail it out of there and get back to his job - he even side-stepped back toward the office but then stopped and planted his feet firmly on the ground as if facing battle. And it was, of a kind, though unlike the ones he'd been through.

"At the end of the day, I do not answer to Ms Irma," he muttered to Nessa with a bit of bravado. Only a coward would leave the healer to face the woman's wrath alone; Hathaldir would not admit defeat so easily. Likely, the healer could handle herself but he felt that turning heel now would dent his pride and honour.

"Ms Irma," he began, "please accept my apologies. I was only trying to offer my assistance earlier and I think you misunderstood my intentions." His stomach boiled with hatred but he knew an apology might go a long way to appease her. Without giving her a chance to yell at him more, he continued, adopting his most professional tone of voice. Flat and emotionally detached.

"If you locate the record of your accounts on the missing sum, please bring it to us at your earliest convenience. It would greatly aid our ability to have this swiftly resolved… For your sake, of course." He finished with a forced smile that was painful to put on.

He turned to Nessa and gave her a small bow. “Now I think I will take my leave, miss.” If the two women were not already acquainted, he had no wish to reveal Nessa’s identity to someone so distasteful. “Your assistance is most appreciated and I have much to consider. It is time I finish what I have started.”

As he made his way back to the office where Thea was likely still crying, he pulled aside a guard and mumbled, “keep an eye on that woman until she leaves.” The guard seemed to understand exactly which women he referred to just by the look in Hathaldir’s eyes. If Ms Irma gave Nessa trouble, he wanted to know about it. She obviously meant well and did not deserve to be berated.

Marching back to the room where Thea awaited her fate, he let the door close behind him with a gentle thud and took a moment to study her. This waif of a girl had helped save a boy’s life apparently while frightened out of her wits. It was unbelievable. The room was silent and he allowed a dramatic pause to descend with tension on the space which was previously filled with the deafening screeches of Ms Irma...the idiotic other guard look about to say something, likely to ask about the interruption, and Hathaldir flashed such a deathly glare his way, the man snapped his mouth shut.

“You have confessed to stealing from your former employer, Ms Irma.” He resumed a guttural tone. “And it seems you may have one friend in this city,” he informed Thea and watched her closely, wanting to see if she would be filled with foolish hope for herself. “Now tell me what you were doing at the Houses of Healing.”

Master Torturer
Points: 2 588 
Posts: 3018
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 11:22 am
Ms Irma

As soon as she saw the guard who had assaulted her, she straightened up even more, puffing up her chest and raising her nose. Such disgusting behaviour, touching a woman like he had. He should be punished alongside Thea if she had any say in it, regretting that she had not suggested that to the Captain. How he could employ men that touched women like that was beyond her.

She had half a mind to keep walking past him and whatever floozy he was hitting on at the moment, when the guard dared to speak to her again. She gave him a look as if to say what she thought of him, going from touching her inappropriately to head out and start it up with another woman. Lips curled in disgust, she glared at him through slitted eyes, her hands clasping her skirts tightly so that she could ensure they stayed where they were.

His apology only garnered a "Hrmph" and another disgusted look, obviously not willing to accept anything from him, whatsoever. She had definitely not misunderstood anything. He had touched her!

However when he mentioned the ledger, she paled slightly, the disgusted look slowly being replaced by a hint of guilt. Though she quickly composed herself, the glare returning to her eyes as she answered. "Thea must have stolen that too, as I couldn't find it." With a huff, she gave the floozy a dirty look, sneering at the open courting the two of them were doing. During work hours! Raising her nose into the air again, she huffed once more and walked off, not bothering to give a goodbye as she departed, her boots stomping loudly on the stones.

Thea

Though the door was closed gently, the click the latch made caused her to jump, her heart hammering in her chest. She sat quietly, waiting for the interrogation to continue, though as the minutes slowly ticked away, she began to squirm under his scrutinizing gaze. Why wasn't he saying anything? Fingers nervously rubbed at each other, causing her hands to look even more red than before, her gaze locked on them too afraid to look up and see why the guard wasn't talking.

When he finally did, she jumped again, her stomach roiling noisily as he repeated the accusation. She swallowed hard, devastated that the guard had latched on to her theft, but not Ms Irma's. She should have known better, of course they would not believe that the Head Laundress was stealing. How could she have been so dumb?

Lost in her desperate train of thoughts, she almost missed when the guard said she had a friend in the city, her heart beating so hard and fast that she felt dizzy. Had they found the stranger who had given Thea the money?? Her finger rubbed over the cut in her finger where she had bled to sign the document, that reminder making her feel as if she was going to throw up.

In the middle of swallowing hard to stop from vomiting, she let out a gurgled cough, hands flying to her mouth to keep it in when he asked her about the Houses of Healing. Tom.. She was doomed. They were going to lock her up and throw away the key. And that was if she was lucky, maybe they would hang her for hurting a child. Only just managing to hold back from the dry heaves, she coughed and swallowed again. Sobbing anew, she shook her head and whispered in a frantic jumbled mess.

"It was an accident, the woman opened the door and he- he- Tom was on the other side and she didn't see him and the door hit him in the head and knocked him unconcious, so I quickly brought him to the House of Healing and then went to get his father, I swear it was an accident, I never meant to hurt him, I swear.."

She left out that she had thought the woman had opened the door a little too visciously, but could not bring herself to believe that it had been done on purpose. Why would anyone want to hurt a little boy? She also did not bring up the threats the woman had made when she told her that she was going to take the boy to the House of Healing. That had to be because the woman was afraid of getting arrested for it.

Ent Ancient
Points: 2 696 
Posts: 1830
Joined: Sat May 23, 2020 11:34 pm
Hathaldir
“I never meant to hurt him, I swear.” Thea’s final words rang in his ears. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Hathaldir did not doubt Nessa’s word and Thea’s story aligned with it but something about that final claim was suspicious. There was something else going on here, he was as sure of it as there was a sun in the sky.

"Well was it you or this woman who hurt him?" He asked through clenched teeth. Placing his hands on the table, he hunched forward to allow himself to scrutinise her more closely. Her face was streaked with tears and she seemed to shrink in on herself as he bent closer. She'd already been caught and confessed. What was she so afraid of? A thought surfaced in the back of his mind...what might she know about the library?

In what was perhaps a stroke of luck for Thea, he felt one of the coins beneath his palm. The kiss of the cold metal seemed to refocus his attention. He was not here to decide if she was guilty of hurting or saving some boy in the library but to get her confession to the theft (done), get her in gaol and get out of this mess with his head still attached and a job to come back to. If the boy or his family had a complaint about whatever happened, they would make it known. Hathaldir was no hero and he was not going out of his way to investigate the matter.

He released a breath that hissed through his teeth. "Never mind,” he grumbled. “I don't care. It does not have any bearing on your case. I was told you saved that boy’s life but don’t expect it to do you any favours in the matter of your crime. You admitted you stole this money and you’re going to pay the price." He emphasized the word price and slid the coin toward her. It was just beyond reach of her manacled hands, taunting her with the sight of what she'd gained in a fleeting victory only to lose it at such a high cost. How torturous it must be to know it was rightfully hers. Unfortunately for Thea, Hathaldir only saw her guilt and any plea to the contrary would fall on deaf ears. One question remained before he would be ready to cart her off to a cell.

“You’ll have to tell me if it was worth it, little mouse.” Leaving the coin there for her to consider, he straightened his spine and crossed his arms. “Make this easy for me and I will let you see your friend. You’ve been most cooperative so far,” his voice dripped with icy condescension, “and I appreciate that. Do you know where to find Ms Irma’s account books and did you steal those, too?” He stared at her, dark eyes unblinking, waiting for her answer to his final question before he would allow Nessa to see her.

Master Torturer
Points: 2 588 
Posts: 3018
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 11:22 am
Thea

A tiny little squeaking sound escaped her as the guard leaned towards her to ask his question. Flinching away, she had only just begun to stutter out an explanation of how it hadn't technically been her who had done it, but that she had been there when it happened, but the guard did not seem to care either way as he hissed out "Never mind." She was left even more perplexed at he continued on, telling her that saving the boy wasn't going to help her case. Saving the boy?? She had nearly killed him!! Well the woman had, but she had been right there!

But her confused thoughts were quickly pushed aside with his assurance that she would be paying the price for her crime, a small sob bubbling out again as she cluched her hands even tighter. Where she got the strength and the courage to look at him when he asked his next question, she would never know. Slowly she raised her head, tears falling silently from red-rimmed eyes as she managed to look at him for the briefest of moments before she lowered her gaze back down to her hands. "No.." she said softly, the defeat clear in her voice. She definitely did not think her crime had been worth it. Heck she had even thrown up the meal she had bought from the stolen money. At that thought a small bubble of laughter started to build and to her horror she was having trouble stopping it from building. Today had been so crazy that it suddenly seemed like a crazy nightmare, a dream, wondering how all of this could have happened.

However the laughter died before it could bubble out and embarass her even more at his condecending tone and his next question. Her head shot back up, her eyes managing to look at him defiantly. "NO! I didn't steal her books! I left them right there in her office after I saw she had been skimming our pay! I am the only one of the girls who knows numbers, my dad taught me before he died-" Her voice broke and she brought her shackled hands to her face as she sobbed into them, feeling guilty that she was feeling relieved that her father was not here to see her here. After several long wracking sobs she quieted down enough to mumble out between her hands "I promise, I did not take them.."

Ent Ancient
Points: 2 696 
Posts: 1830
Joined: Sat May 23, 2020 11:34 pm
Hathaldir
No, no, she insisted, promised, in fact, that she did not take the books. But what was the promise of a thief really worth? Nothing to Hathaldir. Still, she seemed to regret her decision but what criminal wouldn’t when caught in a net?

“You say she is skimming your pay and she says you’ve been a troublesome employee from day one. Meanwhile the account books are missing. This does not look good for you, Thea, not at all…” He shook his head and pouted at her in mockery. ”Even if you are telling me the truth, I do not know that it can be proven.”

He heaved a dramatic sigh, which was in fact, quite genuine. All these women were becoming tiresome. The complaints, the accusations, the indignity of Ms Irma’s attack and now he’d had quite enough of Thea’s blubbering.

Perhaps if he accidentally-on-purpose forgot to mention the missing account ledgers in his report, he would not have to track them down and could therefore avoid Ms Irma for the foreseeable future. Or preferably forever. There was only one problem: the other guard. Damn it all! If he didn’t get sacked for his shocking burst of laughter, then Hathaldir would have to give him an incentive to keep quiet. The wheels turned in his mind as he concocted a master plan...

He gestured at the fallen coins on the floor. “Gorthan,” he snapped at the other guard. “Pick up this mess but take care with the money.”

The other guard gave him a venomous look. “My name is Garthain.”

Gorthan, Garthain, Gollum, whatever. Hathaldir was not making any friends with the other guards. “Right. Garthain. When you’re done, I believe you have a meeting with the Captain, isn’t that so?” His eyes glinted with barely-contained delight at the other guard’s predicament. “Before you see him, would you kindly send Miss Nessa de Argosy in? She is waiting patiently outside with a basket, you can’t miss her.”

“I know who Mrs de Argosy is,” Garthain grumbled, setting the pile of coins back on the table. Before he left the room, he sent the backside of Hathaldir a look that said he wouldn’t mind spearing him with the pointed end of one of the spindles he held.

“I suggest you get yourself together, little mouse. Before I take you to your new accommodations,” he sneered to Thea, “a healer has come to see you. I understand you have some ailment she would like to tend which is more than you deserve.”

He glanced down at her hands, red and raw as they were, and wondered what the point was when she was headed off to a gaol cell and why Nessa even cared. The healer had rather won him over, though, and Hathaldir was not completely heartless. Besides, the Captain would likely want Thea treated with some respect, right? It would not do to have too many complaints brought against him when he was just getting started.

Don’t get any clever ideas,” he warned Thea while they waited. “I’ll be here watching and listening the whole time.” Hathaldir moved the dagger so it sat beside the pile of coins in a kind of exhibit of all the poor decisions Thea had made laid out before her.
---

Garthain, disgruntled guard of inappropriate laughter
The guard dumped the chair debris in a bin after he left the room. He took his time about it, in no hurry to make his meeting with the Captain. But at least his final duty (if that’s what it was to be) would be to fetch Mrs de Argosy whom he privately thought ought not to be consorting with folk like Thea (and the good-for-nothing Hathaldir!). Wasn’t she above such things?

He cleared his throat softly upon approaching Nessa. “Mrs Nessa de Argosy? Hathaldir and Thea are ready for you now…”

New Soul
Points: 1 672 
Posts: 1138
Joined: Wed May 27, 2020 7:12 pm
Nessa de Argosy

Nessa watched as Ms Irma approached her and Hathaldir with interest and some amusement. Having never met, nor having the reason to meet the Head Laundress of the Garrison Laundry she was curious to see what the woman who accused Thea of stealing was made of. Her garb and poorly and overly applied makeup made her look like a terrible caricature of a washerwoman from a satire of questionable quality. However, appearances could be deceiving and she was determined to find out as much as she could by quietly observing their interaction.

A slightly raised eyebrow was the only sign of surprise that she showed on her face upon hearing Hathaldir’s opening gambit. The guard offered an apology to the Head Laundress; the wording was right and proper, but his flat and detached tone clearly signalled that this apology was perfunctory. She was curious to know what had happened in here, what assistance was needed, but she reigned in her curiosity and continued her silent observation. However, his remark about the ledger provoked a rather more interesting reaction. The change in Ms Irma’s behaviour was slight, it Nessa wasn’t watching the woman as keenly as she was, she would have missed it. The look of utter contempt on her face was replaced by guilt, but the woman quickly recovered and hurried to heap the blame on Thea. But Nessa saw it and knew that the woman was hiding something. Where there was smoke, there is fire.

However, she kept her facial expression carefully neutral as the exchange between Hathaldir and Ms Irma ended, nodding her head in greeting as the guard took his leave of her. Ms Irma’s departure was rather more dramatic, or at least the Head Laundress was determined to make it as dramatic as she possibly could. From the look, Ms Irma gave her it was clear as day what the woman thought about Nessa and what was doing here, and she had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop herself from letting out a rather inappropriate giggle. But she couldn’t keep the amusement out of her eyes as her lips curved upward watching the woman leave. She shook her head slightly smiling in amusement.

Seeing as there was nothing else for her to do now but wait, she leaned on the wall holding the basket in front of her. She thought about what she knew and what she learned. Thea was accused of stealing money from her employer, Ms Irma the Head Laundress, who was certainly hiding something. If not outright lying. Her reaction when Hathaldir mentioned the ledger was a telltale sign, and she was certainly quick and eager to place the blame for the missing ledger on Thea. She did not believe for one second that Thea stole that ledger, the situation would have been completely different if she had.

The ledger was the key to this case, she was sure of it. She just needed to keep reminding Hathaldir of this and the Captain of this. When she finally spoke to him. For now, she had only the state of the poor girl’s hands to demonstrate that Ms Irma misappropriating funds. Buying cheap soap wasn’t a crime, nor was overcharging for services (although it should be). However, the garrison fell under the Crown’s jurisdiction and embezzling money from the Crown was a crime. Perhaps she could get her uncle Marcellus to look into this…

She was deep in thought, plotting her next move that she almost didn’t register the guard’s approach. Garthain cleared his throat and she blinked before focusing on him as he called her name softly and told her she could go see Thea. She smiled at him and allowed him to escort her to the room, although the escort really wasn’t necessary. Still, there were protocols to be observed. As she stepped into the room she was shocked by Thea’s appearance. The girl looked so small and vulnerable, her hands shackled making her red and raw arms even more pronounced, trails of tears all over her cheeks. Nessa straightened and gave the girl a kind smile and walked over to her, placing the basket on the table.

“Hello sweetling,” she greeted the frightened and distressed girl. “I hope you don’t mind I came to see you,” she said with a smile like she had gone to see the girl at her house, not in the Tower of the Guard. “I’d be a poor healer if I didn’t come to check up on you. You must be hungry, I’d brought you some sandwiches, if you’re feeling up to it you can eat them now,” she told Thea and then turned to Hathaldir and asked. “Would it be possible to get a basin or a bowl with water here, please? I need to wash her arms before I apply the ointment.”

OOC: ((*checks if she's in the right place, yup right place* :lol: Carry on then. ))
She/her.
Solitudinem faciunt, pacem appellant
Image

Master Torturer
Points: 2 588 
Posts: 3018
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 11:22 am
Thea

When the first guard spoke Nessa's name her head flew up and her puffy red eyes widened in surprise. 'Nessa was here!?' She was both happy and extremely embarassed all at once. Relieved the woman was here, but at the same time mortified that Nessa would see her like this and find out what she had done. She felt like she was letting the woman down yet again, the guilt tearing at her heart.

Her head lowered back down, her fingers rubbing furiously at each other and only making them more red. She almost asked the guard if he could not let Nessa in, if there was a chance that she could refuse the visit. What if the woman was here to see for herself that Thea was going to be imprisoned? Would she have changed her mind about what had happened with Tom? Was she here to accuse her of having done it on purpose?

Her thoughts were a chaotic whirlwind of guilt and shame, the tears continuing to flow in steady streams down her cheeks, a dam she could seemingly not plug now that it had started. Her whole body curled in on itself as Nessa stepped into the room, wanting to disappear and not have to see the accusation in her eyes. What she had not allowed herself to believe was that Nessa actually cared about her.

Thea broke down completely, it was more than what she could take, given the circumstances and given that she did not feel that she deserved this kind woman's caring gestures. The sobs wracked her thin frame as she hid her face in her shackled hands, mumbling "I'm so sorry.." over and over in between huge shuddering sobs. Though eighteen and by all rights a woman, right now she was just a scared little girl who was in over her head.

Ent Ancient
Points: 2 696 
Posts: 1830
Joined: Sat May 23, 2020 11:34 pm
Hathaldir
Hathaldir did not miss the way Thea’s head snapped up in recognition when he said Nessa’s name. If there was a glimmer of hope in her, it didn’t last long before she hung her head once more just as a thief ought to. A smug smile crossed his face but quickly faded when the healer arrived accompanied by the fool guard, Garthain.

Nessa went straight to work tending to her patient, who completely crumbled to pieces in her chair and seemed more frail than ever in the healer’s presence. The girl was an endless spout of tears, never seeming to run out. Hathaldir studied their interaction for any sign of treachery but found none.

The way the healer spoke to Thea so casually like an old friend who had done nothing wrong flummoxed him. His brow was still furrowed, trying to discern this woman’s behaviour, so foreign to him, when Nessa requested water.

He glanced from the healer to the thief and back again. A flicker of suspicion alighted in his mind. He had checked the healer’s basket himself and found nothing amiss. There was no indication from Nessa’s behaviour that she was here to spring Thea free. He could not unravel the source of her kindness but she very much seemed to be a woman of her word.

At the very least, it would be a brief respite from the crying girl and the stuffy little room. After a moment’s hesitation while he considered the request, he nodded once. He had enough experience to know refusing a healer at work was a losing battle. “Very well. I’ll be back in a moment.”

Hathaldir sent a warning glance at Thea to remind her who was in charge (as if she could forget) and left Garthain to watch the pair from outside the half-closed door while he briefly stepped out.

(OOC: no idea what you mean, Nessa! never saw anything in the wrong place :winkkiss: )

New Soul
Points: 1 672 
Posts: 1138
Joined: Wed May 27, 2020 7:12 pm
Nessa de Argosy

Nessa felt strange being in this small, now crowded room. The room was perfectly ordinary, as far as she could tell, most likely one of many such rooms in the Tower Guard. A heavy wooden table stood in its centre and behind it an uncomfortable-looking chair on which Thea sat. The room itself was not the problem, she thought as she walked towards the girl, leaving her basket filled with food and healer’s supplies on the table like some strange offering. She smiled softly at the girl as she looked at her with a trained healer’s eye, noticing and cataloguing the differences in her appearance and behaviour without conscious thought.

Thea’s eyes were red and the traces of tears were visible on her face, her already red and irritated hands by the use of cheap, low quality soap looked even worse with heavy manacles on. Thea made herself smaller when she noticed Nessa entering the room, her body curling into a ball, protecting herself from whatever harm would befall her next… As she walked to the girl Nessa couldn’t help but wonder if any of this was necessary? Were the heavy manacles clasped over small, raw and red hands of a girl curled up like someone was about to hit her necessary? Thea was not attempting to escape, she was not violent, nor harming anyone… Was all of this necessary? Where the scornful and judgemental looks she felt more than saw, Hathaldir and the other guard throwing Thea’s way necessary?

She pushed those thoughts to the back of her mind. She could not change the size of this room, nor the way these men looked at Thea… The things she could have an effect on or change in this place were small, once could almost say insignificant. However, great oaks from little acorns grow. So she reached out with kindness and gentle words; speaking tenderly, her voice and words like arms extended in friendship… Like a mother to a daughter who needed help and comfort, but was afraid to seek it.

Nessa reached out and Thea responded, perhaps not as either of them would have wished, however, neither of them was where they wanted to be. Thea broke down, weeping convulsively and hiding her face with her shackled hands. Mumbled apologies poured out of her between sobs, falling like raindrops from a darkened sky. She walked over to Thea without a glance to the guards who stood behind them, the request she made for the basin of water pushed out of her mind faced by a greater need. It was not important at this moment, as the young healer knelt in front of the chair and pulled the crying girl somewhat awkwardly into her arms. The request would be granted or it would not, she thought as she ran her hand soothingly through Thea’s wild and messy hair while she murmured words of comfort.

The water would come or it would not, and if not the request would be repeated again. More strongly this time with the addition that they unbound the girl’s hands. It would be difficult to treat the girl’s hands when they were shackled thus. Besides she was not a danger to anyone… As she held the weeping girl, the same thought must have occurred to Hathladir because he acquiesced to her request and stepped out of the room to find and bring what she requested. His compliance did not mean that they were not being watched, as if women were ever not being watched…

“There, there little one…” Nessa spoke softly to Thea as she gently moved the girl’s chained arms from her face. “It’s alright, it’s going to be alright,” she told the girl, despite not knowing if she could help make this alright, but determined to do anything in her power to help a girl in over her head. She used her thumbs to wipe away the tears that were still flowing. “Let all the tears out now, let them fall like rain on the ground,” she said, her voice calm and soothing. “And when you are spent you will clean your hands and face in the basin of water that Hathaldir, the guard, is so gallantly bringing here,” she explained with an amused quirk of he lips and sprinkle of sarcasm in her voice. “I’ll look at your arms, and perhaps as I’m tending to them you can tell me about the ledger that Ms Irma seems to have misplaced. Quite convenient for her wouldn’t you agree?”

OCC: ((A bit erm lot late :lol: but that's alright, it's never too late to throw some shade :tongue: ))
She/her.
Solitudinem faciunt, pacem appellant
Image

New Soul
Points: 1 396 
Posts: 769
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 2:30 am
A Timeless Terror

Image


A Note to the Constant Reader:



A private Tower Guard mission.
Coincides with Chains of the Past



Gandalf passed now into the wide land beyond the Rammas Echor.
So the men of Gondor called the out-wall that they had built with great labour,
after Ithilien fell under the shadow of their Enemy. For ten leagues or
more it ran from the mountains' feet and so back again,
enclosing in its fence the fields of the Pelennor.

- Tolkien, from The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King - Minas Tirith

Many tall men heavily cloaked stood beside him (Gandalf)
and behind them in the mist lomed a wall of stone.

- Tolkien, from The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King - Minas Tirith


"We wish for no strangers in the land at this time,
unless they be mighty men of arms in whose faith and help we can trust."

- Ingold, from The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King - Minas Tirith

"To be only a man of arms of the Guard of the Tower of Gondor is held worthy in the City,
and such men have honour in the land. / The Lord does not permit those who wear the
black and silver to leave their post for any cause, save at his own command."

- Beregond, from The Lord of the Rings:
The Return of the King: Minas Tirith and The Siege of Gondor



But in the front towards Mordor where the first bitter assault would come there
stood the sons of Elrond on the left with the Dúnedain about them, and on the
right the Prince Imrahil with the men of Dol Amroth tall and fair,
and picked men of the Tower of Guard.

- Tolkien, from The Lord of the Rings:
The Return of the King: The Black Gate Opens


Not one living foe was left within the circuit of the Rammas. All were slain save those who
fled to die, or to drown in the red foam of the River. Few ever came eastward to Morgul or Mordor.

- Tolkien, from The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King: The Battle of the Pelennor Fields


"Until much had been done by the restored King...Ithilien... its (Gondor's) most
eastward outpost....clearing it of outlaws and orc-remnants, not to speak of
the dreadful vale of Minas Ithil (Morgul).... It was made clear that there
was much fighting in the earlier years of Aragorn's reign..."

- Tolkien, from Letter 224


"This is the storehouse and buttery of my
company of the Guard," said Beregond. "Greetings, Targon!"

- from The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King - Minas Tirith



The people of Hador were yellow-haired and blue-eyed, for the most part...
tall and mostly fair-haired people of the House of Hador...

- Tolkien, from The Lost Road and Other Writings and The Peoples of Middle-earth


Image

Lomardhon, a tall blonde Gondorian with a world-weary mien, emerged from a narrow gate of Rammas Echor. The beat of hammers no longer sounded on the marches nor did the clink of trowels and the creak of masonry wheels. The wall was breached far and wide during the War of the Ring but now it was wholly reconstructed by stone-cutters of Lord Vorn of Belfalas and Lord Gimli of Aglarond. Lomardhon was a survivor of Ingold's remnant, a sentinel leader at one of the rebuilt forts. The bastions of Rammas Echor, named in honor of Grey Company companions of King Elessar fallen in the embattled townlands, were rebuilt with the lustrous Orthanc-stone. Black and shining as jet like the Othram city wall of Minas Tirith, the rebuilt towers of marvellous thickness soared to a great height, hard and dark and smooth unconquerable now by steel or fire.

Lomardhon was promoted to lieutenant following the conflict for his heroism in the Pelennor Fields and in the Battle of the Morannon. The veteran spearmen led many younger soldiers now, both men and women by edict of the King and Queen; considering how many male warriors were lost in the invasion of Gondor and on the beleauered hills of Mordor, they needed maidens to take up arms like the fair and valiant shieldmaidens of the Eorlingas in antiquity. Few of the Tower Guards he served with, beloved friends, had lived to resume their watch at home yet he took heart! Lomardhon knew that when his duty ended, he would have trained a new generation of sentries to protect the wall of the fertile pastures beneath the unfurled standards of the White Tree.

Lomardhon heard singing from the thoroughfare running swiftly down from the rebuilt towers facing the Causeway leading to Osgiliath's ruins. Travelling the great road leading toward Othram was Beren Camlost. The storied Tower Guard lieutenant was named for the courageous nineteeth Steward of Gondor whose namesake had been the romantic hero of the First Age. Beren was a lighthearted Gondorian adventurer who hailed from Larktown in the Pelennor Fields. He was a mighty man of valor famed for his rugged handsomeness and derring-do.

He had been renowned for his feats as a Southern Ranger before the War of the Ring. Beren's exploits with his Northern Dúnedain kin and King Elessar before his fateful journey with the Grey Company had been circlating for months since his return to Gondor from oversea. These harrowing tales engendered praise from idealistic lads and fair belles of Gondor alike. The gossip of Beren's skin-changer lineage was true and cemented his repute as a living legend in the country.

Over ringmail black as jet Beren wore a sable surcoat. The fabric was embroidered with a white tree blossoming beneath a silver crown amid a field of pointed stars. This was the livery of the heirs of Elendil, and none wore it now in all Gondor save the Citadel Guards; the Rangers were attired similiarly sans the crown.

A faint smile broadened as the lyrics of the merry tune became clearer as Beren advanced, leading his Bree mare Brenna to the nearest fort. Ladies and gentlemen of the Tower Guard, many of them no older than thirty summers, joined Beren in chorus.

And don't spend your time lookin' around
For something you want that can't be found
When you find out you can live without it
And go along not thinkin' about it
I'll tell you something true
The bare necessities of life will come to you

Look for the bare necessities
The simple bare necessities
Forget about your worries and your strife
I mean the bare necessities
Old Kementári's recipes
That brings the bare necessities of life

A wan smile flickered across Lomardhon 's stoic face. The catchy song was an endearing household treasure, made popular by The Forest Foundling. The musical peformed at the Minas Tirith Playhouse near the White Tree Theater was written by Bree novelist Miranda Peppermint; it was adapted for stage in the Reunited Kingdom by Vincent Flutterby of Archet in recent years. The Forest Foundling concerned the amusing misadventures of a Harad orphan raised by a lazy bear and a noble panther. The final act concluded with a dire escape from an ambitious orangutan and a tense battle with a cunning tiger that devoured the child's parents in the sorrowful, tear-jerking prelude.

He allowed a few guards to leave their post to speak with Beren only because he was leading Brenna by her rein rather than mounted on her saddle; across her back were two bound Haradrim, both injured. South of Emyn Arnen, Gondor's garden of Ithilien had become the sanctuary of outlaws and Orcs who fled the last engagement of the War. Some Easterlings had hidden themselves in Minas Morgul and Mordor; others were now encroaching on Gondor's eastern marches and committing atrocities which continued to critically hinder the peacetalks between Aragorn and the Harad lords, making peace harder to achieve.

"First catch of the day, Bear?" asked chuckling Lomardhon. His colleague in the First Company had a penchant for inviting trouble or trouble seeking him. He commanded the subordinate Tower Guards to remove the Haradrim prisoners off Brenna and to incarcerate them in one of the small holding cells in the fort; there they would remain until transferred to the Minas Tirith Gaol for interrogation.

Beren told Lomardhon about what happened at Chrysanthemum's arboretum which, of course, led to Beren boasting about securing a blind date for his son Mourgan Alarion.

"That gardener woman is a fetching lady," approved Lomardhon, gripping Beren's hand as he pulled Beren alarmingly close. "My daughter remains unwed which we've previously discussed..."

"Sorry, mate!" Beren spluttered. "S-pur of the m-moment d-decision, y-you kn-know?" he stuttered, wilting under his glowering friend's icy gaze. They were both strong men who triumphed over the Dominion of Sauron however, Udûn had no fury than a battle-hardened father who knew how to kill a man with his bare hands two dozen ways. Beren wanted to gallop Brenna to Dale, Hildorien possibly.

"You know, it would be embarrassing for your boy to outmatch you in matters of love..."

Beren grimaced. "A couple women are interested in me," Beren delicately broached. "They just haven't made up their minds yet."

"All the more reason," counselled Lomardhon, holding Beren's shoulders, "why you should find a good earthy woman who wants to settle down with you."

"Gelrhevia yells at me all the time."

"Everyone yells at you all the time." Lomardhon tilted his head thoughtfully. "Have you noticed she gives you things that no one else receives?"

"You have me there, Lom, but she's fifteen years my junior. There's plenty of Tower Guards her age who'd like to court her-"

"None are prominent officers," insisted Lomardhon. "You are a wealthy farmer of lebethron, timber prized by our finest carpenters. You own a mine on Mel Lóna and you have a lucrative partnership with Lady Eressild's family in Lebennin-"

"I must begin my shift, Lom," interrupted Beren, already collecting his saddlebags. "Have an ostler tend to Brenna, please."

"Being a guardian of Rammas Echor is an honored priviledge but a dangerous position and I'm getting older, Beren," Lomardhon spoke to the Lieutenant's back as the Ranger hastened up the stairway. "I want my lass safe and sound with a man I can trust."

Beren paused midway, his scruffy face unseen. "She deserves a better man, doesn't matter if he's twenty-one or pushing forty."

"You are lonely."

"I am waiting."

"Until you're old and grey, faithful to one woman you will outlive you and the other who can't marry a man of humble origins." Beren stood with a rigid stance. "Do you like to forget you're the son of common parents?" accused Lomardhon scathingly now, irritated to the point of anger. He drifted toward the base of the steps, looking up at Beren. "There's no shame in being a plain man of arms like your father or the scholarly woman your sage mother is."

Image

The vexed lieutenant stared down, unruly brown hair stirring in the breeze redolent of Ithilien terebinth. His cheerful countenance faded, repossesed by smoldering indignation. Beren fled Lomardhon's deluge of accusations, entering the fort, and made a beeline for his office. Hattie the Patterdale, the exuberant policehound he shared with Unalmis, crowded his ankles. Beren believed she would have been content frolicking amongst the wildflowers and persuing groundhogs outside but Hattie was happy anywhere and ventured into the tower with her master. Despite Beren's persistent pleas to calm down and warning he'd hurt her swinging tail, the stubborn terrier with the black glossy fur weaved about his legs in jolly carelessness.

Beren strode through the pleasantly cool winter sunlight flooding the passage. He was eager to begin his paperwork for once and decide what mission he could soon undertake; like his friend Narradir, Beren disdained rifling through runéd parchment. Beren was not illiterate but he perferred action than sitting for hours. He needed some kind of distraction.

Standing in the threshold of his office, Beren felt a sinking suspicion something was awry when he saw Gelrhevia. The Tower Guard secretary sat at his imposing ormolu-mounted desk of Harad mahogany. It was one piece in a set comprising chairs and an oval table, all of identical wood and gilt bronze. The willowy redhead in her twenties wore a scarlet damask kirtle with a underbust corset of gold brocade. Her thick auburn hair, distinguished by loose crown braiding, tumbled in bright cascades to her hips. Beren was awed speechless. Mortals with ginger locks were rarely seen in Middle-earth, descended from the humans of the Third House known for their radiant hair. Gelrhevia's unique comeliness wrought a spell of silence upon him, broken only by the severe contemptible look she regarded him with.

She clutched fistfuls of reports; more were scattered about the room. Beren wondered why until he noticed her gifts, lacquered boxes, were uncovered. She arranged his dispatches neatly in the gleaming containers inlaid with mother-of-pearl. Each iconic top featured a hand-painted scene of Gondor alluding to the place the reports originated like Minas Tirith, Ithilien, or the fiefdoms.
Image
"You left them all on this damned desk," she stated, twining skeins of vibrant hair around a finger. Beren was taken aback, none too sure if it was the sweet lass cursing which surprised him or the discomforting knowledge he slighted her. Beren hadn't intended to upset Gelrhevia and, honest to himself, Beren had forgotten he left the parchment records in disarray. He avoiding her blue-grey eyes riveted on him. "Worse-" Gelrhevia flourished her hand, indicating the window "- you left that fleeging thing open when you went home a couple nights ago. Can you guess what happened? Tell me you're smart enough to deduce that at least."

Beren said nothing, attempting to restrain his rising anger.

"All the reports I organized for you were swept across the damn room," said Gelrhevia, seething. She scooped up Hattie when the Patterdale hurried over to lick the flustered secretary. "I am still recovering them all . Only Manwë knows how many have been whisked over Anórien, Ithilien, or the Pelennor perhaps even further," said Gelrhevia while she petted the terrier. "Now I must arrange them because it's my job, a task I accomplished days ago. How in bloody Mordor am I supposed to get other things I need to finish done while I play catchup now because of your negligence? I told you to take which investigations you want and put the rest back so I can give them to other Tower Guards. Why didn't you think about that before you left this office?"

"I had a lot on my mind then and anxious thoughts continue to linger," Beren admitted, soft-spoken and even-keeled despite the gimlet stare of green flinty eyes, "like choosing who to save or if I'm capable of it." Beren snatched a couple reports off the floor. "Do I look for the late Lord Hirluin's small boy, the heir of the fiefdom lost in the wooded hills of Pinnath Gelin, whom the knights can't find? What about Half-Orcs of Saruman who have scaled the White Mountains and come down to harass Angbor's dalefolk?" He tossed the reports on his desk and ordered Gelrhevia to give him the ones she held. "Which of the murders in Minas Tirith would you me to solve first?" Beren demanded, raising aloft a wad of parchment reports. "Maybe one of many disapperances?" He shook the other bundled collection of reports. "Lord Garafgûr of Belfalas still mourns the loss of Neurelpina, his singing angel, who vanished from the Minas Tirith Playhouse. Perhaps she's latest target of its elusive Phantom."

A shroud of thick awkward stillness smothered Beren and Gelrhevia until he spoke, noting that she was sitting in his seat. "I'll file these myself," Beren assured Gelrhevia in a lighter voice, feeling exhausted by another sudden souring turn of his day. He spoke over her, affirming the fact she had already done this before and that the secretary had other duties to fulfil for him. "If it's not too much of a bother, visit the storehouse where Targon is serving today. Tell him we require bread and butter, cheese and apples with flagons of ale for any clients requesting audience with me through you." Gelrhevia let Hattie down so she could gnaw some pheasant bones in one corner of the room. At a loss for words, Gelrhevia curtsied and breezed past him to reach the door but paused when Beren's large hand took tender hold of a bell sleeve. "I'm sorry I disrespected you," he apologized. "This will not happen again. I will consider your feelings in the days to come no matter how stressed I am." She gave him a heartening smile which put him at ease and left his office, closing the door.

Beren slumped against the Crown-and-Stars carven back of his upholstered chair, sorting the documents in order. At some point, needing small comfort, he reflected on memories of his friends and family pictured on his desk and the office walls. One of his many hobbies included charcoal art. His sketches, elaborately framed, were prominently alligned on his desk. Aileen on the homestead porch of their lebethron farm. Ursula nursing her Tubeng cider in the Four Winds tavern of Osdolen. Helchon encamped at Amon Sûl and Isys astride a destrier with her jousting lance. Hatholdir, now bearded, leaving a Mole mine in the White Mountains with a pick-axe slung over one shoulder. Aileen hiking near an Ithilien waterfall. Nariel with Tharmáras and their children on a sea-cliff on Tol Vinyamar. His younger sister, Bridget, aiming at a wild boar with her bow. Their mother examing a scroll in the Hall of Books and their father leading a Lebinnin cattledrive. Nelladel rolling dough, looking pretty with a spot of flour on her cheek. Morana seated on a gondola on the eve of a canal boatride. Between a vase of sparkling elven-glass housing his mithril guard helm were two paintings: One of Beren with Aigronding and Edan, Tharmáras and Ann near Bree-hill's newly erected clocktower in the spring of TA 3021; the second, Beren holding Airien from behind on the bridge of Linaymaril with her fiery hair blown astir.

Hattie's incessant prodding of Arnorian armor on display interrupted the reveries of Beren. "Don't try it!" he yelled at the curious Patterdale. "You'll make a mess, girl." She did indeed. Once the dog noticed the suit swaying, Hattie charged. The baying terrier retreated in fervid urgency when the armor toppled. Hattie sought refuge underneath Beren's chair and groaned when she heard the clangorous fall. Hattie whined until realized she was safe then darted toward the knightless armor, barking at the suit in uproarious displeasure.

Beren sighed, arising. Just starting to assemble the jumble of loosened pieces into standing form, Beren heard Gelrhevia asking if she could admit a couple villagers from Tumladen inside his office.
Image
Last edited by Eriol on Sun Nov 14, 2021 7:48 am, edited 2 times in total.
"Eriol... 'One who dreams alone.' ” - Tolkien, The Book of Lost Tales I

Master Torturer
Points: 2 588 
Posts: 3018
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 11:22 am
Thea

She had not known she was this desperate for human touch. Even though she initially had flinched away at Nessa's embrace thanks to the overwhelming guilt. But she immediately caved, sinking into the woman's arms like a child seeking comfort from their mother. Thoughts of her own mother sprang to mind and even thoughts of her father, realising just how much she missed them both and missed taking their hugs for granted. How was she to know that other than the occassional brief hug from Lily, she would not have any human contact for over two years? The very thought just made her cry even harder as she snuggled in against Nessa's warm body, letting her soothing words slowly calm her.

It was like a dam that was unleashed, the tears seemed neverending, but even a dam had to empty. With a few hiccups and sniffles she slowed her ragged breathing and took a moment longer to just enjoy the hug, knowing it might be a while before she would be getting another. That thought almost set her off all over again, but she managed to draw in a hitched breath, blinking away the tears.

Knowing there was no more delaying it, she leaned out of the hug so that Nessa could see to her hands, though she did want to take the opportunity to wash her face as it felt hot and puffy. However Nessa's words made her look up at the woman with her redrimmed eyes going wide, her head instantly shaking from side to side.

" I swear I did not take the ledger! The guard said I did, but I left it right where it was, on Ms. Irma's desk. She usually hides it away, well the "true" one at least, but she had left it out by mistake." Her words came quickly, in a hurry to ensure that Nessa learn that she had not taken that as well. "I only took what she had stolen from me in the first place! Though.. I know that wasn't right either.." Crestfallen and embarassed, she lowered her head, her fingers nervously fidgeting with each other.

Ent Ancient
Points: 2 696 
Posts: 1830
Joined: Sat May 23, 2020 11:34 pm
Hathaldir with Thea and Nessa

As soon as he left the room, he could breathe more freely. The small space with its four walls felt ready to buck at the seams with all the pressure it had endured today. No wonder the chair collapsed under Ms Irma. His own head felt as if it was going to pound right out of his skull and he still had to cart the girl off to gaol. At least that was a positive thought and a step in the right direction.

Only when he was alone, filling up the bowl with water, did some of the tension clawing at him ease. This job was already proving harder than he anticipated. He had initially thought he could sign up, get in, access the records he wanted and get out. Now, he saw how idiotic that plan really was. It was going to take a great deal of patience to get what he wanted.

The red welts the vulgar old woman left on his hands glared up at him. He took a moment to clean the scratches, following Nessa’s advice before he filled a cup for himself and chugged the contents. It did little to relieve the growing pulsing pain in his head. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. How he wished for something stronger. He’d take anything he could get, even some cheap watered down wine.

In a moment of unnatural kindness that could only be inspired by Nessa’s presence and generous spirit, Hathaldir brought two cups of water back to the room along with the bowl, as requested. When he returned, he saw Nessa hovering over Thea like a worrying mother over a sick child. That was when he glimpsed Thea no longer as the dirty thief, the little mouse, but as...a person. A young woman in trouble, her face blotchy and stained with tears.

The pity it stirred in him made him deeply uncomfortable. What was wrong with him? He looked away from the vulnerable girl and focused on quietly setting down the bowl and two cups. Beside the sandwiches in the basket, it almost looked to him like the Tower Guard was catering a picnic to criminals.

He cleared his throat. “Well, there you are. And some water to drink as well. Now you may see to her hands.” Still, in his discomfort, he could not bear to look at the healer and her charge and he spoke in a softer tone than he had used before. If they wondered at this shift in his bearing, let them think something happened when he left the room, that some piece of news or other information had changed his mood.

Anything but the truth. That he, Hathaldir, was feeling…sympathy for the thief?! No. It was unheard of. He knew it was all Nessa’s doing with her soft strength and her sandwiches and her ministrations to the girl. He crossed his arms and tapped a finger against his arm, feeling irritated he could be so manipulated by a woman without even realizing it had happened. His headache only intensified.

New Soul
Points: 1 672 
Posts: 1138
Joined: Wed May 27, 2020 7:12 pm


Nessa with Thea and Hathaldir

Nessa would never forget the way Thea clung to her, the longing and starvation for affection, for human touch, for the kindness that radiated from the girl. For a moment the two of them were like shipwrecked sailors clinging to parts of the ship broken in a tempest. It is heartbreaking, this realisation that a simple act of kindness can break a person completely. There is hope in there too, because a simple act of kindness can help heal a person’s soul and bring peace. Nessa wishes nothing more than the hold the girl in her arms, stroke her hair gently and sing all the songs she knows until rosy-fingered dawn breaks and lightness and joy return to Thea’s heart.

They hold on to each other, the healer and the girl with shackled hands, sharing comfort, strength, compassion… A heartbeat. Two. Sixty heartbeats to save a life. As the girl moves out of her arms, Nessa slowly wipes the tears from the girl’s face and mentions the conveniently missing ledger. Thea instantly looked up and shook her head. She started speaking quickly, ardently denying that she took the ledger and confirming the suspicion that had already formed in Nessa’s mind. There were two ledgers, one for show with false entries and the other, the right one with the true information entered in it. She wondered how much money had Ms Irma managed to misappropriate simply by buying cheap soap and not paying her employees wages, all the while she was overcharging for services.

At the same time as Thea finished talking and lowered her head in embarrassment and shame after she confessed that she took the money that was stolen from her, that was owed to her, Hathaldir entered the room. The sound of the door opening made Nessa turn her head and look in that direction. She watched as the man carefully carried a bowl filled with water and two cups that also contained water. He looked uncomfortable as he placed the dishes on the table next to her basket with sandwiches and healer’s supplies. He tried to hide his emotions by clearing his throat and giving her permission to see her patient.

“Thank you for your kindness, Hathaldir,” she smiled as she thanked him, her voice soft, calm and gentle. Her smile and the soft-spoken words of thanks were not solely for the water that was brought to her, but for the acknowledgement that the girl in shackles was not just a prisoner, but a human being, a young woman in trouble. She then turned to Thea who was still looking down and fidgeting with her hands. “I believe you,” she told the girl, the tone of her voice changing. It was no longer soft, nor gentle. It was firm, unyielding in her conviction. “The human eye is a wonderful device,” the healer speaks, quoting the beginning of a phrase Andronikos de Argosy (the founder of her house) uttered long ago in the palace of Armenelos the Golden to Tar Aldarion. “With a little effort, it can fail to see even the most glaring injustice,” the thalassopóros’ words spoken in the voice of his descendant echo with the strength of her conviction, vibrate with her fury in the confines of the small room in the Tower Guard.

“To treat Thea’s hands they need to be unbound,” Nessa said after a few moments, turning to Hathaldir and the other guard. Her voice was modulated, her words chosen with great care. “I am aware that the manacles on her hands are part of the procedure. However, Thea has not attempted to escape, she hasn’t shown any signs of violence, nor had she harmed anyone,” she stated the facts calmly and clearly looking at the guards. “Please, can you unbound her hands so I can treat my patient?”

OOC: ((The italicised sentences in ultramarine #3F00FF are borrowed from Richard Morgan's Altered Carbon))
She/her.
Solitudinem faciunt, pacem appellant
Image

Master Torturer
Points: 2 588 
Posts: 3018
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 11:22 am
Thea

The sound of the door opening made her flinch, scared eyes immediately flicking up to see who was entering. She remained tense as she saw the guard coming back in, feeling his gaze burning through her. She had seen the disdain in his eyes, the accusations, that she deserved what she was getting. And while part of her agreed with him, the other part was humiliated and mortified that she had gone and gotten herself into this predicament. The thought of her parents knowing about this almost set her off again, her lip trembling for a moment before she bit down on it hard to force the pressing tears back.

Rubbing at a raw spot on her finger, she did not look up when the guard placed the water on the table and despite being parched, she kept her gaze down as she could not bear to see the look he would give her. She was grateful for the water all the same, though dared not reach out to take it, thankful that Nessa took care of thanking the guard for her.

Engrossed in her own thoughts of her own predicament, Thea at first did not fully comprehend what Nessa was saying to her, eyes flying up to meet the woman's as she looked at her incredulously. Nessa believed her? And was saying it out loud? Realising her jaw had dropped open, she quickly snapped it shut, swallowing the massive lump in her throat as her eyes burned with tears again. She did not deserve this woman's kindness. She was nothing more than a petty thief, even if the money had been hers as she had stolen it.

Stunned by the conviction in Nessa's voice, her jaw dropped again when Nessa boldly asked for her hands to be released from the shackles, scared eyes darting between Nessa and the guard. Breath held, she worried that the guard would take his wrath out on Nessa too and she quickly spoke up in hopes to deflect any anger towards herself. She did not want to get Nessa into trouble, not when the woman was so kind and helpful.

"It's ok, I can just move them around as needed, see?" There was a desperate look in her eyes as she forced herself to face the guard, hands lifted as she showed how the shackles could just be moved around as needed, before she looked back at Nessa. "Please, it's ok, they are not that bad, I will be alright."

Ent Ancient
Points: 2 696 
Posts: 1830
Joined: Sat May 23, 2020 11:34 pm
Hathaldir with Thea and Nessa

He simply grunted when Nessa thanked him for his kindness. There was nothing he could say to that. Even decades earlier, when he had yet to learn of the ruthless, selfish side of this world, he would not have been described as such. All these years later, the man had been worn down like a rough and weathered rock. Any hint of glittering sheen was worn away by storms, leaving only the toughest parts to remain. That was how to survive in the face of the wild lands and the shadow-wreathed servants of the Enemy. Little did Hathaldir realize a different shadow had fallen over him and stained what little grace he had in his heart.

Glaring injustice, glaring injustice, glaring injustice…

That was the very reason he wore this uniform and stood in this room. To right a wrong, to seek the truth, to reach for the justice he so desperately longed for. Hathaldir did not, and could not, see his own contradictory nature-- to seek for himself the very thing he denied Thea thus far. Those two words from Nessa’s lips reached forward, dug painfully around in his chest and snapped something within him. In response, his temper rose like the tide of a tempest and demanded to be unleashed. But he could not take it out on the healer...nor the thief, at least while Nessa was a witness.

“Don’t you have a meeting with the Captain to get to?” He barked at Garthain, the only outlet he could safely vent for now.

The other guard started and straightened from where he’d been leaning rather casually in the doorway. “Yes, but I--”

“Shouldn’t you be going?” Hathaldir waved his arm toward the door in a haughty gesture. “I’d hate to keep him waiting with your job on the line.” He sneered and stalked toward Garthain until he had him backed out the door. “If you need a new one, I hear the Garrison Laundry has a job opening,” he mumbled with a spark of wrathful glee in his eyes. To anyone watching, it was clear Garthain wanted nothing more than to throw a punch at Hathaldir’s face. Somehow, the man restrained himself and walked away with an angry huff.

With his anger spent for now, it was safe to return to his duty. Hathaldir let the door thud closed behind him and the sound was like a hammer against his skull. He absently rubbed the side of his temple, kneading the knot of tension growing behind his eyes. Finally, he looked at Nessa, no longer the doe-eyed girl offering sandwiches, but a positively tenacious woman who had gotten under his skin. He did not like it one bit. What was she, all of twenty-five? How did she do it? Yet again, he was unable to argue with her.

“Yes. Fine,” he told Nessa. Rounding the table to approach Thea, the furrow in his brow was deeper than ever. It would have been easier to kneel down but he refused to be brought to the thief’s level. Fortunately, she was as compliant as ever, holding out her hands for him to take none too gently. Now he could see how red and chapped they were, and he thought, here is a thief literally caught red-handed. No one else would appreciate the humor so he kept his thoughts to himself this time.

“Hold still, will you?” His voice rumbled as he fumbled to unlock the manacles from her shaking hands. The lock gave a satisfied click and Thea’s wrists were freed. “I’d eat some of this food if I were you,” he advised the girl. Any kindness they might have perceived in his words was besmirched by what came next. “I doubt the food in gaol will be half as good, or plentiful, and I can’t say how long you’ll be there. I doubt stealing from the Garrison laundry rates very high on our list of crimes to investigate.”

He stepped back to allow Nessa space to work and addressed her with all due formality. “Your patient is ready.” The rings of the manacles clanged in his grasp as he shifted them from one hand to the other and back again. He watched over them like a hawk while inwardly counting the minutes until he could get the hell out of here and this was only his first case. How many more Thea’s would there be until he would catch a murderer?

New Soul
Points: 1 672 
Posts: 1138
Joined: Wed May 27, 2020 7:12 pm
[

Nessa with Thea and Hathaldir

The atmosphere in the small room within the Tower Guard changes with a few spoken words. There is nothing magical in the words that were spoken; they are not spells, nor was the speaker’s voice mesmeric… The woman who spoke was no Ainur, no spirit inhabiting a female body, but a mere mortal. However, the mortal woman’s voice was strong and she was steadfast in her resolve. Her words might not be spells, her voice might not have that strain of mesmerism that held beings enthralled... Still, words have power.

Nessa was aware of the power and impact words could have; how one word could destroy a life, or mend a broken heart. One did not have to be a magic practitioner for their words to hold power. She glanced at Hathaldir and noticed the tension and the way the man held himself. She sensed that something she said affected him in ways he did not anticipate. The young healer frowned slightly, focusing on the puzzle that was Hathaldir, as she reflected on the conversation they had in the hallway.

It was something he said to her, a remark about how the law must be upheld. As Nessa focused on that moment, trying to remember his exact words regarding the law, she missed Thea’s terrified glances and Hathaldir’s rebukes to Garthain simply became background noise to her.

You understand, then,” she remembered the words Hathaldir spoke to her in the hallway. “That even one who saves the lives of hundreds but murders one must still be accountable. The law is the law and must be upheld.” His voice was low, but there was bitterness in his tone that broke through his valiant attempts of being kind and compassionate towards her.

Nessa thinks, is almost certain, that she knows now and understands why Andronikos’ words affected the guard so. The Machinery of Justice did not serve Hathaldir, it was cold and slow and it was theirs… Regardless of who they were in this case. Someone, some creature of power that wronged him, wiggled out from the hands of Justice with a wink and a grin.

Nessa turns to look at him again, this puzzle of a guard and finds him observing her. She wonders what he sees when he looks at her now; if his views and opinions about her changed with the words she spoke. As she watches him move from the door to the table to unshackle Thea she asks herself why this matters to her. His opinion of her matters, she realises, because it might make him more inclined to help Thea. Nessa is certain of the girl’s innocence, and as she watches him fumble to unlock the girl’s manacles, she thinks and hopes that if she could just find the right words and speak them in the right manner…

If her voice could unlock the power behind the words she could do more for Thea than just heal her hands and bring her sandwiches. Rage at injustice is universal, she feels its fires burn in herself now. She thinks she can sense it in Hathaldir, see it in his eyes. Rage at injustice might be universal, but the ability to strike back is not. In the eyes of the world, Thea is unimportant. A poor stupid girl who stole from her employer and got caught. Her existence wouldn’t even register with the High Lords and the power players, nor would they bat an eyelash if the slow wheels of the Machinery of Justice would turn the wrong way and the girl ended up rotting in a gaol cell.

Nessa needs to make Thea important to someone; because the girl matters. Because the truth matters, because she cannot stand injustice. There are many ways to claw justice from the power players, to make them truly see someone and take them seriously. To consider them dangerous enough to make a deal, instead of just liquidating them like the rest of the unimportant little people. The young healer would prefer not to use the power behind her family name, the Company’s power, but if she needs to she will use it. Like all the de Argosy women she will not hesitate to wield the weapons at her disposal.

“I’d eat some of this food if I were you,” she hears Hathaldir say to Thea and his words bring the young healer back. “I doubt the food in gaol will be half as good, or plentiful, and I can’t say how long you’ll be there. I doubt stealing from the Garrison laundry rates very high on our list of crimes to investigate.”

Nessa arches her right eyebrow and looks at him pointedly. His words were bitter steel, but unfortunately for Thea, they rang true. She continues to observe him as he steps back and addresses her formally and with some irony, she thinks as the corners of her lips, quite unbidden, lift in an amused smile.

“Thank you,” the young healer tells the guard sincerely, her voice calm and filled with warmth. She turns her attention to Thea and her face softens. “I realise Hathaldir might not have said this in the nicest and kindest possible way,” she says as the amused smile makes an appearance once again. “However, he is right. You really should eat something and drink some water,” she makes a slight gesture to the mug with water as she reaches into the basket she brought and pulls out two sandwiches wrapped in greaseproof paper. She unwraps one of the sandwiches and offers it to Thea. “It’s only ham and cheese on buttered bread I’m afraid,” she says aware that the content of the sandwich is the least of Thea’s concerns. But she smiles and talks about it anyway to make the girl feel as close to normal as she could. “I was in a bit of a rush to see you, otherwise I might have added some salad or tomatoes, or a bit of dressing… Eat as much as you want,” she encourages the girl. “There’s plenty. Then I’ll have a look at your hands. Washing them and putting ointment on them should take care of things. But I will come to see you tomorrow as well to make sure you are well,” Nessa’s voice is calm, almost casual, but there is a purpose behind her words. They are said to give Thea hope, to let her know that she is not alone and that she matters to someone. They are also a warning to Hathaldir that she will not allow the girl to be forgotten. She will not let this go. If need be, she will make this personal and claw and tear justice from their hands. She will make this matter.
She/her.
Solitudinem faciunt, pacem appellant
Image

Master Torturer
Points: 2 588 
Posts: 3018
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 11:22 am
Thea

She couldn't possibly make herself any smaller on the chair, yet as the guard barked at his co-worker she found she was still trying to. “If you need a new one, I hear the Garrison Laundry has a job opening..” His mumbled words were not meant for those in the room, yet despite having mumbled them out she still caught the gist of them, her heart sinking and tears immediately springing back to burn her eyes. No job. Of course. There was no way she would be allowed back there, if she ever got out of the gaol. That meant no means with which to pay for her 'room' behind the small kitchen. Her mind seemed to whirl with the thoughts of losing her only home, her few belongings and with the dreaded thoughts of not being able to find another job ever again when the guard stepped over to roughly remove the manacles.

Even though she had only worn them for a short period of time, it still felt odd to have the manacles off. There was relief at the feeling of their weight being gone, as well as not having them scrape so painfully against her red and raw hands and wrists. Freed she clenched her hands protectively in against her chest, curling in on herself to try and make herself smaller at the guard's venemous words. She had gone hungry before, working for Ms. Irma did not always cover the costs of her tiny accomodations as well as food, however the thought of eating again did make her stomach growl needfully. That was until the events of the day flashed through her mind, from meeting the strange woman at lunch, to hurting the small boy and to throwing up her hard won meal at the Houses of Healing.

The hunger twinge turned into a roil that made her mouth water and it was all she could do to keep from throwing up again. Not that she had much other than the tea she had had earlier with Nessa in her stomach, but that did not mean her stomach wasn't going to try. Quickly she reached out for the water, half expecting to get swatted for the attempt and took a careful slurp of water and forced it down along with a few deep breaths. 'Please don't throw up. Please don't throw up' she thought to herself as Nessa held out the sandwich, already shaking her head no and missing the offered hope that would have helped mend her breaking heart.

"N-no thank you, I am not that hungry.."

Chief Counsellor of Gondor
Points: 2 909 
Posts: 1281
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 8:37 am
Image

Sorrela Korsey
in the general Administrative Office


The thing with striking out in the world and claiming your independence was that there were no real instructions how to go about it, beyond ‘follow your heart’ or ‘trust your gut’, or some countless other useless platitudes which named parts of the body and provided no real resolution. Sorrela had known that she wanted more out of her life than working with her father, and his friends, out in the forest. It had not been that she could not manage the hard work; she had inherited (to her despair) Narradir’s titan build. It certainly was not the case that her previous co-workers had been cruel to her. As the only woman in an all-man team, some might have assumed her gender as the reason she had opted to change job. But none of them had ever had a word to say about her being a woman. Which had annoyed her far more than if they had, to be frank. It might have been because her father led the team, that she was spared the jest. But honestly, he could not have been prouder, or more encouraging. So she had nothing to prove really, to anyone. She simply reached a stage where she knew that what she had done so far was not what she wanted to do for her whole life. A change seemed like a good plan on that basis. She hadn’t quite chosen to enter a career in law enforcement either. The eldest of her younger sisters, Roselly, had dared her to attempt the most unlikely of alternative vocations, the one most likely to annoy her father and worry her mother simultaneously. The fact that Sorrel could conceive no better reason, but no other blaringly obvious options, was why she had arrived, early, to the point of standing outside in the crisp air for some time until the office was unlocked and the general body of the Guard arrived to go about it’s day.

Since then, unsure whether to stand to attention or sit and make herself at home, the young woman had trialled both. During which time more than one surprised somebody had burst into the office, glanced around and finding only her, departed again. She did not know what they might be looking for, save that she clearly was not it. Another might have given up and called it fate to finish their career before it had begun, maybe have gone begging to the Captain to be told what they ought do. But Sorrel knew she would never hear the end of it at home if she conceded to self-doubts. Might be she would have to think about moving out and getting her own place as well. But there she really would need to make a go of this spontaneous whim. After exploding in quite a tirade to her parents, about how she was going to ‘find her own way’, she would rather find a dark hole to hide in now than go back on her word. And since there were few holes which she might fit into, there was nothing else for it. Her father’s friend had initially offered to mentor her, but he had since become unavoidably busy with a matter which simply could not wait. So, having come close to knocking about idly, Sorrel made to start instead for a brisk tour to Forannest. It should clear her head and noone seemed sorry to see her go, save that they were never given any explanation for her having ever been there in the first place.

A not-so-short duration later, despite having made good work of a swift pace, Sorrela had proved at least that exercise would not leave her out of breath. The unnecessary patrol had filled a fair portion of her time and left the new Guard with a sensation of some worth, for she could now report having made taken care to check some portion of her jurisdiction. Several of those she’d passed had shirked out of her way, rather abruptly, which fuelled the new recruit’s confidence some. So she could apparently prove suitably imposing too, something which she had not really considered as useful in this role, but something all the same which had always been a positive when boys did not think her pretty, like other girls. They were all too afraid to call her names. If she didn’t suck the end of the long braid which had tethered her dark hair, she might look the part of a Tower Guard at least. The slighter young woman who leapt up out of her skin at Sorrel’s startling return certainly seemed to hope so.

I’m Daselle Aldis.” The shorter woman did not offer a hand, but dipped her head respectfully, once she’d finished startling in some awe at Sorrela’s build. The undertaker’s wife was no hobbit where it came to height herself. Still the former forester stood to her as a mountain beside a hill. “I wondered,Daselle cleared her throat, walking that thin line between demanding and disrespectful. She was clearly desperate; “if there was any update about a disappearance ? My husband came by before to report it ?” The explanation sounded more like a question, The new recruit indicated the chair which the client had leapt out of moments before.

Daselle, yes. I know your husband, Malus. My father brings him timber,Sorrel did her best to make Daselle at ease. “Sorrela” she helped solve the puzzle on the smaller face. Before she was informed that she looked so different, when not among a pack of labouring men, the new Guard smoothed down her uniform, pointedly. “People call me Sorrel. I work here now.” With a task at hand she could attend to, the newest recruit settled into the role she had so recently been doubting. “Let us get caught up to speed.

And so it began. She was begun.
All that is gold does not glitter, not all those who wander are lost
The old that is strong does not wither, deep roots are not touched by the frost.

Ent Ancient
Points: 2 696 
Posts: 1830
Joined: Sat May 23, 2020 11:34 pm
Hathaldir with Thea and Nessa

From one hand to the other, Hathaldir shifted the manacles back and forth and back again, glancing from healer to thief. The harsh grinding of metal chains set a somber beat beneath their words, a constant reminder of the fate awaiting Thea. Despite his own flared temper at Garthain and his biting words to Thea, Nessa smiled at him. Of all the things he expected her to do, this was the last. He did not like this one bit for he suddenly felt he was somehow on the receiving end of some private joke she did not share with the room, especially when she spoke of him in particular. Hathaldir could not understand how the young woman could possibly still smile right now. But he should have known better given her behavior so far.

He couldn’t quite let her get away with it. At least not without getting a word in edgewise. “I am not paid to be kind or nice, Mrs de Argosy. I am paid to uphold the law and that is what I am doing.” He did his best to use a neutral, professional voice, to keep the edge out of it but there was a defensive quality to the words as he set the manacles down on the table.

For some reason, two women as opposite as black and white had shown up here today to make his life a living hell. It was them and Thea he blamed for this damn headache. Ms Irma rampaged and stormed like a lunatic, leaving behind the debris of her stompings, seemingly willing to yell and claw at anyone to get her way. Nessa was so unlike her in every way imaginable. Quiet and calm like a glassy pool on a still summer’s day, gentle and ever-ready with a kind word, she seemed to melt people to her will like butter on hot bread. She had already swayed him once. He thought himself as an impervious, unmovable stone and it unnerved him that anyone could make him budge once his mind was made up. Perhaps Nessa was someone to keep an eye on. And that promise she made to come back…he was certain Nessa was a woman of her word and that she had every intention of following through on it. How he wished he could forget about the whole thing after today.

“And yes, I am right.” He turned to Thea. She somehow looked smaller than ever and if she didn’t eat, she might fade away to nothing. Well, that would be one less problem for him to deal with. “You’re not hungry?” He asked, raising a brow. “I think you’re going to be very hungry soon unless you plan to sustain yourself on all your tears. But don't take my advice.” He pressed one hand to his chest. “What does a guard like me know about gaol anyway? I've never been inside a cell.” He spoke quite breezily with an air of sarcasm, then narrowed his eyes at her and grew more serious. “I only put people like you in them.”

His head pounded in protest against the strain of the day and there was no relief in sight. He inhaled a sharp, impatient breath and released it, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Mrs de Argosy, I don’t have all day.” Hathaldir spoke brusquely. “If she doesn’t want to eat, we can’t force her.” Well, they could, but he wasn’t about to elaborate on that particular subject. “Finish your work so we can both be on our way. The city won’t watch itself, you know.”

Balrog
Points: 5 867 
Posts: 3513
Joined: Mon May 18, 2020 11:02 am
Image
Born Under a Bad Sign
The Tower Guard Mortuary

It was a weird sensation, one that made him feel both disgust and curiosity. Bram began the dissection and documentation of the corpse and all the extra bits attached it as soon as he arrived at headquarters. He needed something to do, he needed to get his hands dirty. He looked at them now, covered in gore and viscera. He had certainly done that. His stomach rumbled again. His stomach had a wicked sense of humor all its own. Every time he did a dissection, whether it was here in the Tower Guard Mortuary, or in Minas Brethil, or even on his uncle’s butcher shop, he grew hungry. He worried what that sort of things said about him. It was not like there was a guild of dissectionists out there he could ask (and even if there were, he was not about to ask them “do you get hungry when elbow deep in a dead body?”) His headache had subsided for now, that was good, though it left behind a fuzzy sense of reality in its wake. He looked in the mirror and stared at the reflection and the man staring back. “How long are you going to be able to do this sort of thing, old man?” he asked.

The body had yielded up dozens of secrets, but none of them were particularly useful. Whoever had killed the man had also removed most of his internal organs. There was no heart, lungs, stomach, or liver inside the chest cavity. Instead, the entire thing was filled with branches, flowers, and vines. The branches looked like they were local oak, or at least could have been grown in the area. Nothing particularly gruesome stood out. They were all painted white though, obviously meant to mimic and mock the White Tree. The paint had been made from crushed seashells and chalk but there was no way for Bram to discern where the paint had been made. It could have been made by the killer or it could have been bought at some paint shop in town. There were several and the paint was not exactly remarkable. Still, he and Ric would have to ask about, due diligence and all that.

The flowers inside him troubled him more than the tree branches. They were most assuredly not native to Minas Tirith. They were simbelmynë, the sacred grave flower of the Rohirrim. There were several uncomfortable implications Bram could draw from such a discovery. The killer had gone to Rohan and taken them from the graves of the kings, an act of blasphemy almost akin to graverobbing. They were fresh flowers though. They hadn’t been pressed and preserved, and transporting these flowers from Edoras to Minas Tirith was not as easy as it seemed. They were fragile flowers that would not have lasted the trip. He’d grown them locally. Bram hoped he was wrong. That he’d misidentified the flowers. He’d never seen them before, so he’d borrowed a book on botany from the captain’s library. He’d matched it based on a picture and a scant description. He really did hope he was wrong.

Similar to the branches, the vines didn’t yield anything aside from casual brutality mixed with artistry. They’d been stitched into the arms and legs like veins and painted white with the same kind of paint as the branches. They were almost too delicate to remove. Bram, several times, accidently snapped them as he tried to remove the stitching and separate plant from man.

The crown of mesquite thorns was a nice touch too, the killer shaped the bramble with thorns over an inch long into a facsimile of the crown of Gondor.

What Bram couldn’t tell after all his work had been completed and every branch, flower, vine, and thorn had been catalogued, was whether this was a message meant to mock Minas Tirith (and Gondor as a whole) or just the man. It was incredibly detailed and intricate. The killer had put work into this thing. If it was simple anger at the man, would he not have just killed him and left him in an alleyway? Or perhaps displayed him in a less spectacular and attention-grabbing way? But if he were meant to mock Minas Tirith, why choose a man no one would recognize.

Papa!

The memory of the little girl’s scream echoed in Bram’s skull. Someone recognized him. There was a sour gurgle to his stomach. “I hope Ric found your little girl,” he turned and looked at the corpse.

It had taken time to bend the body back into shape. The sound of cracking bones and tearing muscles was fresh in his ears. Somehow the tearing of meat from a turkey leg never sounded so vivid. Maybe it was time to make the leap to vegetarianism. The killer had broken and twisted nearly every joint in the poor man’s body. He was strong as well as methodical, the angle at which he bent many of the joints was nearly impossible for Bram to fix. His right leg had needed to be broken all over again to make it bend back and straighten the way it ought. Flesh had been peeled away in several places, flayed completely off the muscle. What had the killer done with the skin? Not to mention the internal organs. Trophies? The man still had his brain, aside from missing his esophagus the man’s head was relatively free from mutilations.

“What did you do to make someone hate you so much?” he asked the corpse. “Who did you cross capable of such butchery? I’ll find him. I have no idea how, but I will. I don’t know who you are or what you did, but I doubt anything you did in life warranted this sort of treatment.” He sighed. His muscles ached from more than just the physical task of dissection.

Bram washed his hands in a basin and dried them. He took some time sketching the face with a charcoal pencil. The man’s cheeks were long and gaunt, but he had high cheek bones. His hair was dirty and unkempt. When combing through it, Bram had found evidence of dirt and ash. He didn’t look old. He was maybe middle aged, old enough to have a six-year-old daughter.

Papa!” the little girl’s voice rang in his head again.

The eyes were blank and dull green, set widely apart, one seemed slightly lazy. There was a scar on his left cheek. It wasn’t part of the mutilation. It was old, old enough to have nearly faded. He didn’t have a beard and it didn’t appear a razor had been taken to him after his death. That would help. His chin was square but not strong. It and his nose were slightly crooked, signs of a few fights perhaps?

Bram finished the drawing and exited the mortuary, closing the door behind him. The sun was still bright in the sky, the air was cool and carried a scent of cardamom. The world was a strange place indeed.

Papa!” the voice of the girl mixed with something, someone else. He paused. The headache began creeping back in like a spider. He sighed again.

🧚
Strange Fruit got holes in the flesh but it ain't gonn' spoil cause it never was fresh

New Soul
Points: 1 672 
Posts: 1138
Joined: Wed May 27, 2020 7:12 pm


Nessa with Thea and Hathaldir

From long experience, both as a healer and as a mother, Nessa knew that encouraging glances, kind words and gentle nudging would only get her so far when someone needed to be fed. Especially if that someone was frightened and traumatised like Thea was. Time and safe, comfortable space were what was needed now, but unfortunately for the healer and her patient neither was at their disposal. They were in a small room that was made to be suffocating and uncomfortable – a perfect location to interrogate crooks, hardened criminals and murderers. Not a room designed to treat traumatised young women.

May the Valar grant me the grace to accept with serenity the things that cannot be changed,” Nessa thought as she unhurriedly reached for her basket and busied herself with the search for clean washcloths and ointment. She knew exactly where these things were, for she packed the basket with great care. However, the healer hoped that if she focused on her work instead of observing Thea, the girl would relax and feel comfortable enough to attempt to eat. The growling sounds emanating from the girl’s stomach betrayed her hunger.

“I am not paid to be kind of nice, Mrs de Argosy,” Hathaldir remarked, taking great care in his choice of words and the way he spoke them. “I am paid to uphold the law and that is what I am doing,” he finished and set the heavy manacles on the table.

The guard’s words made her pause and she slowly looked up at him, her perfectly shaped eyebrow arching up vituperatively – a gesture picked up from her formidable grandmother, Ellin de Argosy. The intricate manner in which the late Grande Dame arched her eyebrows, the subtle variations signifying her displeasure or disappointment, or simply conveying that a statement uttered in her presence was rather unintelligent and/or unhelpful, was as powerful as any siege weapon. She continued to observe Hathaldir, her right eyebrow still lifted in that scathing manner, as the guard turned to Thea. Soon the young healer’s focus moved from the guard to Thea and her expression morphed from critical to compassionate as she noticed how distressed the girl looked. Thea kept shaking her head vehemently and once again refused to eat, stuttering that she was not hungry.

While Hathaldir continued speaking to Thea, the sarcasm in his voice making the speech almost berating, Nessa calmly took out the washcloths, ointment and other necessities she needed to treat Thea out of the basket. She was quiet as she laid each item neatly down at the table and did not react to the guard’s impatient and sarcastic attempts of rushing her work. She looked at him as she reached out to draw the basin with clean water closer to her. She could have chastised him for his insensitive remarks, or utter a few chosen remarks herself… There were many things she could have said. Sarcastic, scathing, unkind things… However, saying those things would not help Thea and she was here to help the girl not to argue with a guard.

“Thea,” Nessa spoke the girl’s name softly, a stark contrast to Hathaldir’s brusque and impatient demand. When the young woman lifted her head and looked at her, the healer smiled kindly. “I’d like to tend to your arm now. May I?” she asked and gestured for the girl to extend her hand towards her, which Thea reluctantly did. Nessa offered the girl an encouraging smile and slowly took the washcloth from the table and submerged it into the basin with clean water. “I’m going to clean your arms now and then put ointment on them,” she informed the girl as she wrung out the washcloth. Nessa knelt next to the girl and gently took her arm. She was slow and careful as she moved the damp washcloth over Thea’s skin, still, from time to time the girl whimpered.

“It’s alright,” Nessa murmured soothingly to the girl. “I know it hurts, but it will be over soon, I promise,” she comforted the girl while she continued with her work. She cleaned the girl’s hands and afterwards her face, and when she finished the water in the basin was far from pristine. She laid down the dirty washcloths on the table next to the basin and took out the tin with the healing salve from the basket. “I’m going to put this salve on your hands and arms now,” she told the girl as she unscrewed the lid. A subtle, but pleasant and uplifting scent of healing herbs filled the room.

“You’ve been through a lot today,” Nessa said as she scooped up some of the healing salve, spread it on her hands with a therapist’s swipe, warming it up in the process. “Sitting here, now, you must be thinking that you’re a bad person,” she told the girl as she gently rubbed in the ointment on her arms. “That all the choices you’ve made were wrong and that you don’t deserve anyone’s help or sympathy. But you’re wrong Thea You’re not a bad person!” the healer cried emphatically. “You’re not a bad person. You’re not,” she repeated. “You might have made a wrong choice today, that’s human, we all make bad decisions from time to time. But you also did something very brave today, something right. Your actions saved a boy’s life,” Nessa said as she paused with her work, looking Thea in the eyes. “You helped someone, you saved someone’s life. Never forget that! You are not a horrible person and you deserve all the kindness and help. Do not despair, darling girl. Have courage little one and let me help you,” the healer said holding Thea’s hand. “For you are brave, good and kind and you matter.”
She/her.
Solitudinem faciunt, pacem appellant
Image

Master Torturer
Points: 2 588 
Posts: 3018
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 11:22 am
Thea

Nessa's words were heard and while she desperately wanted to believe every single comforting word, her predicament told her otherwise. She knew Ms. Irma. There was no way that old battleaxe was going to drop this. With no job to pay for accomodations, her tiny "room" would be rented out to someone else and her meagre belongings would be used to pay her outstanding bills. She owned next to nothing, however she realised that amongst her meagre possessions was the only thing left from her parents which was an old journal of her mother's, filled with beautiful poems and a letter from her father, sent just before he was lost and pressumed dead.

Her heart broke all over again, tears stinging in her eyes at the thought of having lost those for good. The others in the room likely thought that it was from the pain in her hands. That could not be further from the truth. She had learned to live with that pain and discomfort. It was nothing compared to the heartbreaking pain of losing ones parents, of being all alone. But there was no way she was going to share that now, especially not with the guard that seemed to be born without a heart or any kind of compassion. But then who was she to expect to recieve it from him. A nobody, in his eyes. A thieving nobody no less.

Despite the attempt from Nessa to comfort her, all Thea could think of was how she could salvage those two items, though she was at a complete loss as to how she would even get word out to anyone who could. Not to mention that the only likely help was Lily whom she doubted would be too keen, given that Lily was still working for Ms. Irma. Her heart sank even further, sending out a desperate prayer for her friend and that Ms. Irma wouldn't take her ire out on Lily. Even Ms. Irma knew they were close friends.

But she did not get to delve too deeply into her predicament as the door suddenly swung open, banging against the wall with a loud clunk that made her jump and almost cry out.

"What the.. why is she still here?!"

Bealthor, Captain of the Tower Guard was stood in the doorway scowling. Headaches seemed rife throughout the building and he had the mother of them all. Alcohol and Ms. Irma was a certain recipe for a headache. But then almost none were left unscathed in one way or another after dealing with the woman.

His brows creased as his tired eyes took in the scene before him, seeing that the girl had obviously been treated given the supplies littering the small table. But he did note that they seemed to be done.

"You have been in here all this time?" While it had likely not been all that long, his time had been spent with Ms Irma and that made it torturously long.

"Get yourself back on the streets, they do not watch themselves you know." He shot at Hathaldir, his annoyance growing, unaware of having mimicked the younger man's most recent comment. "The courts will decide the girl's fate, so get her off to the gaol immediately and get back to work. If she needs further medical treatment the gaol have their own surgeon there." He deliberately left out that the so called 'surgeon' was nothing more than a self trained quack that would sooner spit on your grave than do any actual healing or tending to wounds.

"Ma'am.." he nodded towards the woman sat with the thief, his scowl only marginally lifting into something more agreeable before he turned on his heals and stormed back out. This day needs to be over.. he lamented under his breath, pining even more for that dark ale after his shift ended.

Post Reply