Arda: A World of Dreams - Free RP

[Fuin Elda]

September 15, 2615 - TA
Minas Tirith - Second Circle
@Rillewen

Fuin smiled and gave a nod knowing just how nervous Cala was, she was doing quite excellent really. "Sure," Fuin said and moved to look at wwhat she had done so far. "Normally your best bet is to cut the tines which is what those pokey things are called before you flatten it for most forks which are just two tines, if you're doing fancier forks with three or more tines you do it the way you've done." Fuin said calmly "You'll want to heat the metal and then punch through it with the chisel we made the other day - try to get the sharpest edge of it so that it doesn't displace too much metal and it should do a good job." Fuin said making sure it wasn't so loud that the people outside could hear her easily with all of the windows open.

"Alright." She said giving Cala another nod and then headed for the door making sure Cala was busy at work when she opened the door and opened it greeting the people that were waiting and welcoming them into their forge. She spoke to several at length looking at the items, some passing a critical eye to Cala as she worked and whispering about there being a young woman learning smithing but nothing more than their whispering about it came from it. Most put it to the fact that it was elf run and elves had some strange notions. There were quite a few questions on the shield and others on the swords.

The first item sold was one of Cala's toys, a merchant had been harried by his son for the last two weeks about getting the puzzle toy that his new friend had from apprentice at the elf forge. After the initial rush it did slow down a bit, with only one or two people coming in at a time but soon the nail toys were getting depleted, and the scissors that Fuin had made were also gone, as were a good number of pins. Fuin hadn't thought that the sword and shield would go terribly fast though several men did look at them in wonder - the price tag was high enough on them that they would likely not sell for a bit Fuin figured. The scissors and pins commanded a higher price than the toys but Fuin was starting to think she should get Cala back to making nails and the little puzzles.

Fuin couldn't help but wonder when the delivery boy that was utterly enamored with Cala (even if neither of them would admit to it it was plan as the sun rising in the east to Fuin) would come to visit, he likely had deliveries to make first. She hoped he would come, that would give Cala a bolster if he returned like he said he would. She didn't expect him though until after noon and by then if the puzzles kept going Cala would be hard at work again.

[Rillewen]

@Fuin Elda

Calaerdis



September 15, 2615 - TA
Minas Tirith - Second Circle
Grand Opening of the new smith shop!

Listening to Fuin's answer, Cala smiled and nodded. That was exactly how she had been thinking of doing it, so that was a relief to know she'd had the right idea. But it was always nice to check before she messed up, especially with a lot of people about to come in and see her at work for the first time. She was very nervous but tried her very best to block out all the people as they entered. She worked on her project, focusing on cutting the tines into the fork. Tines, strange word. The girl was aware of people coming into the shop, murmuring and commenting on things, and tried to focus on doing her work properly.

Soon she had put two cuts into the fork, making three tines. One of the cuts was slightly off-centered, making the middle one slightly skinnier, and the end one a little thicker, but she hoped it would be alright. These were only for their own personal use, so it would be alright, surely.

She glanced up as she heard the first sale beginning to happen, hardly able to contain her excitement. Their first sale! She was even more pleased to see what the sale was.. one of the things she made! She turned back to her work so the other people couldn't see her grinning happily.

After finishing the first fork, she worked on a second, trying to get the tines more even this time, and then a third. By that time, she saw that her nail puzzles were nearly sold out, and was surprised to see how low the supply had become. Setting the third finished fork aside with the others, she selected some more metal and got to work on making some more nails, very pleased to see how well they were selling. Probably due to Radaron, she thought with a smile. Word of Mouth Advertisement is the best way, she'd heard somewhere, but also showing other kids something you have that they don't tends to make them want the same thing, she had noticed with children.

[Moriel]

Omentië
Cuiviénen. late YT 1080.
(Private with Frost)

He was different. There was something different about her friend, and Tyelpelfindis could not divine it. He shielded himself from her, so she could not see what he saw, feel what he felt. And when he spoke into her mind, it was to reveal that he had kept from her secrets of darkness. Before she could begin to feel the hurt of dishonesty, though, he did show her something: a glimpse, the briefest flare of the utter darkness he had described. Even in that instant of exposure, that darkness flooded Tyelpelfindis. She felt rather than just saw it, and its tendrils shot forth, twining themselves about her from within, snaking through her every nerve and vein and fiber of being. She inhaled sharply; it was horror and pleasure at once, and her mind screamed against it. Then Mairon’s thought cut off from her again, and the darkness receded. But it did not snap off at the root as his thought had, rather it retreated deliberately, and as she watched him command the two children out from the trees, Tyelpelfindis could perceive about her friend an aura like to that of the ungualaco.

I know this darkness. he had said, I can manipulate it. I can get those taken by the ungualaco and bring them back. But…

But what? The aura lingered around Mairon as he spoke to Trasander and Cútaþar, swirling like smoke, and just as slowly dissipating. She registered what he said and did to the boys, but her eyes remained fixed upon him. The boys rushed off.

Mairon, she began to whisper, but he cut her off, maybe before taking the chance to hear. When he spoke it was to command: his urgency was utmost, but his words were two-sided, and something was in them other than the desire to protect her and the rest of the quendi. He called her not by her name, but the name of her kind, and with another command was gone. An oppressive silence filled the void of his sudden absence, and Tyelpelfindis stood alone in the glade where they had spent so many happy hours, beside the starlit waters. Though she had spent much time by herself in her life, never before had she felt alone as she did now. The feeling of it caught at her chest. Mairon had come at last, but his coming had not been the balm she had wished for, or even offered the hope she had been desperate to receive. His assurances were tainted by… something, and Tyelpelfindis could but turn her face up to the stars, blinking away the tears that came to her so often now.

Something wet touched her feet. Without realizing it, Tyelpelfindis had walked forward into the edge of the water. Closing her eyes, she took deep breath and pressed further into the water, feeling it lap over her ankles, her calves, knees, thighs; it hugged the curve of her waist as it encapsulated her hips and lifted the hem of her robe, the feather-light fabric floating atop the water’s surface, mingling with the silver of her hair. In her mind’s eyes she recalled the first time she had trod these waters upon Awakening, and the laughter and joy she had shared with the first of her kin. Her hands floated upon the surface as the water rose to beneath her bosom, and upon the completion of her next long inhalation, Tyelpelfindis began to sing. Without words, the way she had begun, in praise and wonder of the stars above. Beyond her notice, the reflection of the stars in the water slowly brightened as she sang, and the branches and edges of trees and brush that formed the border of the glade took on their glow. And deeper in the trees, lurking ungualaco were repelled by the light of her song. But Tyelpelfindis knew none of this, and merely sang until she could sing no more. It was a long time later when she emerged from the water, and paced slowly alone across the plain to rejoin her kin by the shores of Cuiviénen.

YT 1085

It was not as long as his previous absence, but it seemed much longer. At first, Tyelpelfindis had waited anxiously and in hope, unwilling to think that Mairon could not do as he had said, to control the darkness, and return to the quendi those of their kin who had been taken by the ungualaco. But as time passed on, it seemed to her that she waited in vain, no matter how much she might assure the others that help was coming, that the darkness was sure to pass. Days turned to weeks, to months, and finally to years as her hope dwindled and despair began to creep into its place. But among the quendi Tyelpelfindis was one of the few Awakened, eldest, accounted wise, and her kin looked to her for guidance and for hope. She kept her despair locked within, and devised new songs of remembrance each time one of her kind vanished into the forest. There were so many quendi now, and they had devised so many words and things, but there were times that Tyelpelfindis wished for the days before words, when there had been only starlight and song. When she studied herself in the still waters of Cuiviénen, she saw the changes that Mairon had wrought in her on their first meeting, the sheen of the elder stars in her eyes and hair, and felt she betrayed him in her wishes. But he did not come.

One day, something changed. Tyelpelfindis was walking with Tata along the edge the water, near to where a stream joined the inland sea. Though she was one of Enel’s people, she had forged a special friendship with Tata, and they often talked together in quiet moments. But as they walked this day, both suddenly stopped, as they felt a change in the air, and as one looked around. There in the distance they could see something- the outline of a figure- and a kind of light they had never seen at Cuiviénen before: golden and warm, seemed to accompany it. Together they fled, back to the villages of their kin. There they gathered a council, but were interrupted with reports of the figure coming nearer and nearer, until at last the group decided that some should go out and meet it. Imin, Tata, and Enel elected that they should go, and Tyelpelfindis went with them. She had with Tata been the first to see, and none could stop her from being among the first to know. By the time these decision had been made and the quartet of quendi had made their way past the furthest dwellings to the waving grasses of the plain across which the figure had approached, it had all but arrived, and now they could see it clearly.

It was what appeared to be a male of their kind, but taller and broader than any Awakened or born on that shore. His hair was gleaming-gold, and he wore garments the like of which they had never seen. Perhaps most remarkable of all, he sat astride a horse, but no such horse as any that the quendi had met. This was a horse of such stature as to bear the figure on its back with ease, bright-white, but shimmering silver and starlike, except for its hooves, which shone and rang with gold. As they approached him, Tyelpelfindis could not help but feel there was something familiar about this apparition. His face was stern, but there was no sense of dread about him, and as they drew near, he dismounted from the horse.

“Hello,” he said in the tongue of the quendi, and in the deep vibration of his voice, the thunderbolt struck her.

I know his voice!

In the ecstatic symphony Mairon had shared with her that was the music of creation, Tyelpelfindis had discerned many voices. This voice had been one of them, one of the voices that had sung all of creation into being, and stood against the discord. She stared at him openly, her lips parted in astonishment, and he went on.

“I am sorry if I startled you. I have been watching you for some time. I have seen the things that afflict you, and am come to help. I am called Arōmēz, which I believe in your tongue would be-”

“Oromë.”

Tyelpelfindis spoke the word at the same time as the newcomer, who looked to her for the first time. She could see the surprise in his eyes, and feel the might behind their question. But before he could ask it, Imin stepped forward.

“You say you come to help, but you have watched us long enough to learn our language. How long have you lurked, spying on us? If you come to help, why have you done nothing? For all we know, it is you responsible for the ungualaco! You could be the one stealing our kin! There is nothing good that stays hidden from the quendi in Cuiviénen.” Oromë raised his hands, empty and placating.

“If I desired you harm, should I have come to you openly? I am the rider who drives away foul things, not herds them. I have heard you far-off singing, and came to see what you might be, and have found you marvelous- the Eldar.” This last word seemed to set off a faint ringing in the minds of all the elves as Oromë named them in their own tongue, the people of the stars. At this the great horse lifted his head from where he had been cropping at the grass and neighed, and even the voice of the horse was like music. Tyelpelfindis stepped forward, and stretched out her hand. Again Oromë turned to look at her, but she paid him no heed, focusing only on the horse. This too looked at her, assessing Tyelpelfindis with the liquid dark of his eyes, and then paced forward, head nodding in time golden hooves, until his muzzle rested in her palm. It was softer than anything she had ever felt, and her face broke into an enchanted smile as she caressed the velvety smoothness, raising her free hand to reach up and stroke the horse’s round jowl.

“Nahar,” Oromë introduced the horse, the wonderment in his voice slightly muffled by the whickering noise the horse was making into Tyelpelfindis’s hand. “Surely,” he continued, his tone turning slightly mirthful, “you can see that he means you no harm? Let me come among you,” he persisted, turning to the trio of néri standing behind her, “and learn your ways.”

And he did. Imin relented, the others agreed, and Oromë followed them back to the dwellings upon the shore, to meet and mingle with the rest of the quendi. He was eager to listen and to learn, and quick to study. Tyelpelfindis always had a feeling that he already knew most if not all of what they explainted to him, or that his learning was so quick he did not need all the instruction, but he listened nevertheless. Oromë offered guidance and suggestions, assisting with many improvements, and Nahar was the delight of young and old alike. This strange newcomer joined in their songs, and though his voice was always different enough from that of the quendi that it could never quite blend in the kind of harmony they achieved alone (or with Mairon, Tyelpelfindis thought), he never sought to overpower. And Oromë told them of his kin, the Valar, who lived across a far away sea, and had sung the world into being. The quendi marveled at this, and Tyelpelfindis kept her silence. But even as Oromë offered so much to the quendi and seem to want nothing from them but to learn their ways, there were those who feared him still. And their fear grew; some returned from the woods, having not been taken by the ungualaco, but having heard whispers of a dark rider who was not what he seemed, who sought to betray them, vision put into their minds of Oromë as a dark terror. The elder quendi took counsel together often, and Oromë could tell that they were troubled. At length, he told them that he would depart and tell of them to his kin beyond the sea, and that the Valar would talk of what could be done to protect the quendi.

So the great Huntsman departed on his great steed, and Nahar’s musical cries lingered upon the air in their passage. Tyelpelfindis watched them go, seated upon the hill overlooking Cuiviénen where she dwelled. It had changed little since she had first brought Mairon there, only becoming more adorned with the offerings that her kin (mostly the young) sometimes brought her; flowers and garlands and carved things and fluttering scraps of fabric that were too small to make anything useful, but were beautiful nonetheless. Unease crept back into her as she watched Oromë recede into the distance. Mairon had told her to allow no one within the bounds of Cuiviénen, but all she had sensed of Oromë from what he had shared of her, and from meeting the Vala himself, had been good. He had said there were things of both light and shade not to be trusted, but there was nothing about this Huntsman that had seemed so. And none of her calls to Mairon had gone answered. Was she waiting on a miracle that would never come? More than anything, she wanted to believe that Mairon could drive away the darkness and vanquish the ungualaco. But even now as she stretched her thought out to him across the vastness and silence, there was no answer.

YT 1086

Oromë had returned. In the time since his going away, not one of the quendi had vanished from within a league of Cuiviénen’s shores. The Huntsman had spoke of putting a girdle of protection about the waters before departing, and it seemed he had been true to his word- though it was not enough to protect those who dared wander further. They were mourned and missed as much as those who had been taken before, but now the quendi at least did not fear for themselves beside their homefires, and Tyelpelfindis ventured frequently to her quiet glade, waiting. By the time Oromë returned, nearly all who had doubted and feared before had had their hearts and minds changed by the benevolence and strength he had left behind. He had been greeted with much armwaving and cheers, and now the quendi had built up a great bonfire on the shore and laid out a feast to welcome the Huntsman back to Cuiviénen, and the laughter and song rose above the crackling flames. Though she had gone with the others to offer her greetings, Tyelpelfindis sat apart now on the knoll by her shelter, knees drawn up to her chest, arms clasped around them. She smiled as she looked down upon her kin and Oromë in their midst, but a pang tugged at her heart.

Oh, Mairon, she called wistfully, I wish you were here. Even as she said it, a hint of something caught at the edge of her awareness- a flash of scarlet, a hint of- him.

Mairon?

[Fuin Elda]

September 15, 2615 - TA
Minas Tirith - Second Circle
@Rillewen

The day was going well and Fuin was fairly certain that the novelty of the nail toys would wear off soon she didn't stop Cala when she began making more, they would undoubtedly need more for a week or so before everyone about had one of the little puzzles to play with. Noon came and with it a lull as many went home to eat lunch or take a break at one of the food stalls. Fuin took this time to look over the forks that Cala had made and nodded her approval, indeed the ability to practice the same item repeatedly in a short time showed her that Cala knew what to do she just needed more practice at it to be able to master it. The next issue of course would be making one work well for Rada.

"Perhaps you can sharpen one side one of these forks as Rada won't be able to use a fork and a knife." Fuin suggested holding a fork up looking at it running a finger along the edge of the tine that she would sharpen if she were making something for Rada to double as both knife and fork. "I'll go grab us a bite to eat and some more water from upstairs you man the shop." With that she headed upstairs leaving her apprentice to her own ideas and any customers that might wander in while she was away for a few minutes - possibly a terrifying thing however she only took a few moments grabbing a loaf of bread some nuts and cheese as well as the pitcher Cala had made filled with water for them with the cups.

"I think we are going to get you working on pins in the next few days, they are selling well and once the seamstresses start bragging about their new pins more of them are going to be coming in for pins and scissors." Fuin said as she hopped herself up onto one of the tables near the forge where she could see the front as well as the forge itself and patted the table beside her for Cala to join her since they didn't have any seats down stairs - something they would perhaps need to remedy in the near future as they finished stocking the shop and had more time to sit and relax even during their work day. "I can manage scissors easy enough but pins tend to sell no less than twenty at a time and take enough time to get them made well we'll be needing a hundred or more of them in the next few days is my guess."

[Rillewen]

@Fuin Elda

Calaerdis



September 15, 2615 - TA
Minas Tirith - Second Circle
Grand Opening of the new smith shop!

Glancing at the fork upon hearing Fuin's suggestion, Cala realized that was something she had not even thought about. "Oh, that's a really good idea." She nodded, keeping that in mind. She could do that as soon as she had finished with her current project. It would probably be best for the boy to learn to use proper table manners, not that Cala had much experience to teach him, but it was probably better if he could cut the food into smaller bites rather than using the fork to pick up an entire piece of meat and biting off what he needed. It would be interesting to see how he changed and adapted as they provided him with better tools for coping in proper society.

When Fuin left her for a moment, Cala initially felt a little nervous...what if a flood of customers came in while she was gone? What if they got out of hand, or started demanding things and she didn't know how to handle them? But all went well, and in fact, they seemed to have a lull in customers coming in. She finished the batch of nails she had been working on, then came over to join Fuin, eager for a break from the work. "Do you think there's anything else I need to work on today? After I finish the toys, that is?" She wondered, already starting to think about what she might do once those had stopped being so popular. She had a couple of untested ideas on other variations of puzzle toys, but she'd have to play around with it a little before she knew whether another style would work.

[Fuin Elda]

September 15, 2615 - TA
Minas Tirith - Second Circle
@Rillewen


Fuin sat eating for a moment as the two of them took a break from work to eat the door to the shop was still open but the foot traffic outside had calmed for the moment. "I think." She started as she swallowed her mouthful, "That once you get the new toys finished a good idea might be for you to start drawing out some thin wire half the width of the nails you are making now from the high grade steel we bought, since that is the first step in making more pins for the seamstresses and will be good practice for you making something fine." Fuin said finally figuring that once she was finished with the toys there would be another lull and Fuin would likely be able to take on starting actually making the fine pins in question so that they were restocked for tomorrow. "I may get you to start pulling sides for making scissors as well depending on how long the wire takes that way we aren't stuck working all night again to restock for tomorrow." Fuin said with a smile. "Eventually it would be nice to only have to work an hour or two after we close to restock our sellable wares and work on commissioned pieces once those start coming in. That though will probably take a bit for us to do as we'll need to get more stock made than what we were able to get done in a few days." Fuin smiled. The good news was she at least didn't need to make another shield or sword until those sold which had taken her the longest as they were the biggest and fanciest. She could move onto nails, and pins and basic tools. As could Cala when they actually got the toys finished as well.

"Actually I may get you tomorrow to forge us a new hammer, if we are going to be working on pins and other fine items we are going to need a very small and light hammer to work with fine wire without decimating it with one strike." Fuin was quite certain that Cala would be able to make a hammer head with ease especially one as small as she was thinking. She picked up a piece of coal as she as eating and sketched out the new tool between them on the table top the head was about as big as Fuin's thumb with both sides flat one she had drawn a line across and put what looked like a fine nail coming out from the main face of the hammer into that lined off area. about half an inch back and then she drew the face as a perfect circle and the length and width of the handle which seemed mighty small. "The one face is going to have nail coming from it and we'll be facing it with some hardened leather for when we start working with gold and silver which is very soft." Fuin said as she finished her lunch "The main head of this is going to be made out of the bronze we bought so it won't be hardened the same way." Fuin said "It's meant to be a soft touch hammer made mostly the same way as a normal hammer but out of softer materials."

[Rillewen]

@Fuin Elda

Calaerdis



September 15, 2615 - TA
Minas Tirith - Second Circle
Grand Opening of the new smith shop!

Pins! Something Cala had tried to make before, but they never turned out right. She still recalled the turned-up noses and eye-rolls from the seamstresses she had once tried to sell her pathetic pins to, and how they had ridiculed her attempts. She knew they weren't very good, then, and began to feel a little bit nervous already as Fuin suggested that she might have her make some tomorrow. That soon? She paused in chewing a bite of food and thought about that, with some worry, while Fuin continued talking about a few other things.

She felt some slight relief, then, to hear her suggest maybe she should make a new hammer. "Yes, that's a good plan," Cala nodded, somewhat glad to have a different project to work on. Leaning closer to see what the elf was drawing, Cala nodded slowly and thoughtfully as she saw the design, trying to picture the finished product in her mind. In fact, she was sure that she had seen one of those before, in one of the smiths she had either slept in or worked in, long ago. No one had ever told her what it was for, and she'd had no one to ask at the time. "What is it called?" She asked now, studying the sketch and keeping in mind what the real thing looked like. "It's for making delicate things, then." The girl mentioned thoughtfully, nodding slightly to herself. "I've seen one before. I wondered what it was for. But that was a long time ago." She frowned, trying to recall how long ago, but gave up, as she realized it didn't really matter. She was about to have one of her own, and that was far better than a half-forgotten memory.

[Fuin Elda]

September 15, 2615 - TA
Minas Tirith - Second Circle
@Rillewen

She could sense the dread in Cala at the mention of making pins, though Cala would not be making the pins, just pulling the wire to make the pins, which was about half way there really. She smiled and watched her as she relaxed at the mention of the new hammer as well, something that would be possibly harder to make than the pin wire itself even if Cala did not realize it yet. After all the wire simply had to be the same width and a good length of it. A jewelers hammer had to be precise as precise as a pin really she thought with a smile.

"Yes it's for making delicate things - a jewelers hammer, and working with softer metals and inlaying wood soft metals as well without deforming the wood itself just pressing the wire into it." Fuin said with a smile. "With it we will be able to do more with the precious metals that I purchased as the current hammers we have for those are far to heavy and rough, though I suppose if we wanted to make gold leaf for scribes and the sort to illuminate their books the big hammer would work just fine for that since it's got a nice flat head, it would get coated fairly quickly though I am certain." She said with a chuckle. She finished up her lunch and brushed her hands together. "Right back to work now I suppose, you've puzzles to make and it looks like the foot traffic is picking up again which means we will probably be seeing more people coming in soon now that it is afternoon. You're doing excellent." Fuin said calmly. She hoped very much that the novelty of women running a smithy would not bring any hecklers in the afternoon as word got out that indeed it was being run by a she elf who had taken on a young gondorian woman as an apprentice, she also hoped that the delivery boy would make a return soon since he had said his deliveries tended to be made in the morning. That would bolster Cala even further, Fuin was certain of it

[Rillewen]

@Fuin Elda

Calaerdis

September 15, 2615 - TA
Minas Tirith - Second Circle
Grand Opening of the new smith shop!

Cala was rather eager to get started on this new project tomorrow. A new hammer. A special one. She could hardly wait, but she had other things to make today, and the hammer would wait. She hoped maybe that would make the pins easier to make, but she still had a bit of nervousness about the idea of that. But she had Fuin here now, to help her make them better. Maybe there was some trick she didn't know about before. Maybe she'd do fine with it, this time. She could only hope.

For now, it was time to get back to work. Just as she hopped up from her seat, lunch now concluded, another person entered the shop. Cala glanced over and smiled, glad to see a familiar face at least, and one that was friendly. "Hello Thal!" She greeted the delivery boy, pleased to see he had managed to make it, just as he said. She was beginning to think she'd made a friend her own age, for the first time she could remember.
"Cala," his face grew slightly pinker as she smiled at him, but thankfully that might be explained by the heat of the forge. "Ma'am," he added politely to Fuin. "I hope everything is going well?"

"Quite well, I think!" Cala said happily. "We were just getting back to work, but we've sold quite a few things. I'm about to make some more puzzle toys,"
"Oh, I saw some of those.. with the nails, right? Do..uh, do you have any more? I couldn't come earlier, lots of deliveries to make, but.."
"I think we sold the last one just before lunch," She told him regretfully. "But I'm making more... if you'd like to wait?"
"Sure!" If he was trying to hide his enthusiasm, his grin made the attempt not entirely successful. "If... that's alright?" he added with a glance at Fuin, uncertain. "I'd hate to get in the way or anything."

[Fuin Elda]

September 15, 2615 - TA
Minas Tirith - Second Circle
@Rillewen

Fuin smiled seeing Thal come in as she and Cala got back to work, he blushed and Fuin had to look away making herself busy with checking what merchendise was still in stock and what needed to be replaced tonight before she had a rest.

"Oh everything is going fantastic Thal, Cala is right we've sold quite a few things, and given word of mouth for good items tends to be the swiftest way to new customers I'm just figuring out how much we might need to make for tomorrow so that we don't have barren shelves." She said over her shoulder, she was happy to let Cala work and the two of them... flirt. even if they were both oblivious to what it was that they were doing it was sweet and cute and she wondered if she'd ever been like that? She was certain she had not. She'd been older and far more headstrong thanks to where she had grown up and when she had met Afarfin. Sappy later yes. Oblivious no she decided as she listened to him asking about the puzzle toys and Cala offering to make him one while he waited.

In fact there was one left, but she deftly pocketed it so that he would have a reason to stay rather than finding that there was one left. She didn't feel bad; not in the slightest, when he half shouted sure and his face looked like Rada when he'd discovered fruit tarts. She raised an eyebrow at the question. "Not an issue at all Thal, I'll be doing books and paper work while she works on those for the next bit so as long as you stay away from between the forge and the anvil you should be quite fine and out of the way." Fuin said with a smile. If she'd had been thinking she'd have brought the third cup down so Cala could show off the pitcher and cups she'd made for them, an impressive bit of work for a new apprentice. "Any funny stories Thal about horrible deliveries? It's good for her to work while distracted, one you can stay longer if you like, and two it means she will know how to talk and work at the same time." Fuin called back "Besides numbers and books are boring but we did not have time to build a second anvil yet and I am not the one that needs practice with the forge."

[Rillewen]

@Fuin Elda

Calaerdis

September 15, 2615 - TA
Minas Tirith - Second Circle
Grand Opening of the new smith shop!

"That's great!" Thal grinned, genuinely pleased to hear that they had done so well in their sales. "I've been telling everyone I've talked to," he added, a little shy to admit it.
"Thanks," Cala smiled, happy to hear that. "My brother's been telling all his friends, too, so I guess they've begged their parents to come and see, and buy them the toys." She laughed. "He's always been good at that." She didn't notice Fuin slipping the one puzzle left into her pocket, and figured that it must have sold when she was busy working on something else.

"Oh, you have a brother?" Thal commented, positioning himself where he could stand near enough to talk to Cala without being in their workspace.
"He's in school during the day," She answered, taking a couple of the finished nails, and placed them in the forge to heat up. "He's six, nearly seven."
Nodding, Thal was secretly relieved it wasn't an older brother who might be intimidating toward any guy trying to be friendly with his sister. "Funny stories?" He glanced toward Fuin and then went back to watching Cala work, thinking for a bit. "Oh, actually, there was this one.." He grinned, shaking his head a little in amusement at the recollection.
"Let's hear it," Cala smiled, curious as she checked the nails and decided they were ready to be bent.

"Well, so I had a delivery to this smith on the first circle, right?" He began. "And I was a little late getting there, because there were some unexpected delays, couldn't be helped. But when I got there, the man was extremely irate, and yelled at me for being late, said he was desperately needing those ingots, he had a ton of projects lined up and he was out of metal to make them with... So I apologized over and over, but he just kept complaining and stuff... more than usual. The guy's always full of complaints, but this was worse than usual." He shrugged, then smirked as he went on, "So I went to put away the ingots where he usually keeps them... and guess what? There's like half a months' supply of metal, all sorts, still there, stacked up all neat. So I'm like, What is all this? I thought you were out of metal.. and then he got really annoyed and told me to mind my own business.. but his face got all red like he was embarrassed, and he said something about how those ingots were reserved for some particular project and he needed more for other stuff." He rolled his eyes.

"Anyway, so while I was putting away the new ones, this customer came in and was really upset, and complaining about something he'd bought from the guy, and I could hear the smith just begging forgiveness and telling him he'd remake the thing, but the guy was like, No, I'm done with you, this is the third time I've gotten poor work from this place, I'm going someplace else.. and he demanded to get his money back for the thing." Thal grinned, trying not to laugh too hard, but was clearly amused as he went on, "So, I went up to the guy while he was waiting for his money, and I told him there's a new smithy that's just opened up today on the second circle, and told him he'd be more than satisfied with anything he bought there. So he said he'd definitely come by sometime this afternoon." He grinned wider.

"Really?!" Cala looked up, surprised as well, laughing a little. "Wow, that's great!" She grinned.
"That's not all!" Thal grinned. "I could see the smith guy was furious but he didn't say anything while the customer was there, just shoved the coins at him and watched him leave, then he was turning to me and I told him, He was looking for a new smith, so don't yell at me for telling him where he can find one. And that seemed to shut him up. But then as I was leaving, I heard him grumbling about elves and women," He smirked. "I think he knew exactly which place I'd sent the guy to."

Cala was laughing harder now, though still mindful of her work. "That's amazing, thank you so much for telling that, Thal." She said, grinning as she carefully bent a loop into one of the nails. Once she had adjusted the bend to her satisfaction, she set it aside on the edge of the forge to keep it from cooling too much while she worked on the other.

[Fuin Elda]

September 15, 2615 - TA
Minas Tirith - Second Circle
@Rillewen

Fuin sat writing down the items that they would need as Cala worked diligently on the order for Thal, a smile on her face as he asked about about her having a brother and knew exactly where his mind had gone and then he began his story and she could not help but laugh with Cala as he told the story of the blacksmith that she'd cursed not that long ago. Indeed her words had bite cruel and sharp, but it was more likely his own mind foundering at the thought of the words than some actual curse from her. She was no great elf, she had no power of foresight, nor had she been blessed to see the light of the Trees, nor had she powerful blood flowing through her veins like Luthien, or those that came of the line of Melian.

"Well I look forward to meeting this customer and I told you Cala, that that smith would learn a harsh lesson." Fuin said with a chuckle shaking her head even as Cala started the work of bending one of the nails. "One unhappy customer means there will be many more, and many more will mean there shall be more to follow for customers speak with each other and tell each other of where they go to replace poor quality." Fuin said with a smile glancing at Cala. If the young woman had ever been worried about how well the forge would do, all they needed to do was make sure that whatever this customer that was coming to them courtesy of Thal was to Fuin's elven standards.

Would it be a while before Cala was able to make her own goods to Fuin's exacting standards when it came to certain items? Indeed she was certain it took practice but, she would get there, and she would start working on items getting them started for Fuin so that it would be swifter for the elf to get the work done.

"I should say Thal, if this man come, and I am sure he will, I may need to send for more ingots in case we get over run with orders thanks to your kind words, and should that smith in the first Circle not keep his tongue behind his teeth cursing elves and women even more will know about us thanks to him as well as you!" She finished up her paper work happy with what they had made for the day even if they did nothing else all day they had made enough and it was only just after lunch.

It was not long after that that people started to come into the shop once more and more pins were sold the women chittering excitedly like hens over pins and how fine they were and two of them order scissors to be picked up in two days since Fuin no longer had scissors and they already seen the scissors that had come from the forge their deposits put down they headed out excited to start using their new items when a man came in tall and stern with sharp eyes and Fuin gave a small smile as the man looked past her to Thal.

"I take it this is the right place then that you are here." He then looked at Fuin who stood calmly her hands resting on the table waiting for him to speak to her. "I take it you are the owner of this establishment."

"I am the benefactor, and current master of the forge." She said with a smile, and the man nodded.

"If you've enough wealth to start a forge in such a short time you either are insanely rich or insanely good at what you do." Fuin gave a nod in response.

"I would like to think I am insanely good especially compared to the standards you've been suffering lately. Tell me what is it that you are needing smithed?"

[Rillewen]

@Fuin Elda

Calaerdis

September 15, 2615 - TA
Minas Tirith - Second Circle
Grand Opening of the new smith shop!

After making sure that the bend in both nails was just right, Cala dunked them into the quench and started on another, smiling a bit in amusement at the memory of Thal's story. "Is he always that rude to you?" She wondered. "I hope you won't have to deliver there as much anymore. I think he absolutely deserved Fuin cursing him."
"It sounds like maybe I won't," He said, a little wide-eyed at what Fuin had said. He leaned a bit closer to Cala, whispering. "Did she really curse him?"
Cala smiled and nodded. "Yes, she did." She answered, then added, "You do NOT want to make her angry."
"I'll keep that in mind," He nodded slowly, watching her work on bending the nails carefully. "That's fascinating, how you do that." He commented, then glanced up as Fuin spoke to him. "Oh, yes ma'am. Do you need them now?" He asked, preparing to hide disappointment, should she say that she needed him to go now...

Soon after, another flock of customers came along, and Thal stepped off to one side to make sure he wasn't blocking any of the merchandise, nor the people's view of the smith's apprentice at work, while also still allowing him to watch her work.

Cala smiled, hearing people go on about the pins, and wondered if she'd be able to make any that nicely. She felt a bit nervous again at the thought of doing it, but then remembered that she'd be making the hammer tomorrow, so that would be something nice to work on. Being fairly well-practiced at making the puzzles, she deftly worked at bending the nails she'd made, and dropping them into the quench bucket. The first one was probably nearly cool enough by now but she held off on retrieving it yet, so that Thal wouldn't feel that he had to leave just yet.

Hearing the voice of the man he'd referred here, Thal glanced up and smiled, nodding. "Yes, sir. This is the best forge in the city." He held off on his personal opinions about WHY it was the best... that was irrelevant to the man.
Cala grinned slightly while working on the nails, sneaking a glance toward the man, curious.

"We'll see," The man answered, glancing at the two teenagers with a slightly raised eyebrow, before turning back to Fuin. He pulled out a sketch and held it out. "This is what I want. I had requested this from another smith and was highly disappointed by his work. First off, I came three days in a row after he said it should be done, and it was not yet finished. Today, I came again to check and he said it was finished, but there was a rivet loose and the handle came apart in my hands! Since I had paid in advance, I demanded my money back, and this young man recommended that I try this forge. Can you do better than that?"

[Fuin Elda]

September 15, 2615 - TA
Minas Tirith - Second Circle
@Rillewen

"Not today no, but we shall have to see. After all I do not know what exactly was ordered or what he has need of. If I do I can send Cala to request another delivery before our next, account will be good for a while so she need only remember what we need and the way to the smelter." Fuin said with a smile at Thal's eager offer.

She was calm and quiet trying not to laugh as Cala warned Thal that he did not want to make her angry, indeed she was not wrong making her angry was a dangerous affair. Insulting her or other women for their skills or want to learn skills? Well it was not a fatal mistake but there were worse things than death and Fuin knew that full well.

Fuin stood calmly before the man and took the sketch when it was handed out as Thal gave praise to her forge. She looked it over reading the dimensions required, a long sword. "Yes I am certain I can do far better than the smith in the first Circle." She said calmly, "While I do not have a blade of these dimensions you can see my work well enough in terms of the hilt and the blade itself ." She motioned to the sword she had already crafted. so that he could lift it and feel its weight in his hand. It was light but well balanced and strong.

"I've some questions though in terms of pricing this for you, since had already ordered it elsewhere how swiftly do you need it by? We already have orders for the next few days but, while my apprentice needs rest as she is second born I have less need of rest and could press on well enough to get it to you swiftly, but I am a fan of a soft bed and good meals." She said with a smile. "So for that I would charge more by one hundred gold to deliver it by tomorrow, but if you can wait three days then I can give you a fairer price for I can get a fairer bit of sleep and a full belly."

The man looked at her and gave a laugh. "A hundred gold! Indeed elf you do like your food and rest, and three days is not to long a wait considering what the other did. How much for the blade in three days time?"

"One hundred and fifty." She said calmly, "As drawn but made to elven quality. If you wish for more elven touches and embellishments like gold inlay in the blade and hilt... then that too would be more at two hundred gold." The man drew a breath and narrowed his eyes.

"You jest."

And Fuin raised her eyebrows still calm though mildly confused she'd never had a man accuse her of joking about her prices and she held a hand below the counter behind herself spread in a motion for Cala and Thal to hold their tongues knowing full well that they might try to speak against this man, which for now was her place as she heard them shifting. "I do not. I require half payment upfront."

"One Hundred and Fifty gold for as I drew it." The man shook his head and set down his pouch that he'd recovered from the other blacksmith. "He was charging me two hundred."

"Yes well I have been doing this long enough that when I do something I can do it faster because I've had centuries of practice and I have no need to pay rent upon the forge or my dwellings in this city." Fuin said calmly. Trying to give the first circle smith what little benefit of the doubt that she could at this the man nodded and opened the pouch and counted out the coins 75 of them as Fuin pulled out a piece of paper and wrote down the mans name and his deposit and the final agreed upon price.

"I will be back in three days Master elf, I hope that your friend's boasts are truthful, but I do not know any elves to be liars when it comes to what they will do unless they feel like speaking in riddles that might be misinterpreted."

"I hate riddles and would not speak them if given a choice." Fuin said with a laugh and the man gave a snort and a small smile. "In three days I look forward to seeing my new blade." Fuin gave a nod and quickly put the money away and carried the drawing of the sword back to the forge.

"I think you will be doing a lot of the cooking and cleaning Cala in terms of this evening and next." Fuin said with a smile and pulled out the metal ingots that she would need to make the sword. "You will be practicing your skills while we are open, for I will be busy making scissors and this beast." She said and let her see the sword. She was not sure if Cala knew what the numbers meant but she had no doubt that Thal would. This was a two handed long sword and would be a monster to make.

[Rillewen]

@Fuin Elda

Calaerdis

September 15, 2615 - TA
Minas Tirith - Second Circle
Grand Opening of the new smith shop!

Watching with intrigue as the man examined the sword that Fuin had made, Cala had to remind herself to return her attention to her work. She pulled a couple more nails from the fire and carefully bent them, glancing briefly at Thal. He seemed split between watching her and watching the interaction with Fuin and the customer. She quietly dropped another pair of nails into the quenching bucket and then glanced back at the customer in slight surprise, hearing him say that Fuin must be joking about the price. She frowned slightly, glancing at Thal, but saw the motion that Fuin had made, a signal for her to keep quiet.

Glancing briefly at Thal, she wondered if he knew much about this guy, and noticed he looked slightly surprised as well. Soon after, the reason was revealed, and Cala was relieved... it seemed the man had been expecting a much higher price than Fuin told him. She had a hard time not grinning, but managed to refrain until after he had left. Then she eagerly tried to get a look at the picture.

"Wow!" Thal exclaimed softly. "Do you know who that was?" He wondered.
"No, what is he wanting?" she asked, intrigued.
"That's Commander Trevadrion!" He revealed, having not realized this, until seeing the man in the better-lit forge here, rather than in Thindor's darker shop. "He's wanting a very big sword, too." He commented with wide eyes. "Also... I might be wrong but I think the sword he rejected from Mr. Thindir wasn't quite that size," He added, looking over the dimensions listed. "And I wouldn't be surprised if the 200 coins he spoke of was only the upfront part Mr. Thindir insisted on. I've been delivering to him for a long time, and he usually wants most of the payment upfront and then about another third or so when you come to collect the item, whatever it is."
Cala nodded thoughtfully, remembering from when she used to watch him work. "Yeah, you're probably right, I've seen him do that, too." She agreed. "So who is this Commander Trevadrion?"

Thal looked a little surprised she didn't know, but then thought she probably wasn't from around these parts. "Oh, he's very important! He's a commander in the Gondorian Navy, and commands a whole fleet of ships. And, he does other important things too, I guess, though I'm not sure exactly what. Still, I'm sure that if you make him happy, he'll tell ALL his friends, and all those serving under him, and everyone he knows... where to get the best work." He grinned, very pleased for them.

"Wow..." Cala blinked, wondering how much business that would be, and if that could really actually happen. That would be very exciting, but could they keep up with so many orders? She nodded in reply to what Fuin had said. "I don't mind cooking and everything, but can I help make it? At least a little?" She asked, hopeful. It would be very exciting to get to help in crafting something like that, and she intended to watch as much as possible even if she didn't get to help. "Please?" She grinned, looking up from the sketch of the sword the man wanted.

[Fuin Elda]

September 15 to 18, 2615 - TA
Minas Tirith - Second Circle
@Rillewen

Fuin turned a smile on her face listening to both Thal and Cala talking and she raised an eyebrow at the comment that the man she'd just dealt with was a Commander, "Commodore. That man is a Commodore not a Commander." She said gently with a chuckle. "I would not suggest letting him hear you call him a Commander either." She said with a smirk. "And yes I have no doubt that should he like the blade I make for him that we will end up making many more blades, for his crews."

Fuin for her part motioned that Cala should get back to work. "And you are welcome to help after you've gotten the cooking and cleaning done I would like your help with stretching out the metal for both the scissors and the swords, if you get the nail puzzles done before the end of day you can start on drawing out the scissor halves which is the first thing we will need to have made for tomorrow for those ladies."

---
The next few days were hard, the work to get the sword done was intense and Cala had so many questions and she was so confused at why Fuin was using three ingots instead of one, and why she was folding the metal over multiple times. And Fuin was confused at first about why this was a question, it was something that she had shown her in passing when she had been working on the short sword and the dagger. It was then that she realized that Thindir had never used more than on ingot in any of his works. If one used a good enough metal one could perhaps get away with it but over all it was almost always something that would end up in a poorer quality blade, that was not as strong, or would not be able to be as long or keep it's edge. It would lose to much metal in the heating process.

Fuin wanted to go back down to the first circle and curse the smith again but instead she pressed upon Cala that taking short cuts like that she would undoubtedly kill people. She reminded Cala how the rivet had given way in the Commodore's hand and she asked what she thought would happen if that had of happened in a battle instead of in a forge behind the high walls of Minas Tirith during a time of peace. Or if he was adventuring and was set upon by bandits? Cala started to understand it seemed realizing that if there was ever one thing that Fuin would never allow it would be cutting corners where it could cost the person their life. Cala learned that she'd be haunted and followed by something far worse than any curse elf, man, dwarf or even the valar themselves, the broken trust, and lives of those left by the deaths of those lost due to the failure of things that should not fail. The swords, the armor made by her in the future, her work... It was a bond of trust. Those that wore it, those that fought with her blades. They used them and trusted they would not fail. This brought a look upon Cala of grave realization, as she had been learning from Thindir could have gotten people killed.

---

On the morning of the 18th the Commodore came amazed to see that unlike the day he had come in the shelves were stocked further, with more pins, and small items, trinkets make by Cala, utilitarian items made by Fuin. His eyes wandered the shelves and he questioned how the elf and the young girl could possibly have gotten other orders finished and the shelves filled and his sword made to his order complete.

However when he came in Fuin bent low and pulled the sword forged for him from behind the counter wrapped in fabric and set it upon the counter and he stood in shock for a moment and gently pulled the fabric back to reveal the sword made real from his drawing. His hand hovered over the weapon at first and then he lifted it feeling the weight of it and how solid it was in his hand.

"I knew elves were magical but this..." He held it in the morning light, "This is better than I could possibly have imagined in three days." He gave Fuin a nod and Cala one as well for she was working hard at the anvil on some project.

[Rillewen]

@Fuin Elda

Calaerdis

September 18, 2615 - TA
Minas Tirith - Second Circle

It was fascinating, and very educational, watching, and helping, make the sword. Having spent a lot of time, before meeting Fuin, watching Thindir from afar, trying to learn how to do things, it was quite a surprise to realize that quite a lot of the things she had observed the man doing were actually wrong. She was happier than ever that fate had thrown her and Fuin together, so she would learn how to do things properly, and tried to put out of her mind everything she'd 'learned' from Thindir. No wonder the sword he'd made had fallen apart.

Once the sword was completed, Cala couldn't help feeling very proud to know she had helped in making it, even if it was only a little bit. Hopefully, she would soon be able to make a knife or something small like that all on her own, but as of right now, she still had a little ways to go before she'd be able to take on a project like that. There were always the scrap pieces of metal though, to practice with.

Having come to the realization by now that making pins wasn't that hard when doing it properly, she didn't dread doing it so much, and had discovered that the reason hers didn't turn out well before was because she had been doing it incorrectly. With Fuin there to instruct her, she made several, and after the first few, they were actually sell-worthy, and she was very pleased. The jeweler's hammer also made a huge difference, rather than trying to use a regular 'claw hammer' meant for pounding nails.

After the initial surge of people wanting to buy the nail puzzles, that had slacked off enough that she was able to keep a supply on hand, and therefore was able to work on other things, like the scissors, and a few items for their own use, like bowls, spoons, and a few other utensils they could use in cooking. She made a few dishes and things that were deemed nice enough to put on the shelves, and was very pleased anytime one of the items she'd made was sold.

During the three days, she continually worried about whether the sword would be done in time, eager to note how much progress had been made on it by the end of the day, and then, finally, it was finished and she could hardly wait for the Commodore to return for it, hoping he'd be happy. When the time came, finally, she was busy working on a new design of puzzle toy she'd come up with while experimenting with some of the scrap stuff. At first she didn't notice him, being absorbed in her work, but she heard his voice when he spoke and glanced up, trying not to get distracted despite the thrill of excitement, seeing that he was examining the sword. She reminded herself not to rush on her work, making sure to complete this step before setting the project back on the coals to reheat. Then turned to watch, anxiously hoping the man would be pleased with the sword.

After a few experimental motions with it, he nodded. "The balance is exceptional," He commented, though it was hard to tell if he was surprised or not. "The edge, I dare not even touch, but I can see how sharp it is. This.." He looked at Fuin, with a brief glance toward the apprentice, and back to the master smith. "..far exceeds what I had hoped for." He smiled. "And it makes that other smith look like a joke." He added. "From now on, I shall be coming to this smith for all my needs. You can be sure that others will hear of this, as well. What is that you're working on?" He added to Cala, who was struggling to suppress a big grin.

Caught off guard, she cast a quick glance to check whether it was heated enough or needed more time; seeing it needed more time, she turned back to him to answer. "Only a puzzle toy, sir..." She answered.
"A toy," He nodded, and turned back to Fuin, "I'll take one of those toys as well, my son is sure to enjoy something like that. And I'd like to find something for my wife, as well, can you recommend anything?"

[Fuin Elda]

September 18, 2615 - TA
Minas Tirith - Second Circle
@Rillewen

The Commodore was exceptionally impressed and while Cala was nervous Fuin was not. He was thrilled with it and she gave a nod acknowledging that yes it probably was better than he had expected especially given what he had been getting from the man before delays and shoddy work. And Thal had stated that the sword he'd been getting was not to the proper dimensions to begin with. There were reasons not everyone could become a Commodore, one needed and impeccable sense of order and dedication. It was the exact same reason not everyone could become a master smith. "I am glad to hear that you will be coming here for any future needs." Fuin glanced as he asked Cala what she was working on and she gave a simple answer perhaps shocked at being questioned directly by someone like Commodore she couldn't help but smile.

"Which one sir, my apprentice has talent and made two different ones." Fuin said and set the first design on the counter for him the simple double nail design, and then the larger horseshoe puzzle she'd just come up with. "She just came up with the horseshoe puzzle yesterday so this is the first one she's made for sale." Fuin said quite proud of her apprentice.

"She made these?" Fuin nodded them "You designed them for her?"

"No the nail one she came up with before she became my apprentice and the horse shoe, she made them entirely herself while I was working on your sword, she lets her younger brother test them." The commodore for his part gave a smile as well.
)
"A sharp mind then!" Trevadrion said picking up the horseshoe toy, and glancing at Fuin who motioned that he aught to speak with Cala and not her on the toys. "So you're meant to get the toys apart then?" He asked looking back to Cala and then looking at the toys knowing full well that that speaking to Fuin on this was not going to get him all the answers he wanted and she seemed happy to let her apprentice speak for herself for her part Fuin turned about to see if she could find something that Commodore Trevadrion's wife might like from the items that she'd already made.

She picked out a few simple yet elegant items that weren't too terribly lavish yet fitting of a woman of status without being overly opulent. A bronze hair comb meant for pinning back ones hair with tiny dainty bronze flowers accented in silver both in the center and with leaves filling out the design. Fuin held onto the hair comb waiting for Trevadrion to finish speaking with Cala.

"Right I'll take one of each, save me a trip back later when he solves one." He looked down at the pin and blinked.

"You made a sword and something so fine." He reached down and touched the hair comb (Like this) he picked it up in both hands and looked at it. "It's perfect, she will love this." He said and very gently put it back down. Fuin nodded for her part and pulled out some clean white soft wool and bundled the comb in it and then wrapped that into a small piece of white fabric. The sword was put on his belt.

"So the comb is a gold piece, the toys are are a silver for both." She said calmly, the nail puzzle was only a few copper but the horseshoe one had more metal to it, and took more to make so Fuin was happy to charge more for it. Trevadrion didn't even argue on that he pulled the coins asked for and gently tucked the bundled comb into his chest pocket and then the toys in a pouch on his belt. "Thank you ladies, I look forward to seeing you again in the future."

[Rillewen]

@Fuin Elda

Calaerdis

September 18, 2615 - TA
Minas Tirith - Second Circle

Cala couldn't help a light blush as Fuin spoke about her having come up with the designs herself. Though it was true, she wasn't used to being bragged on, and nodded in answer to the commodore. "Yes, sir," She checked that the one she was making wasn't in danger of burning if she left it, and stepped closer to explain. "This one, you have to get the ring off." She smiled.

"That doesn't look possible," He raised an eyebrow.
"I know," She grinned. "But it is, I assure you. May I?" She held out a hand, and he turned over the horseshoe puzzle in his hand. Cala had taken care to make sure this was possible, and had, in fact, made the ring and the other part separately. She twisted the horseshoes in a particular way and soon slid the ring off, holding it up to show the commodore, then put it back on and unfolded it to show that it was back as it had started, to the man's apparent amazement.

"And with these," She pointed to the nails ones, "the goal is to get the two nails apart, like this," She picked up one of them and took but a moment to twist them apart. Holding up the two pieces, she smiled, then slid them back together and held it out to him. "My little brother is still trying to get it apart, but he will," She grinned, feeling quite confident in that. If he'd had both hands, he would've had it apart long ago, but having only one hand to work with, he found it a greater challenge; still, she was positive that he'd get it one day. "He's been enjoying the challenge of the new one, as well, but he hasn't had much time to play with it yet." She added.

Her grin widened as he turned to Fuin and said he would take both pieces. She was thrilled that her work had apparently impressed someone of his status. Returning to the forge, she listened to the rest of their transaction as she worked the metal into the correct shape, finishing that piece, then dunked it into the quench bucket before taking a length of thick wire that she would turn into the ring that would go around the chain links of the puzzle. "Thank you, sir," She called after him as Commodore Trevadrion left.

"I think he was very impressed!" She said excitedly once he had gone, hardly able to contain her excitement. "He loved the sword! And I didn't expect him to be interested in those puzzles, I could hardly believe it..." This whole thing seemed so unreal. It was hard to believe that only a few weeks ago her life had been completely different, and now she was an apprentice and people were actually buying things that she had made, and not laughing at the thought of her making anything.

[Fuin Elda]

September 18, 2615 - TA
Minas Tirith - Second Circle
@Rillewen

Fuin smiled, indeed she could see just how excited Cala was at the fact that Commodore Trevadrion was so happy and impressed by her work with the toys. Between the sword and all of the scissors and pins, and toys she knew they were set for the month with the gold brought in. There would be plenty more sales and commissions coming in, there were likely many merchants on the second circle wouldn't see the amount of money that they'd brought in over the last three days in an entire month. Today Rada would be happy to learn was going to be a tart day.

"So Cala there is one last thing that we do need to do for the shop, we've been busy preparing for so long and I think it's time we start thinking on this..." Fuin said coming and looking at her work as she was looking to finish making chain links. "We need to think about a proper name for the forge that we can paint on the sign outside, especially if we are going to be getting more an more customers like the Commodore." Fuin said with a smile, as much as she had idea on what she thought the forge should be named this was going to be Cala and Rada's home so she absolutely wanted to get her opinion on it as one day she'd not be working here any more and would be returning to Imladris and they would be on their own.

"So do you have any idea of what you would like to call your forge?"

[Rillewen]

@Fuin Elda

Calaerdis

September 18, 2615 - TA
Minas Tirith - Second Circle

Tilting her head in curiosity, Cala wondered what else there could possibly be left... until Fuin mentioned the name. Of course... a name! She hadn't even thought about that. She paused, frowning a little as she realized that Fuin was asking her for ideas. "Oh. Uh.." She laughed a little nervously. "I don't know if you ought to ask me, I'm terrible at coming up with names." She shrugged. "I mean, it took like three or four years before I even decided what name Radaron should have... I wouldn't even know where to begin thinking of a name for a forge..." She hesitated, taking a moment to make sure the circle was properly rounded and the ends met together properly before dropping it into the bucket.

"How does one even decide on something like that? It's so hard... I had such a hard time before, and...this is totally different." She frowned, confused and slightly overwhelmed by the very thought of such a task. She tried to think of a few other names she'd seen on other smiths' shops, but all of those were already used, and she thought this one ought to have a much more unique name... but what? "You surely know much more about it than I do... what would you suggest?" She looked up at her mentor and friend, hoping she'd have a suggestion.

[Fuin Elda]

September 18, 2615 - TA
Minas Tirith - Second Circle
@Rillewen

Fuin chuckled. "Well I have never named a forge myself, and we are quite lazy in Imladris ours is called Tingdain. So I do not know if I am the best at naming things either, though I did not name it that so at least I am not so on the nose." She said not sure if Cala even knew what Tingdain meant she would eventually given Fuin would undoubtedly teach both Cala and Rada elvish over the years.

"Perhaps naming it after yourself and fire?" Fuin offered "Something like Seafire, but in elvish as well... you're being trained by an elf it would make sense" Fuin pondered for a moment... "Normally I would suggest Quenyan most elves prefer it but Ëarsá, I don't know maybe Aernar which would be Sindarin... Or Ithilnar? You were named for the moonlight on the sea." She offered with a shrug giving the young woman some options.

"The good news is we don't need to think of it today, we can take a few days, perhaps even Rada might have some suggestions when he comes home tonight from school?" She knew he'd be excited to tell Cala about everything that he learned he always was, and he was despite being behind catching on really fast thanks to the basic lessons even if they were shakey that Cala had given him in writing.

[Rillewen]

@Fuin Elda

Calaerdis and Radaron



September 18, 2615 - TA
Minas Tirith - Second Circle

"Tingdain," Cala repeated, tilting her head thoughtfully. "I'm not sure what that means... forge or something similar?" She surmised based on what Fuin had said. She listened thoughtfully to the various suggestions that Fuin had made. It hadn't occurred to her to name it after herself, but now that it was suggested, she supposed it sort of made sense. "Seafire.." She considered that, trying out how it sounded. "Seafire forge..." She thought on that for a moment while gazing at the glowing coals. The next suggestion sounded prettier, but she tried to think if it really fit.

No sooner had Fuin spoken of Radaron weighing in on the name ideas, than he came bursting into the shop, excitedly yelling, "Cala! CALA LOOK!"

Caught by surprise, having assumed he would be out playing with his friends for several more hours after school, she jumped and spun, fearing something was wrong. "What?" She asked, half-scared to find that he had hurt himself or something, but upon seeing him decided he looked far too excited and happy. "Calm down, Little Brother, what's going on?" She caught him as he nearly barreled into her.

"Looook!" He beamed as he held up the two halves of the nail puzzle. "I did it!" He bounced up and down excitedly. "I finally did it!"

Cala looked down, then laughed in joy. "Oh! I'm so glad for you!" She hugged him, and grinned. "I knew you'd get it eventually! But please, don't come running in here yelling like that, you scared me! I thought something was wrong... and you could've knocked me over into the forge, running at me like that... it's dangerous, Little Brother."

"Sorry!" He answered breathlessly, and turned to show it off to Fuin, still grinning. "See!? I did it! I can put it back together too, I figured out how to do it one-handed!" To prove his point, he demonstrated proudly.

[Fuin Elda]

September 18, 2615 - TA
Minas Tirith - Second Circle
@Rillewen

"Yes basically." She said witha smirk. "Elves are far less creative than you might think." She said with a chuckle and she could see Cala thinking on the name now that naming it after herself was something that might be the best idea. She was watching Cala as she kept working rolling the elvish words around in her mouth trying to see which one she liked best.

Radaron for his part came bursting in and Fuin jumped as well with how he was shouting and Cala seemed just as concerned as she was and she moved seeing him charging at Cala to make sure she didn't get knocked back into the forge itself. When he showed them that he'd finally managed to figure out the nail puzzle. Now of course he'd have to get onto the horseshoe puzzle.

Cala for her part corrected him on coming in and running and yelling the way he had that he'd worried both of them as well as that he could have hurt her horrible. However she was able to see him demonstrate the puzzle to them both and Fuin for her part gave him a pat on the head. "Rada what do you think of the names Ëarsá or Aernar or Ithilnar for a name for your sisters forge?" She asked since she knew Rada would be a part of the forge for a number of years yet he was still young enough that he would be there for a while yet.

"While you think on that help me shut down the shop so we can be done with costumers for the day." She said with a smile as she motioned for Rada to help her start closing up while Cala finished up with her puzzle that she was working on.

[Rillewen]

@Fuin Elda

Calaerdis and Radaron



September 18, 2615 - TA
Minas Tirith - Second Circle

Rada looked a bit puzzled, tilting his head as he tried to repeat those names, unsuccessfully. "What's those mean?"
"One is Seafire, and the other is Moonfire.." Cala answered. "In two different kinds of elvish." She explained, anticipating his next question.
Rada looked around. "A name for this place?"
"Yeah, Fuin reminded me just now we haven't named it." She nodded.
"Moonfire!" He declared without hesitation, grinning.
Cala laughed. "Why that one?"
"Because!" He pointed to the forge. "Look, it's white like the moon. Someone in school said the moon is a big, huge white rock up in the sky, so your forge is like a chunk of the moon came down and was made into a forge." He grinned. "So it should be Moonfire, don't you think?"

Cala laughed lightly as he made his points. "Well that's a good reason, I suppose. It's the only white forge in Gondor, isn't it?" She asked with a glance at Fuin, smiling. "I thought Ithilnar sounded nicest, anyway. Plenty of people here speak Sindarin, so it should fit well enough." She nodded, cleaning up her work area after finishing her project, while Rada worked on the chores Fuin had asked him to do. "So, is that what we're naming it?"

[Fuin Elda]

September 18, 2615 - TA
Minas Tirith - Second Circle
@Rillewen

Fuin smiled and nodded as Cala told Rada what the words she had said meant, and then he gave his own reasons for why it might be called Ithilnar. She couldn't find any argument against the young boys reasoning it was perfect really. Indeed it was likely the only white forge in all of Minas Tirith as far as she was aware, she had seen nothing that looked anything near it even with over a week of constant forge burning it still gleamed white on the exterior though it's interior tray was black now from the coal and the burning .

She looked to Cala "If you like it and agree with him, then yes. I think it's a lovely name." She said with a smile, she would go and get paint in a day or so before the Market closed so that she and Cala and Rada could paint the sign so that they could have it hung and up for their second week which would hopefully draw even more customers next week and then beyond that as well until everything that Fuin had promised came true...

[Rillewen]

@Fuin Elda

Calaerdis and Radaron



September 18, 2615 - TA
Minas Tirith - Second Circle

Cala grinned, nodding. "Yes, I like it too." She decided. "Ooh, what if we could make a really nice sign, out of metal?" She suggested, trying to think how something like that could be done. "With like, a crescent moon or something.." She frowned, trying to picture something like that in her head. "Anyway, whatever we do for a sign, it'll be lovely... and it'll be nice to have a name for our shop." She grinned. "That ought to make it easier to advertise."
"I can't wait to tell everyone we have a name for the shop now!" Rada said excitedly, bouncing up and down. "I'm done now, is it time to eat yet?" He asked, eager to get supper.
"I think so," Cala nodded, finishing up as well. "Shall we?" She smiled, eager to tell Radaron about the sale with the Commodore, over supper.

---

About three years later...

.

Late Spring
Minas Tirith - Second Circle
Ithilnar Forge

Cala smiled as she looked down the length of a sword, checking that the blade was properly straight. "I think it's ready for displaying," She decided, smiling as she held up the sword to show Fuin. She wondered how long it would last on the shelf before someone decided to buy it. "How's your project coming over there?" She wondered, curiously peeking to see how much progress Fuin had made so far. "Radaron'll be getting home before too long," She mentioned with a glance outside, gauging the time by how much daylight was shining in through the windows. "Oh.. that reminds me, I'd better go check on the cake." She took her apron off and hung it up. "Do you need help with anything, before I go?" She asked, checking just to make sure. She could hardly believe that Radaron was already ten years old! She was looking forward to surprising him with cake and presents when he got home.

[The Good Hunter]

Rembina
Alqualondë, YT 1499
(With Moriel)

The evening had proven to be a successful one, despite the lack of female companionship. Many of the romantic tones Finnbarr had intended to overlay across the evening were scrapped and, in their place, he added many of the pelagic rituals and customs of what had become his house. They sang a dozen sea shanties, each one more ribald than the last as the food cooked on an open flame. Despite the obvious dangers to such a feat, Finnbarr acquitted himself admirably, or at least he believed he had. They talked and sang, sang and talked. Finnbarr told Davos of all the things he wanted to accomplish, of all the places under the surface he wanted to explore and visit, he told him about the legends he’d heard some of the other mariners talk about: naiads and undines, mermaids and selkies. The longer the evening went on and the more wine and spirits father and son consumed, the more Finnbarr could see his foster father distracted by something. More than once, he caught him looking across the great vast sea with a look in his eye that he'd did not altogether understand, nor did he altogether like it. Despite being young still, Finnbarr had noticed that sort of look on more than a few sailors. The great blue desert was inviting and hypnotic, but there were dangers that were not limited to the physical makeup of the sea. It liked to tease and play tricks. Her embrace was always warm, but it was not always inviting.

After making sure all the sails were still tied down and all the knots were secure, Finnbarr sat next to Davos, swaying just a little from the vast amount of drink they’d shared. He stared out across the ocean, listened as the waters splished and splashed, as the waves from miles and miles away crashed and roared, as the wind carried salt air in great swirling arcs. Even in the quiet stillness of the little cove, there was a symphony of sounds. Finnbarr had to fight the urge to rip off his shirt and dive beneath the waves.

“I don’t if I have,” he admitted. “My parents were born after the great crossing, and none of their stories included anything from way out yonder. My greatest urge was to know the sea herself, to know what sort of world exists beneath the waves, where the sharks and whales and squid live their mysterious lives.” He scoffed, tossing a piece of breadcrumb overboard, watching the ripple expand as a dozen tiny, silvery fish appeared and competed for the morsel. “I expect not a great many good things are happening over there. Or at least that’s what I pray to Ulmo for every night. None of them deserve a moment’s peace. Not a single one of them.” He surprised himself with his candor, blaming the wine for the freedom of thought. However, he didn’t take it back nor offer apology. They did] deserve that.

“What about you? Do you ever miss the wilds beyond the sea?”

[The Good Hunter]

Omentië
Some Nameless Plain, YT 1080
(With Moriel)
CW: Angbang References

He flew across the plain, heedless, reckless. The moment he had feared for some time now, the moment he’d avoided having to confront was quickly looming over him. Which road was he going to take? Which side was Mairon going to stand with? It was a moral questioned that had doggedly pursued him for so long, longer than the quendi had been awoken, longer than Arda itself had been shaped with their music. So far, he’d been able to play each side, pretend to be in each of their counsels. He’d held his own for so long he wasn’t sure what it would be like to actually pick a side. There was a conflict coming, he could taste it in the air. He’d long told himself that he would not have to take part in it, that he could avoid any part in in the coming war. Yet here he was now, flying with all speed and haste, moving swifter than the steeds of the Huntsman to catch up with the ungualacos. He was not only involved in the coming conflict, he was the very spearhead on which the conflict rested.

Neither side deserved him. Both Mānawenūz and Mbelekhūrūz were unworthy him, each of them shunned the greater part of his gift in favor a grand design of their own. Creation and Destruction. They were two sides of the same coin, a bad penny that always reared its head at the worst possible times. He was not ready to choose. His anger swelled as he flew across indescribable prosaic scenes, starlit groves and shadowed riverbeds. Had he not been in the greatest haste, he would have stopped to observe them, imagine all that they could do for him. There were islands and forests upon which he placed the greatest desire, places where his mechanizations and creativity could swell and grow and expand. He flew toward the west and to the north, feeling the tug and pull of both masters.

His rage and frustration boiled over and he roared. He’d taken the form of a bat, massive with a wingspan of six fathoms, the sound that erupted from his vespertilionine was terrible. It swept across the forest beneath him, flattening trees in all directions as if a star had fallen. He did not have time to waste looking back at the damage he’d done. He roared again, voicing his ineffable frustrations to the skiey vastness around him. The world was too quiet, his rage could not feel the space. He wanted to rage and tear and break everything. He was so filled with emotions he did not understand that he wanted to stop and burst. What if he just stopped? What if, in his unutterable grief and rage, confusion and consternation, his hatred and his love, he just stopped and let everything pass him by? What if he found a forest or an island all his own and poured himself into that place, became the master of that tiny little place and let the world twist itself into ruin? It would be what they all deserved. But not the quendi. They hadn’t done anything to deserve this. They were foolish and naïve, bitterly so, but that was no reason they should be subjected to the gaze of Mbelekhūrūz and be put to the knife. Tyelpelfindis would never forgive him if he gave up and went on his own way. Despite her being a child next to him, a creature hardly different than a serpent or a wolf, he did not wish to disappoint her. There were others too, he knew them, and they knew him. Despite knowing he was different somehow; they gave him a form of acceptance none of his real brethren ever had. IgwišaƷûlêz, the nearest thing he had to a companion, was a petty, jealous baggins; even though the quendi knew almost nothing of metalworking and forging, he found them to be far more agreeable and amiable partners. They were not his children, but if they weren’t then what were they?

He sped on, faster and faster, moving against a torrent of wind that originated in the west. He spoke a thick, poisonous word and the wind around him died. He flew on. Below him the verdant fields and hinterlands began to change, slowly but surely. The green of life became a sickly, choking green, a slimy green. All the other millions of shades of millions of colors faded, leaving a landscape torched with gray and black and white. There were pylons of bleak, oily looking stone with things carved in them that no intelligent hand could replicate without a cessation of sanity. The ground was cold, covered in snow that looked blacker than shadows, mixed with ash and given a strange sort of unlife. The air around him grew heavier as he went on, and bonesnappingly cold, the more he tried to fly the more the air around him seemed to weigh him down, drag him back to earth. The air tasted like iron, a tangy, rust feel in his mouth and lungs. He tried to breath but found the air too toxic. His voice was silenced. He could feel them, the ungualacos, they were near, he was closing in on them, they were nearly before the gates of hell though, they were moving swiftly, too swiftly. The shadows underneath him, the shadows of the mountains of iron, moved without a light to cast them, detached from pits of primordial decay, and followed. They were lifeless things, bereft of thought or reason, but they could follow the scent of darkness and power.

Worst of all though, Mairon could feel him. The closer he came to the mouths of hell, the more he felt him, his presence was infused into every stone, slag pit, and thornspawn. The force of his will was almost too powerful. Mairon had trouble focusing, the more he tried to spy out the ungualacos the more he found his mind wandering to things like chains and whips and clawed fingers awash in blood. It was distracting, and he could not afford to be distracted now. Not when things were so perilously out of balance.

He was almost there, almost to them. But they were close, the gates were almost in view. He had to move, had to fly faster, faster, faster…

--- * --- * --- * --- * --- * --- * ---

Before the Gates of Utumno

He'd failed. He'd not flown fast enough; he'd tarried too long in the garden of Cuiviénen. He nearly overtook the creatures, howling and screeching, he was within just a few feet of them, his voice could have ripped them apart, but before he was able to kill them and stop them from moving forward (those two things not being mutually exclusive) the monolithic, blasphemously cyclopean gates began to creep open. He'd lost his chance. He failed. The secret of the quendi was about to be revealed and it was his fault. Briefly, before the gates opened fully and his mistake was laid bare, he considered destroying everything. He could do it. The gates would crumble as mountains are wont to do, the twisted bones and flesh of the ungualacos and the quendi would be obliterated, turned to something even less than ash. He could do it. All it would take was a word, a twisted, angry word formed with malice. Just a simple word….

But it was too late. The gates were opened, a great door of stone that was too vast for this world to comprehend. And of all the people, it was Kosomot, a spirit of brutalizing fire and darkness. Mairon sighed. His quarry was within his grasp, but to act now would have been suicide. There was no chance for these quendi anymore. They were as good as dead, though likely death would have been far, far too easy for them.

Kosomot strutted forth, flames running in veiny rivulets up and down his arms. The fool had chosen a shape somewhere between a centipede and a praying mantis, it was unsettling to look at. Mairon felt the ire rise in him. He took his form, the elegant man with hair darker and richer than blood. He moved to intercept the balrog, to stand between him and the quendi.

“Well, well, well,” the balrog said, hissing and clicking as he spoke, rounding out his disgusting insectoid persona. “What have you brought me, Mayazōnōz?” His head tilted to the side, neck straining to see around Mairon’s form, a plume of flame erupted from his back and slide down his spine, the earth around him seemed to waver in a haze of unbearable heat.

“I haven’t brought you anything, wretch,” Mairon said, his voice hard as the iron around him. “What I have brought here is meant for him.”

The sound of bubbling, capricious laughter filled the grey canyon they were in, followed by a low hiss. “You would do well, Mayazōnōz, to respect me. I speak with his voice. I—”

“You speak with the voice of a cockroach, Kosomot. No matter how much you prattle and praise, you will never be his son, your greatest desire will forever be out of reach. I speak for him. I am his second in command. I am beyond you, you wretched little bug.” TO emphasis his point, he spoke a word and the wind picked up suddenly, rushing the balrog who was thrown off balance. His flame was snuffed momentarily, leaving him more disgustingly entomonical. The balrog slithered back up to a standing position and hissed as the flames rebirthed around him, shrouding his twisted form once again in heat and shadow.

“One of these days, Mayazōnōz, one of these days I will see to it that you get your comeuppance. I know what you do in the darkness, I have watchers too, spies that see all the things you say. They know you slither off in the darkness. What is it you do, eh? Where does the great slut of Mbelekhūrūz go to nurse his wounds?”

This conversation was getting dangerous. Or course the balrog had spies, little sprits of shadow or sparkles of flame, but Mairon had his own to counter. Kosomot was a brute, a strong brute with many friends, but he naught but a brawler in the end, something to which Mairon need not lower himself. They both knew where they stood in the hierarchy of He Who Arises in Might, and nothing the little flaming quim could do would change that.

“I have a gift for him,” he said at last, taking a step sideways to show the oafish pyromaniac the quendi. They were bound in something that looked like rope but dripped shadows like webs, mercifully, they were all unconsciously, sick and tired from their imprisonment and subsequent journey. The balrog leaned in close, then looked from Mairon to the quendi and back.

“What are these things supposed to be, eh? You captured some of Mānawenūz ladies? That’s not going to be enough to impress him anymore. You’ve been away too long Mayazōnōz.”

“These are the Children…” Mairon said coolly.

“What?”

Mairon smirked openly at the slack jawed expression he knew would come. The balrog could barely conceive them, let alone find them. “The Children, the creatures that our master as been looking so long for. I found them.”

“What?” the balrog repeated, hissing and clicking.

“You failed, once again, Kosomot. You will never get to usurp me.”

“We’ll see about that, pretty little one. We’ll see about that.” There was a smile on that face that Mairon didn’t like. He was going to try something, but there was nothing Mairon could do about it right now.

--- * --- * --- * --- * --- * --- * ---

The Depths of Hell

He had not expected to be back here for a very long time. They were deep beneath the earth now, as far down as the mountains rose, as far from the light of the stars as they could get. It was cold down here, colder than anything Mairon had ever experienced, but the cold burned. The very air itself was froth with invisible fire. He hated it here. The closer they came to him the more Mairon could think of nothing but the many years they had spent together. They passed aeons in carnal embraces that would tear the world apart. Mairon could still feel the chains around his neck, squeezing the life out of the body he’d made, a body constructed and formed at the pleasure of Mbelekhūrūz, a body destroyed over and over again in rushes of sadistic pleasures. He could feel the hot clawed fingers on his throat, on his cheek, in his mouth. He remembered the taste of blood in his mouth, blood so potent that it tore at every bone and muscle. He remembered the whips and how they tore into him, he remembered the wild, erotic and esoteric pleasures he was driven to, he remembered the howls of pain and pleasure and saw how they mixed like blood and wine. He remembered the teeth that would tear into him, and the release it gave him. He remembered more and more and more the further down into hell he went…

By the time they reached the uttermost pits, the throne room of the lord of Chaosophy, Mairon was in a state. His breath was ragged and his brow was slick with sweat. The balrog took it to mean something he could not possibly understand. “Scared? You ought to be, he’s not been happy you spend so much time away.”

“What I’m feeling,” he said in a thick, lurid voice, “is something so far beyond your comprehension that to even learn a hint of it your mind would turn to slag. Maybe I ought to share it with you one day.”

The chamber was dark, not a glimmer of light reached this place. This was were light went to die. And yet, despite the lack of illumination, Mairon could see him perfectly, a specimen that radiated power and authority. His knees felt weak at the sight of him, his mouth watered. The air itself was charged with potential energy. Kosomot drew in behind him, dragging the prisoners into the chamber, bound in shadowy chains of viscous iron. There was not a sound.

“My lord,” Mairon began, before Kosomot cut him off.

“Great King of the World, a gift has been given to you, a boon of fate, the Children…” he paused, his tiny mind still wrapping around what it was that was being dragged into the depths here. “They have been found. But even in the midst of your greatest glory, your greatest triumph over the forces of order, you have been betrayed!”

There it was. Mairon had expected something, and the stupid wretch couldn’t wait to try and drop it. “Excuse me?” his voice reverberated with power. “Betrayed? By whom?”

“By you! You poisonous snake! I saw what you were doing! I saw you try to free them! I—”

“I DO NOT CARE ABOUT YOUR SUPPOSITIONS.” the voice of He Who Arises in Might was so loud the very chamber shook, sending reverberations up through the stone and across the plains far above them. Mairon and Kosomot were both brought to their knees, humbled by just the voice of their master. He stood, towering like a mountain above them. Even with his great height, he was nothing in comparison. He could feel the power slipping off Mbelekhūrūz as he moved toward him. “I HAVE MISSED YOU, MY DARLING. YOU TARRY SO LONG IN THE WORLD OUTSIDE. IT TEARS AT MY HEART. HAVE YOU BROUGHT ME THIS, AS KOSOMOT SAYS?”

His mouth was dry, his head spinning. He could barely look up as familiar touch caressed his cheek. The balrog answered first.

“I spied your servants coming from a ways off, my lord, and I saw him, this pitiful thing, chasing them, he wore the wings of a bat, trying to catch them and deprive you of your glory.”

Something growled in the darkness, the room rumbled again. “I DO SO LOVE YOUR BAT, MY DARLING. WHAT WERE YOU DOING? I’VE BEEN SO WORRIED FOR YOU.”

“I was…” he choked out, “I was searching for the Children, as was your command. You told us to be on guard for them, that we must find them before— before the others. And I did, my lord, I did. I found them before the Smith, the Huntsman, before the Skyfather.”

“He was trying to free them!” protested the balrog, still on his knees. “I saw it with mine own eyes.”

“You cannot see anything with your own eyes, you blind little mouse,” Mairon spat. “If you could, you would know where your lovely sister is.”

“ENOUGH MY DARLING, DO NOT BE SO UNKIND TO POOR KOSOMOT. HE HAS BEEN AS WORRIED AS I ABOUT WHERE YOU HAVE BEEN. IF YOU ARE TRUE TO ME, THEN TAKE THESE CHILDREN, THESE PRECIOUS, PRECIOUS CHILDREN, AND TEST THEM FOR ME. SEE WHAT IS THEIR SUBSTANCE. STRIP THEM OF ALL THAT IS LIGHT AND SEE WHAT DARKNESS REMAINS.”

“As you have commanded, my liege.” Mairon felt himself on the greatest precipice of all now. What road would he take now? What choice could he make?

--- * --- * --- * --- * --- * --- * ---

Angband, YT 1086

He’d know them. He’d sung with them, spun melodies together and brought down the light of the stars to them. He’d broken bread with him, shared in their homes and in their laughter. Now, now these two things that he’d been given, for they could no longer be called quendi, even by the greatest stretch of the word, lay out before him like insects pinned under glass. He’d taken the road. He’d played his hand. As much as he’d hated himself in the beginning, he knew that he’d had no other choice. There was nothing he could do. There never was a choice. He was always going to be here, always going to chose this.

This one, a thing with sparkling blue eyes and wild black hair, the color of the deepest pools of night, had been kind to him, had learned from him. They had crafted a great pillar together, something all the quendi in Cuiviénen could see and admire. They’d shared a moment of triumph and adulation. Now he was here, vivisected, torn apart, splayed with flayed flesh for all the world to see, no secret mental or physical could he hide now. Mairon knew everything about him. He knew every thought the quendi had ever held, every grudge, every jealousy, every slight. He pushed those to the forefront of his broken mind, broke him, ripped him apart and reformed and repurposed him around those grudges and slights and jealousies. The thing had blackened skin, stretched over twisted bones and shredded muscle.

The other was locked away in a dungeon, another that Mairon had known, a forager who looked too far abroad to find the choicest fruits and the most exotic flowers. He’d paid for that. He, too, had been torn apart and remade, formed in the awful image of He Who Arises in Might.

“Help me,” the thing said weakly, a tear forming in those blue eyes. “Mairon, please, please, help me. Kill me, don’t let me live like this. I… I…”

“You will serve a glorious purpose, a purpose which you cannot see now, but you will. I have helped you, remade you. I have taken what you were, and made you more. You are closer to me now, closer to the glory that you and your brethren were meant for. You, Watain, and Nargaroth, will serve to construct a new world. We will reform it in our own image, and we shall rule.”

“No…” the reply was weak, choked with tears. “I am not this Watain, that is not my name. And your name… your name is not Mairon, it cannot be. I do not admire you. You… you are Sauron.”

The word twisted and flung itself at him, strangling him momentarily as it forced its way down his throat. He could feel the fire of hate in that word as it settled in his belly. He roared. From the greatest depths of Angband, the fortress he’d been gifted with to do his diabolic work, to the greatest heights of the stars, the sound and emotion reverberated and stretched, growing louder and stronger as it stretched across endless fields of sea and wheat, across islands and forests until it came at last to a little grove with an apple tree by a crystal-clear lake.

[Moriel]

Omentië
Cuiviénen. YT 1086.
(Private with Frost)

Mairon?

She called out again as the flicker strengthened. His voice did not come, but she could feel him, and Tyelpelfindis arose in a rush, shedding the shawl from about her shoulders, and took to her heels. Away from her dwelling, the shore, the fire, and her kin she fled: across the plain along the path her feet had created in so many journeys to her secluded grove. As she ran, the sense of him intensified: the flash of scarlet became as a roaring flame before her eyes and somehow still she ran; the feeling of him strengthened as built in a surge of emotion, carrying her along on its wave until she burst through the brush at the edge of the grove. Mairon was not there, but it was at that moment that the surge peaked and burst in a cascading shower of rage. It struck her like a hammer to the chest and she staggered, clutching at her heart. From that point of impact spread a different sensation. Once, Tyelpelfindis had slipped and fallen, and put her hand into a fire: the pain of that burn was nothing compared to the scorching flames that now seemed to spiral out from her chest and consume her entire body, until it felt as if every inch of her skin were wreathed in flame. A wordless scream tore from her throat, even as the roar of his voice reached her at last, ringing inside her mind. Distant and as if through fire and smoke and deep water, distorted and tortured, and she knew that he roared not in the spaces of his mind, but aloud, and his voice traveled to her on the current of his rage.

The invisible flames that bound her scorched hotter; the stars seemed to quake before her eyes, until they too were obscured, and the rage began to swirl like the multifaceted hues of fire, of fallen leaves, of his eyes. It was rage, deep and profound, but also hatred, betrayal, in the deepest heart of the fire, grief. The pain consumed Tyelpelfindis, burrowing into the deepest parts of her, until at last it touched the hint of that utter darkness Mairon had shown her, left behind by his touch. She fell to her knees, the horror of the darkness asserting itself over the pleasure as its tendrils short forth to twist and twine with the flames. But this time, rather than fighting against it, Tyelpelfindis opened herself: to the darkness, the horror, the fire and rage and grief and every overwhelming, all-consuming thing that came to her on tide of Mairon’s rage across the stars. Her fingers clutched the grass, arms stretched out before her hunched body, as her forehead pressed into the earth.

Give it all to me. Bring me your suffering, the riot in your heart, bring it all! I am not afraid of the dark.

The darkness threatened to consume Tyelpelfindis, the conflagration of titanic emotion to combust, scattering her across the shore as ash, the unimaginable scale of what she had invited to wipe her mind free of thought. But even as she allowed it in, she drew upon every good thing she had ever known. And Mairon himself; the vision of him swam before her mind’s eye, first in the umber shades he most often appeared, then in the form he had taken when first he came among the elves; the sound of his voice mingling with theirs in song. She drew upon the earth beneath her, the waters before her, and most of all, upon the stars above. The scent of apple blossoms cut sharply through the pain as she inhaled deeply, even as, at last, a single word reached her: whether because he had sent it to her or because it hurt so much it came of its own volition, she did not know.

Sauron.

“Mairon!” She cried aloud, her body arching in an arc of silver hair to rise high upon her knees: all at once her vision cleared and the stars came into focus; the pain had gone, the darkness had gone, and in the crack of her voice a shockwave burst from her to all sides, and on the vibrations of the stars sped away to she knew not where, back along the current of fire in a shard of silver lightning. In the sudden silence that followed her cry, a wave of weakness swept Tyelpelfindis, and she crumpled.

On the broad shore of Cuiviénen where the Eldar dwelt, Oromë laughed and sang, enjoying the feast in his honor. It was a strange thing, to be so fêted: there was a sort of hierarchy among his kin, of which he was at neither the top nor bottom, but essentially they were equals. This sensation of being recognized as something special, of being celebrated, even elevated- it was new, and not unpleasant. Oromë tried not to let the pleasantness of it go to his head: he had not come to the Eldar to be worshipped, or to rule over them. It was the desire to rule that had so corrupted Melkor, and the Huntsman could see how easily many of the Ainur who had been swayed to his cause were tempted. These Children were a responsibility, not a prize. Nevertheless, he was enjoying himself: the quendi danced with abandon in the firelight under the stars, in lines and circles with many steps of their devising. Their music rang out over the water, and Oromë flew through a hay of the current dance, the interweaving circles of quendi, catching and releasing hands as they skipped energetically until with a final loud shout the song ended and the dancers broke apart.

Oromë wiped his brow and joined the laughing crowd as they milled about, coming to rest at the water’s edge at the very limit of the firelight, leaning against a boulder. He watched the Children fondly as they ate and drank and prepared for the next song, and was so occupied that he did not notice the person who sidled up next to him.

“Has anyone offered you a bit of this yet then?” Oromë did not quite jump, but did look round a bit more sharply than he had intended. Offering him a carved wooden cup was one of the younger Eldar- though no, not the youngest; Oromë recalled that he had been the first child born at Cuiviénen, so a young adult it seemed in the brief lives of the Children. He was not the tallest of his kin, but still quite tall enough to not have to tilt his head back too far to give Oromë a look full of mischief. The Huntsman appraised the flashing grey eyes beneath the shock of silver-grey hair, and laughed.

“Davos! You should join my hunt, I think you could sneak up on anything. What have you there.” Davos laughed too and slapped Oromë’s arm with his free hand. Where many of the other quendi exhibited a certain reverence towards Oromë, Davos had had no such sensibilities, from the moment they had been introduced. The blow was a friendly one, but Oromë could feel the strength behind the youth’s wiry frame- he had exhibited astonishing skill in the deep waters of Cuiviénen.

“Miruvórë!” Davos replied eagerly, thrusting the cup towards the hunstsman, “Made from the honey of our friends the bees. Its effects are quite enjoyable.” Amused, Oromë took the cup, briefly studying Davos’s face as he raised the cup to his lips. His eyes could take in much more at a glance than those of the Eldar, and frequently did. There was something queer about this youth, apart from his forwardness; an odd angularity about his face, as if it had not quite been finished when he was born- but if the attention the other youths paid him in the dances was any indication, it did not diminish his appeal in their eyes. Chuckling inwardly to himself, Oromë put the cup’s rip between his lips and quaffed it at a toss. Immediately his eyes watered and he choked- the liquid scorched its way down his throat with a sweet and delicious fire, burning its way down to the pit of his stomach. Davos howled with laughter as Oromë coughed and wiped his mouth, struggling to compose himself. “Wonderful, is it not? Though perhaps best consumed a bit more slowly.”

“Yes, indeed,” Oromë replied drily, wiping his eyes, “I think I shall enjoy it much more next time, knowing what to expect.” A brief lightness passed through his head, diminishing almost as soon as it had come, and he suspected this was part of the “effects” Davos had spoken of. No doubt it would affect the Children in a much stronger way. As Oromë looked up over the heads of the crowd, his vision clear at last, a sudden movement caught his eye: on the knoll above this stretch of shore where the quendi had lit their fire, a solitary figure arose in a flash of white. Tyelpelfindis, rising abruptly from her retreat and, as he watched, taking flight, away from the fire and the rest of her kin there on the shore. A feeling of unease settled on Oromë. But the music had begun again, and Davos tugged at his arm.

“Come on then, show us your light feet!” Oromë shook his head and managed another laugh for the youth.

“No Davos, I shall sit this one out! Go on.”

“Your loss!” With a shrug and a wave of the hand, Davos turned from Oromë and dove back into the crowd. It was a fast dance, this one, performed in changing lines with complicated steps and a rush at the end to find one’s final partner. It was one of his favorites, and he bounded through the steps with frenetic energy, laughing and shouting and teasing with everyone he passed and clasped hands with, until at last the final rush came, where in a complicated figure of eight hay, everyone changed partners over and over until the final chord. Davos reached out blindly into the swirling mass of bodies to catch the next hand that came his way, then took the dance’s finallunging backward step, and raised his arm to spin his final partner in to him. He felt an arm come about his waist even as his free hand slide about his partner’s, and with an assertive step, they came to a halt with their bodies flush together, and locked eyes for the first time. Bright-gold waves of hair bounced about her chin as she looked up at him, laughing, and her eyes- her eyes too were golden, like the gold of Nahar’s hooves, a color he had never before beheld. Amidst the final strains of music and the cheers all around them, the world seemed to shudder to a halt around Davos, and for the first time in his life he was quite lost for words, drowning in the golden depths of her eyes, and the heat of her body against his, and the soft flesh of her hand, strong in his. When at last he regained his voice, it was in a stammer.

“I- I’m Davos.”

She smiled, her teeth flashing at him in a vulpine grin of delight.

“Sombelenë.”

***

Oromë had cloaked himself from the sigh of the Eldar as he slipped through the crowd, not wanting to be noticed departing. He followed Tyelpelfindis at a distance, across the plain. He knew where she was going: she had told him of the grove where she went to think, to be alone, to study the stars. Something had troubled her, he was sure, and if the unease he felt was anything to go by, it was something larger than just one Child. Her insight had been both a wonder and a mystery to him since their first meeting, and perhaps there was foresight there as well. There was so much he and his kin did not yet know of the Eldar, that had not been fully revealed, and many of the Awakened possessed strange gifts. So Oromë trailed her, watching as she disappeared through the brush and into the grove. He had never encroached on her solitude before, and hesitated to do so now. His steps were slow as he continued, wondering what might have disturbed her- until a piercing scream rent the air. This time Oromë did jump, for this was a sound such as he had never heard from one of the Eldar, a sound of uncontrollable pain- and more, something more, behind it. The Huntsman broke into a run, sprinting towards the grove. Then, when he had almost reached the brush that formed its barrier, came another cry:

“Mairon!”

And with the word came a battering wave of power that knocked Oromë back and nearly took him off his feet. In an instant he took in the layers of what lingered on the wave: Tyelpelfindis, her fëa, every energy she could muster, crystallized into her voice; and beneath her essence, something darker, sharper, sinister, and familiar. Oromë bounded forward, bursting through the brush at the edge of the clearing in time to see her sway, upright upon her knees, arms splayed out and head thrown back beneath the pale starlight. He dashed forward, sliding onto his knees to catch her as she fell. Tyelpelfindis sagged in the Huntsman’s arms, and he could feel the power ebbing from her, receding like a slow tide. And he could feel her breathing, shallowly but regularly, and the beating of her heart.

“Tyelpelfindis,” he said, brushing the hair out of her face, “Tyelpelfindis, can you hear me?”

Something had stopped her from hitting the ground, and it took several moments for Tyelpelfindis to register the arms around her, and chest against which she rested. Someone very large had come between her and the earth, and she blinked slowly, even as the light touch of fingers against her face came, and a voice calling her name. It was Oromë, somehow come to this place at this time, but she did not think to question it. Her mind was sluggish, her body felt all-over weak, and her throat parched. Her lips parted, and she managed to whisper,

“Water… water.”

At once the ground disappeared from beneath her, as Oromë thrust an arm beneath her knees and lifted Tyelplefindis easily. Without hesitation he strode into the water, until it lapped over her knees and rose to her chest. With one hand she scooped the fresh, clean water into her mouth, as its cooling pressure covered her booth, soothing the burning sensation that still lingered. Tyelpelfindis looked at the skin of her arm, and saw only smooth paleness- no burns, no scars, no physical evidence of anything she had felt. Inside and out she felt raw.

“Thank you,” she said, and her voice was stronger. She took another mouthful of water before asking Oromë to retreat to where she could stand. He did so, and gently lowered her until her feet touched the bottom beneath the water, which rose to the top of her shoulders. He stood slightly behind her, one hand upon her back to steady her, and she did not object. For some moments they stood in silence, Tyelpelfindis breathing deeply and gazing up at the stars. Until, at length, Oromë spoke.

“Who is Mairon?”

“My friend,” Tyelpelfindis replied, after a moment.

“Where is… he?” Oromë questioned.

“I do not know,” she said, “far away. Somewhere I cannot reach him.” Oromë waited, but she said not more. Again he prompted her.

“Was he taken by the ungualaco?”

“He…” she hesitated. Even though she did not think Oromë had any ill intent, Mairon’s warning still lingered in the back of her mind. And not only that, but for some reason, she felt she must protect him, protect their secret. And she did not know precisely what it was that had just happened to her. How much should she say? “I think he was taken. Something prevents him from returning. He has always come and gone, but something is wrong. He came to me out of the dark, but now… I fear he may be lost to Darkness.”

Oromë stared at the back of Tyelpelfindis’s head, deeply troubled by her speech. It seemed clear to him that this Mairon was not one of the Eldar. And from the hints he gleaned from what Tyelpelfindis had said, and what he had felt from her, it seemed that this creature was something more like he himself. Oromë knew that there were some of the maiar, such as Melian, who had been drawn to this land, but none had returned any reports of the Children prior to himself. He had been the one to find them- hadn’t he? If any Ainu had discovered them, why should they not have reported their finding at once? Her talk of Darkness, and the currents he had felt in the shock that had radiated from her, cut deep misgiving’s into Oromë’s heart. Surely they would know if He had discovered the children, surely… but He had many servants. Could it be?

“He does not answer me,” Tyelpelfindis’s voice cut through Oromë’s musings. “I call out to him, and he does not reply. I sing, but he cannot hear.” Her voice trembled, and the Huntsman allowed his hand to slide up her back and come to rest comfortingly on one shoulder.

“There is a Power in your voice, Tyelpelfindis.”

“Yes,” she whispered, “I had begun to think so. There are others, but I do not think they know it.” Tyelpelfindis stretched out one hand, and floated it upon the surface of the water. Softly she began to sing without words, and spreading out from the tips of her fingers, all around them the water, which had been rippling in the breeze, turned flat as ice. Nary a quaver touched the reflection of the stars, and they shone brighter in the still water. Then she fell silent, and the water resumed its play. Aprubtly Tyelpelfindis turned to face Oromë. “What does it mean?” she asked, and he sighed.

“I do not know.” Beneath his hand, he felt her begin to shiver. “Come. Will you let me walk you back to the fire?" Tyelpelfindis nodded, and took his hand.

[Fuin Elda]

2618 - TA
Minas Tirith - Second Circle
@Rillewen

Cala asked how her project was going as she finished polishing up the last bit of metalwork she prepped the crossbow and put a bolt into it and stood up. "We need to test it but it looks like it's done." She said with a smile as she looked at the sword that Cala had put up. She had stopped checking Calas work about a year ago now. The only time Fuin worried about her work was when shew as doing very very specific and precise commission work which tended to have far more detail in them than the ones that they sold to the public. They would be closing early but it was now something that people had gotten use to over the last three years Fuin had always closed early for the childrens birthdays and by now their regulars knew full well that they closed for them and which days they were now. She expected that they would be heading down to the first circle either tonight right after cake or in the morning. He didn't have school and tomorrow as as it were and market would be closed.

In the past few years Fuin and Cala had made plenty of friends with military so they would be able to test the new item that she'd built a tiny ballista as it were much smaller than the massive siege weapon. It was so expensive and hard to make she doubted the military would want anything like it at this time though perhaps some day in the future, or perhaps they would get a few orders for the generals of the army or the rangers.

"Did you remember to invite Thal and your friends so you don't have to deal with only Rada's friends?" Fuin asked with a smile, she knew that Cala had started making more friends and Rada absolutely had a bunch of friends and now she would need to make sure that the large roast that she had gotten for their dinner together with all their friends something that they all seemed very much to enjoy. The upstairs was now far nicer than it had been when they'd first moved in and the children were happy to have people over and visiting something that they had not really been able to do before.

[Fuin Elda]

Another egg has been found this is what I get for posting without refreshing and checking because I didn't want to lose the post I was working on

[Rillewen]

@Fuin Elda

Late Spring
Minas Tirith - Second Circle

Cala laughed. "Of course I did, you don't think I'd spend the whole evening with just a bunch of over-excited little boys for company, do you? I mean, there's you, but..." She shook her head. "Thal said he'd come over a little early to help," she added with a small smile. "Although I'm not really sure what there really is for him to help with..." A thoughtful look, then a shrug. "Anyway... what about you? Have you got any friends coming to help you through it?" Cala wondered, curious as she glanced over at her mentor.

Brushing off her clothes, she took a curious look at the device that Fuin had made. She was eager to see Radaron's face when he saw it for the first time, and smiled, eager for that. The smell of cake wafted down from upstairs, reminding her again about that. "I better get the cake.." She hurried up the stairs and quickly washed up before taking a look into the oven. It looked done. She'd learned a fair bit about cooking in the last few years, and folks were usually pretty surprised to learn that she could not only run a forge and make weapons and things, but she could cook and even sew, too. Cala smiled to herself at those thoughts, as she carefully took the cake from the oven using some folded towels, and placed it aside to cool. While it was cooling she mixed up some frosting to put on it, and debated about the best way to decorate the cake.

[Fuin Elda]

2618 - TA
Minas Tirith - Second Circle
@Rillewen

Fuin llaughed indeed the thought of an entire evening filled with over excited little boys was not normally a prospect that she looked forwards to and were it not for the fact that it was for one of her wards she very likely would have attempted to get out of it any way she could. "I believe a few of the boys coming have their parents coming with them - rubbing elbows with the top smithy runners in Gondor does give ones social standing a boost so I am not sure which will be worse talking shop with the parents or making sure the sweets fueled boys don't tear this place apart. You'll be able to chat to them as well of course." Fuin said with a laugh before Cala retreated to pull the cake from the oven.

With Cala off Fuin began the task of shutting down the forge entirely, to the point she not only let the coals die, but actively poured water on then not wanting the boys to get the idea to play with the forge if some of them managed to slip away without Fuin seeing. It was going to be a hard enough task to keep Rada or the other boys from shooting the cross bow in the house. She tucked the hammers and tongues up where even Cala couldn't reach them without a stool, as well as the flint to strike an ember to restart the forge. She glanced around putting the sword her young apprentice had made up as well, and all the other weaponry. Better safe than sorry she figured, Rada was quite proud of his sister and would often show off the merchendise in the forge whenever he had a chance which was fine when Fuin or Cala were there but Cala was likely aside from the food and cake going to be actively avoiding the throng of young boys.

Happy that the most dangerous of items were out of the reach of young excited sugar fueled hands she locked the front door from the inside and began locking up the windows until the forge was properly closed. The cake smelled amazing. As did the baron of beef that Fuin had procured for the event. And was another reason (the foremost being that he was one of the most personable children Fuin had ever met) that Cala and Rada's birthday's tended to be well attended. That and Cala's cakes. Fuin was debating on how she was going to hide most of the cake after everyone had had a piece so that she could eat more of it. With that she headed up stairs and slipped into her room where she would wrap the cross bow in one of the traditional gifts Fuin got the children every year - A new shirt and pants (or dress in Cala's case)fortunately Rada had grown a fair bit so it wasn't too hard to wrap the small cross bow and handful of darts that they had made for him. The gift wrapped up Fuin returned to see Cala hard at work decorating the cake. Fuin for her part began pulling out the dishes to set the table for the party - a set of twelve in total, all made and refined and re-refined by Cala over the years and cups and cutlery to match, Fuin caught sight of Thal climbing the stairs and smiled.

"The first bit of help appears to have arrived!"

[Rillewen]

@Fuin Elda

Calaerdis and Thalaben

Late Spring
Minas Tirith - Second Circle

Looking up from the frosting, Cala wondered who was the first to arrive. A smile appeared as she saw who it was, and hurried to open the door for him before he had a chance to knock. Cala grinned, stepping back to let him in. "Thanks for coming!" She said happily, relieved that he had arrived before Radaron's friends.
"I told you I would," He smiled and nodded politely to Fuin. "Ma'am, how are you? Can I help with anything?" He wondered, inhaling the lovely smell wafting through the room.

"Oh, I'm not sure. I was just starting to decorate the cake," Cala thought for a moment, glancing around. Loud, noisy footsteps could be heard pounding up the stairs about that moment, and Cala realized that Radaron was coming a bit sooner than she'd expected. He must have run home from school.

"I'll keep the kid busy, how's that?" Thal offered quickly, seeing the alarmed look on her face. Setting down the small gift he had brought, he grinned as he hurried to intercept the excited boy before he caught sight of the unfinished party preparations.

Cala breathed a sigh of relief and smiled. "Thanks, Thal!" She called after him. The smile stayed as she continued to work on the cake decorating. Soon, she could hear Radaron and Thal playing some game down below. "Are we mostly ready, aside from this?" She asked Fuin, trying to go over all the things that they still needed to finish.

[Fuin Elda]

2618 - TA
Minas Tirith - Second Circle
@Rillewen

Thal took off to keep Radaron out of the upstairs. Fuin hissed Cala. "We better hurry up we don't have too long!" Fuin said as Cala was working hard on finishing the cake decorating "Rada is smart enough to know he's being delayed." She said as she quickly set the settings for the main meal on the table. And once they were on the main dishes themselves. She could not help but smile at the work Cala had put in so far to make sure that the forge was successful. For now though it was Rada's day, soon more voices joined Radaron and Thal as they played at a game of kick ball from the sounds of it in the small alley off the main street. Soon everyone had arrived and the task they'd set Thal to - delaying Radaron and his now entourage of friends- would become utterly impossible.

Fortunately aside from perhaps a bit of the cake being decorated as Fuin glanced at Cala the table set and fabric ribbons draped festively through the wall sconces they'd installed to make sure the upstairs was well lit at night so Rada and Cala could study seems looked like they were done the small pile of gifts in the corner would undoubtedly grow, though the one large gift would doubtlessly have much of the young boys attention when he came in. "Are we done can we let the horde in?" Fuin asked with a laugh certain that everything else was in place. She was certain Cala and Thal would slip outside to sit in the quiet for a part of the night. Fuin would do her job of being guardian of all of these boys and make sure their home survived as well.

[Rillewen]

@Fuin Elda

Calaerdis

2618 - Late Spring
Minas Tirith - Second Circle

"Yes, he is," Cala agreed. "But as long as Thal keeps them all having fun, he might not mind being delayed." She could only hope, but wasn't really sure how long they'd be able to keep the horde at bay. Luckily, she was nearly finished. She placed the cake on the table, grinning as she stepped back to admire it, licking the remnant frosting off of the knife before putting it in the washbasin. "Alright, I think we can let the monsters in.. I mean children." She laughed, and went around to do a once-over to ensure that there were no breakable items anywhere within reach of small hands.

Going to the doorway, she called the children inside, and then stood back holding the door open, waiting for the stampede.

[Fuin Elda]

2618 - TA
Minas Tirith - Second Circle
@Rillewen

And then they were beset.

It was both terrible and wonderful at the same time, Rada and his friends had a fantastic time, the food was devoured until there was only crumbs left (and one roasted strip of onion that hadn't been seen). The lot of them ran and played games in the house though Fuin refused to let them down into the forge despite Rada promising they would be good he only wanted to show them the newest latest things that Cala and her were working on - which admittedly was echoed by most of the children attending the party - a glimpse inside the elf forge run by women that was where the elite got their weapons and their finery in terms of metal work done was a treat to them. Fuin would not allow a bunch of over stimulated children into the forge though even if was cold for the night. No that was the last thing she needed or wanted.

Thal did his best to help keep them in line and play with them as well and finally when the energy had started to wear down they let them open the presents though Fuin had smartly hidden away the bow that had been made until it was the last gift and Rada was confused at where his normal gift was - Fuin normally bought him practical things that he could use when he got older today though he didn't find himself with any new tools or mechanisms that would make his life easier with his one hand in amongst the gifts he'd opened... And then he saw the massive gift that she'd pulled from some hidden location the boys had not found and she was certain his eyes went as wide as saucers as he looked at and tore into it.

Everyone wanted to try it but it was dark and Fuin had been smart enough to make sure the bolts for it were locked down in the forge. After all the last things she needed was Rada's friends using the bow or him using it and one of them getting hurt. Instead Fuin said that no there would be no trying it, that Rada would be learning how to use it properly and it was not a play thing. Which was true most of the boys he was friends with had small knives and the like but none had so.... princely a weapon to call their own. Indeed there would be many jealous of it including more than a few members of the Gondorian army.

So instead the boys looked it over inspecting every detail they could from the grain of the wood to the curved metal that reenforced it to the designs patterned onto it by practiced hand until parents began arriving to collect their children as the Arien had gone down and the torches of the city were lit. More than one telling their parents about the wonderous bow that Rada had gotten and how they were going to save up for one of their own.

[Arnyn]

A shadow fell on a forge in Minas Tirith. Passers-by looked up, curious, to have their eyes widen and their hearts stutter. The air shifted violently as the dragon's paws touched the cobblestones. A silver-haired woman with braids and bells in her hair entered the forge, and soon left again with a coin in one hand.

He looked at her expectantly. "Nay, Drogon," she smiled. "No enemies here. Come. To the skies."

[Rillewen]

@Fuin Elda

Calaerdis & Thalaben

2618 - Late Spring
Minas Tirith - Second Circle

The party was great. Cala was delighted to see how happy her brother was, and how much he enjoyed his gifts. Especially, the main one. That one had been her and Fuin's secret for some time, and she was thrilled to see how excited Rada was with it. Of course, they'd have to go over a lot of new rules with it, but she was eager to see how well he might be able to use the crossbow.

And yet... she still had some vague thoughts about how it might be made possible for him to use a regular style bow. Because, while this one would enable him to get a feel for using a projectile weapon like that, and he could practice aiming and all of that, she knew that he wanted to, someday, shoot a bow like Fuin's. They just had to figure out some way for that to be possible.

As the last of Radaron's friends said goodbye and the sound of his excited voice, telling his parents all about the party, faded down the street, Cala smiled softly and turned to begin cleaning up the assortment of plates and cups that had been left behind.

Thal was just finishing filling the washbasin. "That crossbow was amazing, by the way." He mentioned, impressed.

"Yes, he's going to be the envy of all the kids in school." Cala laughed as she began washing up the dishes. "Perhaps someday I'll be able to make something like that, all on my own."

"That 'someday' might not be all that far away." He shrugged, starting to dry the dishes that she had finished washing. "I'm not sure if you helped with making that one, but I'm sure you could have done most of that, without any help. If you'd wanted to, I mean. You're creative and inventive enough to make anything you want, you know." He smiled at her.

She blushed faintly. "Well.. thanks. I guess.. if I didn't have a teacher to guide me through how to make something, I'd experiment until I figured out what worked," She mentioned thoughtfully, recalling how she had done back before she met Fuin.

As they finished up the dishes, Cala could hear Radaron in his room, playing with some of his new toys. She passed the last plate to Thal and leaned against the table with a sigh.

"You've been busy all day," Thal mentioned. "Running around, trying to keep up with all those kids," He laughed, then hesitated as he finished drying the plate, and set it aside. "Would you.. like to take a walk with me?" He asked, turning toward her. "You deserve a little quiet time, and now's the perfect time.. your brother's got plenty to keep him occupied, the shops are all closed by now, most people have gone home.. stars are starting to come out..." He mentioned. As a delivery guy who frequently traveled the streets at all different times of day, he knew the streets would be mostly empty right now, and it would be a nice, quiet time of day to take a stroll and enjoy a bit of peace and quiet.

Cala considered for a moment, then slowly nodded. "Hang on." She went to the next room to find Fuin, figuring she'd check if she minded being left in charge of Rada for a little bit.. he was still rather excited about several of his new toys, though for the moment he was staying in his room with them.

[Fuin Elda]

2618 - TA
Minas Tirith - Second Circle
@Rillewen

The party was over it was... A strange thing at times to be in charge of children and there were times Fuin questioned if she was doing right by them. She knew Cala was thriving and learning but she was so near an adult by human standards Rada....

Today she was certain she was doing well for Rada. The smile on his face threatened to overtake his ears and his friend were happy as well and despite having been given a crossbow no one had been injured or maimed. She was sitting cleaning up the last bits of the party while Cala and Thala were doing the dishes. Every once in a while she'd check in on Rada make sure be still was it getting into trouble. So far she'd been lucky when Cala came and let her know she'd be going out for a walk.

Fuin was fine with taking care of Rada the boy would likely be out cold after all the excitement of the day before Cala got back. "Enjoy yourself and stay safe Cala." She said with a nod giving the young woman a nod and a wave to go ahead. She'd be finished cleaning in the next few minutes and then she'd go see how soon before Rada was done for the day.

(Ooc typing on my phone please forgive shortness and possible autocorrects)

[Rillewen]

@Fuin Elda

Calaerdis & Thalaben

2618 - Late Spring
Minas Tirith - Second Circle

After being assured that Fuin did not mind, Cala smiled. "Of course. I won't be gone long," She promised, then returned to Thal. He had finished putting away the dishes; he was always being helpful, it seemed. After putting the towel away, they set out for a walk together. They had grown closer in the past couple of years, and while she had a few other casual friends that she saw now and then, Thal was the closest friend that she had, besides Fuin.

They strolled leisurely along, chatting quietly as they went, and wandered into a park, enjoying the sight of all the spring blossoms and the cooler night air. Sitting on a bench, they looked up at the stars and talked about this and that, but nothing really in particular.

---

Radaron

Emerging from his room after a little while, Rada was hoping to sneak another look at his new crossbow before it was time for bed. After spotting Fuin working on some cleaning, he tried to see if he could sneak up on her and surprise her with a hug, though he'd never managed to catch her off guard before. He grinned at her. "This was the bestest birthday ever! Thanks. Can I start practicing tomorrow? Will you teach me how to use it?" He asked hopefully, eager to learn and thus, settle things with those former friends of his from the first circle. "I can't wait to see those two boys swimming in the sewer." He added with a mischievous grin. So far, that was his and Fuin's secret.

[Fuin Elda]

2618 - TA
Minas Tirith - Second Circle
@Rillewen

Fuin kept cleaning as Rada slipped out of his room and decided to sneak up on her. It wasn't hard to hear him, he was not nearly as sneaky as he thought he was but she did her best to let him think he was sneaky giving a chuckle as he hugged her from behind and she gave him a gentle pat on the shoulder. "I am glad you enjoyed your birthday." She thought for a moment. "I think I should have time to teach you to use it tomorrow. We have some errands to run as the forge is closed tomorrow but once we get those done." She said shaking her head at the little boys fantastically mischievous grin at the comment about the boys swimming in the sewer. "I will wager that they've forgotten the bet." I say with a smile as well. Cala would likely be mortified at the childish behaviour of both Fuin and Rada plotting such a thing.

"We will have to get you well practiced so there is no doubt in the fact they need to go for a rather filthy swim." Fuin said rather seriously as she finished putting the chairs back in their places.

[Rillewen]

@Fuin Elda

Radaron

"Yay!" He cheered happily when she said there might be time tomorrow. Then he looked curious. "What errands?" He wondered. His birthday was over, so it couldn't have anything to do with that. Right? And Cala's wasn't for several months. "Does that mean I don't have to go to school?" He added, eager for a chance to do something more exciting than schoolwork.

When Fuin said she didin't think those other boys would remember that deal, Rada's grin widened. "Oh, they remember, alright!" He declared, almost smirking as he said so. "Every time I see them, I remind them about it, and then they tease me and say it'll never happen, and then I tell them that they'd better learn how to fight alligators." He said proudly. "They haven't forgotten, and I don't plan to let them forget."

He grinned happily when she said they'd have to make sure he was well practiced. "Yeah, I wanna be able to shoot and hit whatever I'm shooting at, every time." He could hardly wait to begin learning!

[Rillewen]

Solo/Private

Lord Authion & Lady Duvaineth Taurhebor
About 20 years ago, in their estate, Túrion Dornea, near Lamedon, Gondor

“Do you have enough rope?” Duvaineth asked, a small frown on her face.

“Of course.” Authion assured her, glancing up at his wife with a little grin. “And I have my anchors and clips and cleats and all of the other things I need.” He also added. “Don’t worry, Dove. I have all my gear.”

“Don’t forget this.” She handed him a rolled cloth, on which she had toiled many hours in embroidery.

“I would never,” Authion promised as he accepted it and carefully tucked it into his pack. “Thank you, dear.” He added softly, pulling her close with his arms around her, and kissed her.

“Must you do this?” Duvaineth asked with a sigh, wrapping her arms around his waist, as if she could prevent him from going on this ridiculous ‘quest’ of his.

“I know, you don’t understand,” Authion held back a sigh of his own, but he kissed her forehead softly. “Don’t worry, my Dove. I’ll be just fine.”

---

|
Authion & Torthon Talven

Just then, a knock on the door interrupted the couple’s discussion. Authion answered, and found a servant there.

“Lord Talven is here to see you, my lord.” He was informed.

Authion frowned slightly, surprised. He paused for a moment, then sighed. “Have him come to my study, please. Thank you.” He gave a little shrug to his wife before going down the hall to the study to see what Torthon wanted.

“Cousin, what brings you here?” Authion asked with a little smile, greeting his cousin with a handshake when he entered the room, then smiling at the sleeping bundle held in his cousin’s arms.

“Must I have a reason to come and visit my only cousin?” Torthon asked, putting on a smile as well, and shifted the blanket to let Authion see the baby better.

Authion gave him a look, eyebrow raised. “You’re usually rather busy there in Dol Amroth, with your work.” If one could call it that, he added mentally. “In fact, the last time I saw you…” He paused, then walked over and closed the study door, frowning. “Don’t tell me you got another woman pregnant?” He asked in a hushed tone, worried he might have to cover up another scandal that would make the family look bad. The first baby wasn’t even a year old yet...

“No, no,” Torthon assured him, rolling his eyes with a sigh. “I do appreciate your aid in.. covering that matter up, and keeping it quiet, however.” He mentioned. “And furthermore, I assure you that I have learned my lesson. Besides, it’s rather costly taking care of just one infant, as I have learned these past few months. How is it that baby clothing can cost so much? They're so tiny!”

Authion breathed out in relief. It went against his conscience to make up falsehoods, claiming that Torthon and this unknown woman had had a quiet wedding to which he alone was a witness, when in reality, there had been no wedding at all. It was sad that the poor girl had died, delivering a baby that never should have been conceived without that marriage, but at least Torthon had accepted his responsibility and was taking care of the infant. “Ah..” Authion realized, a moment later after hearing Torthon bring up the cost of raising said infant. “So that’s what it’s about, is it?” He asked. “Money? If you're concerned about buying baby clothes, you're welcome to the clothing that Aearonor has outgrown.”

Torthon dipped his head as if in gratitude, but he still seemed annoyed. “I regret to have to make this request of you, lord cousin, but.. the allowance I am given is simply.. not enough.” He explained. “It was barely enough when there was only myself to consider. But now…” He hesitated and nodded toward the baby in his arms. “The offer of clothing is.. generous of you, cousin. But do you have any idea how costly it is, having to hire a wet nurse.. not to mention the cost of to pay a laundress.. almost daily? Having to constantly wash diapers…"

Authion frowned at him with his arms crossed, and sighed. “Torthon…”

“How am I to raise my son, if I do not have the money to pay for these basic necessities?” Torthon protested.

“Have you considered focusing upon your trade, Torthon? That is what most secondborn lords end up doing. It is what your father did, and he was very successful at it. Uncle Therion was considered the best architect and master builder in Belfalas, and he became quite wealthy.” Authion reminded him. “Considering the fact that my father never had any obligation to give Aunt Aeariel anything after she was married, I think I have also been rather generous even giving you as much as I do. I am certainly under no obligation to give you anything, and it is only for the fact that we are family, that I do so, out of generosity.” This, he could see, angered his cousin, but to his credit, he didn’t reply too hastily.

Torthon kept his jaw clenched and managed not to retort whatever had come to his mind to say. He took a slow breath in, and replied calmly. “There has been little call for my services of late. Not many people are building new houses, these days, what with the war. So there is little call for new building plans to be drawn up.” Torthon explained, once he trusted himself to speak. “I only ask for an increase, for the sake of my son.” He said, turning his gaze to the sleeping infant in his arms. “Please, Authion. Do you want the folk of Dol Amroth to begin saying that you are depriving your own kin, condemning us to live in poverty, while you sit here in luxury?” He asked, eyes narrowing as he looked up at him.

Authion scoffed as he barely managed to keep from rolling his eyes. “Poverty?” He shook his head and leaned against the desk. “You get more than enough from me, Torthon. If you consider that to be poverty, then perhaps you ought to take a closer look at some of the commonfolk you pass on the street every day.” His frown deepened. “And furthermore, if that is meant to be some sort of threat of blackmail, then you had best change your approach, and quickly.” he added in a stern tone. “I will not be blackmailed, nor guilted into anything. And if you intend to try and use any such tactics on me to convince me to give you more money, you’ll find that it will yield the opposite result of what you intended.”

“What about my son?” Torthon demanded, remembering to keep his voice hushed so not to wake the baby. “It’s easy for you to disregard these matters. Your son has his mother to feed him and take care of all these things. I have to pay a woman to do all those things that his mother would have done, had she lived.”

“Just as you had to pay a woman to get into bed with you,” Authion commented dryly,
unable to resist the little jab. He sighed, holding up a hand as if to hold back the anger that flashed across Torthon’s face. “Sorry.. I know, I promised I would keep it quiet. Alright... I'll tell you what,” He went on, deciding to take some time to think about this request. “I’m preparing to leave for a camping trip with Avorndir, within the hour. I was packing when you arrived, in fact. I’ll be back in a few days. So, I’ll take this time to consider your request, and I will give you an answer when I return.” He told him. “In the meanwhile, you and Toggornir are welcome to stay in one of the guest cabins.. I’ll see that one is made ready for you, and that all your needs are taken care of.”

Torthon frowned for a moment, considering this. Finally, he bowed his head. “Thank you, cousin. Your generosity is most appreciated.” Despite his words of gratitude, there was a slight note of bitterness in his tone.

“Please excuse me, now. I have to finish packing my gear.” Authion ignored Torthon’s tone, and moved for the door. He paused, sighing as he turned back to him, and offered a little smile. “You know, I would like it if you’d come around more often than just when you want something, by the way.” He mentioned. “You are family, after all. Besides, when the boys are older, they might enjoy playing together. I hope you can stay a while, after I’ve returned?”

“We shall see.” Torthon replied, following Authion out, but he did not look very happy.

Authion signalled to a servant and requested that he take Torthon to a guest cabin, and then returned to his room to finish his packing.

---

Authion & Duvaineth

Duvaineth was still waiting. “Well?”

“He will be staying for a few days.” Authion held back a sigh. “He needs some help with the baby. I told him I’d talk to him when I got back.”

“You’re still going, then?” She frowned in disapproval.

“Of course.” Authion frowned. “You think I would just cancel the trip with Avorndir, just because Torthon showed up? No, we’re going to climb that cliff. Torthon’s business can wait.”

“And what then?” She frowned, disapproving, and resuming the ‘argument’ from before. “Once you achieve this ‘challenge’, you’ll want to continue doing it every chance you get, I suppose? And I’ll have to worry, every time, if you shall ever return?”

Authion considered her face, knowing she disliked his favorite hobby. He didn’t have to ask if she would rather he didn’t go. “Maybe not every chance…” He answered with a little shrug, and smiled in attempt to lighten her mood.

Duvaineth sighed and pulled away from him, going to the window. “I wish you would quit this ridiculous, dangerous activity altogether. It’s bad enough when you go climbing around on every rock and cliff you find. But why must you go to that cliff?” She frowned, folding her arms.

“Now, now, my Dove,” Authion put his hands on her shoulders reassuringly. “We’ve been through this many times. You know I always use safety precautions when I climb. And that one.. well, I want to climb it because I never have managed it, before. It challenges me. I cannot rest until I have succeeded.”

“I don’t wish to be left a widow.” Duvaineth said sharply as she turned to him with a frown. “It would be bad enough if you should be killed in battle or something, fighting foes which threaten our land. But to die in such a needless, senseless manner? It’s foolish, and anyway, I don’t want to raise our children without a husband.” She rested a hand on her belly, looking troubled.

“Duvaineth…” Authion struggled not to roll his eyes, and drew a slow breath. “Must we argue about this every time I set off on an adventure?”

“We would not argue if you would not go on these foolish ‘adventures’ in the first place.” She pointed out. “I only care for your safety, my dear.” She sighed.

“I know, but you act as if you think I’m being reckless. I know what I’m doing, Dove. I don’t try to tell you to be mindful of your needles and pins when you embroidery things, do I?”

“A prick from pins and needles are hardly as dangerous as falling off of a cliff, Authion.” She replied sharply, then she softened her face and tone a little. “Promise me something, please?” She turned to him, anxious.

“What is it?” he asked, catching her hand, and pressed a kiss to it, deciding not to mention that the pins and needles could actually cause an infection or something, and therefore could be dangerous.

“Let this be the last climb.”

Authion froze, blinking at her. “What?”

“After you finish this.. ‘Challenge’ of yours, will you give up climbing after that?”

He lowered their joined hands, frowning slightly, but he did not let go of her hand. “Give up climbing? Forever?” His frown deepened.

“I worry about you every time you go!” She pleaded. “I don’t want to endure that anymore. Please, if not for me, for our children?”

Authion released her hand and turned to the window, folding his arms, and stared out for a long moment. Thinking long and hard. At last, he turned back to her. “What if we come to an agreement?” He asked, a bit reluctantly.

“What sort of agreement?” She frowned.

“When I have finally conquered the Challenge, which I hope to achieve today, I will give that cliff up, and never climb that one again. Will that satisfy you?” He asked, hoping that they could reach a peaceful agreement, for he would not like to leave with her unhappy.

Duvaineth frowned as she considered this. “Ever again?”

“Not that cliff, no.” He promised. “I will be content with the smaller cliffs and rocky places to climb, which are nearer to home. Would that make you content?”

Duvaineth pursed her lips as she considered this, her hand slowly rubbing over her belly. It was still a few months before this baby would be born, and she wanted her husband to be around when it came. At last, she sighed. “I suppose you will never fully give up your climbing, foolhardy though it is.” She acknowledged. “Alright. I will be content, if you will promise never to try that cliff again, once you’ve achieved your ‘great challenge’ at last.” She rolled her eyes but smiled faintly, knowing her husband’s enthusiasm for this strange hobby of his.

Authion smiled, relieved that she had accepted his proposal. He kissed his wife slowly, then pulled away with a smile. “Thank you, my Dove.” He said softly. “I shall return to you with the tale of my success to boast of.” He grinned.

Duvaineth rolled her eyes but smiled faintly. “Be careful, dear.”

“Of course.” He kissed her, then laid a hand on her stomach and smiled to feel the baby move under his hand. “Someone’s gotta teach this little guy about climbing when he gets bigger, after all.” He joked.

“Don’t even think about it.” Duvaineth replied sternly. “It’s bad enough you’ve got Aearonor trying to climb on everything, with him barely even walking. Don’t corrupt our second child with that nonsense, too!”

Authion laughed. “Sorry, dear. The thoughts have already formed, and besides, I think he’s already trying to climb.” He grinned. “I felt him trying to find a foothold, just now. He must think your belly is a cliff. The ‘corruption’ has already begun.”

“Oh, stop it,” Duvaineth rolled her eyes but had to laugh softly. “You don’t even know if it’s a ‘he’ or a ‘she’,” She reminded him.

“Doesn’t matter!” He declared with amusement, grabbing his pack. “See you later, Dovey.” He grinned. “I love you.”

Duvaineth smiled. “I love you too,” She answered, watching as her husband set out for his silly adventure. He would be gone overnight with his friend, and she would miss him and worry about him every moment.

He cast one last glance back, grinned, and waved to her before he left the manor, his pack hoisted onto his strong shoulders, whistling a merry tune as he set out to meet his friend. It was the last time that Duvaineth ever saw him alive.


(tbc)

[Rillewen]

Solo/Private

Lord Authion & Forester Avorndir
About 20 years ago
At the tallest cliff on Taurhebor land
Near Lamedon, Gondor

“Today’s the day, Avorn!” Authion declared eagerly. The highest cliff that existed on his land stood there to meet him, looming overhead, challenging and daring him to try and reach the top. He had, in the past, asked his wife if she’d like to come along on these trips of his. But she was not in favor of camping in the wild, nor sitting by while the men did their ‘silly climbing thing’. Therefore, she had never been to this place, and did not even know where it was. And he had never brought anyone else here except for Avorndir, and once, years ago, Authion’s cousin had come along. Torthon had never understood the point of climbing, and had simply pointed out that it would be far easier to reach the top if he merely went around and hiked up the path that led to the top, on the western side of the mountain.

The eastern side of the mountain dropped down sharply in a *sheer rock face for nearly a thousand feet; it was a tricky cliff to navigate as a climber. It was a section near the top that proved most challenging, as the rock protruded out to form an overhang. A climber must then climb a 200 foot section of very sustained overhanging wall with tiny handholds and little protection; just when the climber’s fingers and arms were running out of strength after climbing for hours, already. Since the route that was necessary to get to the top ended up weaving around a good amount, this ended up adding a few hundred more feet onto the length of the climb itself, which took more time to achieve.

It was the top that had always defeated both men in the past. Those last couple hundred feet of overhang… Authion was determined not to let it defeat him today, even if it meant that it was his last time to ever climb it. He was disappointed about that, but it was one of those ‘compromises for marriage’ situations. Authion would not break that promise, although he would be sad not to be able to return to this cliff.

Authion and Avorndir had been good friends since childhood, despite Authion being the heir, and later lord, of the estate. Avorndir, upon reaching adulthood, had become a forester, and now worked for the Taurhebor family to help maintain the forest. Despite the difference in their social standing, the two still enjoyed the same activities and spent much time together.

“Think so?” Avorndir asked, grinning as the two men stood looking up at the tall cliff that rose up in front of them, daring them to try and climb it. “Think you can tackle that last section this time?”

Authion grinned. “I plan to, and if I do it, then so will you.” He declared with confidence. “Besides. I have a banner to plant.” He mentioned with a little grin. So far, every attempt they had both made at this had resulted in them having to rappel back down to the ground in defeat. Both had been working hard on improving their strength and agility since their last attempt, and Authion felt pretty confident about it.

“Your standard is going to look great waving in the wind up there,” Avorndir grinned back. “We should plan on doing this at least yearly.”

“Ah…” Authion sighed, looking up from checking his equipment. “Alas. I promised my lady that once I succeed, I would never climb this one again.”

“Aw. Too bad,” Avorndir lamented. “Then, I guess this is our one last chance.”

“Indeed. We’d best make it count.” Authion declared.

The plan was that Avorndir would belay for Authion until he reached the full, seventy meters of the rope’s length, and then Avorndir would begin to climb up after him, so that they would be climbing together. They had already made sure that there was no excessive wear on any of the equipment before setting out. After they had both put on their harnesses and readied the rope, Authion approached the base of the cliff. “Ready?”

Soon, Authion began his ascent, while Avorndir kept the rope as taught as needed to keep it from getting caught, or gave slack when asked. For Avorndir, it seemed a long wait before he could begin to climb. Having to stand just at the bottom of the cliff, looking upward, maintaining a specific stance the entire time. On the off-chance that Authion should slip, Avorndir’s braced stance would be the only thing that would keep them from suddenly swapping places, or worse.

When Authion reached the first anchor point, he attached his safety line onto it, making sure that it was secure, then continued his upward journey. When he would eventually reach the top, the plan was that he would then belay for the last bit of Avorndir’s ascent, which would assure that the second man reached the top, too. They had attached anchors into the rock face during previous attempts at climbing this cliff, but these only went up to the point they had actually managed to climb. These would provide them both with protection against falls, in case of an accident. However, such a fall would still be highly undesirable, as injuries could still occur even with such precautions in place, so Authion had no intention of being careless.

Authion was nearing the end of the length of rope, having already passed up the first hundred feet of height in the cliff. He was progressing well. Avorndir was watching his slow progress, readying himself to begin climbing next. There was only about a meter of rope left before Avorndir would begin to climb as well, when things suddenly went wrong. He was watching while Authion navigated a section of the cliff that was a little tricky, when he heard a sound to his left. Before Avorndir even had a chance to turn, his legs were knocked out from under him, and he went flying.

Authion had no warning. One moment, he was holding onto the rock with one hand, and the other hand grabbing for a clip from his belt to secure himself to the anchor point he had just reached, when suddenly the line jerked taught with such force, he lost his grip on the rock with a shout of alarm. Things were crazy for a terrifying moment as Authion fell, his heart leaping into his throat even though a tiny part of his mind reminded him that he had an anchor point some ways below.

His rapid descent halted far too abruptly as the rope reached its end, and he slammed roughly into the rock face before zooming upward again as Avorn's weight pulled the rope down once more. Authion’s vision blurred as pain exploded throughout his body the moment he impacted against the wall. When he finally stopped swinging wildly around, the last thing he saw while hanging upside down, was the explanation to it all: Avorndir was frantically fastening his end of the rope around a tree while a wild boar charged toward him for a second attack. “No...” Authion groaned faintly, fearing for his friend’s life. Then his vision went dark as he slipped out of consciousness.

When he woke again, Authion’s head was pounding, feeling like it was split open. He had difficulty recognizing where he was at first, but then it came back to him. He blinked, trying to clear his blurred vision, but without success. Still, he could see his friend lying motionless on the ground far below, covered in blood and wounds. “Av..?” Authion gasped as he tried to call to his friend. He couldn’t tell if Avorndir was alive or not. He struggled to try and twist around, and fresh waves of pain lanced through him, seeming to come from every part of his body. He passed out again.

The next time he awoke, Authion took more care about trying to inspect his situation. His head was pounding. Being upside down was surely not helping matters. He carefully tried to assess his own injuries, since he could do nothing for Avorndir right now. As near as he could tell, Authion thought he must have a concussion, for starters. He couldn’t tell how bad it was, but he figured it must be worse than mild, but not as bad as ‘severe’. He mentally placed it at ‘medium’ level, though he was no healer and could not say for certain. Still, as far as he knew, if it was severe, he wouldn’t be able to think straight enough to diagnose himself, right? The next thing he determined was that the impact from hitting against the cliff might have broken a couple of ribs, which explained why he couldn’t really bend his waist very well.

But that was not the worst injury. After carefully tilting his head to look upward at the rest of himself, Authion realized that the excess rope, as he had fallen, must have somehow gotten looped around his leg. And when the rope suddenly jerked taut at the end of his fall, it had broken his leg. He could tell that it was out of sorts and would need to be set straight, but he didn’t dare try to move in any way, knowing it would hurt too much to bear. Even now, without moving, his leg pained him something fierce. Soon, he was convinced that the leg pain outweighed the head pain, and that convinced him further that the head wound was not as serious as the other.

---

As for Avorndir, he had certainly gone flying. About fifty feet at least, while Authion plummeted the same distance; attached to each other by the rope, it had been unavoidable. First Avorndir went upward, then when he came down, is fall jerked Authion from the cliff. When Authion fell to the end of his rope, that had then jerked Avorndir up again. Until Avorndir’s weight, combined with his full pack, had dragged him back down again, and pulled Authion back upward. It was a chaotic and terrifying few moments, going up and down and up and down.

All the while, on the ground, the boar was angry and confused. It had started to charge at him after it knocked him to the ground, but when he left the ground, the savage animal searched around for him in confusion. It was just turning to go on its way again when he hit the ground again. The boar rushed toward him with a vengeance to settle.

Though he was in pain and felt like he could hardly move, Avorndir realized that if he got flung again, it could be disastrous for Authion. He had only moments in which to react. He had two options. One, he could try to save himself and risk Authion getting hurt further. Or two, he could secure the line to make sure that Authion didn’t get thrown around any further, and then worry about himself. Avorndir forced himself up to his feet despite how much pain he was in. Hastily, he tied his end of the rope off to the nearest tree, driven by adrenaline alone. The boar came closer and closer. The moment the rope was secure, Avorndir hastily cut himself loose, then tried to get up into the tree. But he was too late. The boar reached him before he could grab a branch.

When Avorndir woke, the boar was gone. He could only guess that it had lost interest in him once he stopped moving. But he was in a tremendous amount of pain, and this time he really couldn’t move. Above him, the sky was blue and bright, and appeared to be late afternoon. The tips of tree branches spread out over where he lay. It took some effort, but he turned his head and looked at the trunk. The rope was still there, tied securely, to his relief. The knot had held. Turning his head again, he looked toward the cliff, and saw Authion there, dangling from the other end. It was hard to gauge the distance in his current condition, but Avorndir guessed he was somewhere between seventy and ninety feet up the cliff. His right leg was hung up by his rope, holding him in an upside down position. It looked like his head was bleeding, and he wasn’t moving. Was he alive?

Avorndir struggled to remain conscious. “Auth..ion?” He mumbled weakly. His friend, and lord, would never be able to hear him from that far away. For what felt like hours, Avorndir stared up at his friend, willing him to move. To show him that he was alive. And then, at last, the forester breathed out softly in relief. Authion had lifted his head. Tried to twist himself. Cried out in pain, and then went still again. The motions caused him to swing gently at the end of the rope. Avorndir watched him swing back and forth, until at last, he slipped out of consciousness again, himself.

He woke again to find the sky dark now. He couldn’t see Authion, but he clung to the memory that he had last seen him moving. He passed out again. The sky was growing light again when he opened his eyes again, and he felt weaker than ever. He was losing blood, and he knew it. If help didn’t come soon, Avorndir was going to die. The thought frightened him, but he could do nothing about it.

Looking up toward his friend, he dimly watched the man trying to get something from his pack. What was he doing? Avorndir blinked, then realized how much time must have passed. Authion was trying to get to his rations, for he must be hungry. Avorndir became aware of his own hunger, but he could do nothing about it. Authion could do nothing but that, he figured. From the ground, Avorndir watched his friend get out his pouch of rations. Then he let his pack fall to the ground. Getting rid of excess weight, no doubt. Avorndir didn’t blame him. All his weight was pulling on that leg, and it didn’t look too comfortable.

Avorndir tried to call out and ask if Authion was badly hurt, but he couldn’t quite get the words to come out loud enough for his own ears. But at least Authion was alive, and he was able to think enough to shed any unneeded weight. And he was able to move well enough to get food, so that was a good sign. Avorndir couldn’t say the same for himself. He lay watching Authion for a long while before everything went dark for him.


*Based off of this cliff only without the water at the bottom
(Tbc)

[Rillewen]

Solo/Private

|
Authion & Torthon Talven

Authion hated to drop his pack, but he knew he had to get rid of all excess weight that he could. He got his package of food out, and let the rest drop. There was nothing else in there that could help him now, and there was no point in it continuing to tug down on his leg, which was already in excruciating pain. At least his hands still worked. After clipping his foot bag onto his belt, so that he wouldn’t have to risk dropping it, Authion grabbed onto his harness, so that at least his arms weren't dangling. But he was unable to do much else. It would have been nice if he could’ve freed his leg and at least hang upright, but there was no chance of that. The pain of trying to move, even to reach it, threatened to send him into unconsciousness again.

He had no idea how much time had passed since the accident, when at last, another figure arrived on the scene. Authion was reaching out to see if he could grab onto the nearby rock, which was just out of his reach, when he noticed the man kneeling by Avorndir’s motionless form. Hope flared up inside him. “Hey! Help!” Authion called, glad to see someone had arrived, at last.

When the man looked up from Avorndir, Authion was relieved to see that it was none other than his own cousin. That was a bit of a surprise, but he didn’t question it. He was only glad that it wasn't some bandit or someone that wasn't likely to help. He realized that Duvaineth had probably sent him off to find Authion when he did not return when she'd expected him to. Had it already been that long? He marveled at how long he must have been up here. “Torthon!" He called. "Is Avorn alive?” He asked, desperate, both to learn whether his friend still lived, as well as for aid in returning safely to the ground.

Torthon stared up at the sight of his cousin, lord of the family estate, dangling upside down from the cliff, with his leg tangled up in the rope. He couldn’t believe this. The expert climber, tangled up in his own rope? It was almost laughable. “He’s alive.” He called back up. “Barely.” The unconscious man on the ground was severely wounded, and it was a wonder he had not yet died of blood loss, but he did still have a pulse. Torthon figured he would probably die soon, however, even with a healer. At a glance, it looked like both his legs were gashed in multiple places; one kneecap was sliced through, both calves were torn open, there were chunks actually bitten out of his arms, and he had multiple puncture wounds and lacerations on his head. His feet were ripped up, his boots torn apart and mangled.

Torthon was amazed that he still had a pulse at all. He looked up at Authion. Though obviously injured, the lord seemed to be in a far better state than the forester. Torthon wandered over to the tree where the rope was tied, and inspected the situation. Authion was suspended from the last anchor point he had clipped himself onto. The rope hung from perhaps 75 or 80 feet up the cliff face, and Authion hung maybe ten feet below that, his leg wrapped up in the rope that was holding him up. The other end of the rope stretched down to where Torthon stood, secured fast to the trunk of the tree.

“Torthon.. hurry, get a healer out here.” Authion instructed. His first concern was getting his friend help. He could hang here for a while yet, while Torthon went for help. So long as he knew that help was coming, he would be fine. “Get help as quick as you can.. and beware, the boar may still be around somewhere.”

Torthon made no move, staring at the scene before him. A thought had struck him, suddenly. All that stood between him and gaining the inheritance that should have been his… was a rope. One little knot was all that kept Authion from plummeting to his death, and then… everything should revert to Torthon, right? His mother had been the elder child, not his uncle. It should have gone to her! And if it had, then Torthon’s father would have become lord instead of Authion’s. And then, when he died, Torthon would have been lord, instead of Authion. It wasn’t fair. If he were lord, he wouldn’t have to rely on his cousin’s charity to support him, and he wouldn’t have to work some trade while Authion sat around collecting money from all the trees that his people cut down. This was a ridiculously easy fix.

Not to mention that little matter that Authion alone knew about. Without Authion in the picture, the only one who could ever reveal the truth about his son’s illegitimacy... was Torthon himself. And he was never going to do that. It would deprive his son from ever inheriting anything, after all. And if Torthon was about to inherit this entire estate, then he would want his son to inherit it, in his turn…

“Torthon, what are you waiting for? Hurry, get some help!” Authion urged.

Torthon smiled up at his cousin. “Don’t worry. I’m going to get you down.” He spoke softly so that only he would hear his words. Though it was secure, the knot was hastily tied, and it didn’t take too much effort to get it untied.

“Torthon, what are you doing?” Authion frowned, watching as he untied the rope. Was he actually thinking of lowering him down, himself? While it would be nice not to have to hang here much longer, he thought it would have been better to get help first, then worry about getting him down.

Torthon held onto the rope, looking up at his cousin with a dark smile. He held the rope, taking a moment to enjoy the feeling of literally holding his cousin’s life in his hands. He took a long look around, once again ignoring Authion asking him what he was doing. He even took the time to glance at Avorndir, to make sure the man was still unconscious. Then, he let go of the rope.

For one moment, Authion was puzzled by his cousin’s odd behavior. Then, as he saw the smile on his face, he suddenly understood what was in his mind. His eyes widened in shock. “No! Torthon, nooo!” He yelled, even as he watched him release the rope.

Torthon involuntarily flinched at the sound of the impact, then he stood still for a long moment, heart pounding as he stared at the broken form of his cousin, where he had hit the ground a few yards from where Torthon stood. He took a slow, deep breath, then began to think of how to make sure that it did not look like a deliberate act. His gaze flicked from one injured man to the next, and imagined how others would see the scene, if they came upon it.

Avorndir had been attacked by a boar; there was no denying that. But now, instead of finding Authion hanging high up the cliff face, the rope tied to a tree to prevent him from falling, they would find that he had plummeted to the ground, and it would appear that Avorndir had cut him loose to save himself. There was one last thing he needed to check; to make sure that Authion really was dead. He knelt by the body, holding his breath.

Authion was beyond a doubt, dead. Whether the broken neck was the fatal blow or not, Torthon couldn’t say, but he was satisfied. He swallowed, then took another quick glance around, making sure no one had come along to witness anything.

Once he was satisfied with the way the scene appeared, he hurried away. He would go and find the rest of the search party that Duvaineth had sent out. Since, as far as he knew, Torthon was the only other person who Authion had ever taken to this place, he could guide the search party to this place, as if he had not yet been there. Thus, he would be right there with the search party when they came upon the scene, so there was no risk that anyone might accuse him of doing.. well, what he’d done.

---

|
Forester Avorndir with Torthon Talven
About 20 years ago - Weeks later
Taurhebor estate
Near Lamedon, Gondor

Avorndir woke in a bed. For a moment, he was confused and very groggy, and he didn’t know what had happened. He tried to sit up and groaned, realizing how much pain he was in.

A nurse, who he believed was named Iris, hastened to his side, hearing his groan from the other side of the room. “Solchion, he’s awake!” She called to another room. The healer hurried into the room, looking surprised.

“Wh-what happened?” Avorndir asked weakly. “Where..?”

“You’re in a recovery room. I’ve been tending you for weeks,” Healer Solchion explained. “I wasn’t sure if you’d survive. It’s a relief to see you awake at last.”

Avorndir glanced around, the memory of the horrific event coming back to him. “What of Authion?” He asked faintly. “Is he alright?”

The healer looked at him in silence, his expression troubled. “You.. don’t remember?” He frowned.

Avorndir closed his eyes, reluctantly thinking back. “I.. remember the boar. And... I remember tying the rope, and.. after... I don’t remember being brought here…”

Healer Solchion’s expression remained solemn. “I’m afraid you did not tie the rope well enough.” He said softly. “Lord Taurhebor.. is dead.”

Avorndir’s eyes snapped open again. “What?” He asked, shocked. “No.. he can’t be.”

“He is.”

“But..” Avorndir stared, shocked, at the healer.

“I'm sorry.. I should have waited to tell you this, I'm sure it must be a shock." Solchion sighed. "Try to rest. You are fortunate to be alive. But you will have a long recovery ahead of you. It was a terrible accident, and you must try not to get too worked up.”

“But I don’t understand..” Avorndir frowned, confused. “I saw him, he was alive..”

“You must have imagined it. You’ve suffered from serious head wounds, and that alone can make a person hallucinate. Not to mention the loss of blood.. that can mess with your mind in some way.”

Avorndir frowned in confusion, but did not try to correct him any further. He could not deny that he had been very out of it, and apparently he’d been mostly unconscious for weeks now. But he knew for sure that Authion had been alive when he last saw him. At least a day had passed while the rope held, so how could it have come loose after all that time?

They gave him something to eat, then some tea that helped him to sleep again. When he woke up again, he heard voices speaking near him. One was the healer, and the other.. he knew that voice, but it took his groggy mind a moment to register. It was Authion’s cousin. Torthon. He knew the guy, of course, even though he lived in Dol Amroth. What was he doing here? A moment later, heremembered on the way out to the cliff, how Authion had complained about Torthon showing up. Next, he recalled the tragic news of Authion’s death, and he realized that Torthon would have stayed around for the funeral, as well as to help Lady Taurhebor with everything that she would need to adjust to, with the death of Lord Taurhebor. He swallowed and turned his head to the side, feeling a wave of sorrow wash over him.

When they noticed that Avorndir was awake, Solchion came to check on him. "You seem better today," He declared. "Good. Lord Talven would like to speak with you." He explained quietly, then turned to Torthon. "Try to keep it brief," He said. "He is still very weak."

Torthon nodded and dismissing Solchion, then turned to Avorndir after the healer had gone, clasping his hands in front of himself. “Avorndir. The healer said that you woke up yesterday. I was starting to think he was mistaken.”

“Torthon.” Avorndir greeted him quietly. He still felt pretty weak, but at least he felt a bit better than he had, yesterday. “I’m sorry.. I learned yesterday, what.. happened..” His throat swelled and tears gathered in the corners of his eyes.

Torthon folded his arms, frowning. “You’re sorry? What are you sorry for?”

Avorndir swallowed, drawing a shaky breath. “They told me… that he died.”

“That’s right." Torthon agreed, his frown deepening. "My cousin is dead.” Torthon’s tone grew hard. “And it’s your fault.”

This stunned Avorndir. He blinked, looking up at the man. “My.. fault?”

“Of course it is.” Torthon scowled. “First off, you were the one who got him into that ridiculous climbing stuff in the first place.” He pointed out. “Always encouraging him to put his life in danger, climbing up those absurd cliffs for no reason. And now.."

"A boar attacked... it threw me off my feet!" Avorndir exclaimed incredulously. "We couldn't have anticipated that."

"No, I agree, but if you hadn't been there in the first place, neither of you would have been in danger. And then, if that's not bad enough.. when you got attacked, you cut him loose to save your own self?” Torthon frowned sternly at the injured man. “And now, you say you’re sorry?”

Avorndir stared in astonishment, as his heart twisted with guilt and remorse. “I.. but I.. I didn’t.” He managed to utter, weakly. “I.. I didn’t cut him loose, I tied him off, so he wouldn’t fall. I..” He frowned and felt a surge of anger at these absurd accusations. “I could have saved myself, but I didn’t. If I had, I wouldn't have been this badly injured.” He retorted, though he was still too weak to put much emphasis into it.

“I don’t want to hear your excuses and lies.” Torthon retorted back. “Lord Taurhebor is dead because you failed to keep him safe.”

Avorndir stared in surprise at the harshness of the man’s words. He understood that he must be grieving the loss of a family member, but it wasn’t a fair accusation. “I did all that I-”

“He is dead, isn’t he?” Torthon interrupted him. “No excuse you can offer will change that fact, Avorndir. For someone who called himself a friend to my cousin, you should be ashamed that you survived.” Torthon paced around the room, scowling. He drew a slow breath, as if calming himself. "That being said, Lady Taurhebor wants you gone. She never wants to see you again. In fact, she was so angry at what you did, she preferred to let you die, but I convinced her of another option.” He explained.

Avorndir stared speechlessly at the man, unsure what to think of all this. “Another option?” He repeated faintly, confused, before he had a thought of what the man must mean. “Am I to be exhiled, then?”

Torthon frowned, leaning closer. “You are to be arrested, Avorndir.” He declared. “On behalf of Lady Taurhebor, I am charging you with causing the death of lord Taurhebor. As there are no suitable holding cells here, you will be taken to Minas Tirith to be tried for your crimes. The healer declares that you capable of travel in the morning, and that is when you will leave. After that, you will be at the mercy of lord Denethor.”

Avorndir stared at him, stunned. "But.. I have heard that prisoners there are known to remain in the dungeon for years before he even holds a trial for them... if he ever does." He protested. "And I have done nothin-"

"That's right, you did nothing. While your lord was falling to his death, you were worried only for yourself." Torthon retorted. "That is all I have to say to you, except for this; that you had better not ever be seen on these lands again." He frowned. "I hope you're satisfied with your survival, Avorndir. You're going to have a long time to think about the disgrace you've brought upon yourself."

With that, he turned and left the room. Avorndir stared after him, shocked and confused, his heart wrenching with remorse. Within twenty-four hours, the forester had been moved onto a boat, and was on his way to Minas Tirith, where he would end up in the dungeon, and there he would remain for the next several years.

[Rillewen]

Solo/Private

|
Lady Duvaineth Taurhebor | Lord Torthon Talven
A few months later
Túrion Dornea, near Lamedon, Gondor

It had been a hard day, with problem after problem to deal with. The spring had brought severe winds this week, along with some harsh rain. Many trees had fallen, roofs had lost chunks, and so on. It had been a severe storm. The villagers on their land had been making reports all week long about damages that needed repairing. And just when it seemed that the repairs were nearly over, another harsh wind storm swept through, causing even more damage than the first. That one had been last night. Today, Duvaineth had listened to each and every report, assuring the villagers that their homes, shops, and etc would be repaired as soon as possible.

Once the last meeting of the day had ended, Duvaineth had remained in Authion’s office for a long while to work out what all still needed to be done, sorting out the schedule for when repair teams could be sent to this or that portion of the land, and so on. And on top of all of that, the lumber workers had been expressing their own concerns about this or that, some of it relating to the aftermath of the storm. And then the foresters had mentioned concerns about some sort of bug that might pose a danger to one of the tree species, and Duvaineth knew nothing whatsoever about that sort of thing, nor how to fix it. Yet, she had to manage this entire estate now. She would have to learn all of these things. That burden had fallen onto her shoulders last autumn, when the search party brought back her husband’s broken body. And she would have to continue to bear this burden until her toddler son was grown, and old enough to take it up for himself. It seemed like a heavy burden. Today, it seemed heaviest than it had been yet.

Sighing, she rested her elbows on the desk and put her head in her hands. “It’s days like this when I miss you most,” She murmured into the air, as if he could hear her. She felt tears gathering in her eyes. “Why.. why did you have to leave me?” She squeezed her eyes shut, drawing a shaky breath. She wiped her eyes and raised her head at last, then jolted slightly in surprise to see Torthon standing in the doorway. She hadn’t heard him come up, and wondered how long he had been there. She frowned. “What are you doing here? I sent you to the norther section, to oversee the repairs there.” She reminded him.

Torthon bowed his head slightly. “It is done already, for the day.” He explained. “And too dark to begin any other projects, now.”

“Is it already dark?” Duvaineth blinked in surprise at realizing how late it had gotten. “I should check on the baby,” She realized, sighing wearily.

“May I walk with you?” Torthon asked.

Duvaineth glanced at him, frowning slightly. Walk with her to the nursery? Did he not realize that “checking on her baby" meant she would be feeding him? But then, she recalled that his baby was also there, so he probably wanted to see his son for a while. Ever since that tragic day, Torthon had remained in the guest cabin that Authion had let him use, having expressed his desire to stay and help around the estate as much as he was needed. Although Duvaineth told him that she could handle it on her own, and did not need him to stay around for her sake, she had eventually agreed that his baby, Toggornir, could move into the nursery with the other little ones. She considered that for a moment. “You may walk with me, but you will need to leave the room when I say.” She gave her consent, but with a condition.

“Of course.” He stepped aside and offered his arm, escorting her out of the office.

“What is it you wish to speak about?” Duvaineth inquired as they walked.

“As it happens, it is about my son.” Torthon answered.

“He is doing well.” Duvaineth informed him. “I have been caring for him as I do my own sons.”

“Yes, I know. And I am thankful for that.” Torthon answered with a little smile. “I truly appreciate all that you have done for him, my lady.” He told her. “In fact, this is.. the closest the poor infant has ever had, to a mother.” He said softly. “Poor boy.”

Duvaineth glanced at him, then looked ahead as they walked. “It is a hard thing for a child to grow up without one of their parents.” She agreed softly. That was something she had often lamented for her own boys, these past few months. That they would grow up without a father. She drew a slow breath. “But, they will grow up well enough, I’m sure.” She tried to convince herself of that, but still worried.

“There are some things which a boy learns from his mother, which a father has difficulty imparting to him.” Torthon mentioned, shrugging. “I fear my son will never have such an opportunity.”

Duvaineth considered this, and glanced at him questioningly. “Was that what you wished to talk about?” She wondered, trying to nudge him toward the point of this talk.

“Ah, no. Forgive me, I got sidetracked. Actually, I wondered if you could recommend a good governess, for I must soon take thought for that. If he cannot have a mother, at least I hope to have a governess for my boy,” he explained.

“I’m sorry, I do not know of any who are not already employed by others.” Duvaineth answered regretfully. They reached the doors to the nursery, and stepped inside together.

---

|
Aearonor & Glirdis
joined by lady Taurhebor and Lord Talven, in the nursery

“Mommy!” Aearonor happily abandoned his blocks and ran to greet his mother, who had been busy all day.

Duvaineth smiled as she stepped away from Torthon and bent down to catch her eldest in a hug. “Have you been a good boy today?”

He nodded, beaming happily as she picked him up.

Duvaineth held him close, smiling. “I missed you today.” She whispered, making him giggle as she tickled his tummy.

Torthon stood by with a small smile while Duvaineth greeted her child, and gave a nod of greeting to Glirdis, the lady employed by Duvaineth to care for the children when she was not there.

“My lady. Sir.” She curtsied to each before focusing on her employer. “Aearonor has been very busy with his blocks, today.” Glirdis reported, smiling. “He built a little castle with a tower, nearly ten blocks high, before they fell over,” She added, proud of the three-year old’s accomplishment. “With barely any help from me,” She added in a side whisper, before resuming her normal voice. “He has also been playing with clay, but I made sure that he was cleaned up immediately afterward,” She added, a little anxious to make sure this was alright.

“That’s fine.” Duvaineth nodded, without turning away from smiling at her little boy.

“And sir,” Glirdis turned to Torthon, next. “Your son is napping at the moment. He has been asleep for about ten minutes.”

“Thank you.” Torthon nodded, clasping his hands behind his back as he watched Duvaineth with her son.

“Let’s see how your baby brother is doing, shall we?” She smiled as she set Aearonor on the floor, and held his hand while they walked together over to the cradle.

“He seeping.” Aearonor informed her.

“I see that.” Duvaineth kneeled down and looked at little Anurion, smiling softly at the sleeping baby. He was so tiny, so sweet and peaceful, and unaware of any sorrow or trouble yet. She hoped he would never experience such grief and tragedy as she was suffering through, right now.

Meanwhile, Torthon went over to the crib where his own son was sleeping, and looked in on him to see how he was doing.

“Come, Mommy!” Aearonor bounced up and down, tugging on her hand to pull her over to show her what he'd made.

“Shh,” Duvaineth hushed him, worried he would wake the baby. She followed him over to the other corner of the room where he pointed proudly to what he had made. “Look!” He said eagerly.

Duvaineth smiled, admiring the little craft that Glirdis had helped him make, a little disc of clay that Aearonor had pressed leaves and flowers into it. “Oh, how nice. You did a wonderful job on that,” She told him, smiling. Then she received a harsh jolt to her emotions.

“Made for Daddy.” Aearonor proclaimed proudly. He looked up at her with big blue eyes. “He come home soon?”

Duvaineth caught her breath, a mist rising suddenly up before her eyes as she struggled to keep a tight hold on herself. She stood very still for a moment, feeling as if all eyes were on her. Glirdis, Aearonor, Torthon…

She breathed out slowly, blinked a few times, and then led Aearonor over to the rocking chair. She sat down and pulled her little boy into her lap, wrapping her arms around him. “We have been through this, Aearonor.” She whispered with some difficulty. Her throat felt tight. “What did I say about that?”

Aearonor pouted. “But.. Aerno miss Daddy.”

Duvaineth smiled sadly and kissed his forehead. “So do I, sweetie.” She assured him, hugging him tight as she rocked them gently. “I’m sure he would have loved it,” She murmured, imagining with a sad smile, how Authion would have gone on about how great the little disc thing was. He probably would have put it in his desk as a paperweight or something.

“I.. see that my son is not the only one who will have a difficult childhood,” Torthon commented softly. “I apologize… I spoke so carelessly before, without thinking of the fact that your own sons are also without one of their parents.” He said, his tone sympathetic. “I cannot imagine how difficult that would be. For there are far more things that a father passes on to his son, that a mother cannot.”

Duvaineth swallowed down the lump that stuck in her throat, and continued rocking gently. Trying to pretend she had not heard Torthon, because she did not know how to respond to that.

“Aerno miss Mommy, too.” Aearonor declared, frowning as he looked at her sadly.

Duvaineth held back a sigh, brushing his hair back gently with one hand. “I’m sorry, sweetie. I just have a lot more to do, now.” She sighed, feeling bad for not spending as much time with the boy as she used to.

Holding back a sigh, she realized it was nearly his bedtime. “Have you had supper yet?” She asked him.

Aearonor nodded and told her all about the yummy meal he’d had with Glirdis, and how she had given him a cookie after, when he finished his plate.

“Good! Now, why don’t you run along and get ready for bed, and I’ll come tuck you in and read you a story, alright?” She smiled and kissed his forehead again, watching as he climbed out of her lap and went over to Glirdis, who waited for him by the door.

Once they had left the room, Duvaineth sat back in the rocking chair and let out a slow sigh. “I would thank you to not bring that up again, especially in the presence of my son.” She said, looking sharply at Torthon.

“My apologies.” He replied quietly. “It’s only that.. I am saddened for the boys. All three of them, really.” He cast a sympathetic glance toward both the crib and the cradle. He drew in a breath and sighed. “I know what you’re going through,” he added ruefully. “When my wife died…” He trailed off and looked away, rubbing at his eyes.

Duvaineth took several slow breaths while he was speaking, and remembered that he had lost his wife, just over a year ago. Duvaineth had never even had a chance to meet the woman, for they had never come to visit, and she had not been told about the wedding until after it was long over. In fact, not until the woman had died in childbirth. Apparently, they had eloped, so she imagined that he must have loved his wife a great deal, if they could not even wait for a formal wedding with all the proper formalities and guests. And she could see how much he loved his son. And he clearly worried about him not having a mother.

She swallowed, trying not to be too harsh in her annoyance. “I am sorry for your loss, as well.” She told him quietly. “You loved your wife very much, didn’t you?” She asked sympathetically. “How did you.. endure her loss?” She asked softly.

Torthon looked at her, taking a little pause. “Did.. my cousin ever tell you anything about Laebeth?” He wondered, tilting his head curiously.

“No,” Duvaineth shook her head. “Only that you had married a woman... A commoner, and that it was a short marriage, as she died giving birth to Toggornir.” She answered gently.

Torthon nodded, looking down. “Yes.” he sighed sadly. “It is certainly difficult. I just.. I took things one day at a time, you know. But it is all the more difficult for you.” He added sympathetically.

“How so?” She asked, frowning.

“For me, I only lost a wife. My son’s mother.” He answered. “But for you…” He sighed. “You lost a husband, the father of your children, as well as the lord of your estate, and the head of your household. I suppose I can find a governess to teach my son what he needs to learn, as he grows up. It will be hard for him to have no mother, but at least I can still be there for him as much as I would have been, otherwise.” He looked at her. “But you, my lady… you are suddenly thrust into the role of mother, father, lord, and lady of this estate.” He paused. “It isn’t quite fair to them, really. Nor to the people of your land. How will you find a balance between all of these roles?” He asked, tilting his head. “It seems to me that it must be a very difficult thing, for anyone to accomplish.”

Duvaineth looked away, taking a slow breath in, then out. “I have thought of that, myself.” She admitted. “I am learning that there are many responsibilities to running this estate, which I never knew of. I never realized how much work it was, running this place. It leaves me hardly any time for other things, like playing with my child.” She admitted. “How in Arda did Authion ever find the time to play with the boy, and still go off galavanting with Avorndir?” She wondered, sighing.

Torthon remained quiet for a moment, as if at a loss for how to reply, or unsure whether she wanted a reply. “I suppose.. it was because he was not trying to do it all by himself.” He answered at last. “He had you to help in smaller matters, my lady. Taking care of the boy, managing the household, and so forth. While you, without him, are having to do all of that, and his job, as well.” He pointed out.

Duvaineth sighed, nodding. She frowned. “I do wish Avorndir had stayed.” She said quietly. “It would have been good to talk with him at times. He was Authion's closest friend. He knew my husband better than anyone. Perhaps.. he could have offered some advice, or insight, into how Authion did things, which might have been helpful.” She frowned. “Did he give any reason for why he left so abruptly?”

Torthon offered an apologetic smile as he shook his head. “I’m sorry. It seems that he mentioned something about.. how he couldn’t stand to remain. Perhaps.. he blames himself for the accident?”

“I would have liked to talk with him at least, before he went.” She frowned. “Do you think you could find him, and convince him to come back? I’d like to know exactly what happened out there... and since he was the only other one there...” She trailed off, sighing.

“If you would like,” Torthon answered hesitantly. “I can try and locate him, I suppose. Though, I don't know if I could convince him to return. He seemed rather adamant about leaving. I suspect he did not wish to remain here. The memories...”

“I see." Duvaineth frowned, thinking about that, but nodded. "Please try and find him, then.” She nodded, hoping to learn the forester’s side of the story. As terrible as the incident had been, she did want to know how it had actually happened, so she could know whether there was any blame to lay upon anyone. She thought for a moment, glancing over at Torthon as she realized that she had lingered here for a while now. “I must go and put my son to bed, now. Please, excuse me.” She rose from her seat.

“Duvaineth,” Torthon said, rising as well. “I hope you are not upset at me, for earlier. It’s just.. I care for you, and for your sons. I don’t want you to be overburdened with these things. And I don’t want your boys to grow up, missing out on the bond they could have had with their mother. I.. already feel sorrow for my own boy, for he will never be able to have that.” He bowed his head in sorrow. “Please, forgive me for speaking so boldly.”

Duvaineth stepped closer and rested a hand on his shoulder, sympathetically. “I am not upset.” She assured him. “It is challenging, trying to manage all of this. I.. I appreciate your concern, Torthon.” She smiled sadly and withdrew her hand. “I told Authion, the day he left, that I did not want to be a widow, trying to raise our children by myself.. without a father.” She admitted. “That is still true, though I have been left with little choice in the matter.”

Torthon looked back at her, then took her hand and squeezed it. “There is a possible solution to both of our problems, you know.” He told her softly. “Think upon it?” He suggested.

Duvaineth blinked, gazing at him for a long moment, surprised at what she was hearing right now. Because… he couldn’t be serious, right?

“I realize, it’s only been a few months,” Torthon hastened to add. “And I know you probably don’t feel like you would ever want to remarry… and I would never dream of trying to replace him. But.. it is an option. You would have a husband to help you in all of this. Your sons would have a father.. maybe not the one they ought to have, but..”

Duvaineth closed her eyes, forcing herself to take slow, steady breaths. Her throat had swollen up so that she couldn’t swallow without it aching. The want to burst into tears was so strong, she found it difficult to fight.

“I don’t want to pressure you,” Torthon went on, slowly. “I only thought that.. it would be best if we could discuss it. Because.. it would be very hard to raise two sons on your own even if you were not trying to manage an estate on top of that.” He pointed out. “I understand if you feel reluctant.. for I never imagined I would even consider remarrying after Laebeth.. but, I do care a lot for you, Duvaineth. And.. it would solve both of our problems, would it not?”

Duvaineth took several slow breaths while he was speaking. “I don’t think today is the best day for me to try and make any important decisions, Torthon.” She said quietly. “I am exhausted, and I have not yet had supper, and.. I don't want to think about anything for the rest of this day. We shall speak more about it another time.”

Torthon dipped his head. “Of course, my lady.” He responded. He paused, however. “I do want to tell you, however, that I really am impressed by how strong you’ve been throughout this tragic time.” He told her. “Very admirable.” He smiled slightly. “And thank you for caring for my son, as well, even in your grief.” He paused. “You would be a wonderful mother for him, if you should choose to be.”

Duvaineth looked at him for a moment, her mind whirling with this thought. Then she turned and left the room, still thoughtful as she went to Aearonor’s room to read him his bedtime story, hoping Torthon would retire to his cabin for the evening by the time she returned. Duvaineth was exhausted, mentally, physically, and emotionally, after months of dealing with her grief, trying to be a mother, and also trying to fill Authion’s shoes and keep this place running smoothly. All of that, plus trying to hold herself together and stay strong, and not let anyone see that she was struggling. She was feeling extra weary today, and as she kissed her son goodnight, all she wanted to do was go to bed and sleep. Instead, she went back to the nursery to take care of her other son... and Torthon's small son as well. Thankfully, she had the room to herself by then. She had a lot of thinking to do.

A solution to both of their problems. A marriage, between the two of them? Could she do that? Could she remarry? And so soon? She looked down at her baby, then at the other, slightly older baby. They both deserved to have a mother and a father. Looking out the window again, she closed her eyes, thinking of all the people who had come to her this week, asking for help with this or that, and how difficult it was for her alone to handle it all. Having to schedules breaks in these meetings so that she could take care of the babies, and then hastening back to the next meeting…

Having a husband, even if it were not the one she wanted, would lighten some of that load, at least. Her boys could have a father to help them become men. He would surely make a good father to them. They were practically his nephews, after all, being the sons of his cousin. So surely, he would love them and care for them. She looked down at the babies, only about a year apart in age. If they grew up alongside one another, they might be very close as brothers, she thought with a tiny smile. The idea of that appealed to her, at least.

---

|
Lady Duvaineth Taurhebor | Lord Torthon Talven
A couple of days later

Duvaineth looked up from paperwork as a knock came at the door. Torthon had arrived, as she had requested. “Come in.” She sat up straighter, outwardly trying to act as if she were not the least bit tired. “Please, have a seat.” She bid him, motioning to one of the chairs.

“Is Toggornir alright?” He asked, with concern.

Duvaineth smiled. “He is fine. Glirdis says that he is taking to the mashed-up vegetables well, and he is quite healthy. I asked you here for another matter.” She explained, noting the way he relaxed somewhat once his concern for his son was alleviated.

“Oh? What might that be, my lady?” He asked.

Duvaineth folded her hands on the desk, thinking. “I want to make it very clear, first of all, that I loved my husband very much. Yet,” She paused. “it was an arranged marriage. I did not know, when we married, whether we would love one another or not. We were fortunate to find love. It was not like you and your wife. We did not fall in love and then marry.” She looked at him, seated across from the desk. “I have been thinking, about what you said the other day.” She explained. “And also, thinking of what my father would say. That I must think of the good of the people, and the estate. The good of my children.” She stood up, clasping her hands behind her back as she paced to the window, thoughtfully gazing out across the forest that spread out below. “I don’t personally want to marry again. No man can ever replace my husband,” She said softly, then turned to him with a little sigh. “Yet, I am aware that my sons would surely grow up better, having a father to guide them. And yours would do well to have a mother.” She drew in a slow breath. “If my fate were still left up to my father, he would arrange a marriage for me, one that he would think was in the best interest of all involved, and I would have no control over it. Since I have been left in charge here in place of my husband, I must also think of doing what is best for all involved.” She paused. “If you were sincere in your suggestion, then I agree.”

Torthon stared at her for a long moment, as if stunned, then he rose and came forward, taking her hand and kissed it. “Duvaineth, of course I was sincere.” He smiled. “I am glad you are willing to think of the boys' best interests. And although this is unexpected, I will endeavor to make sure that you do not regret this decision, my lady.”

Duvaineth couldn’t quite bring herself to feeling glad, but she smiled weakly. “Before we go forward with this, however, I want to make it clear that until Aearonor comes of age, all things relating to the estate will remain in my care.” She informed him, her tone all business. “You may help me with running things, of course,” She added, “But all final decisions pertaining to the estate.. will be mine.”

Torthon blinked, but slowly gave a little nod and smiled. “Of course. I never would have expected it to be any other way.” He assured her. “Uh, if I may be so bold as to suggest it... perhaps it might be best to have the wedding soon?” He suggested.

“The end of this month, if that agrees with you.” Duvaineth declared, a little resigned. “It allows plenty of time to invite friends and other lords and ladies, yet not so much time as to invite unwanted gossip." Mainly, she didn’t want to give herself too much time to start backing out, now that she had made up her mind. She had made this choice for the good of her sons, and for the good of the estate of her late husband. She could not allow any of her personal feelings to interfere with her judgement. "Also, the pear trees will be in bloom,” She added quietly, thinking of how nice that would be for a wedding. “Does that suit you?” she asked her now-betrothed.

Torthon had paused in surprise to hear that she already had decided on a date. “I.. have no objection,” He answered, though with a note of surprise.

“Good.” She nodded with a sense of finality. “Then that’s settled. Aearonor will be in the wedding, of course, and for a flower girl...” In moments, she had gone through her entire wedding plan, as if she had already spent much time planning it out. In fact, she had begun thinking about a few things while she lay awake at night, and while sitting with the babies in the nursery, and in between other business.

"Whatever you wish, my lady." Torthon answered. Before long, he left the office with a list of things she had instructed him to have done, in preparation for their wedding.

Duvaineth, watching her new future husband go out of the office, let out a quiet sigh and hoped she was making the right choice for everyone involved. Herself, Torthon, the estate, his son, and especially for her own sons. Only time would tell, she supposed...

[Rillewen]

(Private)

|
Anurion Taurhebor(16) & Toggornir Talven(17)
Túrion Dornea estate, near Lamedon, Gondor
April of 3019 - Around sixteen years after the last installment

Anurion whistled merrily as he packed his bag, careful not to turn his wrist too sharply, since it was still just a little tender from a recent sprain. The leather flap bore a sprig of an oak tree with a single acorn in the center, and he loved it because it resembled his family’s heritage. He’d had this pack for several years now, and he took it along every time he went on a hiking trip. It had been made specially for him, as a gift from his mother. That was just about the only time she’d ever given him anything he actually found useful. The bow and arrow set were the only other he could think of, which had been a gift for his twelfth birthday. (of course, he knew that on both occasions, it had been Aearon who had suggested the items to her, but he didn’t mind that.) Now, he made sure that archery set was securely strapped on with his bedroll as he prepared for the trip they were about to make.

Smiling, the young man thought of the upcoming trip with eagerness. It would be just him and Aearon, riding along through the woods, meeting with the people who lived on their land, assessing damage. Since Torthon had gone to Minas Tirith with as many warriors as he could gather from their estate, to aid in the battles there, he was not expected home for a while. He had sent a message to let them know he wouldn't be able to come home for a little while, since there was apparently much to be done there after all the fighting and battle. So, Aearon had convinced Mother that he could manage this without his stepfather riding along with him, and suggested that he could even bring Anurion along, so his little brother could gain some 'valuable experience' and so on. Amazingly, she had agreed, even though she was still very upset that both brothers had gone against her orders and went out to do their part in defending the borders of their land. But, if not for their actions, Anurion felt sure that there would not still be a forest left on their land. And they depended on the forest for everything! Now, they were about to find out how bad the enemy had damaged their land, and the homes of the people who dwelt there.

Anurion knew it that it would involve a lot of work. But he was eager for this. He couldn’t wait to set off. He double checked everything, trying to make sure he didn’t forget anything. Though Aearon had been taking trips like this regularly ever since he was twelve, it was Anurion's very first time being allowed to accompany his brother on this trip. Of course, the young man had been to all of the borders of their land, before. He had visited just about every lumber camp, sawmill, and homestead on their land. Had met many of the workers, seen how things worked, and learned plenty about how to run things, learned all sorts of near things from the foresters who ensured the land was cared for, bothered the foresters with more questions than any of them could count, all of that. But never all in one round trip, packed into a full week. A whole week without having to see Mother, Torthon, or Togg!

Anurion figured after all the frightful things that had happened, only a few weeks prior, it would be great to get out in the woods with his brother and take some time to relax during their trip. Somehow, he had a feeling that with all the goings on recently, what with the war and rumors of a king having turned up, and with Aearon being only a few years from coming of age, the future Lord Taurhebor was about to have a heap more responsibility to handle. Anurion wanted to help him enjoy as much of that time as he could, before then.

Rhovan would carry most of Anurion's supplies, but Anurion wanted to bring his pack as well. Deciding he had everything packed that he could possibly need, Anurion grabbed his pack and stepped out into the hall. “Do you know where Aearon is?” He asked a maid who had just come out of the next room.

“Ah, yes sir. Young master Aeaeronor has gone to the stables, sir.” The woman replied. “He left word that he would return in a few moments, and that he intends to share a meal with the rest of the family, ere the two of you set out.” She explained.

“Thank you.” Anurion replied, sighing softly at the formality, but knew it was his mother’s preference that the servants kept such formal and proper tones. Not much familiarity was allowed between servants and members of the family. He frowned thoughtfully as he set out toward the recreation room. It would be a little bit before lunch time, unfortunately. So, he might as well kill some time while he waited.

Entering, Anurion paused at the sight of his stepbrother, engaged in a game of solitaire on the table, sipping a drink. Anurion stifled a groan, and debated turning to walk away, but instead squared his shoulders and went to the window. He could see the stables from there, and saw Aearon talking to the stable master, Maerdor. The brother's two matching horses stood with them, waiting to be saddled; Sûlosbion for Aearonor, and Rhovan for Anurion. The brother's horses were also brothers, which was something the brothers were happy about. He smiled slightly, thinking maybe he ought to go out there and prepare his horse, rather than waste time in here. But before he had a chance to move for the door, he was prevented.

“I thought you would’ve left by now.” Togg remarked, glancing up from his cards. “Thought you were all eager to get away from all this luxury and ‘rough it’ in the woods?”

Anurion rolled his eyes, turning to him. “We’ll be leaving soon.” He answered curtly. “What does it matter to you?”

“What, did you think you were the only one who’d been looking forward to the trip?” Togg smirked. “I might be even more eager for it than you are.”

Anurion frowned, puzzled by that. “Why?” He frowned. “You’re not coming.”

“Of course I’m not. But with Father gone, and you two both gone, that leaves me in charge in your absence.” Togg replied, happily moving a black card onto a red one. “I get to be ‘acting lord’ again.”

Anurion narrowed his eyes. “You don’t get to be in charge of anything. And you weren't in charge before, either.”

“Of course I was, and will be while you're gone,” Togg scoffed. “Who else would be in charge? There aren’t any other men here around who are eligible for such a task. And everyone knows women can’t rule an estate.”

“Mother is in charge until Aearon comes of age.” Anurion retorted, rolling his eyes. “She has been in charge now for.. all of my life so far. And she will continue to be in charge until Aearon comes into his inheritance.”

“No, actually, Father has.” Togg returned bluntly. “And he will continue to be in charge, for as long as he likes.” He looked sullen now, scowling at his cards as he saw no more plays.

“Torthon,” Anurion replied, refusing to call the man his father, “is only permitted to help Mother run this estate because of his marriage to my her. He has no more claim to rule this estate than the stableman has.”

Togg rose from his seat, glaring. “Father has more claim than that, and you know it.” He retorted, anger flashing in his grey eyes.

Anurion frowned. They had been through this argument before, and it seemed never to be settled, at least for Toggornir. “You contradict yourself with your supposed claim.” He told his stepbrother, folding his arms. “First you say that women cannot rule an estate, which is absurd anyway.. then you try to claim that your grandmother had more right to claim the estate than her brother?”

“She was the firstborn.” Togg snapped. “My grandfather could have ruled in her name. Just as my father is ruling in lieu of his wife.”

“But he isn’t!” Anurion tried to point out. “Mother makes all the final decisions. She makes ALL the decisions,” He added that last part bitterly, irritated that she had such insistence on having control over everything Even her son's haircuts and other petty things like that, which irked him.

“Are you trying to say my father is her puppet?” Togg sneered, stepping closer to Anurion.

“No, I’m saying that Mother controls everything that goes on around here, as you well know.” Anurion answered, annoyed by this fact.

“She has less right to rule than he does.” Togg argued irritably.

“She has every right, because she's Aearon's mother. And you know as well as I do that your father can’t make any big decisions without consulting her.” Anurion retorted. “She handles all of the business, and you know she does.”

“You think no one can make a choice around here except her?” Togg laughed at the notion. “I can make my own decisions, Anurion. Do you mean to say you can’t? Does your mommy pick out which underpants you should wear each day?” He smirked. “Do you have to ask her permission every time you go to the outhouse?”

“Stop it,” Anurion growled, giving him a shove of annoyance. “That isn’t what I meant, and you know it.”

Togg stumbled back a step, then came back and pushed Anurion back, harder. “You push me again and I’ll tell your mother that you were picking on me for no reason.” He smirked. “And I think we both know who she’d believe.” He leaned closer. “Because she always believes me, not you.”

He looked so smug, it was disgusting. Anurion’s hands clenched into fists. He saw red. Before he knew it, his fist was flying toward the other boy’s face, knocking him backward against the table. “You despicable-”

Togg cringed as he slammed against the table. Without thinking, he grabbed his glass and flung it, contents as well as the glass, toward his stepbrother’s face while he was in mid-sentence.

Anurion didn’t see it coming, still enraged by his stepbrother’s words, but the glass struck him in the face just after the liquid did, stopping his furious words swiftly. It got into his eyes, his mouth, and all across his face. Instinctively, he coughed, shutting his eyes as he jerked backward, turning away as he tried to spit out the liquid that had got into his open mouth. His mouth was tingling already. His throat swiftly began to feel scratchy, and Anurion hastily backed away, feeling a little panicked. “Togg.. what was..in that?” He asked, trying to rub the stuff off of his face. It was starting to tingle as well, and he didn’t like how it felt. Foolishly, he tried to open his eyes, but the second his eyelids began to part, more of the burning liquid seeped into his eyes, and the pain grew drastically worse. He cried out as the burning sensation intensified, and he doubled over, frantically trying to dry his eyes with his shirt, but it only seemed to make it worse. “Help..Togg.. help me!”

He spent a few moments coughing, which was steadily growing more and more hoarse and wheeze-like. His throat felt like it was blistering... and also shrinking. Swelling. His eyes were burning, tears streaming from them. “Help...” He gasped, doubling over, coughing even more. What was in that glass?! “Togg.. I can’t..” He brought his hands up to his face, as if this would help something. It was on fire! It felt like his face was being eaten away by whatever that substance was. His eyes were going to melt, he thought frantically. The burning sensation seemed to sink even deeper into his flesh the longer it lasted. He had crumpled to the ground by now. All he could feel was intense pain in his face. Tears were streaming out of his eyes, his eyes burning most fiercely, and yet the most alarm came from the fact that he could feel his throat swelling, making it harder to draw breath.

---

|
Aearonor Taurhebor(19) & Toggornir Talven(17)

Stunned, Togg stood frozen in place, staring at Anurion as he squirmed on the floor, clutching his face. It had turned red rather swiftly as he watched, and already was swelling and small blisters had begun to break out. A part of him was telling himself that he ought to do something, and yet.. he couldn’t make himself actually move. A terrible thought even popped into his head. If he did nothing, perhaps Anurion would die. That thought seemed oddly appealing to him. What would happen if he walked away? Did he dare actually do that?

Before Togg could decide whether to actually do it, Aearon suddenly entered the room and started to say something. He stopped short at the scene before him however. “Anurion!" He exclaimed as he rushed over to his brother. "What happened?!” He kneeled beside Anurion, urgently turning him over and pulled his hands away so he could see his face. Aearon’s face went pale at the sight of his brother’s red, blotchy face, and he looked up at Togg, who still stood staring dumbly at the scene. “What did you do?” Aearon demanded, eyes wide with alarm. He saw the empty glass lying on the floor, and his jaw tightened. “No time for this...” He acknowledged, though he wanted to grab the idiot boy and knock some sense into him, or else beat some answers out of him. He swiftly grabbed the canteen from his side and poured water over Anurion’s face, washing the alcohol away as quick as he could, then used the edge of his cloak to gently blot away the excess wetness.

Anurion tried to speak to his brother, but he was struggling to breathe. Coughing with some difficulty, he tried to call out again, to tell Aearonor that he could hardly breathe, but his tongue wouldn’t cooperate now. It burned and felt awkward and clumsy, too big for his mouth. As Aearon was drying his face.. which burned fiercely as if the cloth was rubbing it raw, Anurion could hardly gasp in any air at all.

Aearonor realized quickly that his face wasn’t the only issue Anurion was dealing with. He forgot about washing the stuff off his face, and tossed the canteen aside. “You’ll answer for this, Toggornir.” He informed his younger stepbrother with a glare before grabbing his little brother up into his arms. “It’ll be alright Anurion,” He murmured as he rushed from the room, leaving Togg standing there, still somewhat stunned.

Anurion couldn’t stop his tears, and didn’t even care. It felt as if the stuff was burning the flesh right off of his face, and his eyes would soon be reduced to puddles. He gasped feebly through a swollen throat, aware that Aearon was carrying him through the manor, but he couldn’t see anything. He had instinctively closed his eyes as swiftly as possible when the alcohol splashed across his face, but some had still gotten into his eyes. It hurt tremendously to keep them closed, but it hurt even more when he tried to open them. And when he did, he could only see indistinct blurs through the intense pain, so he just kept his eyes closed as tightly as possible. What was Togg thinking? Was he trying to kill him? And why was he drinking strong alcohol like that, anyway?


“Healer!” Aearon yelled, rushing toward the healer who resided in one of the cabins near the manor. “Healer, help! Quick!” As he approached, he raised enough noise to draw the man’s attention before he even got to the door. He came hurrying outside and saw Aearonor carrying Anurion with all haste, the patient’s face red and swollen with blisters.

Soon Anurion was lying on a bed, trying his best not to keep crying. It hurt so intensely he wasn’t sure how he could endure this. He could hardly take a breath. But it was the fear that was worst. Would he ever see again? Was he going to die? What if his face skin was burned off, and he was disfigured for the rest of his life? It felt as if it was already mostly burned away, and yet it still burned with such intensity, he could hardly bear it. Even his mouth was on fire. And he couldn't breathe.

The healer got to work immediately, while Aearon stayed right by Anurion's side, speaking quietly to calm him, telling him he was going to be alright, and to just lay still and let Solchion work. Anurion felt a sharp pain in the side of his throat as a small knife carefully cut with precision. He lay still. A vague memory stirred in his mind, remembering another time when he’d had a similar emergency, when he was very young. They’d had to stick a straw or something into the side of his throat just to enable him to breathe. He tried not to feel too panicked, fearing how bad off he might be. He felt sure he must have inhaled some of that stuff, for it certainly felt as if his lungs were burning as well. It was difficult not to cough, which could cause trouble for the healer trying to make an incision.

“Here.” Aearon murmured softly, beside him. “I deem that you need this far more than I do, right now.”

Anurion felt something rest against his chest, and brought a hand up to feel. Aearon’s tree medallion. His good luck charm. Anurion would have smiled if he could, but as it was, he merely closed his hand around it and reached out blindly for his brother’s hand with his other. When Aearon took it, Anurion gave it a light squeeze. He felt Aearon grip his hand tightly.. just before passing out.

---

| |
Aearonor Taurhebor & Duvaineth Talven & Toggornir Talven
With Healer Solchion and unconscious Anurion

“Will he be alright?” Aearon asked, anxiously, gazing at his brother’s face in concern.

“It’s hard to say,” Solchion answered tentatively, working swiftly to get a tube inserted into his throat, to allow the boy to breathe. "This is far worse than the last time."

Aearonor watched with a knot in his stomach, sickened with fear at the thought of losing his little brother.

“What’s going on?” Duvaineth’s demanding voice cut through the quiet, her tone sharp in search of answers as she pushed her way into the healer’s cabin. “Anurion...” She gasped softly, seeing her youngest son lying on the bed, his face red and blistered, a hollow reed protruding from his throat, the only means by which he breathed. It was like a nightmare had come back to haunt her, a reminder of another incident, nearly ten years ago now. “Is he..?”

“He lives, m’lady,” The healer answered gravely. “For now.”

Duvaineth came to the bedside, gazing down at him with worry. “What happened?” She reached out and laid her hand lightly over his, which clutched Aearon's medallion.

“For that answer, you must ask Toggornir.” Aearonor answered darkly. He still held his brother’s hand, watching with worry in his eyes as the healer worked, but with a flicker of anger buried deep as he spoke his stepbrother's name.

Solchion gently laid a cloth over Anurion's face, soaked in water that had steeped in herbs, meant to reduce swelling and relax the muscles. “I will do all that I can, but.. I cannot know for sure how severe it is. Did he swallow any of it..?”

“I.. I don’t know.” Aearon answered shakily. “Nor do I know what it was, exactly.”

“Have Toggornir come,” Duvaineth ordered nurse who stood by. The woman nodded and hurried off.

“You mustn’t delay your trip, Aearonor,” Duvaineth spoke gently, laying a hand on her eldest son’s shoulder. “There is naught that you can do for your brother, but there may be somewhat that can be done for our people.”

Aearonor didn’t respond, gazing instead down at his brother. He couldn’t even see his face anymore, due to the cloth lying over it. It gave him chills. As if.. as if Anurion were dead. He longed to yank them off and defy anyone to try and say his brother was dead, but he knew the cloth was meant to help him. The hollow reed poking out of his throat was also unnerving, but he knew it was to help him breathe. Only the vague rise and fall of his chest showed that it was working.

The healer set bowls of steaming tea close by Anurion, so that the fragrant steam ought to assist with the swelling, and perhaps help him to breathe more easily.

“Aearonor,” Duvaineth said again, steeling her tone. “Look at me.” She waited until her son had done so. “You have done what you can for him. Now, you must see to your responsibilities. They will be expecting you.”

Aearon clenched his jaw, inhaling slowly. He wanted to snap at her. To tell her ‘to Mordor with responsibilities!’ That Anurion needed his brother by his side when he awakened. He spewed off an entire rant in his head, of things he wanted to say. Instead, he gave a slow, forced nod, taking a slow, deep breath. “Yes.. Mother.” He spoke with difficulty, speaking low.

Togg came in at that moment, reluctant. He stood in the doorway, hesitating. His gaze was drawn toward Anurion, then to Duvaineth and Aearonor.

“What have you done, Toggornir?” The lady demanded.

“It was an accident, I swear.” He dropped his head as if in guilt. “It.. spilled. That’s all, I…”

“On his face?” Aearonor’s teeth clenched, his hands in fists. In his mind, he grabbed him by the throat and slammed him against the nearest wall, but in reality, he restrained himself by exhaling slowly.

“I.. well, we were fighting, but.. it was an accident!” Togg insisted.

"What was the drink?" Solchion asked, finding that more important.

Togg hesitated, his gaze flicking to Duvaineth and then back to the healer. He fidgeted, then looked away. "Just some stuff the locals made.." He mumbled.

"You mean... moonshine? The stuff the lawbreakers make to avoid having to pay taxes? You know that stuff is illegal!" Aearon couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"I was only curious!"

"And look what your 'curiosity' has caused!"

“Aearonor.” Duvaineth spoke sharply. “Your duties await elsewhere. I will deal with your brother.”

Aearon spun to face her, barely remembering to keep his temper in check. He only just stopped himself from snapping at his mother that Togg was NOT his brother. Still, he knew there was no point arguing with her. As much as he wanted to stay at his brother's side, he knew his mother would not allow it, and it would do no good to argue about it. He paused to give Anurion’s hand another light squeeze, with a soft murmur in his ear. Then, with a curt nod to his mother, the future Lord Taurhebor shoved past his stepbrother while giving him a dark look, then stormed out.

[Rillewen]

(Private)

Anurion(17) & Dulinneth(9)
Mid-March of 3020, just under a year after the last installment

“It isn’t fair!” Togg’s outraged voice had been audible in the hallway, despite being muffled by the heavy oak door.

Anurion paused, having been about to pass the door to his stepfather’s study. He considered hurrying past to get to the kitchen. He didn’t want to have any sort of encounter with his annoying stepbrother, and would prefer to be alone right now. He only came out of his room at all because he was a bit hungry, and had hoped everyone else would be asleep. But then, curiosity got the better of him, and he stepped closer to the door so he could find out what Togg was so upset about this time.

“Calm down, Toggornir,” Torthon was saying. “Don’t worry about it.”

“But it should be me, Father, not him!” Togg went on, lowering his voice, but the frustration was still there.

What should be him, Anurion wondered?

“It will be you, eventually. Just be patient, son.”

Anurion frowned, wondering what they were talking about. Should he go on his way and forget about it? He was hoping for a quick snack, but this was intriguing...

“You promised me that this would all be mine, once Aearon was out of the way.” Togg sounded as if he were pouting. “And now this? How could you let this happen, Father? I want her, you know that. How could you agree to this?”

The words made Anurion jolt slightly, and he subconsciously inched a little closer to the door, listening more intently.

“You will have her soon enough, as well as everything else. I promised you all you could want, didn’t I? Have I ever broken a promise to you, Toggornir?”

“You know I can’t inherit anything while Anurion lives.” Toggorndir replied scornfully. “I’m not a Taurhebor, remember? Something which my ‘dear’ stepmother has made very clear.” The sneer was audible in his quiet tone as the young man spoke in private to his father.

“He won’t stand in our way much longer, son, believe me.” Torthon answered calmly. “A week, a month… maybe two, at most, and then he’ll end up having a very.. unfortunate accident of his own.” The man chuckled softly.

“Accident,” Togg scoffed in amusement. “Sure, like Aearon’s was? You took a bit of a risk with that, didn’t you? Everyone knows what a good swimmer he was. What if he’d managed to get out of that river?”

“That’s why I watched and waited from a hidden location, to be sure he didn’t.” Torthon retorted. “I didn’t leave anything to chance with that, and I don’t intend to with Anurion, either.”

“We could just swap out his drink for some of this, and be done with him by tomorrow.” Togg suggested. “Make it seem like one of the servants messed up, and no one would suspect anything amiss.”

Feeling as if he’d been struck in the gut with a lance, Anurion backed away in stunned disbelief. Eyes wide, he stared at the door, thoughts racing. His plans to go to the kitchen for something to eat were now forgotten. He couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. He’d always despised his stepfather, but… the things he just heard… it couldn’t be. But it was true. He finally understood what really happened the day his brother died, though it was difficult to hear it. Still, this made a lot more sense now, than when he believed it was an accident.

Whatever else Torthon and Togg discussed, Anurion wasn’t there to listen. Knowing now that they planned to kill him, he didn’t dare stick around and risk being caught eavesdropping. Nor did he think it would be wise to confront them, as it might push them to kill him now and then cover it up somehow. Instead, he hurried back to his room and locked the door, his heart hammering in his chest. How could he have not guessed before? His hands pressed against the sides of his head, trying to think. What should he do? He paced around his room, trying to think rationally.

If he went to his mother and told her about this plot, she wouldn’t believe him. She never believed him about anything. Furthermore, it might endanger her, he realized. He figured she’d only get angry him for making accusations against her husband, and it would upset her. She was still feeling poorly, and any upset like this might make her condition worse, so even if Torthon and Togg didn’t do anything to her, the stress might be too much for her. Besides, she might even try to accuse him of making things up simply to make waves and try to get out of the betrothal she had planned for him. Anurion made a face at that, annoyed that he wasn’t in control of his own life. After she and Torthon had announced that evening at dinner that he was set to marry Azraindil Dimaethor, in Aearonor’s place, Anurion had spent at least an hour after dinner, arguing with her and trying to convince her that it wasn’t right to push him into this marriage he didn’t want, and all in vain. She was determined, and he was doomed to marry a girl that had been meant for his brother. A girl he didn’t know, and had really only met once, years ago.

Then he stopped his pacing suddenly as something occurred to him, remembering Togg’s mention of ‘her’ and Torthon promising that he would get ‘her’. Were they talking about his betrothed? Was that was Togg was upset about? Was she somehow part of his stepfather’s plan? He frowned, unsure what sort of plot the man had going, but he knew that there were certain laws involving inheritances. He hadn’t really paid much attention to that stuff, at the time, because it didn’t really have anything to do with him then. If only he could remember those laws now, and work out how Torthon planned to manipulate things so that Togg would inherit the estate and get to marry Ms Dimaethor. Whatever the case, it was very possible that the betrothal was involved somehow. Either his stepfather planned to kill him before the arranged wedding ever took place, or just after… in which case, she could be in danger too. If not in danger of being killed, then at least, in danger from being stuck with Togg for the rest of her life. He wouldn’t wish that on anyone, but there wasn’t much time left. He had to get out of here, fast.

Flying around his room frantically, Anurion threw together his supplies in record time. He debated about a few things, but in the end, he decided to only take the things he deemed necessary, and the things which were common for him to bring along during one of his excursions. It wouldn’t look suspicious for him to set off into the woods with a pack full of camping gear, some rope, and a dagger at his side. It would look strange if he brought a lot more things than usual, though.

Before he tied up his pack, the young man paused and went to the drawer at his desk, where he kept a ring, which he had, months ago, sneaked from his mother’s jewelry box. It had belonged to his father, and bore their family emblem. It was the signet ring of their estate. Anurion gazed on it fondly, wishing he could have known his father. He was told that he and his brother looked just like him, and he had always felt proud to resemble his father. He had also been told, many times in desparing tones, that he acted just like his father, too. Smiling faintly, he wrapped the ring carefully in a handkerchief, then tucked it into a small leather pouch. Normally, it would be used as a coin purse, but Anurion employed it to a higher purpose. With one of his most treasured possessions thus secured into a safe pocket of his pack, he then took a moment, sitting on his bed.

He was leaving home. He had no choice, but it was hard. He quietly fingered the metal medallion, bearing an oak tree inside a circle, which he wore from a thin leather cord enabled around his neck, as his brother Aearon always wore it. As he did so, Anurion looked around, gazing out the window, and remembered the wonderful times he had spent out there in the forest with his brother. Tears stung his eyes at the thought that Aearon had not simply died in an accident, but was murdered. And the same would happen to him, if he didn’t get going, Anurion reminded himself with a sigh. He stood and shouldered his pack, feeling a great weight settle on his shoulders that went beyond the pack, and sunk into his heart.

He was on his way out of the house when he passed by his little sister’s room, and heard her singing to herself. He stopped and dropped his head down, sighing. How could he leave her without saying goodbye? A slight smile tugged at his lips as he knocked on her door, and heard a light, “Come in!”

Stepping inside, Anurion forced a grin and set his pack down just inside the door. “Is there a little nightingale in here?”

She giggled. “Look! I’m painting a picture of you.” She told him happily, indicating the picture that she was finishing up.

Anurion felt a tug at his heart, and glanced over. “That looks great, Gale.” She did an impressive job for her young age. She had done a picture of him standing atop a large boulder, his back to the viewer, pack and all, and looking over his shoulder with a big, triumphant smile, as if pleased that he had reached the top. It seemed perfectly fitting. A way for her to remember him.

“Sis,” He began, remembering his purpose for coming here. “I… I just wanted to stop in and tell you…” He cut off, unsure how to begin.

“Tell me what, Anurion?”

He wandered over to the window, frowning as he ran a hand through his hair. “I’m going on an adventure. A long one.. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone.”

“Can I come too?” Dulinnith asked excitedly, bouncing up beside him.

Anurion grinned at his half-sister. It was hard to believe, sometimes, that she was Torthon’s daughter. “Sorry, Gale, you’ll have to stay behind this time.” He hesitated. “I’m going… a long way.” He took a seat in a chair beside the window, making him closer to her level as he rested his elbows on his knees. “I need to ask you a favor, Dulinneth.”

“Sure, what is it?”

“Don’t tell anyone, please? It’s a secret, and I don’t want anyone but you to know that I’m leaving, alright? Not even mother, and especially not Togg.. or your father.”

“Why not?” Dulinnith tilted her head in curiosity.

“It’s…hard to explain,” He frowned, taking her hands in his. “It’s just…” How could he really explain to her that her own father was plotting to kill him? “I have a secret uh, mission to accomplish. And, well, no one else knows.. it’s our secret, Gale. And I’m only telling you so…so you know why I’m going away,” He told her with difficulty. I couldn’t leave without saying goodbye to you. Also.. I wondered if you’d do me another favor?” He added as something else occurred to him.

“Oh.” Dulinnith frowned, then looked at him curiously. “What is it?”

“I can’t take Rhovan along with me,” Anurion explained, thinking of his horse. He loved that horse, and he had begun teaching his sister how to ride. She also loved horses, so it seemed like the best solution. “I wondered if you’d make sure he gets plenty of exercise, and that he doesn’t get too lonely?”

Dulinneth smiled. “Of course, I will.” She promised, then wrapped her arms around his neck. “I’ll miss you, Anurion.”

Hugging her back tightly, he wondered if he would ever see his little sister again. “I’ll miss you too, Dulinneth.” His throat was getting a lump, and he had to swallow hard to speak again. “Gale, I…maybe, once I can, I’ll try and send you a letter… it’ll have to be coded, but…”

“Oh, I’d like that!” She smiled happily. “Will it be safe to, though?”

“I’ll find a way. When it’s safe… I promise. I’ll send word to let you know I’m alright, and.. you can tell me the news from home, alright?” He smiled, feeling sorrowful to have to leave her. But he couldn’t delay much longer; for all he knew, they could try to kill him now if they realized he was leaving.

“Wait,” Dulinnith broke away from him and picked up a little raccoon doll, hardly bigger than her hand, which she had made. “Take her along with you. So it’s like I get to come with you, and…” She trailed off, looking tearful. “You’ll come home, won’t you?”

Anurion took the little doll, smiling faintly. It was one of her favorites, and he knew she always kept it by her pillow and wouldn’t sleep without it. But she wanted him to take it, and he didn’t argue. It would be a little bit like having her with him. “I’ll.. I’ll come back when I can, of course.” But would he ever be able to?

Standing, he tucked the little doll into his pack, then leaned down and hugged her again. “You be good, sis, alright? Don’t lose your spirit of adventure.” He added with a grin, and patted her head. “I gotta go. I love you, little Nightingale. Don’t let Togg bully you too much, alright?”

“I love you too, Anurion.” She said sadly, hugging him again. “Don’t forget me.”

“I’d never do that.” He grinned, kissed her forehead and then moved for the door, shouldering his pack again. “Be careful, Dulinnith.” He added more seriously. She ought to be safe, he thought, but just in case…

Sighing softly to himself, Anurion continued with heavy heart. He never expected that he would be forced to flee from his own home, but life was full of surprises, his brother often used to say. Anurion frowned and stopped to look back at the place where he had grown up, and his gaze met with another’s. Togg was looking out of an upper window. His stepbrother smiled, then left the window. Anurion imagined his stepbrother hurrying to tell his father that he’d seen Anurion leaving with his pack, as he did often. Maybe they would try and arrange an ‘accident’ now. With that thought in mind, Anurion hurried off into the woods, determined that he would escape from their plot. Now, he just had to figure out where to go… and he’d better use a fake name from now on, too.

---

|
Dulinneth Talven(10) with Rhovan
On a stormy day in April, 3021
(Around a year later)
Somewhere in the forest, on the Taurhebor/Talven estate

Her arms wrapped around the horse’s neck, her legs squeezing tight against the saddle. Dulinneth had her eyes closed tight, her heart pounding in her chest, almost as loud as the horse’s hooves pounded on the forest floor. It was both exhilarating and terrifying.

The girl had never actually ridden a horse all by herself, before. Although Anurion had asked her to take care of his horse and make sure he got plenty of exercise, she hadn't been allowed to actually ride, herself, ever since Anurion left. So, instead, she'd made sure that one of the stable hands took Rhovan for a ride every day, at least. But, Anurion had been teaching her a little before he went away, and she had an idea of how to do it without anyone around to help. And after about a year of watching and hanging around the stable, hoping she might one day be permitted do more than pet the horse and feed him treats... Dulinneth had decided to take matters into her own hands.

She was almost eleven years old, and quite old enough to learn skills like riding, after all. Her parents were gone on a trip for a couple of days, so it seemed like the best time for this. Her brother was supposedly in charge in their absence, and it was easy to sneak things past him. She'd thought she was doing well, having been walking Rhovan slowly around the stable yard, sitting in the saddle. She'd managed to get onto him by climbing up on the fence. When a few raindrops began to fall, it hadn't seemed like a big deal.

Then a strike of lightning struck, followed by a loud and startling clash of thunder. And before the girl knew what was happening, Rhovan was leaping the low fence, then streaking through the forest in a wild panic.. with her still on his back! Linn tried to remember all of the stuff that some of the stablemen had said when she asked questions about riding, but none of it seemed to fit this occasion! Unable to think of anything else to do, she merely clung on with all her might and prayed that he might come to a stop soon.

Suddenly, he did just that; he came to an abrupt halt and reared. Linn caught her breath and squeezed all the tighter, feeling as if she might just squeeze him to death if she gripped any tighter. But he was alright. After a couple more times of frantically rearing onto his hind legs, the horse paced around anxiously, snorting as he tried to catch his breath. Linn dared to open her eyes, blinking as she beheld a cluster of fallen trees blocking the path. Her heart was racing. She looked around as the wind picked up, and wondered how far they had come. Which way was it to get home?

Thunder boomed, startling her and the horse, again. He tossed his head, eyes rolling in fright. “Shhhh,” Linn's voice held a trace of panic despite her attempt at calming the horse, fearing he was going to bolt again. Then, taking a shaky breath, she tried to speak more soothingly. “Shh, it’s alright, Rhovan,” She patted his neck, trying to comfort him, but really.. she was quite frightened, herself. Sensing this, he paced uneasily, then skittered off to the side as a squirrel darted up a nearby tree trunk, chattering angrily at the intrusion into his area.

A fresh gust of wind sent all the trees swaying fiercely, rustling their leafy branches as if angered. A faint creaking and groaning could be heard as the trees bent in the wind, and Dulinneth looked around nervously. “Let’s go back.. come on.” The girl tried to urge the horse to turn, but she wasn't quite sure how. The horse was still too nervous, himself. “Come on, it’s alright,” Linn spoke softly, trying to soothe his anxiety, though she was quite nervous, herself. “Shh, it’s alright. Let’s go back home and get you some nice fresh carrots or apples.” She stroked the side of his neck, trying to calm both of them.

One of the creaking tree trunks suddenly sounded a lot louder than the rest. And then, with a ‘crack!’ she heard a dreadful sound. “GO!” She reacted on instinct and kicked the horse’s sides hastily, in panic. Rhovan leaped forward in the direction he was facing; off to one side, as he had been only partially turned around. Behind her, Linn heard the tree falling. She knew that sound, though she didn’t often get to come to the lumber camps. She’d heard it often enough in the distance to recognize it, despite her sheltered life thus far. The crash behind her confirmed her fears, but thankfully by then, she and Rhovan were out of its path. His hooves once again pounded the forest floor, and once again, she had no idea where they were going.

Rain began to pelt down on them as they fled through the forest. After a time, Rhovan slowed to a walk again, snorting as he strove to catch his breath. Linn slowly sat up, a bit shaky, and looked around with wide eyes. “Wh-where are we?” She murmured, half to herself, but also to the horse. The trees still swished around viciously in the wind, and her hair was all in her face. She soon gave up trying to pull it back, because the moment she pushed the strands out of her face, the wind threw them right back. She wanted to get off of the horse but she didn't know how without a block or something to climb on, so she stayed in the saddle. This was more than frightening; it was terrifying. The wind was chilly. She felt tears welling up in her eyes, wishing Anurion was there. But he was gone. Off on some secret quest he wouldn’t even tell her about, and she had no idea when he might come back.

“What do we do?” She asked shakily, despite the fact the horse could not answer her, sniffling softly as she gripped the saddle tightly. “Rhovan, I’m frightened.” The horse made no reply except to stamp his hoof on the ground and snort. The rain was coming down on them both. Linn pulled her cloak around herself, shivering. The spring day had started out warm, but the temperature had dropped abruptly with the storm's arrival, and the wind and rain made the cold seem even worse. “We’ve got to find some shelter or something.” She muttered, thinking of what Anurion would say if he was here. She nudged Rhovan's sides like Anurion had taught her, and Rhovan began walking, though he was clearly still nervous about the storm.

After a little while of steadily moving onward, Dulinneth began to hear a rushing sound. At first, she wasn’t sure what it was, but then, as she drew nearer, she cried out in joy and relief. “The river!” Ahead, the swollen river swept along the overflowing banks, the waters rushing in a hurry to go down into the ocean, much further downstream. Dulinneth had seen the river plenty of times before, and her family took their boat down to the Dimaethor estate several times a year to visit. That was where her parents were, even now. Linn had gone swimming in the river with her brothers before, in calmer areas. But this time, it appeared frightful.

She sat watching it for a moment while Rhovan swished his tail, ears flicking back as the rain pounded on them both. “That looks scary,” Dulinneth whispered, leaning forward to hug the horse’s neck. He let out a soft whinny, as if in agreement with her. “But, we can follow along its course.” She realized, cheering up. “Come, let’s follow it downstream and see where it takes us.” She knew that sooner or later, they were bound to come upon one of the lumbermen’s camps or something. The ones who sent the logs downstream to be turned into planks and stuff like that. Right? And they would surely help her get back home.

Downstream they went, slow and careful. The ground was muddy close to the bank, and Rhovan’s hooves sank in rather deep. Dulinneth decided to keep about a stone’s throw from the river, just in case. Then, after what felt like hours of trekking through the woods and keeping the river on her left, Linn was overjoyed to see the road again. She and Rhovan came out onto the wide, dirt path, and she let out a sigh of relief. “There! Now we can follow this home!” She had no idea which road this might lead, but she figured all she had to do was follow it and everything would be alright. But which way to travel?

Looking left, then right, she noticed something of intrigue there on the left, at the edge of the river. Curiosity overcame her discomfort, and the girl moved the horse closer. “It used to be a bridge.” She spoke softly in realization. There was a thick fallen log lying near the road, parallel with the road. It looked more than high enough to serve as a stepping block for her, and with that she thought she could get off. With a little difficulty, she moved Rhovan as close to it as she could, then carefully climbed down onto the log. From there, she stepped carefully onto the ground and draped the reins over a nearby branch. “Stay here,” She murmured softly, stroking the horse’ muzzle, then went to have a closer look at the bridge wreckage.

Pieces of the frame-work were still attached to the near bank, as well as the far side of the bank. The water flowed swiftly by, uncaring about the remains of the bridge. A couple of posts stuck up from the water. On this side of the bank, only a couple of yards remained of bridge, the slats still mostly intact. It almost looked like a dock or pier, sticking out over the water, except, it sagged at the end and hung halfway into the water. And there, out at the edge of what was left of the bridge, she saw something dangling. Her childish curiosity piqued, Dulinneth ventured out toward the edge, cautiously reaching down to try and grab the strap that was hung on a jagged, broken board. What could it be? What was hanging there? Could she pull it free?

She closed her fingers about the strap of the item, but when she went to tug on it, it seemed stuck. She frowned and pulled a bit harder. Then, suddenly.. her foot slipped on the wet boards. Her foot then fell through the rotten wooden slat as it broke beneath her weight. A shriek burst out of the girl as she pitched downward, but she caught herself, barely, on the edge of the bridge. Her eyes widened, her feet dangling into the rushing water. Heart hammering, the girl felt her fingers beginning to slip on the wet wood. “Help!” She screamed. “Someone, help!” But there was no one around! There was noone to help her. She would have to help herself… but how?

Frantic, Dulinneth tried to get a better grip, but instead, slipped further. She swiftly flung her arms out and managed to loop one around one of the upright support posts, which was wet and slippery. She plunged into the icy water, though she clung to the slippery post with all her might, using both arms. The strap of the item which had drawn her attention was looped through her right arm, at least, so she could hang onto that and the post. But the water was fierce, and kept flowing into her face or over her head, and the rapid current seemed determined to drag her away from the post. The current seemed so strong, she couldn’t even swing her feet to the post, so that she could cling to it! Despite kicking as hard as she could, remembering all she could of when her brothers had taught her how to swim, Dulinneth still couldn’t get any closer to the post. All she could do was lock her arms around it and try to keep her head above water, coughing and periodically yelling for help.


(tbc)