Tales from the Deeps of Time: Third Age Free RP

For Fangorn is old, old even as the Elves would reckon it.
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Dragonborn
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Tales from the Deeps of Time:
Third Age Free RP



Bilbo stealing the Arkenstone by daarken on deviantart

Timeline
This thread is for free RPs which take place during the Third Age. For the purposes of the thread, the Third Age is defined as the time beginning with the death of Isildur and ending with departure of the ringbearers into the West. See the Tolkien Gateway’s timeline and article on the Third Age for reference.

Locations
Stories in this thread can be set in any location - canon or otherwise - that existed during the time period specified above. All are welcome to roleplay in canon locations or to invent locations suited to their stories.

Rules
1. All are welcome!
2. Read and enjoy other people’s hard work but respect their privacy (go to the RP Request Form if you would like to join an existing story or start a new story). You can mark your stories as private, open, etc. if you choose
3. Keep any OOC comments to the Fangorn Forever - OOC thread
4. For accessibility reasons, no overly bright colors
5. As stated above, feel free to RP in canon locations from the Third Age or simply make your own
6. Anyone can use any canon characters in their stories, there is no ownership in this thread
7. If you decide your post warrants a content or trigger warning, please place it at the top of the post to help others decide what to read
8. Icons and small images are welcome, but no moving gifs
she/her | Esta tierra no es mía, soy de la nocheósfera.

Dragonborn
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City of Thieves
Umbar

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The book’s stiff pages crackled gently as Zôr flicked through them. The light from a nearby candle was reflected and magnified by the large mirror that sat atop her vanity and leaned against the wall. Zôr rested her chin on one hand and leaned intently over the book as she scanned its contents. Black hair framed her focused features, marquise-cut rubies glittering at her ears. For such an important and closely guarded item, that this book had not been well cared-for. In contrast to the fine imported volumes she had admired or even stolen on occasion at the Market, many of its pages were water-stained, the edges of others having been nibbled at by particularly hungry rodents.

Several different hands - some cramped, some flowing, some erratic, some tidy - had inked the pages with notable names and events in the history of Umbar’s minor houses. Many of these histories were only to be found here, in contrast to the greater houses, whose power and notoriety made their stories much easier to find. The lesser families, most allied to one great House or another, had fewer local legends upon which to build their reputations and so someone, generations ago, had taken to documenting their plots and schemes and jealous, clawing bids for power. This unique item with its promise of information had long eluded her, and she had finally tracked it down in the chambers of a man loyal to House Ûrêzadan. She had taken both the book and his life.

As an adolescent, she had believed the explosion on the ship had been an accident. She had learned better several years ago from a political merchant while he enumerated the various shipwrecks from which he'd profited. Zôr had lain next to him in the dark, bored, one arm cast lazily over her forehead. “Then there was the plot to bring ruin upon House Izrêphan,” he had said. "The wreckage from that one was not of particular value, but the explosion was quite a sight.” Suddenly, her whole body had tensed.

“Someone targeted them?” she had whispered, speaking slowly and softly to mask her fervent curiosity. “Why?”

He had been forthcoming but inconclusive all that night, and it was no different with this story. He knew that whispers and shadowy dealings lay behind it, but he could name neither the motive nor the perpetrators. And so she left, disappointed but alight with interest. Izrêphan was her house, her family. She had not heard the name spoken aloud in over a decade; she had not known anyone else to survive, and as memory of the accident faded, so did talk of her family in the city. That night spent with the merchant had impressed upon her that the destruction of her family had been intentional, her survival a fluke.

The candle guttered in a draft from the window. Zôr stood, shuttered it, and returned to her reading. She found nothing of use in the sections devoted to other influential families she did not recognize - Azulzîr, Nûlukhô, Tarîkmagân, and others - many of whose long lineages, dating back to Anadûnê itself, were documented in excruciating detail here. She wondered vaguely how old her house might be. No one had spoken of its origins to her as a child - at least, not that she could remember. Where had the house originated? She could only dream that its roots stretched back across the sea to the great island. And was her family loyal to Balakân, Gimildâur, or Ûrêzadan, or perhaps some other long-defunct center of power in Umbar? Or - an even bolder thought occurred to her now - had the members of House Izrêphan stood on their own, without needing to exchange their loyalty for some patron’s support?

Finally, she found her house. She read hungrily, and amusement spread in her until she shook with silent laughter at the tale of her family’s rise in Umbar. It made sense that this story had been concealed from her as a girl. Now, she saw that she had, for most of her life, unwittingly mimicked her ancestors - albeit on a much smaller scale. They had found power and influence. What had she to show for it?

Her mother was named here as one of the ammîphanî - the great women of the house. Her father was mentioned considerably less, having married into the family. Zôr’s throat tightened at the sight of their names. She rarely let herself miss her parents; the months in the wake of their deaths had been a whirlwind of pure, panicked survival, and the ensuing years had been a model of disciplined compartmentalization. How odd it was that, through this book, she now sensed a connection with them which had been absent for years. She ran a finger over their names. Zimraphêl. Sakalthôr. She could still hear them calling to each other from opposite ends of the house. Laughing. Fighting. Dancing.

“Ammîphanî,” she murmured, feeling the shape of each syllable and the weight the word carried. What made a zîni an-aphan? Allure? Exceptional powers of persuasion? The stature of her bedfellows? Zôr had never heard her mother refer to herself as a zîni an-aphan. As a young girl at the time of the accident, she had only recently become aware of the politics and intrigue surrounding the constantly-striving houses in the city. She realized now that she had known her parents, but only what they had let her see - this book was evidence enough to suggest the hidden depths of their lives.

She learned the names of her ancestors, speaking them aloud into the night, too. She had, for so long, been alone and unmoored. The women’s names in particular were links in a chain going all the way back to Azruzimril, founder of the house. Zôr read on. Azruzimril and her daughters had risen from relative obscurity to become powerful among the many houses of Umbar. And all that power died with my mother, she thought bitterly. She felt the sting of bile at the back of her throat, a physical reminder of rage and sorrow long neglected. Those twin monsters had re-awoken inside her now.

The rest of the book offered nothing to further her search for her family’s killers. A chunk of pages at the back lay empty, no doubt reserved for future tales or in anticipation of new families who would rise to replace or war with the others. Zôrzimril sighed. The thrill of reading about her family was replaced by deflation; she had arrived at a dead end. She stretched her arms over her head, arching her spine over the back of her chair. She really should begin packing her things: lifting this book and all its secrets from its proper place (not to mention leaving behind the bloodied body of its keeper) would have countless eyes looking for her in a matter of days, and so she would need to disappear for a while. When she grabbed the book to snap it shut, a folded piece of parchment fell to the ground. She picked it up, read through it twice in growing surprise, and turned swiftly to pack.

* * *

Two hours past midnight, the baker stoked the fires in his ovens, then turned to knead the day’s dough. Sweat beaded on his brow in the heat from the ovens, and soon his shirt was soaked through. At the very least these kitchens were more spacious and airy than his prior location, and the premises themselves were clean and tidy, a far step above the filthy and cramped shop he'd once run in The Warrens.

It had been many years since the girl with dark hair had wordlessly handed him a gold coin, kicking off a long season of prosperity which he could not have foreseen. But that was Zôr’s way: her purse had been full from that day forward, and she had always been as full of surprises as she had been that morning. First, she became a regular customer. Gradually, she began meeting people in the dark alley behind the shop to sell contraband. She felt safe there with him nearby, somehow. Eventually, they came to an agreement in which he took a cut of her profits in exchange for his services as middleman. This final scheme had allowed him and his family (who were as in the dark about his dealings with her as he was about how she came by such fine items) to move here. He would always be grateful that they had escaped the rankness of The Warrens and landed in the vicinity of better-bred families with more coin to spare for fine baked goods.

He was lost in the repetitive motions of his daily routine when he heard a knock. Hands covered in flour, he walked to the bakery’s side door. It was not unlike some of his more insistent (or inebriated) customers to show up before dawn, but this was a soft, furtive knock and not the pounding of drunks in need of food. He wiped his hands on his apron and pulled open the door. Zôr stood close to the doorframe, cloaked and hooded with her usual dagger at her hip. Her bag was slung over her shoulder, and at her feet lay a large bundle.

“Zôrzimril,” he whispered, eyes wide. “What brings you here at this hour?”

“Let me in,” she commanded shortly, and the baker moved aside without question in his surprise. This was unlike her; she was usually content to slip him a parcel, whisper instructions, and walk away. She hoisted up the bundle, stepped inside, and closed the door behind her.

“My darling, I need you to keep these things hidden - you have ample space for that, in large part thanks to me. In a few weeks’ time, it’s likely you will hear that a woman fitting my description has washed up near the docks.” He opened his mouth to question, but she held up a hand and continued. "No questions, and no arguing. Someone will come for my things when the time is right, and you will be paid well for it.”

This was different from any of her past schemes. He knew her tone well enough to simply shut his mouth and nod in silent agreement. Better to get on with baking the day’s bread. She smiled at him, the same smile that had spread across her face the first time she had handed him gold.

“No harm will come to you or your family.”

* * *

Gulls wheeled and cried over the docks as the fishermen drew in their nets, heavy with the morning’s catch. Waves lapped gently against the shore, and the rising sun shone weakly through the morning mist. One man paused and shielded his eyes at the sight of a dark shape bumping repeatedly against the docks. He called to his fellows and they hauled the woman’s bloated body up and out of the water. Her face was a ravaged ruin, lips and eyelids peeled back - apparently by the fish - so that her teeth and the hollows where eyes had once been were laid bare. The men would have recoiled had they not caught the glint of rubies in the sun; they would argue loudly over the earrings before giving up the corpse for whatever half-hearted investigation might be launched.

At the same time, Zôr hastened out of the city. The unsent letter in the book had been dated just days before her theft of the tome.

We found it. We found the way into Kadar Schâdo at last. Followed him all the way there. Your lost treasure awaits you, if you are clever enough to find it. Perhaps we’ll tell you the answer to their little puzzle, too. If you pay us well enough.

Someone had lost something - a valuable something, at that. She cared less about the dispossessed owner and more about the treasure. What could it be? And what was this Kadar Schâdo? Or, more accurately, where was it? She’d never heard of such a place in all her life, but its name suggested some connection to Umbar and perhaps even to Anadûnê itself. Could she find both riches and answers there?

The letter had been signed not with a name, but with an inscrutable riddle. Zôr turned it upside down and front to back in her mind, rearranged all the letters and spun herself in circles trying to tease meaning from it. Still, she came up short. The man who could decipher it for her was, unfortunately, dead by her own hand. Luckily for her, the other agents of House Ûrêzadan were easy enough to track.
she/her | Esta tierra no es mía, soy de la nocheósfera.

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Sometime in the Third Age.
Choices.
(Private)

Morifinwë.

Please don’t call me that.


The voice paused, seemingly taken aback.

What would you like to be called?

…Carnistir.

Carnistir. It is your time.

My time?

You have waited, and I have watched You came at once when I called to you, and long did you sleep, resting dreamless in these Halls. I did not begrudge your rest, for I knew the life from which you came. And when you did begin to dream, I observed that life through your eyes.


Something seemed to stir in him. But what was there to stir? He was formless, a memory, outside of time and space. He recognized the voice from long ago. Or had it been from tomorrow?

You dreamed of your life, as all must do, and in dreaming both relived and judged yourself, as you were judged. I have seen all, and it is your time.

My time?


He questioned again, and this time it was as though he could hear himself speak, where before both his voice and the other had seemed to simply permeate his formlessness.

My time for what?

It is your time to choose. You have been judged, and found worthy of the choice. You may remain as you are, to sleep and dream until the End. Or, you may return to a hröa.


Images formed now, like hazy outlines through fog; a faint brightness from which came the voice, and the faintest semblance of himself. He blinked. Did he?

Return to a hröa?

Yes. You have the choice to live again as a corporeal being. And within that choice there is another: you may be re-born into a new hröa, or you may return to the hröa of your previous life, re-made.

There must be more than that.


It seemed as if the voice chuckled.

Indeed. If you choose to be re-born, though your hröa will be similar to that in the past, it will not be the same. Nor will you be precisely the same, for though you will retain all knowledge and memory of your previous life, you will be reborn as a child, and not remember all from the beginning. As you grow, you will learn and develop anew, and over time your past will return to you. Such a choice will render you same, but not same.

This was both very confusing and made perfect sense at the same time.

And the other choice?

If you choose to enter your hröa remade, your body will be restored to its condition prior to your first death; you will not live with any wounds. You will enter this body as you are now: you will carry all the knowledge, memory, pain, grief, and all else from your previous life just as it is. You will carry the awareness of your time in the Halls of Awaiting, but it will not dim your awareness of the time before. You have been judged worthy, but no judgement can lift your burdens. If you choose to be remade, any burden will still be yours to carry.


As he considered all this, the light seemed to grow brighter, but not exactly from the exterior place it had before; it seemed that some kind of brightness welled within him. And all at once, a barrage of images appeared before him, like the pages of a book, flipping by at impossible speed; all the snatches of his life displayed. He saw his birth, his youth, the exploits of his younger days; clandestine meetings in Oromë’s woods and hunts under treelight; he saw the storm and the fear and the flight. He saw his father and his brothers, stepping onto a new land.

Are they here? Has their time come?

That, I cannot say. The choice must be yours and yours alone.


The flashes of memory continued, through war and fire and devastation, to a peaceful land beyond the Gelion, to winter revels and flashes of gold and silver laughter and dragonfire and death. To endless nights and dreadful days, and hope and fear, and a dark forest and caves and one last sight before Manwë’s call had drawn his fëa here.

Let me be re-made, he said, as he watched it all flit past, Please, let me be re-made. I will shoulder the burdens, and accept the pain. I have not yet finished with that life. If I have the chance… Let me re-make myself into who I wish I could have been.

It shall be so.


The light expanded in a sudden explosion of brilliance. The images were suddenly no longer before his formless eyes but inside his mind, brighter and more vivid than ever. They seared him with the fire of their reality and his own soundless voice echoed in the liminal chamber that surrounded him. And even as the sights and sounds and smells and pain and fear of all that had come before consumed him, he felt a sensation of flying through the formless and misty halls that had sheltered him. And he himself seemed to expand and contract and expand again, bursting to be free of something both unknowable and confining. Something seemed to jerk and tear at him, and his formlessness arched and writhed; another dazzling blaze, pure white this time, and then everything ceased.

Carnistir trembled. The earth was solid beneath his arms and legs as his body balled in on itself upon the ground. The breeze touched his flesh and caused it to pucker. Some kind of stem or stalk bent beneath him and prickled at his skin. With a thunderous gasp he jerked upright and flailed backwards, falling over into the long grasses. His eyes opened and stung in the light, and he blinked rapidly. Then with another sharp exhalation he clutched at his chest. But there was no wound, no arrow shaft, not even a scar. Next he felt his eye, and found it too unscarred, and has his sight adjusted to the light, that too was fully restored to it. Chest heaving, Carnistir looked up for the first time, and saw before him the bright image of Manwë’s fána, a smile upon his face as he dimmed and faded back into the unseen.

Still struggling to comprehend what had happened, Carnistir forced himself forward onto his knees, and then staggered to his feet. He stood at the top of a hill, a gentle bulk thrusting upward from a great field, waving and sweet with heavy heads of grain, mingled with tall grass and flower. Below the hill some ways away there was an enormous lake, with what appeared to be a small village next to it. Golden dawn light skipped off the water, and Carnistir pivoted on the spot as he realized that he had come to be here just as the sun was rising. The deep blue of night receded, chased by the pink waves and pale-blue tendrils of dawn, and all the land and water and grasses and even himself were touched by warm glow of the coming day. From the village below, he could faintly hear voices calling out, and see small figures emerging and beginning to move his way.

Bathed in the dawn of the first day of all his days to come, arms stretched wide beneath the sun, Carnistir threw back his head and laughed.
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Evil is a lifestyle | she/her

Dragonborn
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Old Friends, New Friends
Part One - The Approach



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Dawn's impatience lifted the dark hem of darkness, inviting the faint blush of a virgin morn to brighten the vast canvas of the sky. All the better to observe the race which grew in definition as each vessel was showered by first light. It had been a long night of pursuit and perseverance, and this last leg was all the more desperate. Still all thought that the outcome was a foregone conclusion might as yet prove premature. The ship was an unimpeded presence, sure, mighty enough to alarm all else about the water. Still the lighter craft had a good start and cavorted at it's lead as though baiting its dogged hunter. One might even imagine that the smaller was in fact the hunter, luring forth a prize that would soon regret giving chase. But unto what trap ?

The Elf gave a keen eye toward the bruise of some unrelenting fog, promising the perfect refuge, and might be something more, within its hazy shroud. It had been some countless years since he had observed such a mist, squatting about a hill as it was, well-pierced by a coat of trees. Much of Hithlum had appeared so, its colossal rises like the reared back of an immense porcupine.

He had come upon Hithlum just the once before by sea. And on that occasion he had thoughts more to what he had left behind than what he'd found. Strange now that the two seemed an unsettled blend. For the new world he had come unto back then, he had likewise departed in time. Hithlum. It seemed now an age, and was in fact more like two. Thoughts forced through the surface of acknowledgement, that he might now sail all the way ... home .... and for a moment it was more than he could manage to ponder upon any thought at all. The bone white of his knuckles cracked hard and stiff and glacial eyes marbled. In such a state he allowed the tide to tow his borrowed schooner as much did his heart loom toward the relentless memory.

Cold and brisk became the very air and he could not deduce quite the true cause of it. Save that he knew, somehow, he was come to a part of his past he had never thought to revisit. A part though he had never desired to forsake in the first. Such things were that deeply now ingrained he could not ever properly escape .. what he was. What he had been. What had made him all he'd become since ...





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Matsu leant precarious, a second figurehead that piggybacked upon the snarling oaken jackal. He could not discern the troubled expression of his quarry and, had he, would have certainly awarded it to terror of the pirate ship, the Scourge. The nebulous cloak of the isle was drawing ever nearer, but the Corsair fretted not about the sight. He, unlike the pale elf, had set his sail to this locale before now, with purpose. Under Captain Sarabeth Gameela.

The heir of Halsad stood less convinced than his alluring ally, that the Elves of Tol Noldare could be trusted; his brief introduction to 'Lord' Hatholdir Narroval had done little but raise heckles at that Noldo's arrogance. Still Sara would not be told. She was of a kind that would not be corrected, not by any man.

Until now .. he, Matsu Halsad would be the one to school the sultry slaver. She would not be able to deny him ... the man's jaw broke into the assured celebration of a smile.

Now that he had proof that the Moles were untrustworthy as he had feared. That they were Elves first and foremost, before they were allies. Even though he'd heard the rumours how their kind had turned for the Shadow, turned to saboteurs. The fall of Gondolin, the fall of many, Sara would have Matsu recall was down to the Moles. Still .. the damage done to Tol Sangwa declared their allegiance unstable. The men killed, the temple toppled. Before ever it had come to truly be. And as much as the pirate would have enjoyed to crush the pale elf responsible now atween him and the Mole Isle, it was not a disappointment for him to observe the change of sail.

His prey had discarded with the blue and golden colours of a Lindon lord. The billowing crest of a noble horned horse which had led their merry chase had now been put out to pasture. And as much as this move had caused Matsu to screw up his face for reason (did the elf care to now lose his lead of wind here at the last ?) the emergence of a sure black sail in its place confirmed all of his surest suspicions. Mole. The elf was a Mole, or at the very least ally to them.

What had begun as a horrific discovery and the loss of an entire building crew, now looked to be an unlooked for wonder. The elf, though he maybe knew it not as yet, had just made the pirate's day ... Matsu had his proof. And that smug Mole king would have some explaining to do now !



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The watch belonged to Ospiel, as did the slowly crinkled brow that now surveyed the twinned approach. Each of the advancing vessels was friendly to Tol Noldare, neither however toward one another. This was going to require a little delicate handling. To say the least !

The pirate Halsad was not expected, nor Lord Isilhervern. Nor was the elleth's slow fall of jaw when she recognised her error. That was not the notorious noble Elflord come of Lindon, though his navy sail was .. unmistakeable. She forgot nothing. And certainly not an elf whom she had served beside for some hundreds of years.

"Sílûgnir"


The potential for a mix of emotions and motives had just multiplied a thousand times. Unsure whether she was pleased or elsewise horrified, and settling on both at once, the Sinda wound her long hair into a practical knot.

"Captain ?"

She was not the only eyes upon that quarter, though the one all answered to. And she to Hatholdir himself. In all instances she had shown an instinct how to act, and to react. In all instances until now ..

"Captain, we have a body upon the beach,"

The two closest and come for orders now exchanged a glance. They received a fierce glance for their trouble as the Watch regained focus. There would be a good deal more bodies on that beach else ...

"Ready a welcoming committee," she decided.

"Should we not send word to the King ?"

"That we have encountered a problem ? Or that we have resolved one ?
" Ospiel did not award either of her scouts a glance. Her own was transfixed, her tone haunted as much as it was hard. A deep breath rippled through her chest as she was left alone.

After all this time ? And given the 'timely' coordination of both the impending 'guests' ? This arrival was anything but usual.
All that is gold does not glitter, not all those who wander are lost
The old that is strong does not wither, deep roots are not touched by the frost.

Dragonborn
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Old Friends, New Friends
Part 2 – The Body on the Beach



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There is not a recognised word for the movement. It was not a run, for he was crouched too low in a half squat to manage any proper speed. It was not a crawl either, for all that he had torn the tall grass apart with his hands to proceed. At times it had neared a scramble, when it had not stalled, in panic, to a panting stop. The Man threw his eyes about him, even as his frantic breathing drowned his thumping heartbeat. There was not a recognised word for the way the young man moved, but Geric could care less. There was, after all, a word well recognised for what he was attempting, howsoever he should go about doing it. That word was escaping. And it would be punishable by .. he knew not what, if he were caught. He had heard the stories. He had seen the abhorrent examples. He had been well warned of what waited any who tried to escape. He had no intention though of being caught.

Common sense had dulled so many others who, in his place, had resigned themselves then to their fate. There were worse things than to live out his life far from all he loved. There were worse custodians than the Moles of Tol Noldarë. They had purchased him from Slavers, spared him from a life at the oar, or worse, in the far fields of Nurn. Still though he was free of hardship, and spared from the horrors of those who despised his race entire, Geric was not free. He was not allowed to go about his day as he so chose. He was not permitted to leave the island. He was kept from any hope of seeing his sweet girl again.

A long and extremely dull life free from all his hopes and dreams did not seem an escape to young Geric. An actual escape though, was paramount to treason. For to leave was to risk the wellbeing of all those resident on the isle. If any were to learn that King Hatholdir was trading, with the pirate corsairs of Umbar ? There would be a rise up on the mainland to oppose this latest affront by the House of Mole. The same folk of Endor as would not allow Maeglin’s folk to live in peace there, would take up with violence against those folks’ own efforts to sustain themselves elseways, elsewheres.

Geric was young, and Geric was in love. Geric would risk life and limb to get home to his sweetheart. He would rather die than spend his life entire away from her side. And die Geric most definitely would. Once the sound of an approaching patrol startled him into a fear most dreadful. He crouched, scuttled, so close to the edge of the cliff that his back was polished by the coastal draught. His eyes were inland though, head low, watching, waiting, for the peril that advanced. He retreated, to avoid the merciless hunt of the Moles. He retreated, he escaped. One foot found no footing and from there it was too late. The young man escaped from all that Tol Noldarë offered him. He escaped through a vacuum of nothing that he might grasp to slow his fall, or stifle his scream. Nothing but the hard floor of the sand below. It did not embrace his intrusion but remained indifferent, marking with a deafened silence as his organs were pierced by the splintered vertebrae, even as his blood escaped the broken ruins of his ripped flesh and his shattered bone. Geric had escaped Tol Noldarë in the only way any was able.

The Mole King would have his way after all. It was life only as Hatholdir dictated here, or no life at all. Geric had escaped and yet proved one more example. Of why others stayed.
All that is gold does not glitter, not all those who wander are lost
The old that is strong does not wither, deep roots are not touched by the frost.

Dragonborn
Dragonborn
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Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 8:37 am
Old Friends, New Friends
Part 3 – The Exchange



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Before him lay a smudge, the dark heart of a cloud mayhaps, hoovering about the horizon. Mortal eyes might discern only the mass by the beacons which broke through the gloom. Their blinding alarm enough to surprise sailors, who should turn in time then from the vast wall of rock which veered up, immense. The lighthouses sat all about the trim of the coast. They saw all that encroached. They saw all that departed. They were seen even through the mist, even by the eyes of mortals.

The Elf saw what mere mortals would miss. That the high cliffs of the coast were built as strong as were battlements. There was naught natural about the fierce angle of such an impossible incline. Their stone countenance had been carved so hostile, purposely fashioned to ward off entry, save where the bold architect desired. None could land a boat thereabouts. None could ascend such an unfriendly face of rock. Erfaron toured his small craft about the periphery, marvelling at all the extent which had been employed to control the isle’s defences. Then he came upon what all must, and what would undoubtedly see off the faint of heart. A colossal effigy to the late Prince Maeglin, erected to such a height that his proud, aristocratic features were nigh lost amidst the heavens. His sightless eyes might have been then stars, save that they were the size of small asteroids. Not since the works of his father, which had rendered the Noldor of Aman to their knees, had Sílûgnir stood so humbled. The statue might have been the Dark Prince himself, that his errant servant found a hand about his heart, his knees begging to come to the ground.



The small beach was shrouded in the shadow of it’s stoic guardian. With a pair of wooden piers that ran out like a pair of arms, a welcome. There were boats about this dock, all bedecked in rich black sails, decorated by the device of the bat; of Hatholdir. They flocked close together like a swarm of darkness and keen eyes glanced about each of them, expecting to be assailed by an army as he brought his own to berth. Given what had pursued the Elf, even through the enveloping vapour, it was a wonder that he walked, not ran, unperturbed and down the creaking path. He imagined surely that the corsairs would be rooted by the sight of Maeglin. He imagined never that they not only had managed the safe route, but that they had traversed it before …


He might have expected that the cliffs above the beach would be imposing as were those all about Tol Noldarë. He had assumed there must be some means though of obtaining entry. It was not immediately obvious. The puzzle presented: Erfaron stood in an ambush of a crescent-shaped circle of hard rock, a curtain of pure black cliff, leagues high and topped by a thatch of fir trees. He was unsettled by the sense of a thousand unseen eyes, resting upon him. He was curious, more than concerned, by the bloodied body which sprawled some mere feet away.

Aware that his every decision was here under scrutiny, the Elf sensed a test. He dared closer to the body which was unmistakeably a Human. That was all that he was permitted to discern, afore a spray of arrows planted themselves between him and the already corpse. One immortal hand wished for a weapon, hovered close to where he might retrieve one, before a second downpour of sharp-chiselled death drove him into a darting veer sideways. A third soon after discouraged his aiming too far right and, even as it slowly became apparent, Sílûgnir cursed at his being herded. Somebody beyond his sight, beyond his reach, was toying with him here, and arrows … of all things …. He stood still. He closed his eyes. He dropped to the sand and made to sit where they should have to come to him.



The response was a new sheet of arrows, peppering the shingle in an orbit around the Elf. Dignity deserted him as legs forced him to stand, to stalk the small sandy lawn, direct toward the cliff face. Pale eyes considered the sheer wall of rock before him, pondering if he might be allowed to climb .. He had a one-handed pickaxe which had more advantage than to merely balance out the sword stowed at his other hip. Still, it was more than a little ways upward, and he was out of practice when it came to scaling such heights without a single hold to hope for. In the very moment that he frowned at the gleaming polished obstacle, it fissured and fell away before him.


Ospiel stood flanked by a trio of Moles, indulging in Sílûgnir’s amazement, before she recalled herself and motioned for their guest to enter the darkness of the gaping rock room.


Your sail flies in the face of our law,” The Sinda spoke and her old friend stared, blinked. “There is no bat emblem in it’s midst,” Ospiel continued, “and you are fortunate that we did not shoot you upon sight.


You shot,” he protested, calm in tone as could be managed through clenched teeth. “I am fortunate that your aim remains wanting. Whatever would the Halberdier say ?

You have not changed,” she declared, rolling smokey eyes at his lack of apology, or even denial. “Ever have you imagined that rules do not apply to you.”

I received some invitation,” Erfaron disclosed, coolly confident. “The Lord Hatholdir Narroval is an old friend of ..”


Old friends can not be relied upon after long absence,” the elleth interjected, with an abrupt anger, possibly at his lack of acknowledging their own past alliance. She pushed past the unexpected arrival and cast a cursory glance about the beach, and to where an Umbarian ship was bearing down upon the slender dock. “You for one have seemingly been busy, gathering ‘new’ ‘friends.’

Likewise ..” her former comrade might have bade her to observe, seeing as he had been taken unawares of her very survival, let alone her alliance with the Moles. But the cliff and all beyond had already closed up behind him. Ospiel was gone as though as she’d never been at all, and the entire chamber commenced to rise. The well-oiled mechanism was so sleek, it’s purpose in entering the island was so masterful, Erfaron forgot the ways of speech. Torn between impressed and outright astounded, he allowed the two remaining Moles to enjoy the ascension without any of the questions they may look to expect of him. At least one of their number seemed disappointed, and glanced at the newcomer repeatedly, as though he might prompt some exclamation. But ..



He can hardly believe that you’re here,” the other of the Island’s Guard translated. “After all this time …

Deeming it was best to leave them hanging on his every non-word, the guest held his tongue, held his cold eyes forward, and absorbed all that he could of quite how things were done here. It had indeed been a long time since he had known any dealings with their kind. He had chosen safeguarding Nariel, over returning to their roost, and met only with Hatholdir, his close kin or escort, when those had chanced an encounter in Lindon or Imladris. This was, evidently, the first time that he had ever been to the island. He was not afraid though. He knew Hatholdir. He knew how the Noldo worked. Almost as well as he knew Ospiel ...


Such a strategic defence this island may boast,” he muttered but, before either of his hosts might think that he was complimenting their home, the stranger sighed heavily, "and she thinks it best to take advantage of not one by plunging forth, to face .. corsairs .." As though angered, he stepped forward, for all the good that it did him. Howsoever they had opened or closed the stone door down at the cliff’s base, there was no sign of a similar crevice emerging as the elevated floor carried the three of them aloft. It had taken him a week to work out how they worked the stone gate of Gondolin. How long might it take to figure this contraption ? He knew not as yet how lengthy this vacation could be.
The two Moles made a deliberate effort to ignore their guest in the awkward silence that ensued. It was moments later when they came to a standstill, the room of them, the room itself. They had come to the top of the cliff, raised up on a pulley system deep within a vaulted shaft. The plan bore all the trappings of a mining colony. Which was only fitting.

There is a carriage awaiting to take you to the Narroval residence,” this time the prompt was expressed aloud by the Mole sentry, and indeed his invitation was proven quite true at the top of a small set of stone stairs. Sílûgnir moved toward the edge of the cliff, with thoughts to spy on what occurred below, when he was startled at the dizzying height of their post. Memory vomited the vision of that ruined young man, broken on the sand, and it was all too sudden, very clear how that had happened.

You will come this way please,” came a second, more instructive cue point.

There is no need to insist that you denounce all weapons on your person,” the more smug of the small entourage made known at that point. “You are in the realm of King Hatholdir Narroval now. And you might have heard, his bodyguards are the best that money can buy.


Recollection of quite whom might stand those bodyguards, lured the Elf safe from his precipice, and a smile ghosted about the corner of thin lips. Hrango. Herontortha. Idrisaith. Astaro. It took another moment for him to recall that he should be relaxing. Of all places in the world, he was in no peril here. A Mole. This was sanctuary for all Moles. Still … the corsairs .. He still could not contemplate why Ospiel had dared to face their filth in person. Or indeed at all. Better to shoot the filth through with arrows though might be they had used up their entire supply this morning. Somehow he doubted it.

She knows what she is doing,” the younger Mole guard offered his guest some final encouragement to ease his departure. It was not a passing comment, but an account, from experience. Sílûgnir frowned that he had given mind to a one so swiftly, who until less than an hour earlier, he had not given thought to. For the longest time. Quite however Ospiel had survived when all Hithlum had been usurped by their foes, she had surely enough about her to match a few irate mere mortals. The austere welcome that even Erfaron had received on the beach nailed home his resolve. Still, he did not allow them to hasten him toward his assigned seat, and could not help wondering, quite how she intended to manage Matsu Halsad ..






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The corsair vaulted like a spring into the sheen of water. It was more than his patience could stand to walk down the gangplank which served these Elves for a pier spit. Much less to walk the same length again down the adjacent pier, to reach the mere pair of Elves. Even as he heaved his form, dripping still with water off a brace of muscles, to stand in reach, the Umbarian was numbed then. For the sight before him and the two Elves standing, utterly unaffected by his unhappy presence.

I demand ..” the corsair commenced with a wind of entitlement, which was swept from him by a swing of a strong fist. The Mole sentry shook his fingers out then afterwards, as though regretting the motion. Beside him, Ospiel nodded her approval but caught her comrade by glance so that no further rebuke was ordered.


The agreement clearly states that all dealings between our respective peoples should occur offshore,” the Sinda recited, with chilling clarity. “You are trespassing,” she warned Matsu.
By now his lesser so impatient crew of miscreants had begun to assemble along the long pier they’d walked up.

You want to talk about trespassing ?!” the son of Halsad squawked, enraged by the maiden’s audacity. He would have further complained of her treatment toward such a one as he, but that she spoke the truth, and at least none of his own folk had been close enough to see the blow administered. “You want to explain to me why one of your own has dared to …

He was not one of ours,” the elleth mentioned, checking her fingernails with a small sigh.

Are your mortal eyes so dim that you can not see the sail ?” followed up her consort, with a slight snort of amusement. He watched as the Corsair prepared to erupt, met Ospiel’s eye, and flicked down his gaze, for fear of losing his straight face.



The sail ?!!” Matsu seethed, venomously, tangling his brawny arms together in a cross, that he might properly express his temper without fears of insulting his host. A second time. His mortal eyes were not so dim that they had missed the contents of Mole boats who were slowly filtering out into some substantial number. More than one of the Corsairs glanced wistfully back toward their ship, which they were not cut off, save by the small span of sea, from reaching. “You have set the sail to flame ! You have set the frigging boat to flame !!” he shook his head, in some disbelief.


The sail was black,” piped up one of the bolder pirates, seeking to prove helpful, in the face of arsonist Elves. He had heard how they had set whole hosts of ships to flame out of sheer spite, if the rumours were true. It was fortunate that they had had the foresight to untie and launch the Elf’s boat some small way from the rest of the dock, or a similar such blaze may have licked their pursuit all the way back to the beach. “I saw it so,” the self same sailor now shrank like a concertina under his Captain’s withering glare. No further word came from any of the Men, and Ospiel sighed, as she turned from watching the boat swallowed by the sea. Smoke hissed from where the greed of the deep extinguished the bite and snap of the fire.


The sail was black,” the Sinda agreed, returning to her narrative. She enunciated each syllable carefully. Not because she was unused to conversing with Mortals. Rather more because it seemed that Matsu might once again disagree. Out of habit, if not principle. “There was no emblem of a bat, it was not one of ours. He ..” she ducked her head in a gesture toward the slowly drowning deck, toward the now horribly burned figure of some body hard bound to the mast, “was not one of ours,” she explained, patiently, patronising of the Mortal. “Whatever your issue with the intruder, it has been resolved. No thanks are necessary. But do go. Depart.

Every which Mole who had slunk out of their so many crafts, raised an axe in one hand, a grin on a sea of faces.

Let this serve as warning of what comes to those who dare upon our home uninvited,Ospiel fixed her attention on Matsu alone. Clear it was that all others come from their craft followed at his example. “He is dead,” she flicked an eye toward the charred corpse of the mortal, Geric, as it sank from view and all threat of proper identity, “whoever he was,” she raised her chin and one arm to point out Matsu alone. “And you … You shall be fortunate not to share a like fate, when I inform my King Hatholdir of your crude and unjust accusations. One. Two. Do not let me reach so high as ten as find you yet within reach .. Three …”



Unaware that the elleth had abandoned her count, the impulsive Corsair and his crew scuttled back aboard their vessel, shivering the lot of them, despite the recent blaze. For not a one had been permitted passage along the long pier, but through the frigid water that severed the two wooden piers like a river. Not a word was uttered as they heaved a swift departure from the obvious cruelty of Mole Elves. Thanking their lucky stars. It would be less than an hour before Matsu held a toast to his own intelligence, in chasing their quarry unto the path of the Moles, and having the Elves take care of the trouble for him. The fact that they had escaped Tol Noldare with their lives intact was enough for the rest of the Corsair crew to celebrate with their swaggering Captain.


Ospiel waited until the boat that Erfaron had brought there disappeared unto the depths. Some folk might have cursed the timing of the dead man on the beach. The Sinda was not one of those folk. Rather the corpse had proven quite useful. Whatever grudge the Corsairs held against her old friend, they now believed that Elf dead. The Watch Captain held out one arm and gave up a whistle to the wind, summoning a gull from the aloft. Soft words spoken relayed then the message that she would have the devoted bird rush to her Commander, her King.

Her challenge completed, she would have Hatholdir know of all that had occurred this morn. Good news was always appreciated, after all. The thrilling turn of bad news into good news, .. now that was something even more satisfying.
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Old Friends, New Friends
Part 4 - The Flashback

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Ospiel Iuliel
- Remembering the First Age, in the Third Age.
Descending the mountain pass - in dire straits
Ered Wethrin - After the Fall of Gondolin - circa 521 FA
Meeting the Moles !




The lasso was pulled tight, pinning her arms at the elbow. The Sinda sucked in air with surprise. And some small pain. The rope was not just so, for the orcs had embedded cruel devices into the knotwork. Barbs and hooks and such that sank their bite into her skin. As the remains of the group towed her now off balance, breath escaped the Elleth in ragged breaths. All that she might focus on was to keep a hold of her bow. She held on. A further rope was slung over her head, that hauled her to the ground. This one was rope alone but as it tightened on her throat that was more than enough. She found her knees on the grassy knoll. Hold on, she told herself. Do not let go your bow. Fingers closed around the shattered wood their swords had already sheared into twain.

"You can drop that toad sticker now she-elf. It won't help you."

It had not been much help, admittedly, not since their foul flesh had called for the last of her arrows. But she had little, and was loath to give aught of what she had left. They would not even have her death, much less her surrender. If she could somehow devise how to halt all their efforts.

A coarse spider of fat fingers cupped her throat from behind and drove her face first into the ground. Still she held onto the fractured bow. Her own bruised fingers were prised one by one from their grip, as though they were slender twigs that snapped easily in strong fists. Ospiel cursed through the discomfort and held on, to her breath also, and the last dregs of her freedom. Rearing her head up from the path unsteadily, she whirled eyes about the scene, as it evolved to utter anarchy.

A clutch of black-clad elves had sprung out of the night. They bore axes and swords and their eyes shone like naked stars unmasked by cloud. Their leader strode up effortlessly in their wake, in his own time; hair like pitch and a face of some unexplained amusement. He coolly regarded the work of his patrol, who had made such short work of the orcs.

"Nine Orcfilth dead," the boldest of his company reported, spitting blood to the ground in distaste for the injury it denoted. And a single tooth. "We took this of them ..." The Sinda shot him such a withering glance as she found her feet, that he backstepped before recalling himself. His nearest neighbour guffawed.

"Four were already robbed of their lives when we arrived," another of their number admitted, honestly, for consideration. Two other Elves cautiously unravelled the bonds about the Elleth. Ever more warily as the meaning of this last dawned upon them. Still, she was Elf, and even were she of the type to want them dead, they outnumbered her. More than one of them regarded her ruined weapon in such wonder and contempt, but she held to it only more so.

"You wear the garb of Fingon" she was informed, of their knowledge of her alignment. She was yet oblivious of theirs, though noted the relief this observation seemed to shudder through their line.

"I am Ospiel, of Hithlum," she shrugged, recovering her voice with the required pride of such a claim. "Charged by the High king to hold to defence of his realm when he rode out to war." There was no need to relate the death of Fingon. All knew. His Enemy had made a celebration of the murder and woe had infected the region in the wake of their King's loss. There had been a successor High King of the Noldor, come and gone after him since then though the Sinda had seen/known this not. As far as she was aware, there were no longer Noldor in Hithlum, nor even Sindar that she had seen, besides herself. Still, she knew her homeland better than the Easterlings who had just lately occupied it, and they had never found her.

"The enemy rode at our borders in droves and on such a storm of riotous victory that we could not halt them. Our allies, they told us, had scattered and been all annihilated," the elleth considered her benefactors, still struck by some awe. All the surviving Elves in Hithlum had been herded off to Angband, so that to have eyes fall on her kind again … seemed strange and suspicious. "That was now some thirty years since," she shrugged, carelessly, and yet in continuation of that movement, stepped up to the tallest of her saviours. "So who are you that came here unlooked for and with such timely intervention ?"

She scrutinised their dark uniforms again. They were as well worn as her own. Clearly living in the wild. Wherever their home had been, she guessed it had been taken from them. Such was the fate of all since the battle of unnumbered tears. Loneliness had been her only friend since efforts to assist the Mortals of Dor-Lomin had met with .. well, disaster was the only fair description. But how could she have known that to rob foods and medicines of the Easterlings to feed their slaves .. would be blamed upon those same slaves ? They had been executed for deeds they had not dared, and she ought not to have dared either. That one duty she might have obliged her friends, denied her, there had been naught to stay for. Save to watch the realm wrought to a malice one lone she-elf could not have contested. Alone .. Doriath had been her intention, if that far-off legend had managed to persist when all other kingdoms of Elvendom were toppled. She did not know, could not have known, that it too had fallen. And she had been reliably informed that Gondolin was so well hid, even Elves as searched a hundred years could not discover it's secret sanctuary.

"We are for Lord Hatholdir Narroval, heir and leader of the House of Mole," they chanted, drawing thoughts to be replaced, by some bewilderment. The Sinda blinked, having never heard of such a contingent, ever.

"King," corrected another, prudently, of his fellows. "He is king now of the moles," the taller gaunt Elf put in, self--important. "Successor of Maeglin, who was nephew to late Fingon, son of his sister the late lady Aredhel."

At this last, the elleth found her eyes widen in shock. That the Lady Aredhel was took from the world, as had been her brother, the High King. But Aredhel had been safely in Gondolin, with Turgon ! Their speech was heavily Sindarised though with a touch of something more culturally unique: supporting their claim.

"I did not think the elves of Gondolin came ever abroad from their hidden home .." Ospiel fought the urge to massage her injuries. It would mean letting hold of her bow. "Has King Turgon relieved his vow ?"

A wave of incredulity passed through the small group, as to which rock this Elleth had been hid under for the … last thirty years ??

"Gondolin is now no more, no more than our late king Turgon," the blow bore through her like a hammer, Ospiel took an involuntary step backwards herself now. The elves clad in midnight were grim as they gave up their news; and relaxed no more than did the elleth.

"The Royal line of Fingolfin is spent, " they clarified. "The Kings daughter Idril stolen by a gluttonous mortal. We are all that has survived the wreckage of our ruin."

They had not made mention of Gil-Galad, she noted, and for that then, did not raise words of it herself. For either fear of hearing tale of the young Prince's demise as well, or that his having been sent south had truly secured his life. It was her duty for the last, not to endanger his existence. "Doriath ?" she dared to question of her ever vain hope. A resounding shake of heads cut through her.

"I fear that I am all of the Eldar in Hithlum left, that was took not to Angband," she warned them of her talent for survival. "The mortals of Dor-Lomin are enslaved by cruel men from the east. I have but my bow," Ospiel sought the eyes of the unexpected patrol, each in turn, and delivered her own undulating stare. "None has ever took it from my grasp, though countless have tried. So I would ask of your intention, and give you due warning. That if you do mean me harm, you shall meet the same fate as did all those eager to see me to languish in their loathsome mines .."

Why they found the threat quite so entertaining, she could not imagine. But .. "Would you be comforted any," the tall Mole lowered his face as he vanquished the small space between them, hands raised, disarmingly, "to learn that at least one other Elf, draped in the tatters of Hithlum's uniform, came to embrace our own before this day ? Not all who followed your High King shared his fate."

It at least bred curiosity enough for the Sinda to come willing, and meet with this Hatholdir figure.


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Last edited by Ercassie on Tue May 30, 2023 10:36 pm, edited 1 time in total.
All that is gold does not glitter, not all those who wander are lost
The old that is strong does not wither, deep roots are not touched by the frost.

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Tuor...seized Maeglin...and flung him far out. Great was the fall of his body, and it smote Amon Gwareth three times ere it pitched in the midmost of the flames; and the name of Maeglin has gone out in shame from among Eldar and Noldoli.
Then the warriors of the Mole being more numerous than those few of the Wing, and loyal to their lord, came at Tuor, and there were great blows but.. they were smitten and driven to fly into what dark holes they might, or flung from the walls.
"

- excerpt from ‘The Fall of Gondolin’ by JRR Tolkien



Old Friends, New Friends
Part 5 – The courtesies observed on entry



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The ostentatious carriage veered so slow about it’s path that he might have enjoyed much of the sights afforded from it’s window. But the fact of either window refusing to open, and the fact of both the doors being determinedly locked shut, from the outside, was a stark reminder of where exactly he stood. Where he sat. This was indeed Mole country. They wanted him to stay exactly where they put him, and see only what they showed to him. Which meant the scenic journey, while beautiful, was most likely a purposeful delay, that they might ready all that was being prepared at his destination. He was no doubt racing the messengers to meet his host, and at a distinct disadvantage.

Given then the option of either knowingly complying or else noisily complaining, to none within earshot, Erfaron sat back in his overly comfortable, cushioned seat and commenced with silently stockpiling his frustrations. For when he could unleash them more effectively. If his peers did not anticipate that, then they knew him not at all. But of course they knew him all too well. And so it was Herontortha* who eventually released Sílûgnir from his mode of transport. With all of the grace that the Noldo might take receipt of a delivered package which he was not sure he wanted in his halls.


These were, though, not the halls of Herontortha*. And Erfaron could not help but respect Hatholdir*’s cunning. That he should not be here to meet an errant friend in person, and face the inevitable insults at the outset. That was better left to their most practiced in dismissing them.

Herontortha*, Minister of Safety and Security, was the tallest and perhaps the most tiresome of all the Late Prince’s inner Council. This last though was a hard won title, given the mass of highly deserving contenders. Faced with such a reception committee, Erfaron toyed with the notion of refusing to depart from his ride at all. Perhaps presuming this should be the case, his ‘welcome’ climbed right on into the carriage, and took a pew on the empty seat opposite his guest. The fair Elf’s limbs folded into massively awkward looking angles, as though he were an enormous grasshopper.


You are come to Mindon Nârroval*, home of the King on Tol Noldarë*,” the tall Elf crossed his arms, leaned back and narrowed his steady blue eyes. “There is some blood on you,” he observed, in a less impressed tone, as though he now were chastising a child.

There is blood on all of our name,Erfaron did not seem as though this troubled him any. It was not the first time either that the Minister had met him with such a remark. “Fret not,” he amused himself by meeting the Noldo’s gaze. “It is not mine own,” he promised. And if his old friend looked relieved, it was rather more that he might else have been expected to express concern. Concern was not, by habit, a trait of their kind. Neither was tolerance. And having waited until Herontortha* had settled himself, finally, in a seat, Erfaron vacated the carriage without him.


I have come a long way and left my patience far behind me; so would see your King,” he declared, crossing his own arms in answer to the guards who barred his path with a brace of kissing halberds.

Hatholdir* is King to all within Tol Noldarë*,” the Elder was forced to pursue his guest, though to his credit Herontortha* did so with as much grace as he might muster. “Which includes you, for so long as you remain here,” he added, towering over the younger, with a challenge in every inch of his long face. “You would do well to recall that,” he gave the warning but once, deeming that it ought to be enough.

Mine is a matter of great urgency,” the younger Mole enunciated though, ignoring him. “And I should not wish to cause his Majesty to be forced to wait,” somehow Erfaron completed the royal reference without succombing to sarcasm. “He is expecting me,” he knew, and threw a glance back over one shoulder to enjoy the other forced to confirm it.

He has been awaiting your arrival here now for some five thousand years !Herontortha* shot back, failing to stop the smug from smearing over his expression. “Rare does he extend an invitation and rarer again since it has been spurned thus far. You must forgive His Majesty if he does not drop the duties of organising the entire kingdom, just because you have finally decided to drop by upon a whim.

If he truly be so busy,” the reply was slow, almost unsure, and designed to disarm, before Silugnir sighed, “I shall contend with the matter myself then. I do not require to extend him the courtesy, save from it being about his jurisdiction.” One eyebrow rose, and a small smile recognised reluctance in the haughty obstacle at hand. Erfaron then made motion toward following the already departing carriage, as though there was an option of now walking all the way back he had just come. "I am certain he shall not think any lesser of you, Herontortha*, for being the reason I do not return .. for another five thousand years .."

You will follow me,” the councillor decreed though he was forced to turn his face as he did so, and the two Mole Guards unhitched their lattice of polearms, instantly, to allow entrance to the massive studded door behind them. Erfaron stifled his satisfaction before he slowly turned back to meet the taller Elf anew. “We shall though see you changed,” he was bidden however, “before you are admitted to attend upon him.Herontortha’s eyes travelled with meaning to settle upon the unsightly state of Sílûgnir’s garb. Then before he might think better of his decision, the taller Mole led the way into the ostentatious outpost. The mighty palace of the now King Hatholdir Nârroval*; self-proclaimed heir of Maeglin who was named by his devout as Angharyon, the late/murdered Prince of ancient Gondolin.




* (The Characters of Hatholdir Narroval and also Herontortha, were created by another plaza writer/not myself. They are used in this story with the writer's permission/approval as to their brief involvement.)
All that is gold does not glitter, not all those who wander are lost
The old that is strong does not wither, deep roots are not touched by the frost.

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(This is a Story of the Third Age from the Return of the King Appendices of Valacar of Gondor and Vidumavi of Rhovanion. These characters are canon, though their profiles for this story are embellished with more detail than what is provided by canon. Much care has been taken to try and make sure that any additions to flesh out the story were done 'within the lines' of known canon for the characters.

This collaborative roleplay fanfic was written by me and my wife on a private board, and we have decided to share it with you here as a Tale of the Third Age)

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(Private)

Valacar and Vidumavi ~ The Gondorian/Rhovanian Union

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Valacar

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1244 - 1248 III
War With The Easterlings and A Birth of a New Alliance


Minaltar had been named Regent of Gondor five years ago. He until that time h was an ambitious and skilled commander in the Gondorian Army, and had long planned for a war with the Easterlings. When he was named regent, he acted swiftly. He moved swiftly north and east and called upon the Northmen of Rhovania to free their former lands. Chieftain Vidugavia, who was the leader of the largest and strongest clan, had long styled himself as 'King of Rhovania' though the title was clearly unofficial.

To Minaltar's call to arms at the Rohvanian council, the other clans for the most part supported Vidugavia's agreement for such a move against the Balchoth as there was no love lost between them. With the Gondorian army marching east, it was not long before a great army of Northmen was mustered and soon Vidugavia was marching in support of Gondor as the the overall commander of the Northman army with his son and heir Vidugauja as second in command. He left the affairs of Rhovania in the hands of his daughter Vidumavi.

The battle in Dorwinia was fierce with Gondor's first strike, and though the Balchoth were strained, they were still holding a line as they retreated. It was the mounted horse warriors of Rhovania that broke the line and the fresh swordsmen marching to relieve Minaltar and their arrival rallied the Gondorians to to press onward. With the Balchoth being driven and fleeing east in chaos, their homes and farms around the Sea of Rhûn were razed. When the Saagath clans to the east refused to join the Balchoth, they forced Khangus, the leader of the Balchoth, to surrender to the invading armies in return for safe passage into the Saagath lands.

At first Khangus refused, and there were skirmishes with the Saagath as well as the Gondorian-Northman armies pressing them from the west. After nearly two years of constant fighting, there was few left of the Balchoth. Khangus was slain in their final desperate attack, and Khorghan, his ranking commander, assumed leadership of the remnants of the Balchoth. He surrendered unconditionally to Regent Minaltar and Chieftain Vidugavia in the Fields of Kelephaur by the eastern shore of the Sea of Rhûn.

When all was done, Minalcar gave himself the title of Rómendacil II... 'East-Victor' as his forbearer Tarostar did nearly a thousand years before. Vidugavia for his part, cared not for titles. He was satisfied that all of Dorwinia was again in Rhovanian hands. He credited the military victories of the Northman to his son Vidugauja, and the strength and determination shown by the Order of Shieldmaidens of which his niece Alruna was a part.

It had been years since they marched off to war, and upon their return to Rhovania, Minalcar, Regent of Gondor and Chieftain Vidugavia, self-proclaimed King of Rhovania, solidified their alliance before the Gondorians departed south. Six soldiers of the Gondorian army volunteered to go and live with the Rhovanions, and likewise six Rhovanions would go live in Gondor. Each would have a servant accompany them. Minalcar was surprised that his chief commander, Darion Ivahah of Ithilien had stepped forth with five others from Minas Anor, Anórien, and Calenardhon. Darion had admired the battle tactics of the Rhovanions and wished to learn more of them while teaching the Rhovanions their methods. In return, six of the Shiledmaidens of Rhovania stepped forth to go into the service of Gondor. It was the beginning of this alliance of peoples, and Rómendacil II swore he would send a larger delegation north the following year. Vidugavia agreed to do the same. With much drink and celebration by the River Carnen in Dorwinia, the two kingdoms celebrated their victory, and the next day they parted ways to return to their homes.


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Pelargir ~ 1 Ivanneth 1248 III
Mariners Guildhouse - School of Navagation


Word had come to Valacar via letter from his father Minalcar requesting him to return to Osgiliath on the next ship up the Anduin. Fortunately for Valacar, he hadn't read the letter earlier when it was delivered ort he would have been on that morning's ship northward. Now, he had until tomorrow morning to get himself ready and to say goodbye to the friends he had made while studying here in Pelargir; to his cousin Carmahdil, and to Cindyara, the daughter of Captain Saeris. The had genuinely grown fond of each other, and unknown to them the good captain could see the advantage of his daughter marrying the son of the Regent of Gondor and worked behind the scenes to make that happen.

The party that ensued that night was one to be remembered if anyone who attended could remember any of it. It was way too early when Valacar was awakened by his servant. He untangled himself from Cindyara, managing to not waken her, and he hastened away to board the ship north. Valacar was soon asleep on the ship as it headed north to Osgiliath.


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Osgiliath ~ 1248 - 1250 III

"I don't care if you were attached to your life in Pelargir. I only sent you there to keep you out of the war. The war has long been, and there is a lot of work to do." Minalcar was stern with his son. As much as he liked the south, it would be to the north where he would go.

"I received word from Darion who has been living with the Rhovanions. It seems there is much we can learn from them, and they from us. I have chosen you Valacar to go and learn all you can of these people. As official ambassador to Rhovania, I want you to put your mind and efforts into knowing their ways. Immerse yourself and learn all you can, for they have proven themselves strong and worthy of our lasting friendship. You will be my bond to King Vidugavia." He patted his son on the back and spoke long of what he should do.

Valacar nodded and would take this mantle, and he said to his father. "As a high diplomat of Gondor, I will serve you and the crown of Gondor in all I say and do there."

Minalcar was pleased with this. He wanted his son to own this, for he wished to work on the other defences of Gondor. He gave Valacar his orders, Now, you are to train with the Rhovanion shieldmaidens here until you leave for Rhovania. Now, go and assemble with those who will accompany you in this training."


The months were hard work, for the shieldmaidens gave no quarter to him and those he had training with him. Along with the training, there was much preparation to be done. In addition to training, Valacar worked with Alruna to learn the Rhovanion language, and in two years, they were quite familiar with each other.

It was the end of Ivanneth a day before the harvest festival of the year 1250 when all was ready. They all had the day of harvest to celebrate and would say farewell to friends and family. On the cool, foggy morning of the 2nd of Narbeleth, the host of Gondor set out north for Rhovania.


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Rhovania ~ 11 Hithui 1250 III
Arrival


The winds of the north blew cold the snow in their faces. The advice of Alruna as to what attire should be brought was worthy. It wasn't enough though to ward off the chill of the skins the shieldmaidens wore. The road was hard as it wasn't very well maintained. Valacar made notes in his journal that a proper road needed built between the two kingdoms. Having hoped to arrive days before; the light was fading when someone called out in Rhovanian, and one of the shieldmaidens answered. They had arrived!

Getting everyone settled into shelter was done, and Valacar was welcomed into the Halls of House Forhinne, the clan of Vidugavia. Accompanied by Alruna and Darion, Valacar approached the high seat that Vidugavia sat and paused and bowed. "Hail King Vidugavia of Rhovania. I bring greetings from my father, Regent Minalcar Rómendacil II of Gondor, ruling in the name of King Narmacil I." He bowed and remained knelt.

"Rise Valacar son of Minaltar. It is my honour to meet you sir. I look forward to talking much with you, and maybe you can explain to me how your father seems to rule with such power in the name of this... King Narmacil. I find it all hard to understand myself." Vidugavia stood and stepped down to the floor to greet Valacar in the way he learned from the Gondorians when they went to war. He held out his arm and as Valacar did so, they grasped forearms and gave one solid shake before bringing their arms across their chests.

"I will do my best to tell of our people and ways, be I am merely a son of a regent." Valacar nodded to Vidugavia. "I will remain here with you until such time I am recalled to Gondor."

"It is our honour to have you dwell among us. Quarters have been made for you in the next house where your countryman Darion has resided. As such, I wish you to meet my family."
Vidugavia held his and out and his son Vidugauja and his daughter Vidumavi approached. "My niece Alruna you know." Valacar looked back and to his side to see her nod her head.

He looked back to Vidugavia who then said, "My son and heir Vidugauja." Valacar nodded to him and he returned the nod.

"My daughter Vidumavi." Vidugavia eyed Valacar as he seemed to hesitate for a moment. Valacar did hesitate, for he seemed to have fallen as if he slipped on ice as his eyes met hers. He finally gave a proper and cursory nod, and she responded.

Valacar properly turned his eyes back to Vidugavia. "You honour me well above my station King Vidugavia. As Darion said to me, your hospitality knows no bounds. May we learn much of each other, for I feel that from the time of the war, the fates of our two peoples will be forever entwined."

Despite the fatigue of the road, Valacar and his party attended the feast that Vidugavia had prepared, and the talk and celebration went well into the night. So began Valacar's time in Rhoviania...
Last edited by Hanasian on Wed Jul 24, 2024 12:47 am, edited 4 times in total.

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11/12 Hithui 1250 III - Rhovania
Past Midnight


The feast ran long, as feasts are wont to do. But even feasts in Rhovanion had to come to an end. When this one did, the moon was already waning in a clear and cold vault of stars. Moonlight shone on the lodges nestled together and the nobles that had gathered, curious to meet the new Ambassador from Gondor and welcome the return of a much-loved Shieldmaiden, ventured out into the chill still laughing, singing and talking to one another.

It was cold, yes, but winter had yet to close his fist and the night was beautiful at this time of year. Valacar had to be weary, King Vidugavia knew, but he held his own despite this. The tall, dark haired Gondorian had patiently withstood all manner of questions that evening. Even so, the Regent’s son looked in danger of falling asleep by the hearth in his hall.

”Daughter,” he said, beckoning his only child to him. ”Show our guest to his lodgings.” Vidumavi frowned, for she knew just how close Darion’s quarters are. ”Ensure that they are ready and warm,” the king of Rhovania added.

Vidumavi pressed her brow to his own and turned to where the Gondorians waited to be released to their rest.

”My lords,” she said quietly, prompting Darion to wake from his doze. ”If you will follow?”

Darion and Valacar rose to their feet and nodded to her father. Vidumavi made her way towards the main doors, glancing briefly behind her to ensure the two men followed. Darion, with two years now in Rhovanion, drew a deep breath as he stepped out from the warmth of the hall to where she waited. Valacar, however, paused.

”It’s a short walk, Val,” Darion murmured and then, to Vidumavi, ”Winter is very different in Gondor, princess.”

Vidumavi did not argue about whether it was winter or not. Instead, she drew off her fur lined cloak and offered it up to Valacar. ”My lord.”

He paused once more before he shook his dark head. ”I cannot, lady.”

“It is a warm night, my lord. I need it not,”
she demurred.

”Warm,” murmured Darion, pulling his own cloak tighter.

”Please, my lord. It would not do were you to take ill.”

Reluctantly, Valacar took the cloak she offered and settled it around his shoulders. It was too short for him, certainly, for he was a very tall man but he nodded his gratitude. ”You are kind, lady.”

Vidumavi inclined her head and turned back. ”This way, my lords.”

She led them away from her father’s lodge to the accommodations provided to Darion. Upon gaining them, she saw that arrangements had been made. A fire had been laid in all rooms and the gear that Valacar had brought with him transferred to his room. Food for breakfast had even been laid in.

”Breakfast, no less,” Darion remarked, smiling at this. ”Oh to be a prince of Gondor, Val!”

He winked at Vidumavi and she smiled back, accustomed to this Gondorian’s humour after two years. Valacar emerged from his own rooms after inspecting them.

”I trust all is in order, lord,” Vidumavi said as he came out.

”Thank you,” he said, extending his hand towards the fire.

Vidumavi lowered her head and turned for the door. ”Your cloak, lady,” he said as she did so.

She paused and looked back. ”I have others, lord. Keep it, until you have something suited to a Rhovanion winter.”

At this, she offered him a smile and then she was gone.

Outside, she looked up to the sky and marked the gleam of the stars. They winked at her, and she pushed out a breath that plumed in the air. Then she shook her head at herself and hastened back to her father’s lodge and her own bed. Dreams of tall men, with dark hair and keen grey eyes would follow and she would not object.

Darion, meanwhile, studied Valacar. ”My prince, I think you have made an impression.”

“What do you mean?”
Valacar asked.

Darion nodded to the cloak that still sat on the prince’s shoulders. ”Two years, and the princess never offered me her cloak.”

With that, he took his leave for his rest, and left Valacar to ponder his evening.


_________________________________________________


Valacar
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Before Darion could depart, Valacar asked, "Have you been privy to any plans our host Vidugavia may have for this alliance? I find him quite eager for me to ... be comfortable ..." His hand felt the lining of Vidumavi's cloak as he pondered his first meeting with the Northmen here in Rhovania. Alruna's instruction to him made mention of Vidumavi but it in no way prepared him for their first meeting.

"I can't say I have, but from what I just saw, I'm thinking he does have some motives he has been keeping close to his chest." Darion said as he paused.

"I'm just saying.... you could have shown me to my quarters. Was just wondering if there was some Rhovanion custom I was missing here." Valacar turned and lay back on the cot and pulled the blankets up. He then threw open the cloak and used it as the top layer, the collar trim right up by his face.

"Well, like I said, I never got a cloak. And it was Vidugauja who escorted me to my quarters when we arrive after the war." Darion shrugged before nodding to Valacar and leaving.

Valacar worked at getting comfortable and was soon in a deep sleep, his every breath taking in the scent of the cloak he had pulled up over his face.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Rhovania - The Next Morning
12 Hithui 1250 III


When the pale grey of morning came, Valacar got up and attired himself in his warmest clothing before stepping out. He found two Rhovanion guards each side his door, and both gave a royal salute with their right arms before one said, "I am Varaec and this is my twin brother Varaed. Lord Vidugavia assigned us from his personal guard to you. Our lord wished you not to be awakened, but when you emerged, he wishes you join him in his hall."

"I will be honoured."
Valacar nodded and they went to the royal hall. The two talked long of things, though mostly Vidugavia asked Valacar much of Gondorian custom and ways. Valacar did his best to explain the reason why his father ruled as regent in the name of his uncle Narmacil. "You may find it strange, but the demeanour of some men are not cut out to rule great kingdoms. My father's uncle tried to rule, and did for a time. But he found affairs of state a burden and a hindrance. When his wife and son died, he became withdrawn and his only desire was in hedonistic pursuits. He named my father regent and gave him his signet as a token of rule in his stead."

Vidugavia listened intently and pondered this man he went to war with. "You father is a remarkable man." a voice said as he approached from the side of the hall. "He is quite adept on the battlefield. I learned much from him in Rhûn." Vidugauja walked up eyeing Valacar. "Yet I did not see you with the Gondorian host."

Vidugavia lifted an arm and formally invited him to join. "My nephew and heir to my throne, Vidugauja." he then looked to Vidugauja as he went on, "This is Valacar, but you already know that. It is good you two are formally introduced." Both Valacar and Vidugauja nodded to each other.

"It is my honour to meet the man who will one day rule these lands." Valacar looked him in the eyes as he paused. "It was not for me to decide whether I march to war or not. My father had duties for me in the south of our lands. But I have heard from many in Gondor speak of your skills on the battlefield Vidugauja."

"I have only heard a few things of you from Alruna and the other shieldmaidens that had gone to Gondor."
Vidugauja answered. "I understand our people were not welcomed so eagerly as Lord Minaltar's welcomed our aid on the battlefield."

Vidugavia put his hand up and waved to his servants to bring them tea. "Let us sip while we talk. I believe my daughter has prepared some of her tea blends for us this day. I shall have her join us if you both grant your leave to do so."

Valacar nodded his approval. He took a deeper breath to steel himself from being distracted, and he looked to Vidugauja who seemed hesitant. He finally looked to Valacar then to his uncle. "It is well." Valacar could read something here, but he wasn't quite sure what. Vidugauja was a hard man to read, and Valacar would have to make an effort to know more of him.

Vidugavia stood up and walked over to the side door and said something inaudible in Rhovanion. Vidugauja stepped over and turned to stand beside Valacar and looked toward the door for a brief moment before turning to Valacar. "For a man who did not go to war, how well do you know your way around a sword?"

"Well enough. I forged a few and repaired many in my apprentice years. A way was not seen then of my royal ascension so I sought other trades."
Valacar looked to Vidugauja and shrugged. "Though my father holds the power of a king, he only does so by order of the king. It can be removed at the stroke of a pen, or should the king die."

Valacar paused as Vidugavia returned and motioned the two to come sit at the short table behind his elevated throne. Vidugauja leaned to Valacar. "I train this day after the high sun. It may be hard for a southerner such as yourself to know when that is in this drab grey, but there are ways of keeping the time of day. I ask you to join me if my uncle does not have other need of your company."

"I will gladly. This day and any other day you wish."
Valacar walked behind Vidugauja as they took a seat at the simple square table with four chairs about it. Vidugavia took his usual place, and Vidugauja took his to his uncle's right. Valacar took the seat opposite Vidugauja, and as the servants brought steaming pots and wooden cups in, Vidumavi walked up behind them.

Valacar immediately stood and bowed his head. Vidugavia smiled, and Vidugauja sighed. Vidumavi bowed her head in acknowledgement of Valacar's courtesy and turned and sat in the forth chair. Valacar then returned to his seat.

"As you are the diplomatic representative of Gondor here in Rhovania, I understand your need of this formality. However, as the honoured guest of my house, you are granted the custom of family, so there is no requirement to such formality. with me, Vidugauja, or Vidumavi." Vidugavia gave him a solid look. "I believe you will be here a long time Valacar son of Minaltar. You will grow used to us."

Valacar smiled slightly as the aroma of the tea filled his senses. He gave a nod as a servant offered to pour his cup with some. He then glanced up at Vidumavi as Vidugauja leaned over to say, "My cousin is quite the herbalist. You will find no better tea here in Rhovania." Valacar smiled and nodded as he picked up his cup and sipped very lightly by the edge...

"It's quite nice. it may interest you Lady Vidumavi that I brought some strong teas and some dark beans from the south with me. Once I unpack, I will give them to you to try." He took a second sip and set the cup down.

Vidugavia then looked to Valacar. " You were telling me of how it was your father rules Gondor. I have to ask if there is a way he could become king?"

"There is a way, but it depends on a lot of factors.”
Valacar paused as he thought. The whole possibility of him ever being in line for the kingship had always seems too far-fetched to him, and he just didn’t ever dwell on the possibility. ”Should King Narmacil remarry and have a son, the boy would be heir to the throne. Should he not, then his younger brother... my grandfather... would likely become king." Valacar reached up and scratched his temple as Vidugavia spoke, "In which case you would be in line for the throne." He glanced over to Vidugauja who inhaled deeply before looking to his tea cup and sipping it. Valacar nodded that he had it right.

The silence around the table grew long before Vidugavia spoke again. "Well Valacar, I am sure both my nephew and my daughter will be more than happy to involve you in our day-to-day lives. You will learn much of us, and we of you. Is there anything you would like to know that we could answer for you here?"

"Indeed there is."
Valacar was quick to answer. He looked to Vidumavi and asked, "With such chill and greyness without sun, how is it you have such lovely aromatics to make your teas Lady Vidumavi? I am guessing you have hot-houses of some sort?"

Valacar sipped some more of his tea as he made an attempt to not fall into her eyes too far…
Last edited by Hanasian on Wed Jul 24, 2024 12:47 am, edited 2 times in total.

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Rhovania - 12 Gormánuður (Hithui) 1250 III
Royal Lodge – Morning to Midday

Vidumavi had never heard her name on his tongue before and she found she liked it a great deal. Though his pronunciation was better than she might have been expected, it sounded a little different all the same. Intriguingly so.

”There is a saying with tea, my Lo-“ Vidumavi paused at her father’s veiled look and amended, ”Lord Valacar: saving the best for first. Tea is harvested several times, during summer and autumn. The best is the freshest harvest, which we drink now. In winter, which we approach, the plant becomes dormant and growth slows, allowing the flavours to develop for the coming season.”

Vidumavi finally paused, catching her cousin roll his eyes. Vidugauja leaned forward, ”What my cousin means to say, of course, is that the weather is not always as you have found it.”

“Just so,”
Vidumavi agreed, feeling a little foolish. Whatever had she been thinking, twittering on about the growth cycles and cultivation of tea? She lifted her tea and held it between her hands, sipping at it.

”And do you cultivate all your own food?” Valacar inquired.

”Of course,” the king replied. ”Although we will trade, on occasion, we must support ourselves.”

“Is that not difficult?”
Valacar inquired. ”Considerable resources must be required for such an undertaking.”

“Considerable skill also,”
Vidugauja added. ”As my cousin can attest to.”

Vidugavia shifted in his chair, espying an opportunity. ”Perhaps you wish to see how it is done for yourself. Humble though our realm may be when compared to your own, we have been self-sufficient for some twenty years.”

“Thank you, that would be interesting,”
Valacar replied politely and Vidugavia smiled his approval. Again, his nephew sighed.

”Well then, the day is wasting. Mavi will take you,” Vidugavia said and threw back his tea. ”But don’t keep him all day, lass. He has training to get to.”

Vidumavi looked up from her tea at this and her cousin leaned in towards her father. ”Uncle, a word?”

Vidumavi stood and glanced to Valacar who followed. She withdrew, walking around her father’s high throne and into the hall some way. ”Training, Lord Valacar?” she asked.

”Your cousin invited me,” Valacar replied, glancing back towards the thrones where there was a quiet discussion in Rhovanion underway. He looked back to find Vidumavi looking up at him, perturbed. ”I trained for two years with the Lady Alruna,” he added.

Vidumavi nodded, now thoughtful. ”That is good. Few are the men who can claim as much, even amongst our own. Still,” she paused and pulled forward her braid to unravel the blue ribbon that secured it. ”Will you bear this?”

She held the ribbon out. ”A... a favour, Lady Vidumavi?”

“Favour?”
she asked, clearly unfamiliar with the term as her head tilted. ”My father made you part of our household, my lord. It is fitting that this be known amongst our people.”

Valacar took the proffered ribbon, fingers grazing her own. Vidumavi drew in a breath and withdrew her hand just as her cousin strode out, looking agitated. He paused, catching the ribbon Valacar held, and shook his head before continuing on and out of the hall.

”What are you two still doing here,” asked the king. ”Shoo!”

Dismissed, they had little recourse but to set off. The grey sky had grown darker with the promise of rain, or possibly sleet, but Vidumavi paid it little heed. She took him this way and that, pointing out drying and smoking facilities, larders and even great cellars dug deep into the ground to take advantage of the frozen earth in winter.

At each location, Vidumavi explained what happened and why. Sometimes she would herself slipping into dull detail, forgetting herself again. This man of Gondor certainly made that easy enough to do. He listened very carefully, asked clever questions and was very patient and polite. If he was humouring her, he did it so well that she couldn’t tell.

It was whilst they were in the grain larder that the weather broke. There little else for it but to shelter there, amid the barley and oats and wheat. ”I fear I shall miss training,” Valacar remarked as he watched not entirely frozen, rain fall.

”This will pass,” Vidumavi said. ”We have but to wait it out.”

She looked around. It was a simple building. Nothing like the vast stone buildings Alruna had whispered of last night, as they lay in their beds. And this man might, one day, be king of such a vast and mighty realm. Alruna also said that he though he seemed no older than Vidugauja, he was almost as old as her father and yet was considered young by his own people.

”How small our lives must seem,” she thought, not realising that she had spoken this until Valacar turned his keen grey eyes to her. Vidumavi attempted to repair her lapse. ”We are very different to your own people, are we not?”

“It was not always so. We are both descendants of the Elf-Friend, Hador Goldenhead, the first Lord of Dor-Lómin.”


Vidumavi had studied the tales, sagas, poems and lays of her people and there was no mention of any of this. Yet, Valacar’s expression held no deceit.

“If that is so, then are we not kin in some way?”

Valacar smiled at this. ”Indeed we are,” he agreed. ”That is why my father stands by his alliance with your father.”

Their eyes met and suddenly, Vidumavi realised that they were alone here. It was not an unwelcome discovery. Valacar broke away and looked back to the falling rain as he cleared his throat.

”Your cousin does not appear to like me overmuch. Have I given him offence?”

“That is his nature. Once he comes to knows you, he will warm.”

“And what do you know of me?”

“Only what you have said and shown me, of course,”
she said and then smiled to herself. ”That is untrue. Alruna says that you lent her aid, more than once, in Osgiliath.”

Valacar turned back to study her. ”Alas that it was necessary, but yes. Your cousin does not brook insolence and my people can be proud.”

“She says you and your father are different,”
she, studied him intently. Truly, he was a very handsome man. There was just no way around that. How many women had become adrift in those eyes, she wondered. A man such as this would not have been alone all those years.

He returned her gaze steadily. ”Your people do not seem small to me, Lady. Far from it.”

”I think I see why you were chosen to come here, my lord,” she said and then peered past him. ”The rain has stopped. We should be on our way.”

Vidumavi started forward and slipped out the door, peering up at Valacar as she did so and smiled to herself before she was outside once more. Valacar drew a breath, followed her out and set off for the training grounds.

Vidugauja, of course, was already there as was his sister. ”He’s made the him a part of the royal household, Rue, in less than a day! I think he means to arrange a match.”

”Ha!” Alruna replied, thinking of just how that would go over in Osgiliath. She shook her head, ”His father did not send him here for that, I assure you. In any case, I thought negotiations for another match were well advanced.”

“Aye, now a bigger, fatter fish has landed in his lap and the wily old goat knows it. And not only is he making eyes at Mavi, she is making eyes at him!”

“She is?”
Alruna said and her brother gave her a look. The Shieldmaiden paused, recalling just how bright her cousin’s eyes had been when she returned to the room they shared last night. ”Hmmmm,” she murmured, tapping her foot. ”And why shouldn’t she have a match of love, eh? It is no less than what her parents, and our own, had.”

“He is unproven, untested in battle,”
Vidugauja declared, clearly less than impressed with the notion.

”There will come ample opportunity to address that. I already know he shows some promise at arms,” Alruna replied. ”For a Gondorian.”

”And he one day comes to wear a silver crown?”
Vidugauja warned. Alruna frowned, for if he did, it would mean their beloved cousin would be pulled back to Gondor and a city that would not abide her. She did not much like that notion, having spent years in that hostile place of stones and sneers. But as she pondered it, something else occurred to her.

”These Gondorians live a very long time and there are number of those long lived men between our princeling and the throne,” Alruna said. ”It is a very remote possibility, and so I say we make of him our own."

Vidugauja growled a curse at this and then, begrudgingly. ”Very well, he can keep his head for today. But he will not lay so much as a finger on our Mavi until he has proven himself worthy.”

Alruna nodded and inwardly thought that though Valacar had saved her ass from hard time in an Osgiliath prison on more than occasion, the scales had slightly balanced once more. She also thought that irrespective of her brother’s opinion, Vidumavi may well have her own ideas about where and when fingers may be laid along with a good many other things.

As she thought this, the man in question found the training yards. The tall Gondorian climbed between the timber rails and advanced over the muddy ground. The Shieldmaiden espied a distinctive shade of blue wrapped around his wrist as he did so. She chuckled at that, recognising Vidumavi’s clever hand in it and her brother grunted as he set off to meet the Gondorian.

”Good luck, princeling,” she murmured, nodding amiably to Valacar as he passed.

”Are you joining us, Lady Alruna?” he inquired.

She chuckled at this. ”Oh no, but I will certainly watch,” she advised and set off for the fence with a jaunty whistle. So began Valacar’s proper entry into Rhovanion society.


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~



Rhovania - 12 Gormánuður (Hithui) to 24 Mörsugur (Girithron)

Each day Valacar met Prince Vidugauja in training, irrespective of all but the harshest of weather as winter drew around them, tighter and tighter. Bleak though the season was, the Rhovanions were warm, lively and endlessly creative in how they kept themselves warm and entertained. When he wasn’t training, he often found himself studying by their games, songs, puzzles and dances. They had competitions for everything. And, day by day, Vidumavi found herself seeking Valacar out, hoping to find him in a quiet moment. Of course, quiet moments were difficult to come by as they drew closer and closer to what the Rhovanions knew as Yule, a grand feast that his own people knew as Mettarë.

The royal hall was bedecked with great garlands of deep, glossy leaves and bright red berries that everyone warned him were poisonous. They laughed as they did so, but even so, Darion advised him not to find out for himself whether their warning was in jest or not. Darion also said that the Rhovanions have each other gifts at this time. Already, Valacar had received a carved horse from the Lady Alruna and knitted scarf from the Lady Vidumavi. He had seen her making it and on each occasion, when he had asked who it was for, she had smiled and said time would tell. And so it had.

Outside the lodges, men had laboured to clear snow from the ground and erect great bonfires. Darion described days and night of feasting, song, dancing, and merriment. The men, he said, wove flowers into their beards and the women wore garlands on their head.

”Last year, they had fire breathers and jugglers and there was this one woman who could bend herself into-“ Darion broke off and nodded politely to the Rhovanion family that shuffled through the knee deep snow past them. As soon as they were gone, Darion slipped into Sindarin for good measure, ”Let’s just say, I did not feel the cold at all,” he added with a wink. ”These Rhovanions know how to have a very, very good time. So, what gifts will you offer?”

Valacar stirred from his thoughts about how he hadn’t felt cold for a little while now, and that had nothing to do with contortionists. ”I shall give to the Prince a dagger of my father’s house.”

“Handy,”
Darion agreed, ”Provided he doesn’t use it in your back.”

“I think we have an understanding now.”

“If you say so,”
Darion replied, keenly aware of how protective the Prince was of his beautiful cousin. ”What of the king?”

“I shall offer him a road.”


Darion halted. ”Excuse me?”

“A road,”
Valacar nodded. ”To better enable safe travel between our realms.”

“These Rhovanions can take horses across ground and into places you have to see to believe.”

“And what of goods? The king is a shrewd and canny. He will perceive the benefit in this, particular if he does not have to pay for it.”


Darion inclined his head, ”I defer to your clearly superior judgement, my lord prince. And what of the good ladies?”

Valacar smiled. ”For Alruna I have translated a book of military history from the Second Age, from Elvish into Common.”

“You’re certain she reads?”
Darion asked.

Valacar nodded, ”I am. She’d have not been dragged before my father if she could not read what was scrawled across the Order’s shrine. As for Mavi, that is a secret.”

Darion halted again, for he had noted just how close the pair had grown over the months, but it was too late for the door of the royal lodge opened. Sure enough, the princess stood against the warm golden light that spilled out. As soon as she saw them, her face lit into a beautiful smile and she turned back. ”They are almost here!” she called and then turned back and beckoned them. ”Hurry, hurry, you do not want to miss this!”

And hurry they did, reaching the warmth of the hall puffing a little from the cold and then forced to strip away the layers that had warded the frozen chill at bay, and stamp snow from their boots. As they did so, a man they had not seen before began to sing in a deep, rich, stunning voice. Vidumavi stood, hands clasped to her chest, wrapt excitement on her face. Indeed, the entire royal household and all their servants swayed as the man sang.

”A bard,” Darion murmured to Valacar by way of explanation as they drew up to where the princess stood. Only pieces of the song could be understood, for much of the Rhovanion seemed quite different to what they were accustomed to. Of those gathered, there were several Shieldmaidens. Tears glittered in their eyes and on their faces as the bard sang and when he was done, they stamped their spears or shields on the floor in approval. Vidumavi drew in a deep, shaking breath and collected herself.

”What was that?” Valacar asked.

”A saga of the forming of the Order, long ago at the ending of the old world,” Vidumavi said, eyes shining. ”Come, let’s find you both something to eat.”

“We have eaten already,”
Darion said and she gave him a look.

”It is yule,” and that was the end of that as she grabbed their arms and towed both men after her. ”There are some honeyed apples you must try.”

In Sindarin, Darion offered the prince a final piece of yuletide advice. ”Ware the mistletoe,” he said just as Alruna drew up to him.

She eyed him hard. ”Where is my gift? I gave you a horse.”

“Um,”
Darion hedged and Valacar thought he saw a hint of a grin on the Shieldmaiden’s face as she looked up to the rafters. Vidumavi released their arms and was off, smiling to herself also.

Darion followed the Shieldmaiden's gaze and there found, suspended from on high, mistletoe. ”Oh shire,” Darion said as the Shieldmaiden advanced.

"You’re next,” Alruna warned and Valacar smiled to himself, her book safely tucked into a pocket. He sidestepped and turned away as Alruna claimed her gift and went in search of honeyed apples.
Last edited by Hanasian on Tue Jul 23, 2024 1:18 am, edited 1 time in total.
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of The Black Company of the Dúnedain,
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Continued from earlier posts within this thread .. this portion of the story was pre-approved by the writer/creator of characters marked with an asterisk, before posting here. In an effort to assist this chapter of survivors of the House of Mole, toward it's conclusion.

Old Friends, New Friends
Part 6 – The Rebuking of Childish Behaviour


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Echoes chased them, like the whispers of unruly children shared behind raised hands; down all the lengths of vast corridor, and beyond yet more corridors. If Herontortha was taking a further scenic route, it might have been as much to extoll his personal knowledge of the fortress, as to revel in the sound of his own voice. Erfaron was not a stranger to the intricacies of Elvish architecture and indeed had been raised in a relative temple of his family’s very personal works. Still even he was about to remark how it would take them another five thousand years to find Hatholdir* at this rate, when his ‘guide’ finally spoke of a fact that brought all else to a halt.

Say so again,Silugnir dared him, assured by want and will that he must have misheard.

Twenty three,Herontortha* repeated, and joined his peer in a moment of stunned reflection. A gravity of woe shrouded the both in that moment of silence, unpunctured even by dispute or sarcasm. “That was all of our kind that the King was able to retrieve, alive,” the taller Mole conveyed, through words that seemed to injure him even on their exit. “Not all were so fortunate as yourself to be held Aigronding* ’s pet. And most were ill equipped to survive outside of the city, abandoned as they were to the roving Foe who pursued all Elves, regardless of alignment. We gathered though all widows, and mothers, all the sons and daughters we could later find; all those who had been reviled simply for their affection to us. They were cut loose from the main assembly, sent away as sacrifice to slow the hunt. You were of course aware of this ..


The conclusion of that revelation fell somewhere between a question and assumption. It sounded mostly like an accusation. And there was naught as Erfaron could do to argue the point. “I do not recall being much aware of aught at all, not then,” he answered honestly. There had been arguments of course during the course of their flight. There had been upset. His mind had been all but entirely taken up by grief. There had been accusations. Tirindo had believed that Silugnir might know which paths the Enemy would hold against them, which routes might be safer. Mostly, the Swallow had wanted answers. He had been disappointed.


Since then, we have wed and bred ..Herontortha might have now been equally disappointed, to find that he was speaking only for himself. Erfaron stayed stood where he had halted, watching the ‘tour guide’ proceed on alone, the knowledgeable tones of his own voice to keep him company that it would take some time before he likely noticed.

Convinced he might locate Hatholdir more swiftly without such ‘assistance’, Silugnir turned to the first door he came to down that avenue, and opened it without announcing himself. Two little girls were chasing one another around the room, performing an endless feat of acrobatics and evasive manoeuvres to continue the game with thrills a plenty. Meanwhile, another, closer to adolescence, looked scarcely on at their antics from where she was reclining on a chaise, caught up in a book.


Children,Herontortha spoke up suddenly from behind their silent observer, greeting the young abruptly, or perhaps trying to introduce his guest to the very existence of their ilk. Erfaron listened for any sign that the other Elf’s breathing was laboured, from hastening back down the corridor to reclaim him. But it was not.

Yours ?” his enquiry was more for confirmation than curiosity. For the outsider had met both of the younger girls when their respective fathers brought them to visit at Lindon, on occasion. The elder of the trio glanced their way just long enough to wave both away with one hand, and with an almost injured sigh of boredom, return to her book.

My eldest,” the guide declared as he closed the door behind them and resumed with the tour. “Ornatari*” he clarified. Presumably his daughter’s name.

Her mother must be very beautiful,Erfaron sent back, meaning of course that the girl’s father was not.

You will remember Ilmalaurie* ..” that Elf then bade the other, and duly rendered Silugnir to some shock. It had never been a secret of course, that Herontortha had long admired Hrango* ’s sister, but still.. that she had relented in the end ..

So few you say, were left for her to choose from ..” was the pale Elf’s response, suggesting that Herontortha would be nobody’s first choice. The taller Mole bristled and raised his chin.

Some ladies I have heard would rather die than submit to an Elf they cared not for ..” came the almost immediate sting in return. He was speaking of Feapoldie, Erfaron realised, as the sneer on his friend’s face was all too apparent. “I count myself blessed that my wife had the good sense to recognise my worth,” the resident quipped. And then picked up his pace. His stunned pursuit allowed for him to carry on some way again without a chase.


In no time at all, there was a considerable length of space and corridor between them. But although he must have known that the other was still refusing to comply, Herontortha did not stop until he came to the door he had been aiming for all this time. There he stopped, tapping one heel, and refusing to come back and insist on the younger Elf to catch him up.

Giggles and small hands achieved what two obstinate adults could not, and Silugnir who had paused, arms crossed, refusing to take another step, was urged to by the two small girls who had since snuck from their bored babysitter, and come to see what the adults were up to. One, whom Erfaron recognised as Alagossel*, the MoleKing’s own coveted princess, took up his hand with an air of dignity and expectance. “Come Uncle,” she all but ordered, and began to drag him excitedly down the corridor. Her playmate, Hrango’s youngest, then took up his other hand. A fluffy toy rendition of a mole was hugged to - that must be Milmitra* – ‘s chest. It’s black button eyes stared at the visitor to match the wide stare of his smallest handler.


See ?Alagossel demanded, as they came up beside Herontortha, and a heavy studded wooden door. There was a cleared panel at the perfect height that Erfaron could not miss. Decorated by childish carvings of a bestial quartet.

Why ..Herontortha ..Silugnir surprised. “Have you taken up with artistic inclines of late ?” his smile wore a mockery of innocence.

We did them,Alagossel corrected her guest. “Mimi and me carved them. for you. Mother showed us how. See ..

Mimi and I ..Herontortha put in, unable to not correct the young one’s grammar.

Oh don’t be ridiculous,” the princess told him, unfazed. “You weren’t there. Now .. here see ..” she continued as Erfaron stifled amusement at the way Herontortha blushed, but didn’t dare to protest further.


That there is the bat, for Ada,Alagossel put in proudly oblivious. “And yes, yes ..” she clicked her teeth and sighed as ‘Mimi’ pointed urgently but silently up at the woodwork. “That’s the Oliphaunt. For the Mighty Hrango ..” With a roll of her eyes at being interrupted, the artist pressed on with her explanation of their work. “That one is the mongoose sigil for Herontortha and there ..along the top, ” she glanced back to their guest to gauge for his proper reaction. “The serpent. That’s for you,” she grinned. “This is your room.

The declaration struck with a little more stun than perhaps the Moles had been expecting. Erfaron put a hand out to the door, and ran exploratory fingers over the carvings which the children had clearly taken time over. Then he stepped back, dropping his arm back down to his side.

Is Hatholdir in the room ?” he asked.

King Hatholdir..Herontortha was not too annoyed to correct their guest. “is exceptionally busy. As I have said,” he resumed. “So you will stay here ..

Why would I do that ?

You will stay ..

If you possess neither the time or skill to locate our friend, then I shall seek him out myself and ..


You shall STAY !!!!Herontortha lost his temper as Erfaron lost the straight face he had been wearing throughout. “As I say,” the taller panted, the younger sighed.

I always wondered why it is named a mongoose ..” the already bloodstained Mole mused calmly, in his turn, and glanced purposely toward the little girls, ignoring their (and his, actually) Elder. “I mean, is not a goose some kind of misshapen swan ?” he kept on.

A mongoose is perhaps the only creature invulnerable to a snake’s venom,” the tall Mole countered, stiffly. Trying to at least appear educational rather than offended.

Do you know that toads are so foul tasting that any predator which tries to eat them, spits them out .. Erfaron put in, in his turn, as the two girls glanced from one adult to the other, enjoying the show. “So in conclusion, a mongoose is a .. kind of ferret ?” He raised a single eyebrow, dangerously, “that masquerades as a misshapen swan and tastes as foul as a toad.” he decided with a shrug.


It was evident that Herontortha wasn’t having that without hurling back some semblance of the quarrel they two had been having, thousands of years before, and had apparently picked up right where they’d left it. Thankfully Milmitra had quietly pushed open the door and wandered inside as the rant resumed, so that Erfaron and, not wanting to be left out, Alagossel too, went on in.

Silugnir shut the door behind them, in Herontortha’s face. They heard him finish the sentence regardless, in ever increasing tone before the unhappy ‘Mongoose’ realised he’d accomplished his mission, that their guest was where he was supposed to be, and that nobody was listening to his further complaints. A tirade of furious footsteps carried him away down the hall, but nobody heard for none of the three inside the room now cared really to listen.


For Erfaron himself, what he found in the room was reason enough to forget even the two children still present.
All that is gold does not glitter, not all those who wander are lost
The old that is strong does not wither, deep roots are not touched by the frost.

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Rhovania – Valacar's Quarters
25 Girithron – Morning


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Valacar Writing in his Journal


It quickly had become clear from the day I arrived here in Rhovania that King Vidugavia had some sort of desire to see Vidumavi and I get to know each other. In Gondor, fathers tended to be more protective and sheltering of their daughters, especially toward one who had no clear line to the royal throne. It was why I have kept myself as free as possible of the political games of court. My father tended to make plans for me, and none of them ever had betrothal in mind. I have always felt I had a free hand in who I had relationships with. It always seemed to keep the wolves at bay when it was clear to the public eye that I was close with someone. I usually chose commoners or low nobility who had no interest in the politics. There were those out there... but I had to be wary of fathers being too eager to see his daughter and I together. Spotting someone who was clearly put in my path to gain his heart for reasons of advancement of their family became easier and easier for me to do. Being betrothed to the regent’s son, especially Regent Miniltar's son, would hold certain ... advantages to many…. and more advantages than just to gain access to the ear of said regent.

So, in Gondor, I was quite adept in seeing and knowing when one’s daughter was being offered up as a marriage sacrifice for financial and/or political gain of their family. Here in Rhovania, I get mixed signals from Vidugavia. On one hand he seems almost too eager to have Vidumavi and I spend time together. Yet Vidugavia was the ruler and called himself king of Rhovania, and his daughter, his only living child, was a princess whose hand in marriage could forge strong alliances with any number of lesser clans and cement his hold on their allegiance. When this was on his mind, he was less than enthusiastic of us spending time together. I myself was sure the alliance between Rhovania and Gondor would be solid, but maybe Vidugavia thought it could use the strengthening of marital ties? I could see the reasoning for it in the eyes of Vidugavia, but I also saw some big reasons against it in the eyes of Gondor. If such a thing was ever officially proposed, my father would surely oppose it in the name of King Narcamil and the Númenórean blood culture. What I did know and was quite sure of was I could feel myself becoming more and more attracted to Vidumavi….


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Rhovania – Inside the Royal Lodge
24 Girithron – Afternoon


Being confronted by Alruna under the mistletoe had him take a breath. I have a gift for you, but first we need to take care of something..." Darion wasted no time stepping right up to Alruna and embracing her as he gave her a kiss. He then stepped back to await her reaction. She was either going to now kiss him back or slap him. Either way, it would finish the ritual.

"Darion of Gondor, how bold of you... I like that!" She pulled him back and gave him a proper kiss, and Darion went all in to keep pace with the woman. The kiss went on much longer than a mistletoe kiss, but it was obvious to everyone around neither one objected.

When they did break their kiss, Darion raised his arm and said, "What gift is worthy of such a woman? I will tell you. I have here some fine leather vambraces of Westernesse for you Lady Alruna." He held the saddle-tan vambraces out to her as he tilted his head and dropped his chin in a nod.


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~


Rhovania – Outside the Royal Lodge
24 Girithron – Later in the Afternoon


With Darion entangled in some sort of ritual dance with Alruna under a mistletoe, Valacar managed to slip away to his quarters. He wanted to sort out Vidumavi's gift. Valacar thought long and hard about it too. The large book of star-charts wasn't really what he had in mind to give her, but he hadn't properly prepared himself for this. He knew about it for Alruna had told him all about the winter festival of Rhovania. He just didn't expect to find such a woman here... one so beautiful and interesting and... well, warming as Vidumavi. What gift does one give to such a woman as Vidumavi? Did he have anything worthy of her? He had only one thing with him, and Valacar thought long and hard about it…

When Valacar came out of his quarters and was heading back to the hall, he held a small wooden box in his hands. He noticed the snow was falling a bit heavier than earlier, and a chill breeze from the north made the snow dance this way and that around him. He had to pause and watch the snowflakes, wondering if they would ever hit the ground. He finally set off for the royal hall, his boots crunching the icy snow under his feet. He got up on the porch and would have walked inside, but he noted Vidumavi standing to his left out by the corner of the hall just under the eaves. Valacar turned and approached…

”M’lady… he began, but was quieted when she raised her hand requesting he be quiet.

”Do you hear it Valacar?” her voice whispered.

Valacar stepped closer and stood still behind her as he looked out into the snowy greyness. Seeing the dark trees swaying gently and all fringed in white, he leaned closer to her ear to whisper softly, ”I hear the whispers of the wind in the trees.”

“There is a whisper yes. The wind and trees whisper to each other. A story of old spoke of the trees whispering to each other, but could only be heard if all was quiet. I have always hoped to hear the whispering trees.”
Vidumavi reached a hand out that was hidden in her cloak sleeve and took Valacar’s gloved hand and drew his arm around her to hold the railing by her stomach. ”Tell me Valacar, are there legends of whispering trees in your land?”

“Aye, there are.”
Valacar paused as he breathed in the scent of Vidumavi’s hair. ”There are tale told to children in Ithilien, our easternmost land. In the far west in Calenardhon there stories told of the walking trees among the edges of the forest of Fangorn.” Valacar thought about that and remembered the time he was out west on his father’s business. He rode by the edge of Fangorn and hoped he might see something, but there were just trees, old and thick. It was eerie to ride so close to the edge of that forest.

“I… I would like to visit these places one day." She put her hand out and a perfect snowflake landed on her sleeve. Spinning around, she blew it off at Valacar before laughing and running toward the door.

"Wait! I have your gifts here..." Valacar called out as he held out the wooden box with ornate carvings in it. "It's something I picked up in the south when I was in Pelargir during the war."

"Pelargir? That is a city by where our great river meets the sea? You have seen the sea Valacar?"
Vidumavi walked back to him and Valacar held the box out in his palm. It was only a little bigger than his hand, and Vudumavi took it and looked at it closely.

"It is made from a hardwood that grows plenty in Harad far to the south. Open it." Valacar pointed to the two raised points on the top. She pushed them and the box opened, revealing a blue sapphire jewel surrounded by white crystal jewels on an ornate silver chain. "A gift worthy of the Princess of Rhovania, the jewel of the north."

Valacar hoped he didn't overreach with such a gift. He indeed had gotten it in Pelargir ... in a card game with Haradian merchants in the Ancient Market district. The big black man was loathe to let it go, but being a man of honor, he graciously handed it over. "The merchant I got this from said when he handed it to me that this is worthy of nobody short of a princess. It appears I have found one to gift it to. It is fitting the stone matches your eyes m'lady." Valacar stepped back and bowed to Vidumavi as he tried to gauge her reaction to the gift.

Right then the door opened and Vidugauja came out. ”There you two are! Come back in. Your places at the feasting table have been vacant too long!” Valacar turned and nodded as Vidumavi snapped the box shut. She didn’t want her cousin snooping on her present. Valacar offered her his arm, and she hooked it with hers and they walked over to the door past Vidugauja who still held it open. His eyes met Valacar’s, then Vidumavi’s as they passed, then he stepped in and closed the door.


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

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Rhovania - 24 Mörsugur (Girithron)
Royal Lodge – Evening



Vidumavi and Valacar were quickly settled into their respective positions. Vidumavi was seated to the left of her father, in the position her mother would have kept, whilst Valacar was seated with Alruna and Darion. The table was strewn with a wide range of dishes especially prepared for the yule festivities. Pork, venison, poultry, beef, and a huge variety of fish were served along with platters of boiled or roasted vegetables. There was fresh baked breads, butter, cheeses and sweet desserts and nuts.

Vats of mead, ale and wine stood at the ready to drink in honour of Béma and Yavanna, though Vidumavi made no mention of that, her father, her nephew and Gondor’s ambassador. The oaken yule log was set into the hearth and a feast that would last for days was begun.

The beautiful box Valacar had given to her with its precious contents was tucked under her leg. Had Vidugauja espied it, she wondered and cast her attention over to where he sat next to Valacar. And what of the item in the casket? A jewel such as that belonged to a princess of his own people. The scarf she had knitted for him seemed rather humble now, even if she had spun and dyed the wool herself.

”On what shall you sprinkle the yule ash on this year, Mavi?” inquired Vidugauja, who had been smirking each time she looked over to where he sat.

”Perhaps you, Vid. So as to ward off ill spirts,” she answered

“Too late for that,” Alruna quipped, chuckling, and the king laughed outright. Thankfully, the bard appeared to have had his fill and soon the lodge was filled with music, song and chatter.

Servants bore away empty platters and fresh food arrived for many hours. Children laughed and ran about, chasing one another gaily as their parents enjoyed their repasts. Some would rise to walk about, seeking refreshment outside the hall to liven their senses. Others danced or sought out companions with which to speak with. On nights such as this, arrangements were set in motion that would influence the coming year. Trade, quests and even betrothals were plotted out.

Her father and Vidugauja spent much of the evening in such pursuits and as soon as she could, Vidumavi slipped away to tuck the beautiful wooden box safely into her possessions. She set it in a trunk at the foot of her bed and moved the bedding stored in it over it. Satisfied, Vidumavi stood and turned only to find Alruna standing in the door of the bedroom they shared.

”What are you up to, Mavi?”

“Nothing,”
she replied, feeling a pang of regret at this dishonestly.

Alruna shook her head from side to side and entered the room. ”It’s a little early to retire. Especially when there is mistletoe, dancing and a certain Ambassador to be had out there.”

“I was looking for something,”
Vidumavi amended, for it was truthful in a fashion. She had been looking for somewhere to hide Valacar’s gift. Alruna eyed her at that and went to where the gift Vidumavi’s father had given to her hung.

”This really is something,” Alruna said as she studied the gown. It was of Elven make, crafted all in silk and shimmering like crushed sapphires. Delicate flowers had been stitched at the waist, wrist, neck and hem, all in golden thread. ”Will you wear it tomorrow?”

“Father suggested I wait for the Costnang the day after,”
Vidumavi replied and Alruna turned back to face her.

”Did he now?” she asked, intrigued. ”Does that mean he has made a decision?”

“If he has, I do not know of it,”
Vidumavi replied and sighed to herself.

Alruna frowned. ”What troubles you, Mavi?”

Vidumavia searched her cousin’s face and then turned to the chest to retrieve the wooden casket. She passed it to Alruna in silence.

Alruna’s eyes widened at the casket. ”This is astonishing!” she remarked of the carved wood. It’s golden hue and richly worked designs were beautiful. ”Did Valacar give you this?”

Vidumavia nodded. ”Open it.”

The Shieldmaiden did so and let out an audible squeak at what she found. ”Mavi! Does your father know?”

She shook her head from side to side. ”I think Vid may have seen something, though. What do I do?”

Alruna stared at her for a beat and then back to the necklace. ”There are two possibilities,” she said after several moments of thought. ”First is that he is not aware of the significance of such a gift.”

Vidumavi nodded. That was certainly possible, even if it was difficult to understand how anyone could offer so precious a thing and not grasp its meaning. ”The second?”

“The second,”
Alruna drew a deep breath. ”The second is that he understands perfectly.” She set the box and its precious contents aside as Vidumavi turned away. ”Scarcely a day passes where his name is not on your lips. Scarcely a night either.”

Vidumavi studied the snow she could see falling through the window for a beat. ”No matter which it is, I cannot keep such a gift in good conscience.”

“But how will you return it?”



~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~



”Where is Mavi?” murmured Vidugauja as he scanned the hall.

”Likely off with your sister,” his uncle remarked, nodding to where Darion and Valacar were attempting to engage in a game of wordplay with three Rhovanian nobles.

Vidugauja relaxed when he saw the Ambassador in place. ”Have you noticed how much time they spend together? How often she speaks of him?”

“He is a member of our household,”
the king replied. ”And he does make her happy. That you cannot deny. There is no harm in their friendship.”

Vidugauja persisted. ”And if it is something more than that?”

“I very much doubt that is so. Even were the Ambassador seek to court my daughter without my leave, Vidumavi knows her duty.”


As the king said this, his daughter came into the hall from the main entrance with Alruna, bearing snow with them. The two young women clasped hands and pressed their brows together and then they separated. Alruna made for Darion, calling out an insult worthy of the match the Gondorians were embroiled in. Valacar, meanwhile, rose to his feet and sought out Vidumavi. He watched his daughter’s face light up as he drew near. She pointed to nearby dancers and Valacar frowned as he studied the steps. Then she drew him towards them, laughing.


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~


It was late when Darion and Valacar made their way back to their lodgings. Or perhaps it was early. Whatever the case, as they closed the door on the revelry still underway, it was clear someone had been in their quarters for the fire was well alight and had not burned low.

Frowning, both men went to check on their belongings.

”Nothing missing,” called Darion as he emerged from his room. Valacar emerged from his own, bearing a beautifully carved casket, a scrap of paper torn from one of his own supply and a deep frown.

”I do not understand,” he said, sitting at the table before the fire.

”That is a handsome gift!” Darion exclaimed, taking the casket up and gasping as it opened. He stared at the sapphire nestled within. ”Oh! Tell me you did not give this to the princess, Val.”

When assurances failed to arrive, Darion groaned to himself. ”Gifts such as these are...a bride price. And while it is certainly fitting for the princess, you must first seek her father’s consent to court her.”

Valacar dropped his head into his hands. ”It was that or star charts,” he groaned as the ramifications of this diplomatic incident started to circle his thoughts. ”I did not know!”

Darion wiped a hand over his face. ”Well, it is not all bad I suppose.” Valacar looked up, askance. ”The fact you’re not presently staring at the wrong end of the king’s or prince’s sword suggests neither are aware of it. Hopefully, that will remain the case.” Darion studied the scrap of paper on the table. ”What does the note say?”

“I was hoping you might know,”
Valacar replied, passing it across. ”Can you read Rhovanian.”

“After a fashion,”
Darion replied and scanned the note. ”It would appear the princess is very sorry and would like to explain herself.”

“When?”

“It does not say,”
Darion said, setting the scrap down. ”I’d burn this, Val. Rhovanian honour can be a prickly beast.”

Valacar swept it up and cast it into the fire. As it blackened and curled, he wondered what might happen now.


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~


Rhovania - 25 Mörsugur (Girithron)
Mid Morning



Alruna stood, tapping her foot impatiently, as Valacar was brought to her by the Order. Only a select few had been entrusted with this task, for it word got out there’d be no turning back for Gondor or Rhovanion. Valacar looked worried and more than a little weary as he was escorted to where she waited.

Alruna nodded to her sister and then studied the Gondorian princeling for a long beat. ”I hope there are no more baubles in your pockets.”

“You can search them yourself, if you wish,”
he replied. Alruna sniffed at that and then turned away.

”Follow me,” she said and it was not a request. Valacar set in after her, following the Shieldmaiden towards the trees he had studied the night before.

”I really did not know,” Valacar said after a few steps.

”Clearly,” Alruna said dryly. She eyed him for a beat, clearly thinking. ”I could help you, if you wished, to understand our ways in such matters.”

Valacar blinked at the offer. ”Is this something the Order customarily involves itself in?"

“No,”
Alruna replied, shaking her head. "And I do not offer as a Shieldmaiden."

Valacar said nothing and they walked in silence for several steps before Alruna stopped. "I consider you a friend, Valacar, and a good and honourable man. And..." Her gaze swung to the side for a beat. ”And because Mavi would keep your gift and treasure it if she could. Do you understand?”

“I am not sure,”
Valacar replied and they continued on for the trees in silence.

”Mavi has requested privacy,” Alruna finally said. ”She waits ahead."

"Alone?"


Alruna nodded. "She trusts you," she replied and set a hand on his forearm. "She has taken a great risk in this."



~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~


Vidumavi stood quietly, listening to the morning breeze ruffle the fir needles overhead. It really did sound like whispering. Above, in the branches, charms and amulets swayed this way and that. She hoped her mother was watching somehow. She certainly had need of her mother’s wisdom. Her heart was tugging her in one direction and her duties seemed to pull her in another.

Footsteps behind her drew her about and sure enough, Valacar approached. Her heart skipped a little faster at this. He paused, studying her and then the vast fir tree behind her. Then he bowed deeply, his dark hair falling forward as he did so.

”Princess,” he said soberly.

”Thank you for coming,” she said quietly, stepping forward. He straightened at this and his grey eyes swept over her. Vidumavi looked down to where her hands were clasped. She could not keep them still otherwise. ”You must think me either foolish or vain or both.”

“Nothing could be further from the truth,”
he replied.

Vidumavi lifted her head and smiled a little sadly. ”You are kind to say so.”

“Princess, I have given you offense and for that I am deeply sorry.”


She shook her head at this and came forward, drawing close enough to take his hand and look into his eyes. ”You are a great lord of your noble people and you will meet one worthy of such a handsome gift. You will know her when you see her, I think, and you will give it to her. Will you promise me that?”

He gazed at her and she at him. Then he nodded and swallowed. ”I give you my word.”

Vidumavi smiled as she searched his face. Then she drew him towards the fir tree. ”This tree was my mother’s. We would come here, she and I, and sit beneath the branches.”

”It is a magnificent tree,”
he said, his fingers tightened around her own.

She nodded. ”Sometimes, I imagine I can hear her when I come here. Silly as that might seem.”

“It is not silly at all,”
he replied, staring up at the things suspended from the boughs. ”Do you come here often?”

“As often as I can,”
she replied. ”Too often, according to Rue. She does not hold with talking to trees. I cannot imagine what she might make of walking trees.”

Valacar quietly chuckled at this, his thumb stroking her fingers in what might have been a caress. ”What gift would you have of me this yule?”

Vidumavi tightened her fingers in his and then turned to set her hand against his chest. Under her palm she could feel the beating of his heart. It seemed almost as fast as her own. She looked up and was lost in his quicksilver eyes. All she need to do was rise on her toes and kiss him. She might have done so had not Alruna emerged. Her eyes narrowed as they sprang apart. Valacar cleared his throat and Vidumavi blushed.

”Right you two, back we go!” she declared and so return they did.

The yule festival was in full swing again, with the bonfires lit and various contests of strength, skill and endurance underway. Vidugauja was busy wrestling, cheered on a large audience. The king, meanwhile, was meeting with several new arrivals that morning from the lands to their north. They had interesting tidings concerning the Prince of Dorwinion to the east that could not wait.


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Rhovania – Arrival of House Fahaed
25 Girithron – Afternoon


Rhansik had made his way north from his lands in the south of the Greenwood to celebrate the winter with Vidugavia. It was no secret to him that a high-ranking Gondorian had travelled by his lands to the north to treat with him. It was common to gather in Vidugavia's Hall for yule, for there was no denying he held the strength of Rhovania together. Not to him at least. He understood Vidugavia's claim that he was King of Rhovania. For his part, he supported that. As much as he had fancied being king of a wider Rhovanion kingdom, Rhansik knew his lands were far in the south of the land. His best option was to support Vidugavia. When they had last met, they had discussed the matter of his heir Vidugauja and the possibility that his youngest daughter, Rainavic, becoming betrothed to him this Yule. No decision was made, but Rhansik vowed to have her come to Vidugauja's hall and serve him for a year. This day, in the fog of the day, Rhansik and his family arrived with a cohort of soldiers….


With the Rhovanion Guard pausing them before allowing them to enter the town... it was considered a 'city' by Rhovanion standards. Nothing like the great citadels the mighty Gondorians of old built to the south, but it was a solid, well laid out plat. Rhansik looked around at the festivities that was happening in a great tournament arena field. They had arrived late for the games.

Rainavic watched the two men wrestling .... naked from the waist up and oily leather breeches being the only clothing they wore. She guessed ... well, hoped... her prospective husband was one of the men. They were quite fit, but she had no idea what Lord Prince Vidugauja looked like. She wouldn't be able to tell from this anyway because both men were covered in mud from the sodden arena of well-stomped melted snow from the night before.


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Rhovania – The Hall of Vidugavia
25 Girithron – Afternoon


The skies brightened as the sun threatened to burn through the low cloud and mist that lingered, and as they came to the great hall of Vidugavia, they climbed down, and a wagon attendant led their two horses and wagon away to a stabling area. Signaling two of his men to accompany him, he had four stay outside, two each side the stair next to the two King Vidugavia had there. The rest of his cohort were excused to go watch the games.

As they entered, two of Vidugavia's guards stepped in before them and held the doors. He, his wife, and his daughter and son walked in before the guards stepped back out and closed the doors.

”Your halls are welcoming as always Lord Vidugavia. The fires burn bright and the days of Rhovania are blessed here.” Rhansik called out as he walked forward. Vidugavia was busy placing bets on the upcoming horse race.

“This will be a yule to remember! Rhansik my friend how fares ye?” Vidugavia stood up and walked down to the floor to greet his closest clan ally. ”Lady Maivask, it is good to see you again! I swear you age not!"

“Thank you Lord Videgavia.”
Lady Maivask answered as Vidugavia took and kissed the back of her hand. Rhansik stood by and kept his mouth shut as his wife spoke with him a little. Things were way too vital for him to clumsily turn over a table with his bombastic ways. She warned him to keep his imbibing of the meads and ales in moderation.

”May I introduce my children...." Rhansik finally said when the talk between Vidugavia and his wife reached a lull. "This is Lady Rainavic, my oldest, and this is Rhanvol, my younger." The boy gave a weak handshake. He would prefer to be out watching the games instead of attending this political show for his sister. At fourteen years, he had a lot of attitude.

"Welcome to my house one and all. I understand you Lady Rainavic will be staying on with us as one of my daughter's ladies?"

"I will indeed Lord Vidugavia."
Lady Rainavic bowed her head to him and stepped back. Vidugavia looked over to Rhanvol and eyed him carefully. "And you boy. Will it be a relief to not have your big sister around?"

Rhanvol grinned and nodded, and Vidugavia looked to Rhansik and said, "Go. See the games. That is... if it is alright with your dad and mom."

"Yes, we'll join you shortly."
Rhansik waved his hand as of shooing off the boy. He saw Rainavic shift a little, and he looked at his wife who gave him a slight shrug. "You can go to Rain." he gave her a smile as she nodded and left, following her brother. Despite being eighteen, she still liked being a kid. Guess having your future decided for you made one want to hold onto their childhood as long as possible.

"Now about this important matter at hand." Vidugavia said. He himself was more than happy to have Rainavic marry Vidugauja. He did have to appease his little brother Vinduavia though since Vidugauja was his son. His mother Vidmiriah proposed that the decision should ultimately be up to the prince heir himself as to whether Lady Rainavic was acceptable to him... Vidugavia told Rhansik and Maivask right away. "I will propose the betrothal at Tomorrow's formal feast. There will be more clan chieftains here that may want to object. Still what Vidugauja says will stand."

There was little that Rhansik and Maivask could say or do to influence the prince. They did win a great concession by having Lady Rainavic be a part of Lady Vidumavi's house. It would be up to Lady Rainavic to work her own prowess in the politics of Rhovania and to impress Vidugauja that she would be the right choice for him as a wife...


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Rhovania – The Tournament Field
25 Girithron – Afternoon


Vidugauja and Valacar were on their last round, and the scoring had been fairly even. Vidugauja had gained an edge in points early, but Valacar's stamina was paying off and he had slowly chipped away at his lead. With this last round, the best Valacar could hope for was a draw. Should Vidugauja best him here, he would win by a point.

"You don't have it in you Gondorian..." Vidugauja smirked as he readied. Valacar took his stance and grinned. He calculated what would be best diplomatically here, and quipped, "I will just take it out of you m'lord..."

Soon the two were locked and danced in the ever-thickening muck as the bursts of sun through the clouds melted more of the snow. Gaining a grip was near impossible. the only place to get a hand-grip was at the back waist of the breeches, and even then it was hard to hold tight enough to throw the opponent. There wasn't much time left when Vidugauja got a leg between Valacar's and managed to topple him. He was quick atop him and only had to make a pin to claim victory. Valacar turned this way, then that way to keep a shoulder up. When Vudugauja pressed what was sure to be a pin, Valacar said in his muddy ear, "Isn't that your wife?"

Valacar's ploy worked. He had heard talk of Vidugauja's possible betrothal but had no idea who she was. It was by chance that Lady Rainavic had come to the nearby rope to watch the two men wrestle. Vidugauja's concentration was broken just for the briefest of moments, and Valacar threw him off and into the deepest puddle of mud. For breaking free of a sure pin, Valacar was rewarded a point, and the sand of time for the last round ran out. It was a draw.

Valacar stood and went to give a hand to Vidugauja who slammed his fist into the mud, splashing himself with even more brown water. He looked up at Valacar and nodded, but instead of coming to his feet, Valacar came crashing down in the mud himself. Vidugauja then pushed the back of his head down burying his face in the muddy water. Though Vidugauja had a scowl on his face, he quickly smiled and broke out laughing as his hand slid back from his head and gave his wet oily leathers stretched over his butt a solid slap. The pop was deafening, and Valacar looked up with his brown face and stringy locks hanging down looking serious. He immediately busted out laughing as he rolled to his back.

The master of Games ordered them to clear the field as he announced a draw between Vidugauja and Valacar. Walking off together, they both gave a nod to the clean lady who watched them both. Valacar broke his eyes away and looked up to where Vidumavi sat with Alruna.

Once Vidugauja was done with his pause before Lady Rainavic, he sprinted back beside Valacar. "So where do we go to clean up?" Vidugauja smirked. "There is buckets of cold water there for a start. Once the dirt is off though. I have a place I could show you. You wrestle alright ... for a Gondorian you know."

Valacar shrugged as he went first for a dousing of near-frozen water. He inhaled sharply but did not flinch much. It took off much of the mud. Vidugauja didn't even change his breath when he took his bucket. Valacar smiled as it seemed the ladies had gathered around the wash to watch them take their washing...


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

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Rhovania - 25 Mörsugur (Girithron)
Afternoon


”A whole year,” Alruna murmured in Vidumavi’s ear. ”What will you do with her?”

Vidumavi caught her cousin’s teasing tone. ”Lady Rainavic is not here to wed me.”

“She is your maid,”
Alruna retorted. ”And it would be an insult to leave her forgotten in the corner, surely.”

In this, Vidumavi thought, her cousin may well be correct. And, given the way Vidugauja was behaving, Lady Rainavic might well prove to be Rhovanion’s next queen. The two women made their way over to where the others were gathered.

”Show off,” Alruna said of her brother, who was still standing bare chested for the audience. She rolled her eyes at his antics. ”Look how he preens for her.”

Vidumavi, however, was entirely distracted by something else. Valacar had yet to put his shirt on and she sighed wistfully, thinking of how close they had been only a few hours earlier. If she had spent less time talking of her mother, perhaps...

It took a moment before she realised that Valacar had caught her staring.

Vidumavi flushed immediately and swiftly turned about, missing the hint of a smile as Valacar pulled his shirt over his head. She set off with haste, forcing Alruna to jog after her. ”What has gotten into you of late, Mavi?”

“Nothing,”
she replied, looking back just to once to check no one followed or laughed. ”Shall we try our hand at the archery?”

Alruna shrugged. ”Sure. If you think you’ve kept your practice up.”

The two women linked arms and set off together.


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~



The other place Vidugauja spoke of proved to be a bath house. Valacar had noticed it before, for it was the only structure made entirely of stone. He’d never set foot in it, though, before today. Such places were reserved for the Rhovanions, but now the prince ushered him in all the same. Vidugauja pointed various things out, from the entrance the men used to how they kept the relentless cold of winter at bay.

Though the large pool of heated water did give Valacar pause, it was a very good way to sluice away the mud and ease any aches. Of course, once properly bathed, Valacar could not very well return to his earlier soiled garb. This was no matter, as it turned out, for he was soon clad in Rhovanion gear and set off for his own lodgings to change. It was as he was doing this that Darion returned, puffing and panting.

”You’ll never guess who’s just arrived?” he said. ”Prince Fennic of Dorwinion.”

Valacar nodded, focused on buttoning his cuff. Darion puffed out a sigh.

”Fennic, scourge of Dorwinion,” Darion pressed and Valacar paused.

He looked up from his cuff. ”Scourge?”

Darion nodded. ”Came out of nowhere to join your father in battle. By all accounts, one of the best warriors Rhovanion has. Also the cruelest.”

“How so?”

"The Rhovanions are fierce in battle, but they hold their hand at waging war on women and children. Not so this Fennic.”
Darion shook his head sombrely. ”Dorwinion was a charnel house by the time he was done with it.”

“And this is the king’s ally?”

“Ally, I suspect, is too strong a term. They share a border. It is, at best, an uneasy truce. There is no love lost between those two.”

“Then what is he doing here?”

“Exactly,”
Darion replied, rubbing his hands together. ”This is going to be quite something. A master class in Rhovanion politics. Are you ready?”

“A moment,”
Valacar said, and returned to his room for his sword and dagger. It was not Gondorian custom to go about so armed, but he had noticed that it was Rhovanion custom and given what Darion had just reported, he thought it wise.

The two men set off for the royal lodge just in time to catch the infamous Fennic, Prince of Dorwinion address the gathered clan lords. He was an imposing man and he knew it. King Vidguavia sat in his throne, sword and axe both within easy reach. His heir, Prince Vidugauja sat to his right, his axe leaning against his knee and the dagger Valacar had given to him spinning in one hand. The king’s expression was wary, keen eyes gleaming as he watched Fennic speak. Vidugauja was openly hostile. There was no sign of Vidumavi.

”Thrice I have offered and thrice my offers have been rebuffed.”

“I gave you Dorwinion. Is that not enough?”

“No,”
Fennic replied, his smile wolfish. ”It is not.”

Vidugavia’s smile was cold at this. ”You have risen far, Fennic, but not so far as that.”

“Says the man who would have us all bend knee and call him king.”
There was a mutter at this and Fennic swung about, eying the Shieldmaidens that stood in the royal hall. Valacar had never seen so many of them in attendance all at once and every last one of these formidable women watched Fennic like he was a snake. Fennic, however, did not seem cowed or intimidated.

”Where is she, then? I know you cannot have married her off.”

“And how would you know,”
Prince Vidugauja demanded, driving the dagger into the arm of his throne.

Fennic smiled as he eyed the gathered lords and how their eyes dropped away from his. ”Oh, I know,” he said as he turned about. ”Just as I know I could take your throne, little prince.”

“Is that why you have come, then, unasked?”
Vidugavia asked, leaning forward to pull his axe across his knees. At this, the Shieldmaidens brandished their weapons.

Fennic chuckled. ”As it happens, no.” He turned back to stare at Vidugavia. ”I am come to make my final offer.”

“You have nothing we want,”
Vidugauja declared but his uncle waved his hand.

“He’s here now. Let him speak.”

“I will bend my knee and acknowledge you King, granting you all of Rhovanion. I will pay you tithe from the riches of Dorwinion soil. And in return, you will grant me your daughter.”


The lodge broke out in jeers and shouts that took time for Vidugavia to quell. Once he had, Fennic continued, “I will wed the princess, once she proves fertile. A necessary precaution, given her mother’s fate.”

The lodge again erupted and there was no quelling it this time. The nobles of Vidugavia’s court, his invited guests and the Shieldmaidens surged forward all at once. Fennic, and the band of warriors who had ridden in with him were forced out of the lodge. The Shieldmaidens did not stop there, charging until every last man of Dorwinion was on his horse and riding as fast as he can towards the east.

Prince Vidugauja stood on the step, watching his men harry the fleeing men to ensure they were truly driven off.

”That was a mistake,” he said to his sister who stood with him. ”We should have put him down when we had the chance. He’ll return.”

“I hope he does,”
Alruna said, smiling fiercely. ”I’m not finished with him yet.”

“NEPHEW!”
the king shouted and Vidugauja turned back. It was never a good idea to keep his uncle waiting when he was in such a mood as this. He set off at once. As he did so, the king shouted for his niece.

”ALRUNA?”

“WHAT?”
she shouted back from her position. Though he was her uncle and her king, he was not Béma.

“Fetch the Lady Rainavic’s parents.”

“Now?”

“NOW!”


Sighing, Alruna skipped down the stairs and sighted Darion and Valacar. She nodded to them both and set off, her spear bouncing off one shoulder as she wove through the throngs of onlookers.


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Rhovania - 1 Þorri ( Yestarë)
Morning



Compared to the events of yule, the costnang that followed was subdued. A formal betrothal was announced between Prince Vidugauja and Lady Rainavic, to take place in Harpa (Víressë). Despite this, the clan lords were troubled enough to urge Vidugavia to placate Fennic.

”It was a mistake to grant that man Dorwinion. I’ll not give him my daughter as well,” the king declared emphatically, glancing to where Vidumavi sat with her fair head bowed. She had worn the dress he had given to her and it suited her well, given the attention it was drawing. The Elves certainly knew their craft well and he was hopeful that one or two of the younger lords were reconsidering their previous reluctance to risk Fennic’s ire.

”Then you deny us the very peace you promised,” protested one of the northern clan lords.

“You are fools if you believe there can ever be peace with that man,” Vidugauja charged. ”He will devour us all, given half the chance. He cannot be placated.”

“Then he must be put down,”
declared a southern clan lord and no few heads nodded at this.

The king looked to Vidumavi. She’d been badly shaken by the violence yesterday. It was inauspicious in timing, occurring as it did on yule. Still, she had shown her courage in putting on a brave face today. Not once had she spoken as the lords around discussed what was to be done with her future. Either thrown to rabid animal of a man or cast aside, never to wed for fear of antagonising him.

”I would hear from my daughter. It is her fate we debate,” Vidugavia said.

The lords shifted at this, eying one another. Women did not speak at such gatherings as this. Then Vidumavi’s maternal grandfather spoke up. ”Let her speak,” the aged man declared, his hair entirely silver now. The murmuring ceased and Vidumavi drew a deep breath before she lifted her head.

She cast her gaze across the hall, attention lingering on the Regent’s son for a beat. ”Over four years ago now, we set out for war, riding as one. We joined our strength with that of the great, southern realm of Gondor and together, we were victorious over our ancient foes.”

Vidugavia sat back, wondering just what Vidumavi would do with this. Calling back to their victory was clever. She had their attention now, whether they wished for her to speak or not.

”What would we say to those we lost in war if we pull ourselves asunder now? We must stand together. If we are scattered, we will fall. If not to the Prince of Dorwinion, then to other foes.”

The princess scanned the hall again, meeting each clan lord’s gaze, and then bowed her head once more.

One of the southern lords grunted. ”If we are to act together, then how are we to keep our lands and people safe?”

And just like that, the discussion turned from war or placating the Prince of Dorwinion to protecting their lands and people. Vidugavia felt a surge of pride for his daughter and nodded to her grandfather, who was smiling to himself. The costnang ended with an agreement to redouble their patrols and refuse all trade with Dorwinion. How long that would hold was anyone’s guess.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

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Rhovania – The Hall of Vidugavia
Yestarë – The Costnang Later Afternoon


Since the games and the time spent in the city bathhouse, Valacar and Vidugauja had become closer. They seemed to relax more around each other and talked much of fighting skills and tactics. Of course Vidugauja would regularly mention he had been in battle… a point that Valacar could not counter since he was kept from fighting by his father. Still, his time in Pelargir had taught him a lot of the tactics used by the Haradrim, and of a little-known people to to the east called ‘Khand’. There was no easing of the wordplay about Gondorians from Vidugauja, but Valacar knew to take it in stride. The prince of Rhovania was a good person to have liking you... even if he seemed to be a bit on edge about how close he was getting to Vidumavi. Fortunately, the arrival of Lady Rainavic seemed to have Vidugauja distracted enough to have him worry about his cousin. He trusted his sister Alruna would keep two eyes on her … well, one on her and one on him...

Valacar attended the costnang, and he did applaud the betrothal of Prince Vidugauja and Lady Rainavic, but was quiet and mostly an observer to the political aspects of it. Indeed, Fennic was trouble. Darion had spoke of some of his deeds during the war to his father, and now to see him, Valacar disliked him even more. His gut said there would be more trouble from him ... both for Rhovania and for Gondor.

But what really held Valacar's attention was when Vidumavi spoke so wisely for unity. When she finished talking and the leaders stirred again into a rumble of voices, Valacar stood there tall and proud. This kingdom was fortunate to have a royal woman as she among them. King Vidugavia had to be even more proud of his daughter now!

"What say ye southerner... will Gondor support our embargo on Dorwinion goods?" Lord Rhansik said as he came up with a fresh ale for the Gondorian. Rejik, the chieftain of the woodsmen clan of southern Greenwood stepped up as well with his own ale in hand, curious about what the Gondorian had to say.

"I can't rightly say what Gondor's position will be on this. Dorwinion wines are highly sought after, especially by the mariners of Pelargir and Edhellond. I'm think Regent Minalcar would support it in principle, yet with the need to pacify the powerful Mariners Guild, may look for other means to satisfy them." Valacar recognized it was a delicate matter. There was no way Gondor would accept being cutoff from their imports of Dorwinion wine. Demand for it was high enough and it wasn't cheap with the northern elves making attempts to corner the supply. There were likely a lot of merchants in Rhovania, legitimate and illegitimate, that would still find ways to deal in the commodity There would more likely than not a few in Gondor who will try and strike their own business deals with Fennic, especially since this embargo would hinder greatly the transport of wine to the elves of the north woods.

"Well, I knows things in the east with Fennic has everyone astir, but what of the west? There has been signs of wizardry in the west wood of our lands." Rejik interjected. "One in the northwest seems benign, but this fortress that had been raised in shadows of mists around Amon Lanc. Dark spirits linger there and those who lived close have since abandoned their homes and came east." He sipped his ale and wiped his lip with his sleeve. "Tell me Gondor, will they find peace if they migrated south to your lands?"

Valacar took a long pull off his ale and sighed. There were few Northman in Gondor now... a few servants mainly who found work with friendly families in Osgiliath, and some few families that seemed to be on the run from some evil came and then went west to Calenardhon where they settled. But the troubles that Almura and the other shieldmaidens found themselves in in Osgiliath told Valacar they would likely be met with some prejudice these days. The Gondorians didn't seem too accepting of armed strong women.

"I will speak of this when I send my next dispatches to Regent Minalcar. He will want to know if this potential trouble. I will also speak on behalf of displaced Northman families who would like to migrate south." Valacar gave both chieftains a bow as he felt his arm being tugged. Turning, Valacar's concerned demeanor from the talk with Rejik and Rhansik was completely lifted to find it was Lady Vidumavi wanting his attention.

"Princess Vidumavi..." he addressed her formally. He knew eyes were on them both; eyes from various factions and alliances. Neither of them wished to have some diplomatic furor arise over any careless and familiar actions. Vidumavi smiled softly as her hand held an ornate silver cup. Her other hand wrapped around it and she sipped lightly the wine it held. She then held it out to him to take. His eyes left hers not as his hands slid around it; their fingers entwining momentarily around the cup. To Valacar the touch was filled with an energy that had him almost startle. Vidumavi too widened her eyes before her hands slipped away. Valacar then raised it to his lips to take a small sip; his eyes not leaving hers.

"Hail Gondor!" Vidumavi proclaimed firmly. There were several cheers and voices of agreement at that before Vidumavi went on... "May the friendship between our people that was bonded in blood last through the millennia until the last sunset." Valacar swallowed his sip and handed the cub back. He was full aware the clan chieftains were watching closely.

"May it be so Lady Princess. All my will and power will strive for this to no end." Valacar bowed his head to her and there was a louder round of cheers and drinking. King Vidugavia looked to his daughter and smiled before taking her hand and escorting her to the wide floor.

As music started, Darion came up to Valacar as he watched Vidumavi begin to dance with her father while Vidugauja danced with Lady Rainavic. "You, son of Rómendacil the Second, walk a thin line here. There is little secret that the lady princess and you have some deeper connection. There is even whisperings that such a bond would be beneficial to Rhovania but for some jealous chieftains of the northern clans. The southern clans would welcome it, and as far as King Vidugavia, I think at times he also thinks it well."

"I know my place Counselor Darion. No need to remind me."
Valacar answered, looking at him hard. "Here's the problem Val, I've seen things.... glimpses of the future. I was communing with a Rhovanian seer who lives among the dark mountains, and she spoke to me of a great unrest in Gondor.."

"And you're telling me this now why?"
Valacar looked at Darion after glancing around to see who else was in earshot.

"I just thought it needed to be said. I have for the most part forgotten about it, but when Lady Vidumavi gave you that grail full of Dorwinian wine, I had a sudden vision of that time when your fingers met. I blinked as I was taken aback, but the significance of that ritual of friendship.... I saw it before when this seer gave me that prophecy!"

Valacar looked solemnly at Darion for a moment before smirking and letting out a slight chuckle. "My friend, I think you were sipping on a bit of that witch's fermented mushroom concoction. Yes... I heard of it, and of her."

"Look Val, I'm not saying anything bad is about to happen... it is more prophetic. I blew it off at the time because you are not in line of succession. Surely King Narcamil will sire an heir before his days are done. But still, the vision seemed so real ... at the time, and just now."
Darion downed the rest of his ale and wiped his lips with his sleeve. "I just thought you should be aware."

"Consider me aware my friend..."
Alruna came by and grabbed Darions hand and pulled him out to dance. Valacar was relieved that discussion wasn't going to continue any further. He looked out to see Vidumavi dancing briefly with all the potential suitors of the clans, and it was Lady Rainavic that came and took his hand to lead him out into the gala.


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Rhovania – Later Yestarë
As the sun set, the costnang ebbed into a more relaxed celebration. Valacar was careful when he was dancing with Vidumavi, and though he wished not to be bothered by the words of Darion, they did linger in the back of his mind. It had grown late, and with the skies clear, the light wind from the north and shadows of the Misty Mountains sent the temperature plunging well below freezing. As darkness came, the chill found its way into the hall and the fires were kept roaring.

At some point Alruna came around and escorted the women to the bathhouse that Valacar and Vidugauja had gone to before, and so it was that Vidugauja came and called on Valacar. He had been discussing events with the Rhovanion chieftains and now they were going to attend the king’s offer of his own private bathhouse. Darion had come over to stand with Valacar and was sort of relieved actually that he hadn’t 'slipped off' with Vidumavi. Darion worried a little about that as he knew the possible consequences that could come should events transpire a certain way. Despite his vision, he hoped it was for naught. For now, there was nothing indication that would ever happen, but Darion would never put out of mind the remote possibility was always going to be there until events in Gondor mad it so Valacar would not be in line for the throne.

”Looks like we miss out on the hot baths.” Valacar sighed as a chill passed. Darion looked to Vidugauja and smirked. Vidugauja looked at Valacar as young Rhanvol came up to them. Vidugauja looked to his future brother and laughed, for it was clear the boy had been draining unfinished flagons around the hall and was a little bit drunk. It was something he himself did when he was that age. ”Right. I think we four have a little journey to make. It’s not far, but far enough.” Vidugauja donned his cloak and had the others do it too. “You’re with us Rhanvol.”

Vidugauja led the others through a labyrinth of paths, steps, underpasses, and a ravine that was shrouded by thick firs. Valacar saw no way through its tangled branches that reached the ground. Even Vidugauja paused and looked at the trees as if searching. Once he saw what he was seeking, he stepped up and grabbed a branch and pulled it back. The gnarly old tree groaned at the pull on one of its oldest branches, and the thick wood resisted, wanting to return to its rest. Videgauja waved the others through.

” Watch your footing. There is ice.” Vidugauja pointed to some dark rocks ahead. After Rhanvol and Darion passed, Valacar himself stepped until the dark as he eased the branch back in place. The walk up through the narrow path between high walls of rock was steep and slippery, but they soon came to stonework. it looked natural with the wear of the rock, but one could clearly see the stone had been cut and hewn with skill. The sound of water could be heard along with a slight hiss, and steam could be seen high above them. Vidugauja tapped Valacar to follow him into a fissure in the rock, and the scent of saltiness filled the air. Coming through a stone archway, Vidugauja stepped aside and held his arm out as the others passed him. Valacar had seen a few hot springs around in Gondor, but nothing like this. This place was ancient! Some crude runic symbols told Valacar it was likely the dwarves of old, possibly from Khazad-dûm had worked this rock from where the springs flowed. "Welcome to a gem of Rhovania!"



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”This is where the other bathhouses get their waters. We have to be careful here as the water is hotter.” Vidugauja preferred this place to the bathhouse in town. This place was hidden; hard to get to; and for the most part, unknown to most. It was a great place to come to have secure discussions. The water running over the rocks from both the hot spring and the cold creek kept the low-roofed stone chamber constantly rustling with noise. Words spoken while next to each other could not be heard very far at all.

”I was fortunate that Vidugauja brought me here before. To this day I still could not find it on my own.” Darion shed his cloak and clothing and was first to slide into the clear steamy waters. Valacar and Vidugauga were next to get, and after a moment of reluctance, Rhanvol too stripped and slid in. ”This will help sober you up before you go back to rest the night with your parents.”

“Thanks. So do I call you ‘Lord’ or ‘brother’ or what?”
Rhanvol asked Vidugauja. Vidugauja laughed. ”Informally, brother. Have you not been schooled on the formalities of Rhovanion court?” Rhanvol got a good lesson in it from both the Rhovanion and Gondorian customs.

It was midnight when the four returned, and they quietly went to their quarters for the night. Tomorrow… the first day of the new year, would have more talks and parting farewells, and somehow, all the talks and agreements and disagreements would be chronicled in word and deed and song. Valacar and Darion would write up their accountings to send their dispatches south to Osgiliath.



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Vidumavi
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Spring in Rhovanion
Einmánudur (Súlimë)



Spring in Rhovanion was something unlike anything seen anywhere else. The ice and snows that dominated the lands faded and new growth burst to life everywhere. From the forest, to the fields to the children running about in days that grew longer and warmer inexorably. It was a busy time, for the ground needed to be readied as soon as it had thawed, and crops planted without delay. This was something everyone had a hand in, young and old, king and subject. Even ambassadors found themselves toiling in the fields, tilling the rich earth to sow the next harvest. It was hard work, but it was filled with good cheer as jokes and songs were exchanged to make the hours pass.

No matter how busy it was, Vidumavi strove to find some time to share with Valacar each day, for she found herself unable to stop wishing to hear his voice, his quiet chuckle, mark his smile and the way his beguiling grey eyes warmed and perhaps, their fingers to touch. Or more, but more was difficult to come by for they scarcely had any time at all. The best times were when they found themselves working side by side in the sowing, and Vidumavi did all she could to ensure that came to pass. There, they would share tales of each other’s childhoods and families and so Vidumavi came to understand even more of this grand lord of Gondor. And, perhaps, to be understood herself.

King Vidugavia increased the patrols on his lands. The possibility that Fennic might return to force his hand was something he could not ignore. Vidumavi found herself surrounded by more Shieldmaidens than ever before, watching over her wherever she ventured. Alruna insisted on resuming training, something Vidumavi had never been particularly fond of. There was no gainsaying her cousin though and she was plucked out of bed before dawn just like she had been when they were both sent for the training all young Rhovanion girls undertook.

”At the very least, you need to be able to put one of his eyes out,” her cousin huffed, whenever Vidumavi tried to beg off another early morning training session. And then, of course, the wedding planned for the following month demanded considerable preparations.

First, there was the matter of the heimangerõ (dowry) and mundr (bride price) to settle. Lady Rainavic brought considerable herds of fine horse stock and a squad of fighting men that King Vidugavia was glad to receive. In return, Lady Rainavic’s family was offered considerable silver. Additionally, she would be provided with a household of her own and land that would remain hers to own and control for the rest of her days. This, in Rhovanion culture, was one of several important protections offered to Rhovanion brides. It fell to them to ready it all for her and this was no small undertaking.

The wedding was planned to occur on the most auspicious day of the week, Fjádagur (Friday) in Harpa (Víressë). Both the groom and bride would be required to prepare separately and Lady Rainavic’s family returning for this purpose prior to the wedding itself. Lady Rainavic separated from Prince Vidugauja to lodge with her aunts, mother, and female kin. There, her old clothing and any symbols of her unwed status were removed, including the bracelet worn by all unwed Rhovanion girls, and work began on Lady Rainavic’s wedding garb.

She would wear a long, flowing gown of pale blue linen. It was embellished with intricate embroidery in delicate designs. She fasted and bathed and purified herself with her female kin for the approaching event. Her clothing was burned, but the bracelet was kept so that Rainavic could bestow it on a future daughter. Rainavic was then bestowed the silver crown her mother had worn on her wedding day. This too would go to a future daughter in time.

Prince Vidugauja ‘s preparations were quite different. He brought forward the sword his mother had bestowed to him. This would mark his transition from boyhood to man. He busied himself with gathering the morgen-gifu (morning gift) once the wedding was consummated, for it must be at least a third of Lady Rainavic’s dowry. For this, he turned to Vidumavi for aid in gathering the clothing, household items and jewellery required.

Prince Vidugauja would wear a linen embroidered tunic in deep blue and trousers of wool dyed red. Both his tunic and trousers were embroidered in the pattern of his uncle’s house – this was also Vidumavi’s contribution. Indeed, she spent many hours with his mother late into the night, bent over this task after a long day in the fields or training with Alruna.

On this night, however, Lady Vidmiriah had retired early with a headache that made the fine work of embroidery impossible. Vidumavi sat before the hearth, intently embroidering Vidugauja’s tunic on her own. As she did this, the man who would wear it wandered out. He had just finished a meeting with his uncle and father and he was not yet ready to retire for the night.

Vidugauja paused when he saw Vidumavi before the hearth, diligently working on his tunic. He crossed to join her, settling in to watch.

”Thank you, Mavi.” he said after a while and she looked up and smiled.

”You would do the same for me, surely.”

He chuckled at that, for Vidumavi had a disarming smile. ”If I did, it would not be nearly so neat and pretty.”

She laughed and bowed her head, returning to her work. ”A week or so, and it will be finished.”

He nodded and pondered for a moment. ”Has the king spoken to you of late?”

“Not a day passes when we do not,”
Vidumavi replied, attention on her work.

Vidugauja sucked his teeth, debating on what he might say if anything. The king may not wish for Vidumavi to know yet. On the other hand, there was the matter he had overheard a few days ago as he passed the bedroom she shared with his sister. He pushed out a sigh and spoke. ”New offers have begun to arrive.”

“Oh?”
she asked, pausing to examine her recent stitching. She was beginning to tire and she did want to ruin this section with messy work. When her cousin did not reply, she glanced up to him and smiled. ”For wine, I hope,” she remarked, for they would need more than mead and ale for the wedding fast approaching.

“Your hand,” he clarified and Vidumavi blinked, caught by surprise. Last she had heard, every offer had been withdrawn for fear of Fennic’s reprisals. Was she mistaken, she now wondered.

”But I thought-“ she began, breaking off when Vidugauja shook his head from side to side.

”It would appear that some were inspired to recover their nerve after your contributions to the costnang. You were, cousin, quite remarkable.” Vidumavi lowered the tunic to her lap and attempted to school her expression. Vidugauja, however, knew her too well. ”I see this does not please you.”

She averted her gaze to the fire they sat before. ”I know my duty,” she said quietly.

Vidugauja sighed at her anguish. ”This is why I think it unwise to pursue...other interests.” He did not speak Valacar’s name and he did not need to, given his cousin’s response.

“He is a good man!”[/i] she said at once and with some heat, attention swinging back to where he sat. "And such an alliance would benefit both our peoples. Why can you not see this, Vid? Why must you stand in our way?"

Vidugauja’s brows lifted, for rarely did Vidumavi speak in anger. ”His kind and ours are different, Mavi. He will live twice as long, if not longer, than you or I. What will come as youth leaves you, as it must?”

Vidumavi bowed her head at this. She had no answer for it.

”Then there is his station to consider. If the courtship should sour, Mavi, what then? And you know his people would never accept such a union. Why, it is more than likely that his father already has plans in train for his only son.”

Vidumavi's silence continued but he knew this was upsetting her and it grieved him. He gentled his tone. ”You are far better off in Rhovanion, with our own kind.”

Vidumavi set the tunic aside and rose to her feet. Without a word, she turned for the doors to the lodge and set off.

”Where are you going?” he called after her. ”It is late!"

She did not answer as she passed out of the doors and into the night. Once there, she found herself faced with five Shieldmaidens who immediately marked her presence. Vidumavi shook her head at them, but they did not stand down. They could not and so she turned and went to the only place she might be alone: the bathhouse.

Meanwhile, Vidugauja debated going after his cousin. Before he could, his sister advanced. ”Happy with yourself, are you?” she hissed, angry.

Vidugauja rolled his shoulders. ”It had to be said before things got entirely out of hand.”

”It was not your place to say,”
Alruna returned.

”Nor was it yours to encourage, sister!” he shot back, pushed to his feet and faced his younger sister. ”You have made this far more difficult than it needed to be.”

“You are an ass, Vid,”
Alruna declared with some scorn, crossing her arms and lifting her chin.

”Ass or not, Mavi must wed and must wed wisely, for the sake of us all. You do her a great disservice by allowing her these...fancies.”

Alruna shook her head at him in disgust. ”If I were you, I’d busy yourself with your own wedding. I hope you’ve learnt your embroidery.”

And with that, the Shieldmaiden stomped off. Vidugauja sighed at this and turned back to the tunic Vidumavi had set aside. He shook his head sadly and thought to himself that at least the Ambassador had not been so cruel as to encourage her interest in him.



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The Bathhouse
Einmánudur (Súlimë)

Vidumavi’s tears fell free as she gained the privacy of the bathhouse. The bathhouse was dimly lit at this hour, quiet save for her footsteps and shaking breathing and filled with steam. Vidumavi bit back a sob and pressed forward. She shed her clothing swiftly, not caring even to fold them up, desperate to get into the water as quickly as she might. Into the waters she slipped and sank beneath the surface to scream as loudly as she could. For all of it was true. All of it.

She’d known from the outset that she could never be a suitable wife for such a man. She would wither before his very eyes. His people would never accept her. Nor could he risk such a liaison going awry. This was, most like, why he had not sought her father’s leave to court her. It also why he would likely never do so.

Vidumavi surfaced, gulped in the air her lungs screamed for and turned for the stone edge of the pool. She folded her arms on the side, buried her head in them and wept for the futility of it all.

And in all of this, she had not marked the presence of another taking advantage of the solitude offered by the late hour.


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Valacar
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Rhovania – Valacar's Quarters
22 Nínui – Early Morning


Valacar managed to write a personal letter to his father. It was one of the hardest things he had done....

'Father,

I thank you for your words and direction in your last dispatch. Recalling Darion … I wished not to see him go, but his work here was done with me taking his place. He will love going south to the warmth and he may learn to sweat again. I was glad he was here to steer me around some pitfalls of local customs and I will always be thankful to him for that.

Since arriving, the months seemed to move at their own speed. There in Osgiliath, the winter could be cold and snowy maybe for a week on the coldest days, but it never seemed to last that long. Here, the winter comes early and lingers long. The bone-chilling cold would have the snows that were relatively dry and fell almost constantly from a light flurry to wind-driven drifting blizzards. Now, as spring is coming, so I am told by my Northmen brethren. I cannot see it, other than it is less cold.

Now, the snows have become rains, but I am told that the days of spring is coming. Today I saw the sun for the first time on over a month, and unlike when it shone low in the winter, it gave warmth! The people are excited for the coming of the season of renewal. There are matters I would speak with you about, but I have to be in the right mind to do so. It is something that should be said face-to-face between father and son, and it is doubtful that will be possible to do.

Until next time I write, Namarie

Valacar


He read it and knew he spoke not that which was weighing on him the most. It was not the time or the place.



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Rhovania – The City Bathhouse
Gwaeron (Einmánudur)


Valacar had come here to sit and think and write. It was a strange place to do that, but it was better than his quarters as he found the water running inspiring... the sound of it echoing through the stone had some majestic comfort to it.

He was on a stone bench in a back hall chamber that led to one of the streets where the markets were. It was little used. That route in to the city bathhouse was shown to him by Darion. Valacar missed Darion, and he thought back to when the dispatch from Osgiliath came to him...

Minalcar Rómendacil II wrote:'Ambassador Valacar,

I address you formally when matters of state are concerned. I ask that you do the same. Send all personal communiques separately.

It was good to read you have found common interests and ground with the heir of Vidugavia's. The young nephew fought well in Rhûn and I have a commendation for him coming to you soon along with gifts for his nuptials.

I have to inform you and Darion that Darion's services are needed elsewhere at this time, and as soon as it is safe to travel the track south, he will return to Osgiliath. You now hold the responsibilities he held, and I want you to immerse yourself completely into their culture and ways of life. Will expect your next dispatch to arrive here around the Tuilérë festival. You will be missed at the games this year.

RD II
Seal of King Narmacil I

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The sound of light footsteps broke his thoughts even though they could be barely heard over the sound of the running water. Valacar sat still and listened. The stone carried sounds very well... someone had slipped into the bath. The sounds of water running off a body in the bath was much different than the steady splashing of the stream.

Putting his parchment in the leather binder he carried, he stood and walked slowly toward the bath chamber. The sobs could be heard louder now. He could see now it was Vidumavi! Did he risk a diplomatic furor by approaching her while in the bath? He listened for others.... Alruna and the shieldmaidens couldn't be far... he decided to slowly back away and would make his way out the way he came in.

Freezing in his step only paces from the door, it swung shut before him. The shieldmaidens were afoot… he could hear a couple of them talking outside the door. Alruna had seen Vidumavi go into the bathhouse chambers by the main entrance and ordered their deployment to all entrances. One by one, the sounds of bolts were heard. First the main door ... the sound echoed with a rumble. Then to the back door was bolted, and a moment later, a feinter echo was heard from the far side entrance. It was obvious for the benefit of Princess Vidumavi, but he was locked in!


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Outside, Alruna stood guard at the main entrance. Varocci, a shieldmaiden apprentice in her sixteenth spring and the younger sister of the Shieldmaiden Vocinna, approached her. "All doors are secure and guarded. Vocinna had swept the place earlier, and did so again right before Lady Vidumavi came in. The Lord of Gondor is inside writing in his book and she stands at the door he had gone in from."

Alruna nodded. ”Very well. Varocci, run the acknowledgement back to Vocinna and have her escort Valacar to Lady Vidumavi, then run the acknolegement to the others at the other doors.” The shieldmaiden had routinely secured the bathhouse many times before when Lady Vidumavi was there alone. This was not out of the ordinary. It was a place of solace and reflection for her, and Alruna insured she had her privacy. What was unknown to anybody else, and was different this time, was she knew Valacar was inside...

Alruna hoped she didn’t violate Vidumavi’s trust by allowing this… but she saw the need for her and Lord Valacar to have some uninterrupted private time together, and this was the best way. Valacar had made it easy being he liked the solitude of the place for writing his letters, dispatches, and journals. It was the way with the tall men of the south. She learned that while there. Her shield-sister Vocinna was intrigued by the art and had made rudimentary progress in learning it. Any progress though, ended when they came back north.


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Being locked in, Valacar feared he was being set up by one of the factions. A claim of infidelity against the Princess of Rhovania would be damaging to Vidugavia and his quest to rule completely. Having that discretion done by the ambassador of Gondor would be even worse. The sound of the door where he came in opened and closed and was again bolted. He was faced by one of the shieldmaidens. Valacar raised his hands in a sign of surrender. He would go freely to his judgement.

“M’lady Vocinna, I uh …” he stalled. She didn’t look at all interested in taking him in custody. Her hand went up and she walked by him in the narrow hall. ”Come with me.” was all she said and Valacar turned and did as instructed.

Valacar had always been intrigued by this particular shieldmaiden. Of all six that had come to Gondor after the war, It was she who instilled the least amount of trouble. The Raven-haired woman with the blue eyes could have passed for a woman of Gondor even if she was in fact full Rhovanion. He was sure she used this to her advantage more than a few times in Osgiliath. The one incident where she was deeply involved was a serious one though. She had marked a particular royal guardsman who happened to be her size, then stole … she said ‘used’ or ‘borrowed’ his uniform and armor. She impersonated him to gain access to the Regent’s chamber, which she did. Why she did was never really answered. Valacar managed to get her cleared as simply pulling a prank on a soldier she fancied. The soldier did not object, but he was soon transferred to Minas Ithil after the incident. Turned out there was a bet among the shieldmaidens as to whether she could get away with it. The only reason she was caught was because of the rank of the particular soldier. As she went to return and to shed the uniform, she was approached by a junior sergeant to sign a weekly roster. She couldn’t do it, and the junior sergeant noted a difference in the eyes and she was arrested.


When they came to the bath chamber, Vocinna announced their presence. ”Lady Vidumavi, you have a visitor.”

The shieldmaiden’s voice took Vidumavi by surprise and she turned and stood, but seeing who the visitor was, she immediately dropped back into the water to her neck. ” Wh… what is the meaning of this?”

“You will have to speak with Captain Alruna m’lady. I can escort him away if you wish it.”
Vocinna swallowed as Valacar averted his eyes away from Vidumavi.

”No... no, if the Lord of Gondor calls on me here I will speak with him. You can leave us please Vocinna.” Vidumavi met Valacar’s eyes as he turned back to look upon the head that was in the water. Vocinna nodded and turned and with precision stepped back down the narrow hallway which they had come.

”Lord Valacar… what brings you here to call on me now, while I bathe?” Vidumavi moved some as she brought herself up out of the water a little.

”I had no intentions of invading your time of solace her m’lady. Time spent with you in the fields and trees fills my desire of your company. Believe me, I was as much surprised as you with this.” Valacar cleared his throat as the echo of that door opened and closed. Vocinna had stepped out of the bathhouse hall.

”So it seems. I know you well enough by now Lord Valacar that you would not attempt this. Yet, we find ourselves here alone and under guard it seems. I will have a word with my shield-sisters about this, I assure you.” Vidumavi gazed at Valacar silently for a moment, and Valacar shifted on his feet as he looked around the dimly lit bathhouse. It was a lot more civilised than the one Vidugauja took him to a few times now up in the hills. He was feeling awkward and a bit self-conscience with the Princess of Rhovania bathing naked before him.

Vidumavi, pondered the enormity of this… what all could happen should it be discovered she was in here with Lord Valacar. It was common knowledge that when Princess Vidumavi went to the bathhouse late to be alone, the shieldmaidens accompanied her and guarded all entrances. Nothing out of the ordinary would appear outside. All would know she was inside alone. But young Varocci had sighed Valacar going into the little-used door and reported it to Alruna as she trailed Vidumavi. Her plan came together in moments, and she got her sisters to take positions around the bathhouse per standard routine.

”Yet here you are… with me… here… with my guard at every door. They know you’re here, so I have to ask you Valacar of Gondor, would you like to join me in here?” Vidumavi raised herself more, resting her arms on the edge and setting her chin on the back of her hand. The water barely shrouded her areolas as it moved about her.

Valacar turned and went to a bench and removed his boots and clothes and set his binder under his tunic. Vidumavi smiled and turned in the water, pushing off to glide across to the far side. Had Valacar looked back, he would have seen her smooth skin of her but slide through above the water as she moved. When he stood up and looked over his shoulder, she was down on the far side, and he asked, ”Should I step backwards toward the bath m’lady, or will you avert your eyes?”

“Nay Valacar of Gondor, I will not avert my eyes. I am here alone, so there is nothing need to avert my eyes from.”
Vidumavi felt herself warm with impending embarrassment as Valacar turned and started walking toward the bath. Vidumavi stood and watched him step in, and she stepped closer as he did the same. Valacar paused and looked into her eyes despite her perfect breasts stared back at him. He was just glad he hadn’t firmed up on his walk to the bath…

”M’lady, though we risk much here, know that though I would not have sought this, it is something I admit have thought about. Know this … “ Valacar cleared his throat as Vidumavi tilted her head. ”Feel free to speak your mind Valacar… not as ambassador of Gondor, but of Valacar. I will shed my titles as well and will speak my mind just as Vidumavi…”

Valacar nodded and said as they stepped closer. They stood at arms-length from each other, and their hands reached out for one another and grasped each other. They drew no closer as they looked at each other. ”The naked truth, Vidumavi, is I plan on asking your father permission to court you. I expect he will deny me, and I will wait the allotted time to ask again… and again… and again… until the day you are betrothed to a son of this lord of Rhovania or that lord of Rhovania. Know even then, the love I feel building in me for you will never cease.”

Vidumavi stood expressionless as she pondered the enormity of what Valacar was saying. Both he and she knew her father could not grant him this, for it would be political suicide for him to do so. The repercussions of any scandal that would erupt if it were discovered they were here alone together would pale should permission was granted for him to court her… not only in Rhovania, but in Gondor.

Valacar and Vidumavi were silent as they stood in the bath and held hands before Valacar repeated softly… ”The naked truth is I have fallen in love with you Vidumavi and there is nothing in my power that can do anything about it… not in denying it, or advance it, and it pains me inside …” He went quiet as he closed the distance between them…


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Rhovania – The City Bathhouse
Einmánudur (Gwaeron)



Was her heart and her mind playing tricks on her, she wondered? Vidumavi blinked and found Valacar was still there, his fingers entwined with her own. The steam was condensing on his skin. Tiny rivulets tracing down his chest and arms. She swallowed, unable to take her eyes from his, as he drew closer and closer.

The water lapped beneath her breasts and lower still on him, for Valacar was very tall. He came nearer still and lowered his head. She closed her eyes as his brow gently touched her own, and the tenderness of the gesture drew a soft breath from her. Vidumavi unwound her hand to place a palm over his heart. It was thrumming, almost as fast as her own and she looked up and into his eyes.

”I have dreamed of this,” she whispered, almost to herself. ”Do I dream now?”

Valacar smiled softly at that. ”This is no dream,” he murmured, his free hand sliding around her. She drew closer, gasping as their skin met. Her breasts were pillowed against his bare chest now and the warmth she felt kindling though her had nothing to do with embarrassment.

Vidumavi pressed onto her toes and brought her lips closer to his. He tilted his head and closed the final distance. Time froze as their lips met. She felt him grasp her to him, lifting her in the water, and then she was adrift in his embrace. When her senses cleared once more, they were both breathing unevenly. She had wrapped a leg around him as well as her arms, and she could feel him pressing against her thigh.

Never had she been kissed like that before. Never had she wanted to be kissed like that before. Certainly, never had she wanted to do a great deal more than that before. Vidumavi felt as though every nerve ending had been set afire and she wanted more, so much more.

”I...I love you, Valacar. I have never felt this way before,” she admitted, closing her eyes as he stroked the skin of her lower back, trailing little fires wherever his fingers passed under the water. ”I want no other but you, and no one could make me happier. Even so, my father will have questions.”

“Of course,”
Valacar replied, attention sharpening on the challenge before them. ”He loves you well. What questions might he ask?”

His arms rested around her once more and hers around him. Being this close, this intimate was a rare privilege neither wished to end sooner than they must.

”He will likely ask whether you have considered my fate once I wither before your eyes.”

Valacar nodded at this, seemingly unperturbed. ”What else?”

Vidumavi paused at this. ”He will ask you whether there could ever be a place for me amongst your people. And, of course, he will ask of your father.”

Again Valacar nodded, thinking. “Your clever mind, your brave spirit and your gentle heart will always be beautiful to me,” he replied. ”As for the other-“

Before he could answer, the sound of a door being unbolted echoed through the bathhouse. Vidumavi and Valacar froze, embracing in the warm water. Their time together was coming to a close. The pair kissed once more as a Shieldmaiden cleared her throat somewhere in the mist.

”You’d best be drying that hair, Mavi, or you’ll catch cold,” Alruna ventured, her voice bouncing off the stones and water.

Reluctantly, Valacar and Vidumavi untangled themselves. Even that left Vidumavi desperate for more. She turned away and pulled herself out of the water, aware of Valacar’s attention on her. Alruna materialised from the steam to find her dripping on the side of the pool.

”Look at you,” she chided, smiling to herself. ”You’re soaking wet!”

Vidumavi hastened to find a towel as Alruna turned to the pool. She was close enough to see the water, and who was in it, as she cast about. ”At least your privacy was undisturbed,” she remarked, smirking as her attention skimmed right over Valacar’s very obvious head.

”How many know,” Vidumavi asked as she emerged from the tunic she was putting on. Damp skin made dressing far more difficult.

”Know what?” Alruna retorted, sauntering across. ”Hurry, we need to get you in front of a fire. And don’t think a late night will excuse you from training on the morrow, or is it today now?”

“Rue!”
Vidumavi objected, draping the apron like dress she had been wearing over one arm.

Alruna chuckled to herself. ”The piper must be paid, Mavi.”

The Shieldmaiden was still chuckling as she followed her cousin back out of the bathhouse, leaving Valacar to find his own way out and back to his lodgings. And though their hearts were full, both Valacar and Vidumavi appreciated the challenges before them.

The following day was an unremarkable one, as was the one that followed it. The weeks whiled away and as they did so, the spring rains eased and summer appeared. With it, the final preparations for the wedding.



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Harpa (Víressë)
Royal Lodge – Afternoon


It was on a warm afternoon, as Vidugauja endured the close scrutiny of his mother and cousin on his wedding garb, that the king approached the ambassador quietly reading in a sunny spot.

”Turn around,” Lady Vidmiriah ordered her son.

”Again? You’ve already looked at that side,” the prince protested.

”Do you want an even hem,” Vidumavi asked.

”No one will even notice,” Vidugauja grumbled, complying with the demands all the same.

The king chuckled at this exchange and then looked to where Valacar sat. ”Any word from Darion?”

Valacar gave up pretending to read and closed his book. He shook his head at Vidugavia’s inquiry. ”I imagine the next dispatch will arrive with the gifts my father has sent.”

The king sat, leaned back against the wall, and studied the wedding fitting. Vidugauja continued to wage a valiant if doomed struggle of wills against not one, but two women determined that all should be exactly as it should be. But this, of course, was not what occupied his thoughts or what had driven him to seek the ambassador out.

There was, of course, no hint of impropriety. His daughter was far too careful about that. There were little tells, however. Fingers brushing, hands lingering, how closely they sat or stood together. The way his daughter’s face lit up whenever she saw this man of Gondor. Certainly, the way she simply did not seem to notice any of the other suitors that had begun to arrive for the wedding. And then there was the matter of her demands to him.

”Mavi tells me that I must listen to you when you seek my leave to court her. I am also commanded to provide you with a suitable Rhovanion name,” he began, shaking his head at how adamant his usually gentle daughter had been. ”I cannot blame you,” the king continued. ”My daughter is easy to love as her mother was.”

Valacar kept quiet until the king eyed him. His head bowed. ”Yes, Sire. She certainly is,” he quietly replied.

The king nodded at this. ”Of course, you will need to more than kill a wild boar,” he remarked, referring to how he won the right to court Vidumavi’s mother. Vidugavia paused here and sighed. ”My daughter’s happiness means more to me than I can say. But I am more than a father and she is more than my daughter.”

”I think I understand,”
Valacar said.

”We shall see,” Vidugavia said, studying Valacar intently. ”If you would court my daughter, I must know that she will not be set aside once you are recalled to Gondor. I will not see her heart broken, nor her honour sullied.” Valacar drew breath to answer but Vidugavia shook his head. ”Think on it, lad. And when you find your answer, ask your question. For my part, I will give you a fair hearing.”

“Thank you, Sire,”
Valacar said and the king nodded and pressed to his feet. As he did so, a Shieldmaiden entered the royal lodge.

She was tall, possessed of vividly red hair, a spray of freckles across her nose and eyes as green as a forest glade. She was also, clearly, a senior Shieldmaiden with her hair entirely braided. ”Lady Rainavi’s family has arrived,” she declared.

At this, Vidugauja shot forward and would have made his way out of the lodge had not the Shieldmaiden blocked his path. ”It is bad fortune, no?”

“Superstitions!”
Vidugauja retorted, dodging unsuccessfully to the other side. ”They’re just clothes.”

”Just clothes!”
his mother echoed with ample disapproval. ”Did you hear that, Mavi?”

“I did, aunt,”
Vidumavi replied, smiling at her cousin’s attempt to get past the Shieldmaiden. ”Hold your course, Brytta,” she added and the Shieldmaiden grinned.

”I’ll have your torcs for this,” Vidugauja tried, as a last attempt to get out.

This made Brytta snort as she tossed her braids about. ”Just as well I have none,” she remarked. ”Go polish your sword or something,” she suggested with wink as she pushed the prince deeper into the lodge.

”Fine,” Vidugauja grumbled once it became clear he wasn’t getting out any time soon. ”But I’ll not soon forget this,” he promised.

This also made Brytta laugh, the king as well. For, as the wedding drew closer, Vidugajua had more than enough to occupy his time and mind. Guests followed the bride’s family, from thanes and princes to the north and south, to nobles of their courts and anyone curious to see the first royal wedding of Rhovanion. Even the dwarves of the Iron Hills sent emissaries for such an event, a great honour indeed. The Greenwood Elves did not send emissaries for their part, but they did send wine instead which was certainly welcomed. The city was full of onlookers, guests, traders and emissaries. There were markets, feasts, dances and all the usual sports that marked the summer festivities of the Rhovanion people.

Aside from the wedding, there were matters of trade and discussions about what to do with Dorwinion. After yule, Fennic had gone suspiciously quiet and there was agreement that this did not bode well for anyone. There were also betrothals to arrange, and amongst the Order, a book was opened on whether one in particular was put forward.


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Mid Súlimë
Osgiliath – Morning



The maidservant Sirienna had tried several ways to get herself assigned to the official emissary party that was heading to Rhovania to represent Gondor at the royal wedding of Prince Vidugauja and Lady Rainavi. Unfortunately for her, the size of the party was paired back to a half-dozen men who would ride swiftly. Her long-planned attempt to join Valacar n the north had come to naught. The morning the party was leaving, Sirienna gave a sealed letter to Calmiel, the Marine who was representative of the southern fiefdoms of Gondor.

”Please sir, can you see that this gets to Valacar?” Sirienna had a mournful look in her eyes as she asked. Calmiel had schooled with Valacar in Pelargir years ago and remembered him.

”I will do so m’lady…” Calmiel took the flat and slid it into a pouch with other official dispatches bound for Rhovania. ”Whom shall I say asked me to do this?”

“Sirienna of Anórien, his mother Lady Gaelan’s maidservant. Valacar knows me well.”
Sirienna bowed to the man as he started to ride away.

“Shall I say it is delivered with your love?” Calmiel asked even if he didn’t pause. He gave Sirienna a quick look to see her nod before riding out of the city’s northwest gate. She put her hands together and brought them to her mouth as her wet eyes let tears flow. She needed to get back to the Regent’s house...

Calmiel rode forth thinking about his charge. Not only did he have a letter from this Lady Sirienna, but one he brought north from Pelargir from Lady Cindyara, the daughter of Captain Saeris. Valacar was going to receive a lot of mail when he arrived, and not all of it official dispatches....


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Víressë (Harpa)
Royal Lodge – Afternoon


Arriving late, the small party of Gondorians were escorted into the city by two shieldmaidens on horseback. They came to the royal lodge as the wedding preparations were still underway. The service was to take place at sunset, which was now much later when the shadows of the Misty Mountains shrouded the town.

Valacar had been thinking of the words King Vidugavia had spoken to him not an hour before, as Vidumavi weighed heavily on his mind. He looked up to the approach of familiarly attired soldiers approaching. As they dismounted, Valacar could see Darion was not among them, but Valacar did recognize one of them He was Calmiel who he had schooled with in Pelargir. Valacar never liked his politics and wondered what prompted him to journey this far north away from the sea he so loved. A talk with the party from Gondor and with him alone would have to wait. There was still much to be done for this wedding. Valacar went to seek out Vidugauja…

”You really seem nerved up Vidi. Maybe we should step outside for some air.” Valacar opened a door that led to a private courtyard facing east and they both stepped out. With both men standing therein their formal attire, they were a sight that only an older woman would see. She had been sketching the blooming flowers around the edges when they had walked out. They didn’t pay her any mind and Vidugauja took a breath of the fragrant air. ”Marriage. What Am I going to do? I barely know the girl. I mean she’s nice… I’m just… well… I don’t have much experience.”

Valacar smiled as a chuckle came out of him. ”And you’re asking advice from the guy whose about to ask your uncle for permission to court your cousin? I’m afraid I can’t help you there my friend.”

“I know… wait, so you haven’t been with girls either?”
Vidugauja eyes him seriously. Valacar suddenly saw this as a trap. If he said he has, it would get to both Vidumavi and Vidugavia. ”No, not like that. Listen, you calm yourself and when the time comes, you will know what to do. Here have a sip.”

Valacar handed Vidugauja a small silver flask that Darion had given him. It still had some of the Ithilien spirits from Gondor, and Vidugauja tipped it to hiss lips and felt the burn. He made a face but didn’t cough. ”You keep it my nervous friend. Consider it a wedding gift. Come on… we don’t want people looking for us.”

“Yeah… hey Val… thank you. Thanks for doing this… standing with me today. I will have to think upon whether I’d do the same for you should the time come.”
Vidugauja held the flask up and tool another small sip before corking it and sliding it into an inside vest pocket. Valacar gave him a nod as Lady Vidmiriah came out.

”There you two are. Don’t be going off to mud-wrestle in your finery now boys.”

“We’re good m’lady.”
Valacar said as he walked by her. ”Just settling some nerves.” He gave Vidugauja a look over his shoulder and went back inside.


As the shadows approached, the ceremony began, and everyone looked pleased for this to be happening. Valacar kept his distance, but he stole a few glimpses of Vidumavi as she tended to Lady Rainavi. Valacar stood by Vidugauja even though his mind was weighing the enormity of what he was about to do. He needed to talk to Vidumavi about their lives and the years they would each live. As much as he loved her, he wasn’t sure he could cause her to suffer ageing with him. Did she not deserve someone of her own kin that would age gracefully with her? If they do this, it would speak much of her love for him, and of his to her…

”Ahem… “ Vidugauja cleared his throat as he nudged Valacar. Right… he had a ring to give him… where was the ring… he fumbled in his vest pocket and found there were two rings in it. Valacar took a breath as the whole ceremony was now watching him. There was some grunts and mumbles about Gondorians in general among those gathered, but Valacar pulled a ring out and handed it to Vidugauja. He looked at it then to Valacar and turned to Lady Rainavi to place it on her finger. It fit perfectly!

Valacar looked at her hand as they spoke, and he now knew where he had put that ring. He had acquired it in Pelargir like so many other things. He remembered why it was in his formal suit vest pocket as well. A momentary thought was given to Sirienna, the woman he was once in love with and had planned to ask for her hand at one time… Valacar cleared his head as the proclamation was made for the newlywed couple. Valacar joined in the cheers as he eyed Lady Rainavi. That ring looked beautiful on her hand. He reached into his vest pocket and took the ring Vidugauja had given him and looked at it. He smirked, for it was probably best he didn’t hold on to that memory. He then joined the line of greeting for the bride and groom.


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Víressë (Harpa)
Royal Lodge Courtyard – Evening


The drinks and dancing were in full swing as the talk and banter rolled with a pleasing din. The atmosphere was much more pleasant and relaxed compared to the events around the new year. Still there were the talks and whispers of current events, only in a much more muted way. When it came to Valacar taking Vidumavi’s hand in the dance, he looked to her eyes in love and knew that if they did marry, it would be for love. They would walk together knowing the future, for though its events were unseen, it would be known to be tragic for them in her later years.

The dancing went on as Valacar kept his intake of the mead moderate. A moment had come where Vidumavi was sitting with Lady Rainavi, and as the bride left, Valacar sat down beside her and took her hand in his.

’M’lady, I will formally ask your father for your hand in the coming days.” He paused to swallow. “ I must ask you, and I must make sure it is known to you that our people… yours and mine… have very different paths for them to tread in the world of men.”

Valacar entwined his fingers with Vidumavi’s, and pondering her father’s words, he had a grim smile on his face. ”Though you are much younger in years than I, you will age beautifully and wither like a flower of the field while I will age becoming lined with care and shrouded evermore in grey.”

He leaned closer to Vidumavi. ”Though I am merely a regent’s son, a nobleman of a younger line of the ruling house of Anárion of Gondor, my love for you will never cease if you be my wife, never in all the years we have together, until death takes either you or me, naturally or unnaturally.”

“It is my will to love you Valacar of Gondor be you prince or pauper, as it is yours to love me, princess or pauper. There is something I feel with you, and I cannot change that no matter how hard I try. Our lives will be as long or as short as they will be. To spend mine with you would bless this life of mind to no end.”
Vidumavi took and squeezed his hand as she spoke.

Valacar was silent for a moment as he held her hand. Yes, there were eyes on them, not the least King Vidugavia’s. The king had the gut feeling that both Valacar and his daughter Vidumavi had made his decision and would be visiting him soon. So too did Vidugauja see his cousin and Valacar together. He had yet to dance with his cousin, and so went to take her hand just as his sister Alruna came and took Valacar’s...



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Víressë (Harpa)
Northeast Reach of the Emyn Muil
Evening of the Wedding


Carmahdil and his men hunkered in the cave with their small fire. Swords were drawn when the approach of several Rhovanions approached. It was a surprise that Chieftain Fennic of Dorwinion himself had come to meet with the representative of the Gondorian Mariners Guild.

”It’s about time you got here.” Carmahdil snarled as he stood. He looked over the Rhovanian chieftain with little attempt to hide his disdain.

”We had to move slowly and at night. We have worthy goods with us, and we could ill afford Vidugavia’s watch discover us traversing across the southern reach of lands friendly to him.” Fennic already didn’t like the attitude of these Gondorians. But then, they were willing to circumvent Videgavia’s boycott and blockade of Dorwinia. He would extract a high price from them.

”Whatever fortunes that the Vala had blessed over these lands of Middle Earth, it is yours that was blessed with the means to make the finest wines. Our local wines are good, but cannot compare to the Dorwinion fare. Shall we negotiate?” Carmahdil spoke clearly and slowly as if the Dorwinions would have trouble understanding Westron.

”We were clear and have made our price known in our communications. If ye come here thinking the inferior northmen will give way more, you be mistaked seaman.” Fennic eyed the others of his party and wagged his little finger of his right hand. Should things come to blows, Fennic had the advantage of numbers.

”Easy now Fennic of Dorwinia. Your price is fair. It is the quantity we negotiate. With routes risky and all. If you can get us consistent supply here on the fortnight, the resources and strength of Gondor will see the good through to their market. We are willing to offer a bonus after the first two months of consistency. Can ya do that?” Carmahdil eyed Chieftain Fennic as they two put their wills out to confront each other.

”Seems I have the upper hand here, Carmahdil of the south. Even now, the woodland elves are working ways to secure our goods. I must send them some when they secure their routes.” Fennic squinted an eye as he stared down Carmahdil.

”We aren’t asking for all your supply. You get us twenty crates delivered here every fortnight, we will be content.” Carmahdil nodded and offered a hand to shake. ”We’ll start with the crates you brought tonight and count them toward this month.”

Fennic chewed his bark as he kept eyes on Carmahdil. ”Of course, should Gondor shift their support from Vidugavia to me, things could move much easier south.”

“I’m afraid I can’t make that sort of agreement.”
Carmahdil took a breath and looked to his men before looking back to Fennic.

”It took enough for me to get Regent Minaltar to simply ignore our activities here. He likes his Dorwinian wine as much as any Gondorian, and he will get it. But he isn’t called Rómendacil II for nothing. Vidugavia and he got real close in the war. It was a big concession from him to agree to look the other way with this as it is.”

“Aye. We agree. For now. We meet again in two months then.”
Fennic waved his arm and his men handed the wagon over to Carmahdil’s men after they checked the crates.

”I will see about these other requests you have Chieftain Fennic.” Carmahdil put his hand to his chin and scratched his stubble. ”Just know that Gondor officially stands with King Vidugavia, and any surreptitious activities you may make on King Vidugavia will be officially condemned.”

Fennic waved his hand at Carmahdil. ”Of course. I would expect nothing else from Gondor.”

With that, the two parties went their separate ways. Fennic with much coin, and Carmahdil with crates of Dorwinion’s finest wine that would have gone to the woodland elves…


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Víressë (Harpa)
A Week after the Wedding
Midday - King Videgavia’s Bathhouse


“My king, Lord Valacar has arrived.”
“Yes, show him in. I’m betting he will need a good soak after being gone several days.”
Vidugavia drooped under the water and came back up, pushing his hair back. Valacar walked in and looked at Vidugavia. ”King Vidugavia, I heard your words and know that my life with Vidumavi will be filled with love and I will cherish her forevermore.”

Valacar walked around to sit on a bench beside the bath and and looked Vidugavia in his eyes. ”She will not find a broken heart or abandonment as my beloved wife. Vidumavi and I spoke of these things at Vidugauja and Rainavi’s celebration of life and we are in agreement that we love each other, and nothing that may come in years ahead will change that.”

Valacar scratched his rough beard on his chin as he looked down at the surface of the water... "As penance for asking you for your daughter’s hand in marriage, I have gone out into the wilds and have returned with one wild boar. I feared it would not be so mighty as your kill, so I bring you a sixteen-point stag for feasting. If there is anything more you ask of me, please tell, for I will do it for Lady Vidumavi.”

Vidugavia sat unmoving as he stared back at the Gondorian. As much as the local politics will suffer from this, he was of a mind to agree to this. Having a blood-bond with Gondorian noble would have its merits and benefits in years to come. ”You will get your formal blessing Valacar of Gondor, but I must talk with Vidumavi first. Until that time, You are not to see her or be near her, for time must be given to see if this love you speak of is sincere… from the both of you.”

“I understand m’lord.”
Valacar took a deep breath. He had just put Vidumavi’s company offlimits. ”I will head into the mountains of the north and seek counsel with Varda, queen of the stars, and will return in a fortnight’s time.” Valacar was waved off by King Vidugavia and he left the King’s bathhouse. By the end of the day, Valacar had set out on foot toward the northern reaches of Ered Mithrin.

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Vidumavi
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Harpa (Víressë)
A week after the wedding
Northeast Reach of the Emyn Muil



Fennic had risked venturing to the Emyn Muil for more reason than meeting with a greedy Gondorian shiplord. From there, with so many away at the wedding, it was much easier to slip around the dark forest of Fangorn and go north between the Misty Mountains and the Greenwood. He divided the large number he had brought with him for this meeting, sending some back to Dorwinia directly to set the arrangements agreed with Carmahdil in motion. The rest, those he trusted, came with him. With the great forest between them, and Thranduil’s wish to secure Dorwinion’s wine in their favour, Fennic was able to bypass Vidugavia’s lands to the east.

As the wedding ended to the east, Fennic and his men passed Caras Daladon, Rhosgobel and the Forest Road, stopping only as necessary for these lands were known to be prowled by wargs, goblins and shapeshifting bears. Yet it was necessary to stop on occasion, for this venture had always been about so much more than Gondorian gold.

When it was done, Fennic and the men remaining in his company swung east once more. They made their way around the northern edge of the Greenwood, across the Withered Heath and swung south once they had passed the Iron Hills for Dorwinia. Such a circuitous route added several weeks, but by Fennic’s estimation it was time well spent. All was in place, including the funds he would need to execute his plan.



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The Day Valacar Sets Off - Evening

Vidumavi pulled a comb through her hair, smoothing each strand out in readiness for bed. Once it was combed, she would braid it so that it did not snarl as she slept. As she sat before the mirror, she smiled at her reflection. A boar and a stag, no less, and all by himself. That was no mean feat, she knew. So would anyone else. Alruna said Valacar had taken himself to see her father on his return. It would not be long now, and her stomach was filled with butterflies.

”You told me he would ask to court you,” her father said from the doorway.

Vidumavi set the comb down and turned about to face him. ”Did he?” she asked, rising to her feet.

”Oh, he asked for a good deal more than that,” her father replied. ”He informed me that you loved each other and wished to marry. Is this so?”

Vidumavi lifted her chin. ”It is, father.”

He eyed her at that. ”We shall see soon enough, I suppose. You must not see or speak with him until he returns.”

Return? How long would he be away? What if he could not return?

”Nor will you venture forth after him,” her father added, ”He must do this without your aid. Or Alruna’s for that matter.”

“I am to sit and wait?”
Vidumavi asked.

Her father smiled at this and crossed his arms. ”Oh, you will have more than enough to fill your time, daughter,“ he assured her and set off.

Vidumavi passed a restless night, pondering just what her father had meant. On the following day, she discovered that it meant dealing with the remaining suitors. Three young men had remained after the wedding, hoping to press their suit now that the ambassador from Gondor remained out of the way.



~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~


Two Weeks after Valacar Sets Off - Morning

In the days that passed, where Vidumavi was polite but firm that she had no interest nor intention of marrying any of them. One was relieved, for his heart already lay with another. One was offended, for he could not conceive of anyone else being more worthy than him. The third was a young man named Leif, with pale blonde hair and brown eyes. He was the last to remain as the days turned to weeks and then approached another week. Each morning, Vidumavi rose with the hope that Valacar would return, and each night she went to sleep wondering after how he fared.

Leif had proved a gentle companion in that time. He was shy and quick witted and of all the other suitors, Vidumavi liked him the best even if he did seem a little sad most of the time. He did not boast, nor preen, nor flatter. Leif was only amongst them at his father’s instance, and even then, he had not been a particularly enthusiastic suitor. Alruna said that Leif had no interest in women. If that were so, then Vidumavi felt badly for Leif that he was forced into such a charade.

It had almost been two weeks when Vidumavi rose and readied herself for the day. The stag and boar had drained and been slaughtered by now and she intended to forage for chestnuts and suitable herbs. A day in the forest would also soothe her mind for increasingly, she wondered if Valacar would return at all. To venture on foot, alone, on such a venture was a perilous undertaking.

With a wicker basket swinging in one hand, she made for the forest and almost gained it before Leif asked, ”Going somewhere?” Vidumavi turned at this and saw Leif wore a nervous smile as he looked about. ”Is it safe to venture in the forest alone? Perhaps I should escort you, my lady.”

“It will be very dull,”
she warned. ”And I know my way.”

“Even so,”
he replied, unswayed.

Vidumavi sighed inwardly at this and relented. ”Very well. Perhaps you might carry the basket?”

Leif nodded, almost relieved. She passed him the basket and they set off. As they did so, they spoke of Leif’s family. Vidumavi knew that he missed them. He also missed a good friend by the name of Asger. Perhaps more than a friend, Vidumavi thought, as they foraged about on that warm morning. It was a pleasant day, yet for all of that, Leif seemed to be on edge and jumping at the sounds of the forest.

”You seem uneasy,” Vidumavi finally remarked as Leif looked about the clearing they stood in. ”Does something trouble you, Leif?”

He brushed pale hair back as his brown eyes returned to where she stood. ”I...I need you to go with them. They will kill my family if you refuse.”

“Who will?”
she asked, and at that three men emerged from the trees into the clearing. She saw from their devices who they were immediately: Dorwinion men. ”If you run now, you might yet live,” she told them.

They smiled at this. ”It is not our life you should be concerned with, princess,” said one of them and then nodded to his two companions. They started forward towards her and Vidumavi backed away, pulling her belt knife free.

”Leif,” she said, for the young man stood with his head bowed. ”Get help. Get Rue.”

“I am sorry,”
he mumbled. ”I really am.”

Vidumavi turned at this and ran for the other side of the clearing. She had almost gained the cover of the trees when a small rock, thrown from a sling, sent her instead to the ground. Leif whimpered to himself as she crumpled.

”Little girls should not run with knives,” said the man stowing his sling. ”Secure her.”

The two men bound, gagged, and hooded the princess with alarming efficiency. It was almost like this was not the first time they had done such a thing. ”Make sure she can breathe. She’s worth nothing dead,” said the man standing beside Lief.

He turned next to Lief. ”You, on the other hand,“ he slipped the dagger between Leif’s ribs with expert precision. ”Have fulfilled your uses.”

Leif collapsed, falling to one side, as his heart and lungs began to flood. The bright sun became dim and the last thing he saw were the three men setting off deeper into the forest, Princess Mavi slung over one man’s shoulder like a sack of apples.


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

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22 Gwirith (Víressë, Harpa)
Ered Mithrin – Afternoon


Valacar was freezing. The seasons were moving to summer, but high in the hills, it was lagging. The fire he had did throw off some heat, but the bitter cold around him seemed to suck it up into nothing. He wrapped in the cloak Vidumavi had given him, and he went to a quiet dark place that faced west. There, Valacar watched the skies. The cloud and mist had to part sometime...

Valacar was asleep and freezing to death when the first light of the stars could be seen among the parting clouds. It may have been something in his dream, or the streak of bright light that passed overhead that brought Valacar out of his dreams.

"Something bad has happened!" he was talking to himself, and he felt in his gut that something happened to Vidumavi. He knew when he saw the star-fall that he needed to get back!


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Two Hours after Vidumavi was Kidnapped

"Where the fredegar is she?!" Brytta exclaimed as she circled back.

"Wasn't she just here in this glen?" Alruna looked close at the ground.

"There are signs of struggle here!" Vocinna called out nearby as she stood by smashed mushrooms and flattened grass. The other two shieldmaidens came over to look.

"This is bad! How could we lose Vidumavi! She is our watch! Where are the two sisters?" Brytta was near tears as she spoke. Alruna held her hand up. "Calm. Think! We go this."

"She can't be far. These signs show struggle, not a slaying. She is alive. I smell Fennic in this..."
Alruna was grim and looking at the various directions the tracks led. Whoever took Vidumavi was aware of the ways of the order, and they made tracking from this place a difficult.

"Where are our other two sisters?" Alruna asked as there were only three of them in the glen.


The other two shieldmaidens Rhanna and Rheaon were running their horses fast through the tracks of the wood. They had seen some men moving with speed on foot to the north, and they weren't going to let them trespass through Rhovania without confronting them. The two sisters knew the forest and were keenly aware that the men had to cross the creek ford at the highland gorge. They could cut them off by using their old tracks that few knew.

Rhanna knew it would have been protocol to send her sister to find and tell one of the others what they were doing. But to lose someone that would cover your as in case things weren't so minor to message was a big call, and Rhanna decided against it. She needed her sister with her. They rode hard to get to the Ford first...


With the tense words being heard, Varocci came through the wood to the glen where Alruna, Brytta, and Vocinna were. She shook as she knew that something seriously bad had happened. When Alruna saw her, she pointed at her and said, "You! Go with speed and tell Vidugauja that Vidumavi has been taken!"

Young Varocci stared with her mouth dropped. Vidumavi has been 'taken'? What did she mean? When Alruna looked again she gritted her teeth. "Go! Now! Stalling costs lives!"

Varocci turned and ran. She ran as hard as she ever had, and when she came to the royal hall, she ran right into Vidugauja coming out. "You look like you seen a ghost. What's the matter lass?" Vidugauja scowled as he spoke. Varocci started to talk but her stutter choked her words. Some fine messenger she made. Varocci put her hand out and took breaths to calm herself despite Vidugauja demanding answers.

"Vid... Vidumavi.... Alruna s.. s.. says she... been taken."

"Taken? what.. where?"
Vidugauja looked around.

"I... dd..d.. don't know. That was all.... Alruna said to say." Varocci felt bad she wasn't talking clearly, but she had nothing else to say. It was enough. Vidugauja turned and said to his second, "Order a muster. We need to ride to find Vidumavi! Go!" Vidugauja turned and went back in the hall to tell his uncle.


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Later in the night...


Rhanna and Rheaon were fatigued. They stood watch at the ford long and sleep was crawling up the back of their necks. Why hadn’t the men come here? There was no other way! It was then a sound could be heard in the distance. Grunting, a high-pitched squeal, then nothing. Soon it was followed by bellowing grumbles. Rhanna moved her hand and her sister nodded. They rode slowly back down the wider trail….


Alruna had followed a blood trail from the glen. Her fears were if it was Vidumavi’s blood, but her gut said it was not. When she and her sisters came upon the two dead men, they checked for sign and estimated there were six more… but the sight of a smaller bare foot in the soft mud gave her hope!

Vidumavi lives! Alruna called out. Rhanna and Rheaon rode up slowly and Brytta jumped down from her horse and went to one of the dead men. She reached down and pulled out a pearl-handled dagger.

"Vidumavi's kill!" Brytta proclaimed as she held the dagger high. A wave of relief flowed over the sisters, but that was only half the dilemma. She was alive, but for how long, and where was she? ... and the other men? Their search for Vidumavi was not over...


~ ~ ~


Vidumavi ran as fast as she could Her feet were bare and her dress tattered, but she was still quite stealthy. She was shaken, for knifing that man was her first kill. She would never be the same. She gambled with the man who was watching her. Pulling her dress down and showing much of her breasts, she coaxed the man to take her....

"You like what you see? You, Gamile, could be the father of an heir..." Gamile was easily swayed by her seductive voice, and Vidumavi got him kiss along her collarbone.

"We'll have to be quiet... and these bindings... I'll be more responsive if I can hold you while you fredegar me..." Vidumavi was playing a dangerous game. Risking this grunt impregnating her was a risk she was willing to take while the others were preoccupied discussing their trail. When Gamile freed Vidumavi's binds, she held to him as he felt her in places she wished only Valacar could. When he pulled her dress down further, Vidumavi grabbed her dagger that was on his belt and drove it deep into his lower back. She pulled it and drove it in again and again. Gamile groaned and slapped Vidumavi to the ground.

"You baggins..." was all he could say as he fell to his knees. With a last gasp, he fell forward dead. Vidumavi then ran through the thick low branches of the trees and shrubs, hoping to find a place to hide until daylight.


Harnon was angry! Not only did he lose the hostage, he lost Gamile! He only had two others with him, and they needed to find the princess. They had spread out around the track Harnon had spotted of the lightfoot princess, and as they went through the thick undergrowth, they slowly became separated. But he was sure he had her cornered ... somewhere.

"Come out come out pretty princess, wherever you are... you're just making thi ..." *Unnhh* A spear thrown precisely by Brytta hit him between the shoulders and came out through his heart. He fell forward into the creek, and Brytta stepped out and retrieved her spear from the bleeding carcass. Alruna came up and looked. "We need one alive sister."

"I know, my aim was off a little."
Brytta shrugged as they heard a tussle nearby, followed by the sound of blade into live flesh. Sisters Rhanna and Rheaon had managed to trap one of the men, but he wasn't going to go peacefully into custody. He went for Rhanna's knife and Rheaon drove hers into his throat.

Vocinna was silently approaching the last man. Her knife was ready and she so wanted to take him down and cut his balls off... but she restrained herself and sheathed her knife. Instead, a hand-sized river-rock was picked up, and as the man shook himself as he finished pissing, she cracked him in the head and he fell where he peed. "I got one alive!" she called out...



~ ~ ~


To the east, Borge and Manfel, the two men Fennic had sent back after Vidumavi was taken and Leif killed had crossed Rhovania unnoticed. They blended in easily, not wearing any over weaponry. Once they had gained the open lands east of Rhovania, their first visit was to a house where two of their own, Berek and Gaelen, had drawn straws to guard. There was some animosity between the two who had gone with Fennic and the two who stayed. Their arrival had the two guards shrug in their luxury.

"We have our mark. Leif was a casualty. Take the wife and daughter into slavery and kill the boy." Borge ordered.

"The boy? He's only seven summers!" Gaelen countered.

"Orders from Fennic. You disobey them?" Borge looked Gaelen hard in the eyes.

"How do I know that they're from...?" Gaelen's eyes bulged as his throat gurgled.

"You don't." A choke and a gag was all Gaelen could give in response. Borge's knife had impaled him, cutting into his lung and heart. He soon crumpled and fell; the knife extracted as he did so, and blood spilled from him across the floor. Berek quickly seized Baereas, Leif's wife and both Marion the daughter and Leif the son ran toward a back door. Manfel went to stop their escape, and he grabbed the daughter of thirteen years as she tried to shield her brother. The boy got out and ran....

As Borge came forth, Marion pushed into him to stop him from getting his bow set. He slapped her with the back of his hand, and she fell to the floor. "You think you're a shieldmaiden lass? We stole the princess out from under their noses... Uugh.."

Borge looked down to see the tip of a sword sticking out of his lower belly. Behind him, Leif the son had returned with his grandfather's sword and ran Borge through. As Borge tried to turn Leif the son twisted it as he stared hard at Borge. He pulled the sword and ran him through again. Borge rolled his eyes and fell to the floor.

"Anhh...ggg." the sound from Baereas was sharp before receding. Berek had slit her throat and as Leif and Marion turned, Berek pushed the bleeding body to the floor and stood at ready for Leif and his sword. Marion picked up Borge's sword and stood by her brother. Berek growled at them and fled out the door.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

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Vidumavi
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Past Midnight



It felt like hours before the sounds of pursuit faded. Even so, Vidumavi pushed on for the only way she could be safe was to put as much forest as she could between herself and her assailants. There was no telling how many of them there were, lying in wait. If she blundered into their hands, she’d not get away again. Of that, she was certain.

Her head throbbed painfully. There was a lump on her skull and her left jaw ached where the man had struck her. Vidumavi stumbled as other memories crowded in. Her breathing started to shake and she pushed it back. She couldn’t fall apart now. She had to keep going. Find somewhere safe to hide.

Ahead, she could hear water and she moved towards it. The forest canopy opened out, revealing a starry field overhead. The water she had heard was a waterfall, tumbling into a pool. She moved to the shore, staring at the water tumbling from upon high. It was strange. Utterly unfamiliar. Yet she could feel a calmness falling over her as she stood there. Or perhaps she was just too weary to care anymore.

She sank to her knees at the edge of the pool. Cool water soaked through her tattered clothing. Vidumavi studied her reflection in the water and a sob rose in her throat at what she saw. Her face, like her clothing, was daubed in that man’s blood. Vidumavi pressed the back of her hand to her mouth as tears sprang forth. She was so tired and when the memories rose again, she let them swallow her. The sour tang of his breath. His burrowing fingers. His greedy mouth. The ragged ripping of her clothing. The hot, sticky gush of his blood. Valacar...he would never look at her same way once he learned of what she had done.

A sudden urge to wash it all away gripped her. She set to scrubbing her face and her hands. Yet, no matter how hard she scrubbed, she still felt dirty. Dirty and wet and cold, now. And so very tired. So tired that if she laid down now, she might not wake up. And right now, that seemed so very inviting.

Well past midnight, Vidumavi curled up beside the pool and sank into oblivion as water danced.



~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~



As soon as the King learned of the assault, he ordered every torced Shieldmaiden to set out and locate his daughter. The Order’s skill, stealth and ability to mobilise swiftly was exactly what was required and he knew they would not rest until Vidumavi was recovered. Led by Captain Lilja herself, these battle-hardened warriors knew that there were worse fates than death and time was of the essence.

They slipped through the trees in relentless pursuit that did not halt until well past midnight, when they met up with Brytta. They found the red haired Shieldmaiden with Rhanna and Rheaon and a prisoner.

”Where is she?” the Captain demanded, casting her steely gaze around where they they had located.

Brytta shook her head at the question. ”We did not find her amongst them. We’re not sure if she escaped.” Brytta paused and pointed over to a battered man, ”He will not talk.”

Lilja grunted at that, for there were ways and means even if it was a tiresome chore. The man was lashed to a tree and wasn’t going anywhere.

”What of the other assailants?” the Captain asked.

“Dead,” Brytta said. ”Two by Mavi’s hand.”

“Our princess has cut her teeth,”
the Captain mused and Brytta nodded, proud. There more than a few grim smiles shared amongst the Shieldmaidens at that. Then Lilja set to work.

First she issued orders to commence a search. Come the dawn, the forest would crawl with the Order and not even Béma will help those who had conspired in this vicious assault. If Vidumavi was in the forest still, she would be found. Once that was seen to, Lilja ordered Rhanna and Rheaon to take the bodies back to the king. Vidugavia would have use for those, she thought, in the reckoning that would come. For this would not end with the recovery of Vidumavi.

Then she turned for the prisoner. It was time to make that bastard sing.



~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~



Alruna looked about the darkened forest. She was weary and she scrubbed at her eyes for a mist had begun to form. Surely, they were not so close to dawn as that, yet when she lowered her hands, the mist was still there. Thicker. Her eyes and mind were not playing tricks, she thought. Then Alruna thought she caught a flicker of something moving overhead.

”Hold!” called a voice that was not mortal and Alruna grimaced. She held her hands out, well clear of any weapon. The other Shieldmaiden with her, Vocinna, did the same and tiny points of light were revealed as lanterns were unshuttered. They were surrounded.

One Elf, tall and golden haired, advanced towards them. He stopped, surveying them with his strange eyes.

”This is not your land,” the Elf said, his voice lilting.

Alruna inclined her head. ”We seek our princess.”

“Careless of you to have lost her,”
he commented.

”She was taken from us, by force,” Vocinna said, unhappy at how close the accusation landed to the truth.

The Elf lifted pale brows, ”Certainly not by us.”

“Her tracks lead this way,”
Alruna explained, eying Vocinna to keep her mouth closed. Elves were tricky, to say the least. ”We only wish to bring her home, safely.”

“Then why does she hide from you,”
the Elf countered.

”She is confused, possibly in shock,” Alruna persisted but already the Elf was turning away.

”My father does not tolerate interlopers. Turn back while yet you can.”

”Will you not aid her?”
Alruna pleaded, not missing the Elf’s comment about his father. This was an Elven Prince!

”It is not our custom to involve ourselves in mortal affairs,” he began and then paused. ”But should she be within our lands, we will offer her aid.”

The two other Elves visible glanced to each other at this. Alruna inclined her head. ”Thank you,” she said and just like that, the Elves had gone as suddenly as they had appeared.

”Why do we wait?” Vocinna peered about. ”Time escapes us! There could be more of these bastards.”

“They will watch us, Cinna. And you heard what he said.”

“Can we trust them?”
Vocinna asked. ”Elves march to the beat of their own drums.”

“Aye, but that was an Elven Prince we heard from, and false promises make for bad politics no matter the drum beating.”
Alruna wiped a hand over her face and gathered her thoughts. ”We’ll circle back. Perhaps we have missed something in our haste.”



~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~



”Your father will not take kindly to this,” observed an Elf in Silvarin.

”I imagine he will not be best pleased should his ally’s daughter come to harm in his realm either,” Legolas replied in kind. “Assuming she is here at all.”

“Shieldmaidens have never pressed our borders before,”
remarked another. ”They would not do so now, save at great need.”

“Even so, I must report this to the King,”
said the first Elf.

Legolas inclined his head. ”Of course,” he agreed.

Once the guard was out of earshot, he turned to his companion. ”The sooner we find her and return her to her people, the better.”

His companion nodded and they set off before Thranduril could call them back.



~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~


Dawn



It was dawn when Rhanna and Rheaon returned with the bodies of the dead men in their keeping. Solemn and wearied, the two sisters remained in the saddle as people crowded around, asking questions.

The press was only broken by the king’s arrival. He looked as weary as they felt and he was clad for war. At his shoulder was his heir, similarly grim in countenance.

”What is this?” the king barked, eyes raking over the bodies lashed to horses behind them.

”The attackers, Sire,” Rhanna answered. ”Compliments of Captain Lilja.”

As she said this, Vidujauja approached one of horses behind her sister to examine a body closer. ”Fennic’s,” he pronounced, and an ugly murmur rippled through those gathered.

The King held up a hand for silence. ”And my daughter?”

“Mavi was not with them when we found them. The search continues.”
Rhanna glanced to the two bodies behind her. ”The Princess proved her mettle, Sire.”

Fell though the king’s expression was, Rhanna thought she saw a glint of pride before he turned away and barked orders. Captain Lilja’s instincts, it soon proved, were sound. The king did indeed have a use for the bodies. He had their heads mounted and sent riders out near and far with a very clear message: Any one harbouring or lending aid to Fennic would meet the same fate, save for Fennic himself.

The king readied himself for war and Fennic’s fate would be far worse once Vidugavia got his hands on the treacherous man.



~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~



Music awoke Vidumavi. Haunting music, insistently weaving and tugging her from the bleak and desolate place she had retreated to in her sleep. Music that pulled her through the trees once more. Though she could not understand it, she also found herself unable to resist its lure. Onwards it pushed her, gentle and persistent, down strange and unfamiliar paths. She had no knowledge of this part of the forest but the music would not release her. Then, as dawn broke, she found she could smell a campfire.

A sudden fear gripped her. What if she had blundered back into Fennic’s men? Her heart thundered in her ears and her mouth dried with fear. The music, though, proved more powerful than even this. It pushed her closer, and closer still until she heard a familiar voice. And then another. And then the music faded as she drew across the final distance.

”MAVI!” her cousin bellowed, leaping over the fire and wrapping her in her arms. Alruna clasped her tightly as whoops and cheers rose amongst the other Shieldmaidens. Even Captain Lilja, who rarely smiled at all, cracked open as she pushed her way through the press.

”Unhand your cousin, Rue,” the Captain ordered and Alruna did so, after a long pause, wiping tears of sudden emotion clear.

Lilja peered at Vidumavi and then called for one of the Order’s healers. As Vidumavi was led away, Lilja started barking orders.

”Brytta, take word to the King – we have the princess. Alive.”


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

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23 Gwirith (Víressë, Harpa)
Ered Mithrin – Morning



Valacar, having gotten that chill the night before, feared that something terrible had happened to Vidumavi. He waited not for morning but made as much headway as he could in the dark on his need to return. But the darkness impeded him as he had to be careful with his step. Once daylight had broken, Valacar was swift to make his way back south. A sense of urgency seemed to haunt him and he moved as swiftly as he could through the rough land filled with rocks and trees and creeks. It would be another two days before he would arrive back to the lodge of Vidugavia.


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

23 Gwirith (Víressë, Harpa)
King’s Camp – Morning


When Brytta arrived with speed back to the camp of King Vidugavia, she found him and his nephew discussing plans to attack Rhovania. "Lilja sent me to relay the news. Princess Vidumavi has been found … rather.. she found us.” Brytta voice was relieve yet had tension. Getting news that Vidumavi was safe and would be there in his camp shortly, both the king and Vidugauja breathed out a heavy gasp of relief.

“I would count this as good news…” Vidugavia growled. “… but she should never have been taken in the first place. We must be ever more vigilant in our watch, and as much as I wish to sack Dorwinion, there is much that can be lost in doing this. Though Regent Minalcar and I had grown close in the battlefield, so too did Fennic. It would be hard to move against him without Gondor’s consent, even if this is an internal Rhovanion matter. Where is Valacar when he is needed?”

“He is still away north.”
Brytta answered. “I know some of the tracks he would have taken, but not all. The northern reaches of Rhovania are Rhanna and Rheaon’s lands. They would have the best chance of finding him.”

“You go; find Lilja and if she hasn’t already done so, get Rhanna and Rheaon searching north. Those not staying with Vidumavi and escorting her here continue the search for Fennic and any remaining associates that took part in this.”
King Vidumavi wasn’t going to let this go unanswered…



~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~


24 Gwirith (Víressë, Harpa)
North Rhovania – Morning


Rhanna and Rheaon had woven the tracks of their home country in search of Valacar through the end of yesterday after they arrive, and they built a big fire they kept aflame overnight in hopes he would see it. Morning brought fog, but it soon cleared, and when it did, a solitary figure approached them at a steady run.

“It is him! Know his gait!”

Rhanna smirked “How do you know his gait sister? Have you watched him so much you know how he walks?”

“Well… yes?”
Rheaon blushed a little.

“Well, go get him then.” Rhanna shook her head as her sister rode forth to meet him. She would stay by the fire.

“Valacar… Valacar!” Rheaon called out as she approached, the wrapped figure paused before raising a hand. Rheaon jumped from her horse and ran to tell him. “There has been trouble… Fennic had kidnapped Vidumavi…”

“What? Is she…”
Valacar feared the worst due to the feeling he had gotten earlier.

“She is safe. She found our camp after escaping her captors. Se killed two, and we killed some more. Come… the king is desiring your counsel, but he will move on Dorwinia soon!” Rheanon drew her horse close and they would mount her. “Fly! Fly to the king! Bear us now!”

The horse knew her rider wanted to make speed, and there was no hesitation. Valacar held on and relaxed as much as he could his feet were tired…



~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~


23 Gwirith (Víressë, Harpa)
King’s Camp – Early Afternoon


Valacar and Rheaon rode in and dismounted and Valacar was quick to find Vidugauja. “Rheaon told me much. I wish to know more. Where is she?”

“Vidumavi was brought to us by Alruna well. She has suffered, but not so much as it could have been.”
Vidugauja looked grim.

“Can I see her?” Valacar asked as he looked around.

“She has been asking after you since she arrived. She is with her father now, but I will let her know you have arrived.”

“That will be well. I will be in my quarters for I have something I must do forthwith.”
Valacar raised his hand and set it on Vidugauja’s shoulder. “I know your mind brother. There will be war, and I know not all chieftains will want to support the king even if the kidnapping of his daughter is the catalyst. This could end badly if rash decisions are made to quickly.”

“In most circumstances I would agree with that, but this is the princess of the kingdom we speak of. One whom you wish to court. There can be no quarter in this.”
Vidugauja was adamant and Valacar knew that he was likely somewhat more restrained than King Vidugavia. He was about to fins out. His seeing Vidumavi would have to wait a little while longer.

“Valacar! It is good you are here! Come, I have much to discuss!” He waved Vidugauja and Lilja into his field tent as well…

The four were inside while the shadows of the trees in the sun moved far, and it was afternoon before they emerged. The discussion was heated and Valacar found his voice was speaking a minority opinion. Though he was not able to convince the Rhovanions of the doom that could envelope their country should other borderline chieftains pull support from Vidugavia, he did succeed in convincing the king … with both Lilja’s and Vidugauja’s support, to make this a more targeted venture in stealth with small companies. It was a tactic used widely by the Ithilien Rangers and of the Dúnedain of the north.

The plan was put in place and it was up to Lilja and Vidugauja to choose and gather their elite collection of Rhovanions. Valacar himself would accompany Vidugauja, and he would send his messenger swiftly to Gondor telling of the need of Vidugavia to eliminate Fennic and his clan. He also would request a small company of Ithilien’s rangers… a dozen… be sent north to the west of the Sea of Rhun to screen any escape routes Fennic and his clan may try and use. Valacar along with King Vidugavia and Vidugaija knew Fennic would not venture eastward, for though the Balchoth had been defeated, the man in his brutality during the war was hated the most of all Rhovanions.

It wasn't until evening when the shadows of the Misty Mountains had long shrouded the westering sun that Valacar was free to see Vidumavi.


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

27 Gwirith (Víressë, Harpa)
Old Bridge – Confluence of the Rivers Celduin and Carnen
Early Morning


Lilja’s company came upon the old bridge that crossed the Celduin just west of the Carnen confluence, and the two sentries … mere boys in their teens… were now firmly bound and gagged and out of the way, replaced by two of her company. They were hoping to trap Fennic as he returned to his home. Fennic had been delayed by their sweeps, and his route back was an arduous one that added many miles over rough terrain. But once he was spotted with three others by Rhanna and Rheaon, the sisters shadowed his movements, reporting to Brytta when she approached them and who brought word back to Lilja.

Meanwhile to the east, Vidugauja’s company took on a meticulous search of the villages. Any known members of the Fennic clan were slain, and with this becoming known to the other people of Dorwinia, word would come of the whereabouts of others of the Fennic clan. As they were rounded up, the men separated from the women, and the children separated away as well.

When one of the men demanded they be left alone and that they weren't in Fennic's clan, he was run through and kicked to the ground. Valacar took exception to such brutality and stormed over to the man,

"You aren't the executioner you fredegar!" and he decked the guy. That didn't go well for Valacar, Vidugauja had him restrained and looked into the Gondorian's eyes.

"You are merely an observer here with no authority Valacar. Don't interfere with my mission."

"These people... they had no more to do with Vidumavi's abduction than you or I."
Valacar argued clemency for at least the younger ones as the men were slaughtered and shoved in a ditch. Vidugauja was loathe to restrain his uncle's personal orders that he was given without Valacar or Lilja knowing about them. 'None shall live'. Vidugauja did relent in one manner though. He spared the youngest girls ... they would be brought back and raised as servants, washing the Fennic name from them. Valacar had learned another lesson about the Rhovanions... don't cross them or bring down hurt upon them, for they will return it tenfold.



~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~


30 Gwirith (Víressë, Harpa)
Osgiliath – Late Afternoon



Minalcar was pondering what this request he had just received from Valacar was about. He knew Fennic. A skilled fighter and his company of soldiers were brave and ready for a fight. Yet he also knew him as a hothead. His son wouldn't request this lightly, so he sent word to Minas Ithil to Farahilt, his eastern commander to assemble in haste a dozen of his stealthiest soldiers to to dress in unadorned wear and move north forthwith. He wasn't sure he liked getting involved in the internal affairs of Rhovanion, but neither did he wish they break down into civil war and destroy themselves either. They would go forth unaffiliate with Gondor as a band of armed traders...

Farahilt had by the end of the day twelve volunteers. They were to a man skilled in stealth and skill. He addressed them as they stood in a training field just outside the walls of the city… ”You leave on this … expedition…to seek any of those who are of Fennic’s clan. Preferably you find Fennic himself and bring him here to me. Watch diligently for them, and should you not find anyone, continue on to Rhovania and go into the service of Valacar, son of Minalcar.”

With final preparations done, they set out north along the road and would cross Dagorlad toward Rhûn. Captaining this detachment is Maichan, an Ithilien commander known for his skills in covert warfare.


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

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Vidumavi
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30 Harpa - Morning (Víressë, Gwirith)
Rhovanion – Royal Lodge



Vidumavi stood, observing the latest group to arrive on a bright summer morning. As before, most were children. All, regardless of age, bore a look of shock or resignation. Her aunt, Lady Vidmiriah, and her nephew’s new bride, Lady Rainavi were marshaling the new arrivals. Many of the girls had already been claimed by the Order. They were bursting at the seams now. More would come, Vidumavi thought to herself and at this the sense of doom that had yet to lift from her squelched in her belly.

This was wrong. All of it.

In the brief time she’d had with Valacar, she had asked him to do what he could to restrain the carnage. Her father was an honorable man, but when provoked his temper was terrible to behold. In truth, Vidumavi feared what might be done in the quest for vengeance. What might be done in her name, she dare not think of.

She had failed in persuading her father towards a different path. That, and in being taken in the first place, left Vidumavi with an unshakeable sense of guilt. Then there were the things she had done to escape. She’d yet to speak to any of it. Even Valacar and certainly not Alruna.

A warm summer breeze tugged at her hair gently. This should be a time of good cheer and lazy days. When the season turned, how would they feed all these people? Clothe or shelter them? And when these children came of age, what would they think of their conquerors? If this continued, there would be enough to form a small army, right in their midst. This violence would visit them again. And again. And again. The doom in the pit of her stomach rolled about. It left a sour taste in her mouth that made her grimace as Alruna climbed the steps.

”We’ll have to find quarters for them elsewhere,” her cousin declared. And so the nascent army spreads through her father’s realm, Vidumavi thought as she sighed.

”This is wrong,” she said, in a low voice lest it carry to those standing by.

”This is justice,” Alruna countered, resolute. ”And in any case, they’re far better off with us.”

“And yet, will they thank us for this?”
Vidumavi asked. ”We have ripped them from their families and homes and made of them servants. Our quarrel lies not with them.”

“Quarrel,”
Alruna repeated, shaking her head at her cousin’s turn of phrase. Vidumavi’s attention remained the children and her hands curled at her side.

”I must speak with my father at once.”

“The king was clear that you are to remain here, where it is safe.”

“Very well,”
Vidumavi said and turned to re-enter the royal lodge.

At her back, Alruna called, ”Where are you going now? Mavi? Mavi!” Muttering to herself at the lack of reply, the Shieldmaiden hastened after the princess.

Several hours later, a small knot of Shieldmaidens rode out for the King’s encampment to the east. They rode at speed. Alruna’s expression could have curdled rock.



~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~


30 Harpa - Dusk (Víressë, Gwirith)
Dorwinion – Southern Borderlands



Maichan frowned in the failing daylight. There was a large party of Rhovanions riding at speed and they were bearing directly onto his position. He weighed his options swiftly and set to building fire. He barely managed to get it alight before the outriders slowed and wheeled about. Almost immediately, he found himself standing in a ring of steel.

There was low chatter, all of it in Rhovanion. Then he heard the sound of someone dismounting. Through the press of warriors and horses, a tall Rhovanion strode. He pulled his helm free and squinted at Maichan. The warrior was a young man, and there was a scar on his face.

”Gondorian,” he said in thickly accented Common, having identified something of Maichan’s appearance. ”State your name and purpose.”

“Maichan I am, and I seek Prince Valacar, son of Minalcar.”

“You and a good few others,”
the Rhovanion declared, gesturing. Maichan watched as tall woman came forward. She had very red hair and she eyed him with something between bemusement and curiosity. He said something to her in Rhovanion and the woman nodded and brought about the spear that rested against her shoulder. Realizing her intention, Maichan went where he thought she wanted him to. Better that than finding out the hard way what a Shieldmaiden could do with a spear.

He mounted the horse she indicated, and she soon had his hands bound to the saddle and was rifling through his belongings. Any weapon she found, she examined and either stashed it somewhere about herself or otherwise dropped into a sack. That seen to, the Shieldmaiden lashed the reins of his horse to what he presumed was her own, swiftly mounted in that effortless way all Rhovanions seemed to be born knowing and set off without a backwards glance, towing him behind her.



~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~


2 Skerpla – Mid-Morning (Lótessë, Lothron)
Dorwinion – Western Borderlands



The King’s encampment was large, well fortified and well guarded. From here, both King Vidugavia and Captain Lilja conducted their campaign within Dorwinion. Messengers came and went, bearing word to those further east hunting for Fennic or to Vidugavia’s various allies. Dorwinion was being criss-crossed by Shieldmaiden’s and Rhovanion warriors looking for any trace of the man now declared an outlaw.

Vidugavia had banished the former prince of Dorwinion from the realm as one of his first acts. In doing so, under Rhovanion law, any offering him succor would suffer the same fate should he be discovered within the realm. It also meant that peace could not be attained through the practice of weir-gold. Warriors came and went, either making their way out to join one of many hunting parties, or returning for rest and to repair their equipment.

Yet for all the activity the camp bustled with, it was also well ordered. Senior nobles of the king’s court tracked all who came and went as well as the supplies. It was to this camp Valacar had been dispatched to after events at the Old Bridge. Though he did not regret his actions, he did wonder as to the consequences in the pogrom Vidugauja was conducting. Vidumavi had asked him to intercede and he had, to limited effect.

But then Rangers of Ithilien began to arrive, sent back to the King by those that found them. Given the heightened state of suspicion, Valacar was relieved to be on hand at this turn of events. He was able to convince Vidugavia that these men were not smugglers looking for embargoed Dorwinion wine and in doing so, they kept their lives and the alliance between their two peoples remained in place.

When Brytta came trotting in, towing yet another Ithilien Ranger behind her, she tipped her head to Valacar and reined in. ”One of yours?”

Maichin, bound as he was, lifted his shoulders as Valacar looked to where he sat. ”I believe so,” he replied. ”May I take him to the King?”

Brytta grunted at this, swung out of her saddle and yawned so widely that her jaw cracked. She un-tethered the reins that had joined the two horses, took her own and started off.

”You best brush Voccina’s horse down properly this time, princeling,” she remarked by way of answer, not even looking back to where Valacar stood.

He sighed at this, well aware that he’d sooner pocket the moon from the sky than tend a horse to that Shieldmaiden’s exacting standards, and drew forth a dagger to free Maichin from his bonds.

”Thank you,” Maichin said in Sindarin, gratefully rubbing his wrists. ”Have the others found you yet?”

“Four before you, and none had any tidings of the former prince of Dorwinion.”

“Former?”


Valacar nodded as Maichin eased his way off the horse. Brytta had not stopped and after two days, his legs felt decidedly rubbery. He tested his weight a few times before he released the saddle.

As he did this, Valacar explained the banishment Vidugavia had declared on Fennic.

”A man can’t disappear,” Maichin observed as they made their way towards the command tent of King Vidugavia.

”True,” Valacar agreed. ”But flushing him out has proved more challenging than the king anticipated. Allow me to do the talking?”

“Of course,”
Maichin conceded and they walked on in silence.



~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~


2 Skerpla – Mid-Morning (Lótessë, Lothron)
Dorwinion – Western Borderlands



Vidumavi knew she would have once chance and if she did not seize it, it would slip through her fingers. As soon as the small party had gained her father’s encampment, they had made their way for the King’s tent. None stood in their way for precisely no one would.

Still, Alruna was not in the least pleased. As her father’s tent came into view, Vidumavi heard her cousin remark, ”Will take more than a Shieldmaiden’s armour to protect you from his wrath.”

Truth be told, Vidumavi was shaking in the armour she wore. As they walked the final distance, a mud spotted messenger pushed out of the tent and nodded wearily to them.

”May Béma favour you,” he muttered by wrote.

Vidumavi paused and Alruna set a hand to her back and pushed her forward and into the tent. There, in addition to her father, was Captain Lilja, her uncle and her maternal grandfather.

The three men frowned at this disruption and Lilja swung about, eyes narrowing as the remaining four Shieldmaidens entered after Vidumavi. They all pulled their helms free, braids and torcs swinging down in the process. Vidumavi swallowed and followed suit, tugging her helm loose to release a single thick braid that thumped heavily over her leather armour.

”What is the meaning of this!” Lilja snapped.

Vidumavi swallowed anew, for her father’s frown had morphed into something thunderous.

”Father, I beg of you, you must stop this. Before it is too late,” she said, voice shaking.

Her uncle shook his head at her, expression worried. Her grandfather kept his counsel to himself, though his sharp blue eyes glittered.

”He WILL answer for his crimes!” her father growled, his voice rising with his anger. His face began to flush. ”And you have NO BUSINESS BEING HERE!”

He took a step towards her and another. Vidumavi knelt before him. ”Please. We are playing into his very hands.”

“How?”
her grandfather asked, breaking his silence.

Vidumavi did not dare look up. ”Fennic is no fool. He had to know what would follow. And yet he did it anyway. I...” she paused as canvas shifted behind her. ”I believe he sought to provoke us.”

There was a hush in the tent and after a while, Vidumavi chanced a glance up to where her father stood. He still looked ready to crack rocks between his teeth, but he was thinking.

”The lass may well have a point,” her uncle conceded reluctantly and her father swung about to face his younger brother.

“Aye,”
her grandfather agreed, nodding his silvered head.

Her father grunted at that, and her grandfather beckoned her to stand. Vidumavi did so and looked back to where Alruna stood with the others. It was then she saw that Valacar was in the tent. By him was another man of Gondor and this one was studying her as intently as she did him. When he observed her attention, he swung his gaze aside to Valacar briefly and then lowered his eyes, hands at his back.

After several beats, the king turned to where Lilja stood. ”Captain?”

“If a change of strategy is sought, then might I suggest a bounty?”
Lilja suggested.

Vidumavi’s grandfather smiled at the idea. ”His people have little cause to love him. Or us, for that matter. If we mean to flush him out before the end of the season, gold may well achieve what our swords and spears cannot.”

“What price would you put on your grand-daughter’s life,”
the king asked, his voice strained.

”The question, I should think, is what price you would set on the realm you have built. For if he should escape you, you cannot hope to retain your throne,” her grandfather countered. ”And this land cannot be kept by force alone. That much we know.”

”Turn his people to you, father, and this land will prosper. Allow them to see you as we do. As I do. A just, merciful king, who loves his people,” Vidumavi said.

”Out, all of you,” Vidugavia commanded and turned to address his daughter. ”I am not done with you, lass.”

And just like that, they were all dismissed out of the king’s command tent, without any sense of whether Vidugavia would alter his strategy or stay his present course.


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

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Valacar
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2 Lothron – Late Afternoon
(Lótessë, Skerpla)
Dorwinion – Western Borderlands



King Vidugavia had spent the rest of the morning into the afternoon pondering what he should do. He also called Vidumavi to account for her arrival at the camp. To say the discussion was heated, but in the end, Vidumavi was her father’s daughter and had his stubborn demeanor. Once he had made his point that he expected the princess of the realm follow his commands where the affairs of state were involved, it had become quite clear that their family affairs were quite another story. In the case of Vidumavi’s disobeying his command for her to stay at the royal house, it was clear that she could not when much was at stake.

When the king emerged, he gave commands that a gold bounty was upon the head of Fennic. One hundred gold Rhovanion coin for his capture and delivery, and twenty for his body delivered. Vidumavi swayed him in this, but could not yet assuage him to restrain Vudugauja’s rampage. She did get the kind to send a message asking for restraint, and noted it by the request of Vidumavi who Vidugauja had claimed as the reason for his ruthlessness.

Meanwhile Valacar and Maichen and the Gondorians talked about home and the fact that Dorwinion wines could be had for a steep price. A supply was getting there. From where, not too many knew for sure. They too had been denied an audience with King Vidugavia, but once he emerged, Valacar went to see him. As soon as the kings orders were dispatched forth with riders, Valacar spoke with Vidugavia.

”There is much to be watchful of in this. I take it Vidumavi has spoken of such? Fennic is a man who will be hard to find, and all efforts to weed him out will likely fail. I am glad to hear you have posted bounty.”

“I wish not to be lectured by a Gondorian on the matter.”
Vidugavia squinted at Valacar. “Evidence has come to light that Gondorians have circumvented the quarantine of Dorwinion, and so I have to wonder what part the son of the regent may have had in this?”

Valacar grimaced at the news. He had worried his father wouldn’t take the restrictions of the wine exports too well. He had a balancing act he needed to walk with the Mariners Guild after all. ”It is something I had worried about m’lord. The political climate of Gondor does weigh heavy on the availability of Dorwinion wines. As much as I had hoped it would not become a point of contention between allies, it seems it has. Would it not be the best for both Rhovania and Gondor to get Dorwinion settled back down to do what they do best? Find someone who is respected in Dorwinion who is willing to swear fealty to Rhovania. It may not be too late for this to happen. But as Vidumavi wishes, the killing has to stop!”

Vidugavia held Valacar’s gaze as if there was a battle of wills going on. Finally, Vidugavia squinted an eye and nodded. "I have sent word to Vidugauja to cease his hostilities and to return to report to me forthwith. I will be the first to admit to boiling over at the fact my daughter had been snatched right from under our noses. That will not happen again.”

Valacar took a breath and nodded. As much as Vidugavia could be a hard head; he could have a reasoning side as well. He and Vidumavi were akin in this respect. Valacar did wonder what Vidumavi’s mother … Vidugavia’s wife… was like. It was grievous that she had died at a young age even for the Rhovanions.


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

2 Lothron – Evening
(Lótessë, Skerpla)
Dorwinion – Western Borderlands


Valacar had thought about where the other Gondorians had gone and what had become of them. No word had come from the Rhovanions, and Maichen and his party were careful not to mention there was another squad roaming the lands. He wrote in his journal some thoughts on the whole Dorwinion issue and tried to frame it in a Gondorian sense and in a Rhovanion sense. It was a hard reality what was going on, and this Fennic had really made a mess of what could have been a good thing.

He finally put his quill and book down and got up to take a walk. He decided to walk down the creek where there was a constant stream of people… soldiers and refugees alike, taking water from the stream. He saw a familiar face among them… Vidumavi’s. She was adorned in a simple linen dress and her hair was braided and bound close as she worked to get water to the refugees and detainees. Valacar paused and watched from a distance for a time before he walked over and began to help. It was another part of Vidumavi’s character that shone through. Though a princess of Rhovania who was very recently kidnapped, she was here among the people of Dorwinia helping them in their plight. Valacar fell even more deeply in love with this woman seeing her here.

A short time later when the press of people had subsided, Valacar made sure the vat on the wagon was filled with the plentiful clear waters of the creek. It will be needed again tomorrow. He walked over to Vidumavi and smiled as she looked up from where she stood cleaning clothing. ”It warms me much inside seeing you doing this when you could be nestled comfortably away with your father. You are truly a princess of the people Vidumavi.”

“It is a problem of our own making. What would I be if I sat idly by and did nothing to alleviate the pains that we have caused?”
She didn’t look up as she spoke. Valacar nodded. “Vidumavi, you have done much, and have eaten little. Here, take this and keep working. It will renew your strength."

Valacar held out a strip of dried elk meat for her to chew, and she quickly plucked it from his hand and put it in her mouth. He looked around and could see two shieldmaidens doing their best to blend in as the stood nearby. They weren’t going to let Lady Vidumavi out of their sight again any time soon. Having her get abducted on their watch was something they would never be able to make up for, but they were sure they weren’t going to ever let that happen again.


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

3 Lothron – Early Morning
(Lótessë, Skerpla)
Southeast Dorwinion – Southwest Rhûn Highlands


Baranor was appointed 2nd in command under Maichen for their expedition north. After they had emerged from Dagorlad, he had taken five of the ten other men on a northeastern track while Maichen to the other five on a northwestern track. The plan was to try and cut all possible routes that one would have from Dorwinion and meet in Rhovania at a later time. Baranor and his party hadn't met the same fate as Maichen who had to disperse and use their escape and evade tactics to the best of their ability. With the shieldmaidens on the hunt, none of the six were long successful.

Baranor's party on the other hand met very little along their path. They had gained the hills that lay southwest of the Sea of Rhun, and it was there in the early morning hours that they came across a camp. Reconnaissance revealed they were Dorwinions...

"Halt! Who approaches?" a sentry called out. Baranor stood alone. He earlier had his men spread and flank, and he himself walked forward toward the lone sentry.

"Hail there. I have traveled far from the south...” His words ended when two men with swords stepped out to each of his sides. Just as quick, two bowmen had the men in their sights and a third had the sentry targeted. Baranor looked around. "Looks like we have a standoff here."


A standoff it was, but when Baranor let it be known he was Gondorian, the three Dorwinions seemed to relax some which Baranor thought odd. It was soon agreed upon that they would come peacefully in arms to the camp of Feric, cousin of Fennic. Feric and his clan had taken refuge in the hills after a disagreement with Fennic on some family business. When Vidugavia set forth seeking and killing those of Fennic's clan, Feric fortified this small valley in the hills. Feric had gotten close to many soldiers of Gondor in the war, and thought Dorwinia and Rhovania could benefit from taking in some of the ideals of the south. Of course, the fiefdoms didn't see things that way, especially Fennic. It was then that Fennic had made his move to wrest control of Dorwinion from Feric and solidify the land under his rule. Baranor

As the talks between Feric and Baranor went into the afternoon, it had become clearer to him what the local Dorwinion situation had become. When one of Feric’s scouts returned with reports of the movements of Vidugauja and of Vidugavia's camp, and knowing the reports would be a day or more old, Baranor was allowed to listen in. They talked well into the night, and by the next morning, Baranor was well briefed on things from Feric’s perspective, and his men left Feric's camp and set out with Feric's son Framoc with them. They would make haste to the northwest and seek out Valacar and King Vidugavia with the utmost speed and urgency.


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

13 Lothron – Early Morning
(Lótessë, Skerpla)
Northern Dorwinion Borderlands


Fennic was in trouble. He had nearly walked into a Rhovanion sweep and only managed to evade two shieldmaidens by a stroke of luck. They had turned to the right instead of coming straight on up the track. He scrambled through the brambles and the sharp thorns tore at his clothes and skin. He debated approaching a Dorwinian vineyard house, for the last three he had done so almost ended in his capture.

Yes, the Dorwinions he had come to looking for help were devious and tried to keep him settled while word was sent to the Rhovanions. One place he had spotted a parchment with his likeness and the price on his head was great! It appeared Vidugavia had put up a fair bounty up for his capture with a much less bounty for his body being brought in.

After that, he had found an abandoned farmhouse, and there he made the decision to cut his hair and beard as short and as neat as he could with a sharp knife. Had he not done so, surely the shieldmaidens would have recognized him. He didn’t want to have to hide among the corpses again. His only way to evade capture is to take a new identity with his new look.

Fennic was well and truly alone now. Anyone who had been in his inner circle was either dead, captured, or betrayed him. He had nowhere to go. The best he could do was work his way back north and hide out. This one last time did fortune look kindly upon him. He was able to slit into a group of Dorwinions who had been vetted by the Rhovanions that were free to return home after vowing fealty to Rhovania. It wasn’t ideal as there was a fair chance anyone around him could re cognize him. If that did happen, he would be mobbed and turned over for the reward money.

The walk north gave him little time to figure out what he would do. Sure, he would plan his revenge on Vidugavia. In afterthought, he should have been more ruthless in his plan. He had Vidumavi and she got away. He should have taken her and then let all his men share her filling her with Dorwinion seed before leaving her to be found. But he miscalculated both Vidugavia and his ruthless nephew Vidugauja. Now, he had nobody backing him anymore. The power he did have was gained more by intimidation than by numbers, and now with the overrunning of Dorwinion and the price on his head, even that was gone.

When the last remnant of the group he was with scattered to their homesteads in the northern reaches of Dorwinia, Fennic accompanied one man who he acquainted himself with on the journey. The man had his color of hair, even if he was a good ten years younger. Once they came into sight of his cabin, Fennic had no further use for him and his knife found his throat from behind. Fennic had now become Fernak, barley farmer of Dorwinion...


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

13 Lothron – Early Morning
(Lótessë, Skerpla)
The Carnen-Celduin Confluence


Baranor and his men approached the confluence in the twilight hours of the morning. The bridge was heavily guarded, and they held their position by the slope and watched. Once daylight had started to come, Baranor waved everyone along and they moved down the gully to come up by the bridge unseen. As soon as they had shown themselves, Rhanna and Rheaon rode forth and the foot soldiers had arms ready against this surprise appearance of more Gondorians. ”State your business that brings you here in such stealth Gondorian!”


Baranor stepped forth and bowed his head “Hail riders of Rhovanion. It is of the utmost importance that we see your king Vidugavia and our kinsman Valacar of Gondor.” Framoc looked a little nervous, but he stood tall among the Gondorians. As much as Rhanna and Rheaon wanted to take them down, Rheanon made a motion with her hand to have the men stand down. “Such stealth is a skill indeed, and it will benefit us if you join with us and teach us your ways. Your brethren weren’t so lucky to have gotten so close before being discovered. Seeking Valacar I understand, but what business do you have with our king?”

Baranor looked back and waved Framoc forward. ”This is Framoc, son of Feric. He is very likely the solution to your Dorwinion problem.”

Framoc cleared his throat. ”I wish to speak with the King of all Rhovania. I wish to swear my fealty and that of my clan and that of Dorwinia to him, and to seek peace between our kin.” Rhanna and Rheaon looked at each other and nodded. “Come… you are more than the mounts we can lend. You two we can take. The rest follow on foot.”

Rhanna sent a ride to the kind with word of these visitors, and two horses were brought for Baranor and Framoc. And food and water brought to the others. The day could prove a turning in the relations of Dorwinion and Rhovanion if the words Framoc spoke held true and if there was strength behind them.


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

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Vidumavi
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14 Skerpla – Evening
(Lótessë, Lothron)
Dorwinion – Western Borderlands



Though there was abundant food for all, Vidumavi knew little of it would find its way to those detained unless she saw to it. It was slow going but she wasn’t about to let them go another day without proper food. So that was what she set herself to now as she wrestled with a large pot of stew along.

”Princess,” someone called and Vidumavi set the pot down to find a Ranger jogging forward. ”Might I be of aid?”

“This is not your sorrow to remedy,”
she told him and glanced about. ”And it may not aid your cause.”

“Still,”
he said and tested the pot. ”This is too heavy for any to bear alone. Where are you headed?”

“The detainees,”
she answered and he nodded, unperturbed.

”Shall we, then?” he asked.

Vidumavi could see that he would not be swayed and so she nodded. They lifted the pot together and found they had to adjust, for he was taller than she. It took them several tries to find a suitable balance and then they set off.

The detainees had been set along the eastern perimeter of the camp, a buffer should Fennic or his men seek to launch reprisals. The risk of that grew with each day to pass. Though all were either women or children, all were considered part of Fennic’s clan or those who supported him. Where their men were was another matter entirely. Dead, fled or watching. The Order maintained a watch over them and though this should have brought the detainees some comfort, it did not. For the Order had abandoned these lands in disgust some years ago now and in their wake, Fennic had sowed terrible lies calculated to cause fear and loathing.

”Is this safe?” the Ranger asked.

”No,” Vidumavi replied, honestly.

”Why, then, does this task fall to you?”

“Because no one else will do it,”
she replied and then, quieter, ”And because I know that we are better than this.”

Already a line was starting to form. Hungry people jostling. Small children, infants in arms, wailing and crying. Shieldmaidens began to converge, which only agitated them further.

”What are you doing here,” Alruna demanded, scowling at Vidumavi. ”Will you never learn?”

“No, Rue. I will not ever learn to leave our people to starve,”
she replied and her cousin’s eyes narrowed. Then she regarded the Ranger.

”Why are you here? This is no concern of yours, Maichen.”

“The Regent believes otherwise,”
he returned, eyes on the crowd for a beat, and then he looked at Alruna directly. ”You he recalls, Alruna of Rhovania. Did you know?”

“The Regent knows you?”
Vidumavi asked of her cousin, astonished by this turn of events.

Alruna muttered a curse, glared at Maichen and then set off, banging her spear haft against her shield as she stalked down the line.

”Half of Osgiliath knows that one,” Maichen remarked with half a grin. ”Shall we?”

Vidumavi stared at him for a beat and then gathered herself. It was time to start feeding these people before things turned any uglier. She nodded and they set to.



~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~



”Where is she?” the King of Rhovanion demanded, pacing back and forth in his agitation. Vidumavi was the last to arrive and no one seemed to know where she was. The encampment was now even more heavily guarded than before and so he knew she had not slipped away or been snatched. It just was not possible.

”Perhaps we could continue without her,” his younger brother suggested. ”This is a war council after all.”

“So far, that girl has offered more sense to our war council than any of the rest of us, myself included,”
Vidumavi’s grandfather observed wryly.

Finally, a Shieldmaiden ran into the tent and murmured something in Lilja’s ear. ”Again?” the Captain barked and Brytta nodded. ”Then go put an end to it at once!” Brytta ran back out of the tent at once and Captain Lilja lifted her eyes to the canvas roof.

”Captain?” Vidugavia growled.

”She is feeding detainees,” Lilja reported reluctantly.

”Why does my daughter feed prisoners of war?” the King growled.

Lilja looked to his brother for a beat. ”Likely because no one else will.”

Vidumavi’s grandfather chuckled to himself at this, even if his son-in-law was not amused. ”We cannot wait any longer. Bring the others in,” he muttered, moving to his seat between his kin.

Lilja nodded and left to do exactly that. She returned with Valacar, another Ranger of Gondor and a young Rhovanion man in possession of a shock of wavy blonde hair. Framoc was his name, and he arrived with a tale and an offer that was most interesting indeed.

The ensuring audience was tense, but Framoc proved able to respond to each question put to him. No one made it easy for him. The King, his brother, Lord Vinhalvin, and Vidumavi’s grandfather, Lord Aric, were difficult men to sway. All of it was conducted in Rhovanion and Valacar strove to translate what he could for Baranor. When it was done, the King sent Framloch off with Lilja for safe keeping and dismissed all save Valacar.

”You have learned much, it would seem,” Vidugavia remarked of Valacar’s translation efforts.

”Thank you, my lord,” he replied, reasonably confident the King of Rhovania had not held him back to complement his language skills.

”What do you make of young Framloch?”

“His tale is compelling, as is his offer if I am not mistaken.”

“Words,”
Vidugavia declared. ”They mean nothing if not credible.”

Valacar nodded and choose his next words carefully indeed. ”I do not believe Baranor would have brought him forth if he entertained any doubt as to his veracity.”

Vidugavia grunted at that, nodding. He had yet to lower the battle axe he had worn over his knees through the entire audience, but his fingers no longer drummed on the blade. ”How many of these Rangers are there, under foot?”

“Ten, I am told, of which five we have in camp and another four are anticipated to arrive.”

“One missing,”
the king observed, thinking to himself. ”The alliance Framloch holds out is significant. It will take more than offers of fealty to seal it.”

“That, if I am not mistaken, could be why he offered tithes, land on which to settle and a share in the profits of the wine trade. And Fennic’s head, at no bounty at all.”

“Rhovanion would be united, from forest to sea,”
Vidugavia said, and left out the fact that he would also be a very wealthy king indeed. ”That is an alliance to be protected at all costs. Assured. Would you agree.”

“I would,”
Valacar answered and Vidugavia smiled.

”And so, I must ask you, do you still consider yourself worthy of my daughter’s hand?”

It took a few moments for Valacar to catch up. ”You...you mean to betroth...”

“I must consider it, must I not? For the people of Dorwinia and Rhovania both. For the peace my daughter prizes above all else, her life included.”


Valacar’s head lowered at this, and he squeezed the hands he had at his back. ”You must choose your people, of course. As must Mavi,” he said, with some difficulty.

And with that, Valacar’s audience was done. Or so he thought.

”Ambassador,’ Vidguavia said as he made to leave the command tent. ”I will give you my consent on one condition.”

Valacar rocked on his feet. ”Anything,” he said and Vidugavia lifted a brow.

”You will take a proper name and, above all else, you will ensure my daughter comes to no harm.” Vidugavia grasped his war axe and rose. ”I will not lose her as I did her mother. Do you hear me?”

“Yes, Sire,”
he said, bowing.

The King eyed him sternly. ”Be off with you, then,” he declared, lifting his axe to settle it over his shoulder. Now the audience was done in truth.


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

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14 Lothron – Evening
(Lótessë, Skerpla)
Dorwinion – Western Borderlands



As soon as Valacar was dismissed by Vidugavia, he went to find Vidumavi. One of the Ithilien Rangers said he knew where to look as Maichen had told him he was going to observe the processing of the detainees. He also said he had seen Vidumavi helping the detainees earlier. Now, as Valacar approached, he had gathered three more of his rangers ad sought Vidumavi as she gave out bread to the seemingly orderly line.

"M'lady, a word when you are free?" Valacar watched as she didn't even look up.

"You Valacar will have to wait until the last mouth in need is fed unless you relieve Mayra here." Vidumavi tapped the sandy blonde woman in a dull green linen dress on the shoulder and Valacar stepped in. He had seen her dish give a small bag of flour to each person passing so he picked up where she left off.

"I have come to say your father has given me permission to court once I have a proper Rhovanion name. I ask you now again to reaffirm if this is something that you wish." Valacar was sure it was as she had not expressed any change of heart or mind since they last spoke of it, but his father always told him to check twice before acting. ”I just had to let you know right away.”

“You help me finish here and we will walk and talk of this name.”
She Paused just for a moment to look to Valacar and her hand went up and cupped his cheek. Valacar smiled. Tell me what else needs done and I and the rangers will do it!”

Valacar started in as though he had done this before. He did work the East Osgiliath quarter when he was overseeing the redistribution of some Mariners Guild stores to the poor. Valacar was proud of his father using his regency to oppose the Mariners Guild cartels. It did much to thwart famine in Gondor in the year 1244. The guild was loathe to forgive him the debt even though they issued a statement that they were ‘donating’ the food-stores to feed the ‘more disadvantaged’ people of Gondor.

“I must take a ‘proper’ name of Rhovania and I must swear my life to forever protect you. That is the conditions your father set upon me for your courtship. Tell me Lady Vidumavi, will you accept me as a courtier?” Valacar was putting himself before her in a plea to become her husband. The people receiving food were smiling as they heard his words. As much as the displacement had upended their lives, the aura of budding romance never failed to bring joy to those who witnessed it.

Vidumavi paused and looked to Valacar. She was conflicted between her people and her love for Valacar. She raised her hand to his cheek and said, “There was a word you told me of that sounded much like our names. I think it would be fitting that you have a name like ours, but is of your kin.”

“Vinyalondë … it is an old Númenórean port far to the west. I will be called Vinilondë … your people’s haven. For it is what I wish to be… to evermore bind our peoples, and to keep you safe as your father wishes.”
Valacar paused as he got behind and the line was holding up. Once they had that sorted out, they flowed well together. “Do you think your father will accept such a merged name?” Valacar looked to Vidumavi then looked away in thought. “I have other names more Rhovanion… like Vinitharya … or Vinitihana



The work went on into the late evening, and though Vidumavi wished to stay, Alruna made sure she returned to the royal hall. ”I am likely already in trouble for not dragging you back in time for the evening meal” Alruna looked at Valacar and his cadre of rangers clad in dull green and shades of browns. ”And you guys are not helping me out!” A couple of the rangers snickered at that.

“They will help you out. You guys make sure these people get fed… just like the autumn of 1242 when the locusts devastated the crops. Fairness always.” Valacar made sure they understood. They remembered.

Alruna was first to enter the royal hall, and instead of admonishment and the table being full of people feasting, they all say around the fire. When Vidumavi and Valacar entered with the other shieldmaidens, they were greeted by the king standing up. “Mayhaps my daughter speaks wisdom beyond her years. Vidumavi, we have heard your words, and so we wait to feast. Your work wins the hearts of many, and it will be remembered as much as the iron hand of Vidugauja. Come, let us feast.”

Vidumavi was pleased to hear her father’s words, but the feasting still felt wrong to her. “We will feast father, but all that is left will be stewed for the Dorwinions for tomorrow’s meals.” Vidumavi stood tall looking at her father. Their eyes met and there was silence in the hall. Vidugavia knew that the succession law was flawed. He could proclaim a change in succession and empower his daughter to be ruling queen of Rhovania, but he knew that the clans would not agree to such a sudden decision. He would try and see if he could gain support, but his nephew already had the support of many clans who hold a hard line on such matters. Vidugavia knew that his years would run out before a change such as this would ever be enacted. Maybe one day in years beyond his sight…



~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~


18 Lothron – Afternoon
(Lótessë, Skerpla)
Dorwinion – Western Borderlands


The last days had been tense around the King's camp, and Vidugavia had some hard words for his nephew Vidugauja, admonishing him for his hard edge in dealing with the Dorwinions in a way that some, including his cousin Vidumavi, had seen as outright brutality. Vidugauja had taken his cue from the anger Vidugavia had shown at first when he found out Vidumavi had been kidnapped and defended his ‘hack them with a sword and give them a bandage approach. But in the aftermath, it was Vidumavi who had the king’s ear, and the king had softened his heart if only a little. An amnesty was put in place for all the Dorwinions who had been displaced but had proven they had no ties to the Fennic clan.

It was Vidumavi who would help oversee the repatriation of the lands of Clan Fennic to other Dorwinions who had proven to have opposed Fennic. Also, some land was given to Rhovanions who had a verified grievance against Fennic in their family history. But the prize vineyards were some of Fennic’s personal holdings. One was an established vineyard just south of the mouth of the Celduin. House Feric put a claim in on it saying it was taken from his grandfather by Fennic’s grandfather. The Estate house still stood as it has for centuries, weathering the storms of war around it. It was here that Vidumavi and Vidugauja stood in judgement of House Feric.

”Feric, you have lands along the sea, these lands would give you a near Monopolistic control of the shoreline. Cousin, I recommend this claim be withheld pending Feric’s willingness to rescind title to other lands of equal worth.”

Vidugauja was right in his thinking, and despite the friction between he and his cousin, in this they were in agreement. Vidumavi looked at the maps and nodded. “My cousin is right. Granting this would establish a monopoly of access. We did not drive Fennic out to simply have him replaced by another wine-producing oligarch. These lands will be held for now in trust by the Kingdom of Rhovania.”

Rhanna and Rheaon stood to each side of Vidumavi and Vidugauja, and the next matter was brought before them. The reviews would go on for three days before claims were judged and verified and either accepted or rejected. A few disagreements ensued, but with Vidumavi’s diplomatic way of speaking, she had managed to talk down any ensuing trouble. Vidugauja was impressed with his cousin, and he had a mind to make sure she had a position of power in his kingdom. It was now that he erased any lingering doubts about a possible union between his cousin, the king’s daughter, and Valacar, the nobleman ambassador from the Kingdom of Gondor.



~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~


27 Lothron – Afternoon
(Lótessë, Skerpla)
Dorwinion – West Rhûn Vineyards


The sun shone brightly, and there was a light breeze from the sea of Rhûn to the east. The vineyard workers were hard at it renovating some neglected parts of the fields. It was true the output of wine while Fennic held this land was greater; it came at a cost and the grapevines had been strained. But with proper attention in this season, their health would be nurtured back.

Valacar walked arm-in-arm with Vidumavi through the fields of the trust vineyard. Since being given permission to court Vidumavi, Valacar spent almost every free hour he had with her. His admiration for her work and her empathy for those less fortunate made him love her all the more.

He looked to Vidumavi and admired the way her loose hair danced in the breeze around her face. ”I could see myself settling on a nice plat like this. I would get out there and work with these hands though. I have no desire for living a high nobility life, and being merely the son of a regent of Gondor, it is very much possible. What of you, daughter of a king?”

“I would very much like to be the heir to my father’s throne. But tradition and men’s wisdom has prevented it, just as in your kingdom I believe?”
Vidumavi looked over to Valacar as they came to the riverbank where the water spread to meet the inland sea. ”Yet should I be upon the seat of my father, I would consider all people, not just the nobles. But I speak of a world that will not be. Will you be happy living here in Rhovania Valacar, or should I say Vinitihana?”

Valacar smiled. It was the name he would put forth to King Vidugavia upon their return to the Royal Hall. ”You may call me that m’lady. It will be the name I’ll be known as forevermore.” He thought about it for a moment before going on. ”There is nothing in Gondor for me but my father who sees me more of an assistant to the regency than a son. Although, I think he would like you Vidumavi.”

Valacar was correct in his thought. He would like her, though Valacar knew if they ever met, he would be looking for the angle on how she could be useful to him. Minaltar wasn’t strictly like that. He was genuine on his love and feelings toward others. It was just he looked at things with the eyes of a regent, not as a Gondorian noble of which he was as nephew of King Narmacil. He was regent at the whim of his uncle, and unknown to Valacar in Rhovania, there was whispers in Gondor that King Narmacil’s new wife was with child…


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

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27 Skerpla – Afternoon
(Lótessë, Lothron)
Dorwinion – West Rhûn Vineyards



The golden sunlight glowed that afternoon as it poured through the vinyards and over the young couple wandering through them. It was quite remarkable, Vidumavi thought, after so much turmoil and fear. She had wondered if her father might refuse to allow this courtship in response to her recent disobedience. Yet here she was with Valacar at her side and the rest of their lives beckoning.

As he spoke of his life in Gondor and his father, she stole glances whenever he wasn’t looking. Valacar’s grey eyes were clear in the afternoon sun and the breeze tugged strands of his dark hair free from where he had bound it back.

”Perhaps your father cares for you more than you might know,” she suggested.

Valacar paused at this and, after a beat, with some curiosity asked, ”How do you mean?”

“I cannot claim to know your father,”
she replied. ”But I do understand how much sons mean to their fathers. Your father would not have sent you to us if he did not love you. And for that, I will be forever grateful.”

Vidumavi pondered further for several beats. ”In truth, Vinitihana, now that my cousin has taken a wife, I do not know what my life will be.”

“You will always be the King’s daughter,”
Valacar replied and she nodded.

”But never queen. When Vidujauga takes his place, Lady Rainavi will be at his side as she should be, and the rule and care of Rhovania will be theirs. For now, I must do what I can to assist her to prepare. After that,” Vidumavi shook her head from side to side and then a thought came to her that made her smile. She looked to Valacar once more, ”Perhaps I might venture to the lands my husband calls home.”

Valacar blinked at this and when he looked to her, Vidumavi did not look away. They ceased strolling and turned to face each other.

”Husband?” he repeated, somewhat strained. She nodded and reached for his hands. His fingers twined with her own, warm and strong.

”Wherever in this wide world we find ourselves, Vinitihana, I will love you.”

His eyes flared and just like that, he pulled her to him until their brows touched. Valacar released her hands and smoothed her hair. She placed her own against his chest and felt the pounding of his heart. ”If you would have me, my home is ever at your side,” she whispered and in return, he whispered something in swift Elvish before he kissed her.


~ ~ ~ ~ ~



”Well now,” Baranor remarked, averting his gaze and turning away. Maichen, also maintaining a distant watch nodded knowingly and Baranor raked a hand through his hair. ”Is it serious, do you think? He is still young.”

Maichen cast him a look. ”Young though he may be, he is no fool. He would not indulge himself with the king’s daughter.”

Baranor grunted his acknowledgement at that for the Rhovanions had a rather more pragmatic approach to such matters and the camp was full of alternatives.

”In any case, there is talk that the king has granted his permission in this regard,” Maichen continued.

”A formal courtship?” Baranor clarified, frowning as he thought. Formal courtships meant betrothals and marriage, or they did was far as he understood such thing and while the Rhovanions had their own culture, he did not think their peoples were too different in that regard. To his assessment, the king had one daughter and two alliances and it made more sense to betroth his daughter to the youngest and least certain of the two.

”I wonder what Vidugavia is playing at,” he mused, for Valacar had mentioned the king’s ire at the business Minalcar had done with Vidugavia’s foe.

”Politics aside, I do not think this a game for our Ambassador,” Maichen replied and patted a pouch at his belt. ”Valacar has asked that I bear his father a message. He means to seek his blessing for the union.”

Baranor nodded his head. ”Then so be it,” he replied, relieved that he would never bear the scrutiny nobles endured in such matters.


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~


10 Sólmánuður – Afternoon
(Nórui, Nárië)
Rhovania



With the onset of summer proper, and the harvest to follow, King Vidugavia issued orders that would see those who had answered his call sent home once more to tend to their lands and people. They went home far wealthier and bearing the tidings that the king had prevailed in deposing Fennic and restoring Dorwinion to Rhovania. They were a united realm now, in truth. A united, prosperous realm, with the trade in wine to benefit all of Rhovania.

To assist Lord Feric in consolidating his position in Dorwinion, Vidugavia agreed that the Order could return if they wished. The Order had quit Dorwinion several years earlier and went exactly where it pleased them to do so. They were sworn to Béma, as every man in Rhovania well knew. As it turned out, some of the Order did agree to return to Dorwinion. There was need for them there, for the Easterlings would have noted the unrest. Further, there were a good many young girls in sore need of training they had not been able to obtain during the Order’s absence.

Assured of a measure of stability, many refugees decided to try to rebuild their homes rather than take their chances elsewhere. It would take time, and a great deal of hard work, but hope had taken a foothold in Dorwinion once more. As for the matter of Fennic, both Fenric’s men and the Order would continue to pursue the man.

The Rhovanions broke camp and streamed back to their homes, the largest contingent returning with King Vidugavia.

On this afternoon, the King found himself riding with his nephew. Ahead, surrounded by a phalanx of Shieldmaidens, Vidumavi rode beside Valacar. The king observed his daughter laugh, which she did readily, as the man beside her attempted to teach her Elvish. Vidugavia knew how his daughter loved languages. She was possessed of a curious mind, eager to learn. Always so eager.

”It will not be a long courtship, I wager,” Vidugauja stated, his words breaking across Vidugavia’s thoughts.

”Any betrothal will be announced when it is right to do so,” he replied, and that may mean a wait longer than his daughter wanted.

Vidugauja looked about. ”Are there objections?”

“You had your own, as I recall,”
the king replied.

His nephew sighed at this and nodded. ”I have them no longer. And I have heard no rumblings, either.”

“Give it time,”
Vidugavia replied. ”Wait for the flush of recent victory to settle. Or for Fennic’s head to arrive.”

Vidugauja paused, pondering his uncle’s predictions. Fennic had, indeed, gone about thinning the ranks of potential suitors. Now that the man was no longer a threat, some that had survived might now emerge. And it was possible, he supposed, that some might object to giving his cousin to someone not of Rhovanion heritage. As if their own people were not good enough for their king’s daughter. But what was also clear was how much Vidumavi cared for Valacar and he for her. After all, the man had taken a Rhovanion name and immersed himself in their practices.

Vidugauja ventured, ”You could make a place for them both within the court. Something fitting of your future son and heirs.”

“Aric's gotten in your ear, has he?”


Vidugauja smiled wryly. ”The old man may have a point,” he admitted of Vidumavi’s grandfather.

”He often does,” the king muttered, eyes on his daughter ahead. Vidugavia well knew that he would never have laid claim as King of Rhovanion without Vidumavi’s mother. Her counsel and wisdom had steered his course, just as their daughter’s had most recently. But for Vidumavi’s mercy, his victory may well have been the downfall of all he had built. Certainly, his nephew would benefit from her wisdom.

The King nodded, his decision made. It was fitting that the man his daughter married was of suitable rank within Rhovania. Embedding Valacar amongst his court would further strengthen the alliance with Gondor. Already he knew it was not as strong as he had supposed. He could survive losing Dorwinion. Rhovanion could endure with or without it.

The same could not be said of Gondor, for the Easterlings would come again. It was only a matter of time. However, any title he might bestow now could easily be revoked by the young man who would follow him to the throne. Particularly if Vidugauja were to have sons.

”In time, you will have heirs of your own,” he said to his nephew.

Vidugauja flushed at that but nodded. They had scarcely a few weeks together before the attack and that was nearly two months ago now. He was eager to get back to his bride, and bring Rainavi tidings of all they had accomplished. Such a triumph as this would be something they would talk of for years to come.

The king continued. ”Rhovania will pass to you and whether it remains united is yet to be seen. Know this: you will not hold any of it for long without Gondor’s aid.”

Vidugauja nodded again. ”Any title you bestow to the Ambassador will be maintained in my court. And Mavi will always have a place with us, as will her children. My word upon it as your heir.”

Vidugavia eyed him sternly and said, ”I will hold you to that, lad, whether in this life or in the Halls of our Fathers.”


~ ~ ~ ~ ~



It would take further four days before the King and his company returned at last to his royal hall. The triumphant return of the King was met in true Rhovanion fashion. For the Rangers of Ithilien, it was quite the introduction to Rhovanion festivities. Ale and wine, feasting and song, laughter and dancing ensued for days and nights and days on end.

But missing all of this were the Rangers of Ithilien, for they had taken their leave in Dorwinion to search for the last of their number and return to Gondor once more.



~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~


14 Sólmánuður – Midday
(Nórui, Nárië)
Northeast Reach of the Emyn Muil



Carmahdil kicked at another small rock on the ground. It had been two months, or thereabouts, and Fennic was late. With naught but rock baking in the sun, the midday hours here were unpleasant to say the least. There was no shade to be had in this forsaken place and he debated his options. Returning empty handed after handing over so much gold was about as appealing as remaining where he was, so Carmahdil continued to wait.

In time, shadows stretched offering some relief even if the stones continued to radiate heat. Another day like this and he would have to go in search of further water. Or perhaps start on a life elsewhere, beyond the Guild’s reach. He took a measured sip of what water he had and grimaced. It had started to taste brackish.

As the hours continued to stretch, and afternoon swung to the long dusk, Carmahdil decided his course. He would take his chances with the Guild rather than venture into the wilds or die of exposure here. The Rhovanion had robbed him, as Rhovanions were wont to do. Such are the inherent risks of doing business with these people.

He went in search of his horse, retracing his steps to where he had left the animal with the cart he had brought for the wine. Carmahdil had left signals to help him locate the site and he followed these carefully, for getting lost here was a death sentence. As he did so, he heard the scuff of a boot behind him. Frowning in the half light, he turned about and espied a figure standing there. As soon as he saw this, Carmahdil swore to himself.

”I am here on Guild business,” he called to the Ranger that had started forward. Men such as these never travelled alone. There would be more, somewhere, which meant that he was out numbered. ”Be on your way and I will be on mine.”

The Ranger continued advancing all the same. Carmahdil had a sword at his belt, but he did not draw it. Not against these men.

”Take me to Gondor,” the Ranger said, and Carmahdil frowned. A Ranger of Ithilien could find his own way to Gondor. A Ranger of Ithilien, further, spoke without the rough accent of the Rhovanions.

The Ranger did not reply. He continued to advance and as he did so, Carmahdil espied that his garb was stained. It had looked like dirt or sweat from a distance but now it looked stiff...like dried blood.

”Who are you?” he demanded, drawing his sword now. The Ranger reached for the cowl across his face and pulled it aside. The face revealed was sweating.

”Take me to Gon-“ Fennic began and then broke off. He reached for the rocks to one side and missed, staggering and then falling. He lay on the ground, silent. Carmahdil studied him for a beat. Whatever was going on, the Rhovanion had clearly jumped an Ithilen Ranger. Such men did not readily hand over their garb or weapons. The ambush must have injured Fennic. Then there was the fact that the Rhovanion had not arrived with any of the wine.

The Guild would have uses for this man, even if the Regent did not. By nightfall, Carmahdil was on his way once more, Fennic loaded into the cart. As he bounced along, he assembled his stories. One for the Regent and another for the Guild.


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

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14 Nórui – Morning
(Nárië, Sólmánuður)
Osgiliath – The Regent’s Study


The morning was clear and the eastern breeze warmed the city early. Minalcar sat on the balcony of his chambers looking out east over the Anduin River and East Osgiliath. He was pondering thoughts as he sipped the tea that was brought to him. He read the parchment he had received again and scratched his slightly-bearded chin. Pondering the enormity of this news, he wasn’t sure what exactly to make of it. Darion had made mention that his son was ‘getting close’ to the daughter of King Vidugavia. At the time he didn’t seem too worried about it as Darion said there were plenty of clans the king needed to shore up his alliances with and assumed Princess Vidumavi would be wed to one of their young men.

But as the days passed, Minalcar pondered the advantages of the prospect of having his son wed the king of Rhovania’s daughter. He himself was three steps away from the throne of Gondor, and there looked like there was a possibility that his uncle’s new wife would bear him an heir. That and his own father Calmacil had no desire to be ruling king. Had his father been king and he and his son were in the direct line of succession, then there would be issue with Valacar marrying a Rhovanion.


Minalcar’s aide came in, breaking Minalcar out of his thoughts. Looking up to him, he asks. ”What does this day bring me Dírhavel?”

”Sir, two things I have to report this morning.”
The tall studious man squinted at the parchments he held and flipped the top of the first one to look at the second one. ”One is commerce-related with a growing concern about the Dorwinion wine supply. Our own vineyards are doing their best to produce comparable quality, but the soil and climate has a lot to do with this. That and the aura of drinking the imported wine seems to hold much sway and prestige with the Mariners Guild.”

“Yeah, those old salts tend to not accept anything less. You’d think with some of their opinions of our Northman brethren that they would prefer our homegrown wines more.”


Dírhavel nodded and took the top parchment and handed it to Minalcar. ”King Narmacil has requested your presence for his luncheon, and, Darion has returned on this morning’s ship from Pelargir.”

“Yes, thank you. I usually lunch with my uncle on Tuesdays. Why does he find it necessary to make a official request this week?”
Minalcar knew to tend to his uncle’s whims lest he have some change of heart and decide to be king instead of having him be regent. Minalcar wasn’t completely ignorant of his position.

Dírhavel shrugged and stepped back. “There seems something of importance he wants to talk with you about this time.” Minalcar nodded. He hoped it was something minor. To him, the only major thing would be the rescinding of his regency. It was only a stroke of the quill away every five years.

“Noted. I’ll arrive early.” Minalcar got up from his desk and went to dress himself in his finery that he wore when attending counsel with his uncle and king.



~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~


14 Nórui – Noonday
(Nárië, Sólmánuður)
Osgiliath – The King’s Study


”Sire, regent Minalcar has arrived. Shall I show him in?”

“Yes… yes, at once.”
King Narmacil nodded as he went to sit at the small table being set. He usually dined in his study with his wife, but this time she was not present. Minalcar came in and bowed. ”My King, My uncle.” He sat down across from Narmacil

“Minalcar, welcome. I take it all has been going well for the realm? I have heard little from those that would prefer to bypass you.“

“For the most part uncle … or should I say ‘sire’? I never know which I start off talking to on any given day.”
Minalcar took the cup of tea that was poured for him when he sat down and sipped it.

Narmacil chuckled. ”I do that to keep you guessing. I shan’t do that anymore. I will be brief. As my wife is with child, this extension of your regency will be the last. It is worded to have you be regent until such time my heir becomes of age. I have no desire to rule again, and it seems your regency has made my tenure fairly popular. Know that should a boy be born to me, he will assume the kingship upon reaching age 21.”

Minalcar sat expressionless. In a way this was a good thing. It meant he didn’t have to worry about his regency ending when the certificate expires. Twenty-one years was better than five years. ”Thank you m’lord. This ease of mind will help me rule in your stead be more effective.”

Narmacil pushed a parchment detailing the regency from this day forward, and Minilcar read it carefully and signed it as did King Narmacil. The discussions went on for a couple more hours before Narmacil excused himself to go walk the courtyard with his wife. Minalcar walked out, waiting until he was in his own study before he smiled. He did not wish ill on the king or his new wife, but his first heir died before birth, as did his wife from the hemorrhage. His regency was sealed for at least the next twenty one years, or longer should a daughter be born.



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20 Nórui – Morning
(Nárië, Sólmánuður)
Osgiliath – The Regent’s Study


Dírhavel came in not with his usual parchments in hand. Only a simple rolled scroll. ”Sir a message from Rhovania.”

Minalcar took it and unrolled it and read it. He was silent but for a long slow breath. Valacar his son was now more than a Gondorian ambassador in Rhovania. He has been made vice counsel to King Vidugavia. Being appointed as one of the king’s counsellors was a very big step, and Minalcar pondered the advantages this had for Gondor.

”News indeed. Valacar is immersing himself well in Rhovania. Our alliance will be secure for years to come.” Minalcar nodded. He did not tell Dírhavel what the rest of the parchment said… about Valacar’s unofficial betrothal to the king’s daughter Vidumavi. Darion’s insight was coming to fruit it seemed.

”That will be all Dírhavel. Return at the noon hour and I will have need of a fast messenger to go to Rhovania in haste.” Once his aide left his study and his chamber, he went to his desk. Preparing a parchment, he wrote in his finest Tengwar script,

’My son,

Woe is me to advise on matters of the heart. I cannot oppose your wish to marry Princess Vidumavi, daughter of a king, if it is also her desire, and there is no opposition coming from King Vidugavia himself. Will it matter in the future of Gondor I cannot say, but my eyes can only see my continuing as regent until King Narmacil has an heir. As regent’s son, you are free to choose your destiny, and will do well to marry into the royal family of Rhovania.

I give my personal blessing to this union, and I will send my regards to King Vidugavia. May the bond of marriage secure our two nations alliance for years to come!

Know that as joyous as this news it, I cannot share it among the people of Gondor just yet. For I have to appease the Mariners Guild and the south, for they have the ear of your uncle and my younger brother Calimehtar. He has become a captain of a sea going ship, partially I suspect because of his links to the king and to me. As you know, he has not held back from bringing grievances of the Mariners to my father and uncle in the past, as he did in opposing the expense of building the Argonath. My father takes his cares under advisement, but they go no further. Our uncle and king will hear him out if it suits his day and promises to pass his concerns on to me. With my continued regency secured for twenty-one years, I have finally the leverage needed to make him see that there is no path around me, and he should come to me with his concerns.

Know also that the news will be shared before such time you return to Gondor with your beloved wife. Congratulations my son!

Your father,
Regent Minalc
ar Rómendacil II of Gondor’


He signed and sealed it and prepared it for transit before he wrote another to be delivered to King Vidugavia…

’Hail Vidugavia King, Victor over the Balchoth! I have received word that Valacar, my son and Gondor’s ambassador to your realm, has desires to wed your daughter, Princess Vidumavi, and that this pairing is from the heart, not from a need of alliance. Know that it will be an honour to have Lady Vidumavi as part of our family, and that this bond of love will compliment and strengthen the friendship and alliance between our peoples that was forged as brethren on the battlefield during the Easterling wars.

I would like to inform you of another matter that had come to my attention. A smuggling ring that has been operating contrary to your decree of embargo on Dorwinion wines has been broken up. Per your instructions, and non-Gondorians can be sent to you to deal with as you see fit. The Gondorians will face justice here and will be sentenced to appropriate terms befitting their part in the organization. Gondor takes these matters seriously and though the means some have gone through to acquire Dorwinion wine has been well developed, rest assured this commerce contrary to Rhovanian law has been disrupted.

Ever your friend and ally,
Regent Minalcar Rómendacil II of Gondor’


Minalcar prepared this parchment for transit, and would have then on their way north to Valacar and King Vidugavia that day.



~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~


22 Nórui – Midnight
(Nárië, Sólmánuður)
Rhovania – The Upper Bathhouse


It had been nearly a month since that day in the Dorwinion vineyard where they swore their love and plighted her troth. From that day, Valacar and Vidumavi would be seen together for at least a small part of the day. On more than a few nights, they had again met in the spring waters as the shieldmaidens stood watch. But they could not risk the city bathhouse. They now ventured out to the hidden path through the trees. There stood guard Voccina, and at the entrance to the old bathhouse itself stood Rhanna and Rheaon, being ever vigilant. They would not lose Vidumavi again except to the arms of Vinitihana.

Meeting like this was always a risk, but one they were willing to take to spend time away from eyes and ears. Prince heir Vidugauja had given his secret approval for them to meet there, and along with Vidumavi’s shieldmaidens, Vidugauja had a cadre of trusted men watch from afar.

Inside, the trickle of water echoed among the stone walls. It was just enough to mask their words to each other.
”Our road together in union Vidumavi… it is one I will take many times over. I wish not to miss one moment of life with you my love.” He kissed her shoulder as she sat leaning back against him.

”It is a road we walk freely Vinitihana of Rhovania. My father takes heart your counsel, and it is my hope that he will announce our day to wed come the changing of the season and the leaves fly in the hard winds.” She turned and straddled him and wrapped her arms around his neck as his hands slid around her waist under the water. ”It will be a year or more from when he announces it. But I wait not, husband…” Her hand went down from his neck and guided Vinitihana into her…


The sounds of passion echoed with the running waters, and once their combined song peaked, the calm returned. Outside the door, Rhanna and Rheaon smiled. It wasn't allowed for them to support Vinitihana and Vidumavi in these rendezvous, for it couldn't be officially sanctioned. Lilja, Brytta and Alruna were not there for this reason, though they were well aware of the activities. It was Vidugauja himself that came to them about arranging this for them. He himself was stressed about it, for he was enjoying his time at home with Rainavi, and hoped his advice to his uncle would ring true that this wedding couldn't come fast enough.


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Vidumavi
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30 Sólmánuður – Afternoon
(Nórui /Nárië)

Rhovanion – King Vidugavia’s Lands



As the crowd gathered, Darion was relieved to sight Valacar pushing through the press towards him. As he did so, he spoke to the others gathered about in Rhovanion. Darion was impressed, if he was honest, by how well Valacar had acquired the local language

”Thank you,” he said to Valacar in Sindarin as the two men clasped forearms. Valacar nodded and looked past him to the tray of the wagon. There was a tall cage and within it stood a man in chains. Fennic’s swagger was gone now, but he was far from penitent.

”Where was he found?” Valacar asked in Sindarin.

”He was arrested with a Guild man at the crossroads with Ithilien. Your father had him interrogated and he had quite a few claims.”

“Such as?”

“They were all lies, Val. All of them,”
Darion assured him and then patted his vest. ”I have letters also that I am to deliver: one for the king and the other for you.”

”I will see the king’s letter delivered,” Valacar said, his stomach suddenly knotting. What if this was his father’s answer? What if his father had refused or withheld his consent? ”I am Ambassador and Vice Counsel now.”

“Indeed?”
Darion replied, brows lifting. ”Very well,” he said and drew the letters forth. Both bore the Regent’s seal of red wax. ”I entrust these to your care, Vice Counsel and Lord Ambassador.”

As the diplomat said this, Captain Lilja cut through the press with six Shieldmaidens. Alruna and Brytta were both in her company. As the Shieldmaidens fanned out, Darion observed that both had one more torc than when he had observed them last. Alruna now possessed four, all gathered into one of her braids and Brytta had one amongst her braids.

Darion gestured at the five warriors that had traveled with him back. Minalcar had selected each of these men by name and the Regent had chosen truly. For each of the men surrendered their positions to the Shieldmaidens without complaint and kept their hands away from their weapons despite the rowdy crowd.

”I hear you’ve been having quite the time of it up here,” Darion quipped to Valacar in Sindarin.

”You could say that,” Valacar demurred.

As the two men spoke, Lilja issued a set of orders that was brief and sharp and then turned about. The crowd began to break up at this.

Darion frowned as one of the Shieldmaiden’s climbed into the wagon and flicked the traces. The wagon started forward, followed by the Shieldmaiden’s Lilja had tasked to guard it.

”Is that it?” Darion asked, puzzled. ”I thought there’d be something more than that.”

Valacar patted him on the shoulder. ”Come, I’ll find you some lodgings.”

Sighing, Darion had no recourse but to fall in and the five men that the regent had assigned to him followed.



~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~



Tidings that Fennic had been captured and was being transported had reached King Vidugavia well before the prisoner himself had. The passage of that wagon, with its small guard, had been marked for days now as it made its way north. Vidugavia, of course, appreciated Minalcar’s restraint. Only five Gondorians meant that the southern lords could suffer them to pass without challenge.

But now the traitor was here and so Vidugavia had sent his vice counsel out to meet his brethren. Meanwhile, his counselors had gathered to discuss what would be done. An execution was not up for debate. Everyone knew Fennic must die for what he did. What did need to be settled was when and how.

Some argued for a traitor’s gruesome death and as soon as possible. Some argued for a trial. And then there was Lady Rainavic, who argued something else entirely and in doing so, revealed something of who she had been taken counsel from of late.

”We cannot turn this man into a martyr,” Rainavic said. ”Lest we sow the seeds of the next rebellion.”

“Nor can we suffer him to live,”
Prince Vidugauja countered, frowning at his new wife. ”Not after what he had his men do!“

Vidugauja broke off as Valacar entered the royal lodge. With him was a familiar man. The king marked his vice counsel’s arrival and turned back to the debate. ”We cannot spare this traitor.”

“I do not suggest that he be spared, nor released,”
Rainavic replied. ”Send him to Dorwinion. Surely, his crimes against the people of that land warrant answer before all else,” she replied, which made Vidugauja’s frown even deeper.

Vidugavia, however, rubbed at his beard. ”That is clever,” he said as his thoughts turned. ”Crafty, even.”

Lady Rainavic smiled, well pleased by what she considered to be a compliment. In this, then, was she quite different to the woman she had taken counsel with. As for Vidumavi herself, she was out overseeing the harvest underway and such an undertaking was simply too important to disrupt. When Rainavic had approached her, Vidumavi had set out the various courses and sent Rainavic back with her advice. And it was sound advice too, Rainavic, even if the outcome would not be what the gentle princess had intended.

”We have spent quite enough of our time on the man,” Rainavic declared, nodding to herself. “Lord Feric must determine his fate."

“And if he should set the whoreson free?”
Vidugauja asked. ”Or if he should escape?”

The king chuckled knowingly, for his heir had seen to the paring back of Fennic's supporters in Dorwinion already. ”He will not, I assure you of that.”

Though dubious, Vidugauja headed off to make arrangements to transport Fennic to Dorwinion. Rainavic hastened after him, quietly talking about how it would be a terrible shame if something should happen on the way.

The king smiled after the newly weds, almost fondly. ”Just as well she’s one of us, now,” he remarked, and then considered the two Gondorians that remained. Valacar stood at his ease, hands at his back, and endured the king's study. Darion realised that he had forgotten how the Rhovanion king could look right through a man.

After a beat, Vidugavia asked of Darion. ”And how long will you be amongst us this time, then?”

“For as long as it pleases you, Sire,”
Darion replied in near faultless Rhovanion.

”Harump...so not long at all, then,” the king replied, jesting in a most Rhovanion fashion and demonstrating his fine mood by doing so. Why would he not be in high spirits, after all? His rival is vanquished, the annual harvest was going smoothly and for the first time in a long time, Rhovania's future looked to be of unbounded potential. He rose to his feet and turned for his private apartments.

”Sire,” Valacar called and Vidugavia paused. ”I have a letter. It is from my father.”

The king turned back at this. ”And why does your father write?”

”I have not read it, Sire, but I can guess well enough,”
Valacar replied, his attention slipping to where Darion stood. He passed the sealed letter to the king and continued”I wrote to my father at your bidding, to seek his assent”

Vidugavia said nothing to this. He snapped the red wax seal and set to reading. When he was done, he regarded Valacar steadily, ”If I were you, boy, I’d set about gathering the bride price. You will have need of it by the next costnang.”

“Thank you, Sire,”
he replied, bowing deeply.

Vidugavia grunted at that. ”Don’t thank me yet, son,” he replied and set off proper this time.

Once they were on their own, Darion puffed out a breath. ”So, you mean to go through with it then?”

“When is the next costnang?”
Valacar asked by way of answer.

”We know it as Yáviérë,” Darion replied and Valacar nodded.

”Four months, and I’ve already got the necklace,” he breathed, setting off to find Vidumavi and bring her the good news.

Darion resisted rolling his eyes. ”And the dowry? How will you raise that? And what of the house and household you are to provide for her to hold in perpetuity? Given any thought to that? Val?!”

But it was already too late, for Valacar was already racing down the stairs.



~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~


23 Tvímánuðr 1251
(30 Yavannië, Yáviérë)
Rhovanion



Lords and common folk from across Rhovania had made their way to this year’s costnang to see this for themselves. Even the newly installed Prince of Dorwinia had ventured forth. Her father had seen to it that he was provided with accommodations befitting his stature. There would be no tent for Prince Feric or his son, Lord Framoc.

Fortunately, it appeared that Prince Feric was as eager to keep his new alliance steady as Vidumavi’s father. The Prince had already offered his support for the soon to be announced betrothal and Framoc had separately sworn to Vidujagua that he would not challenge it. This, it seemed, had also been communicated to the various lords of the north and the south. Though custom required any challenge to be settled prior to a betrothal being accepted, it seemed that the betrothal of the princess of Rhovanion was to be without opposition.

”You would think at least someone would step forth,” Rainavic said as she adjusted the garland. ”For appearances if nothing else.”

“I do not care,”
Vidumavi declared happily from underneath the garland. Four months of sneaking about, fearing that they would be caught, was coming to an end.

”Perhaps I can muster up someone,” Rainavic continued.

”Please, Rainavic, don’t.”

“Are you finished in there?”
asked Alruna from the doorway. She wanted to be out and about, inspecting the wares of the gathered merchants.

”Almost,” Rainavic called and then, to the mirror, muttered "Just a few small adjustments." She tugged at the garland with a determined expression a few times, narrowed her eyes at it and then nodded to herself. "She is ready."

Rainavic stepped away, hand on her newly swelling belly. Only five months and already she was with child. Too early to announce yet, of course, but even so that was fast. Vidumavi could only hope it would be that way for her too, but so far that had yet to come to pass.



~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~



”That is quite some crowd,” Darion remarked. ”And it’s only the betrothal.”

“I know,”
Valacar said, trying very hard not to be daunted by the sheer number of people who had arrived.

Darion smiled to himself and asked, ”Now someone will have taken you through what entailed in one of these things?”

Valacar nodded, ”The betrothal is announced and, once accepted by the court, I offer the bride price.”

“Has no one explained what happens if it is not accepted by the court?”

“But it will be. Vidugauja said it would.”

“And Rhovanions are nothing if not predictable,”
Darion added. Valacar frowned at this.

”What happens if there is a challenge?” he asked.

Darion spread his hands. ”There is a fight, of course.”

“I suppose that it’s not to first blood, either,”
Valacar sighed and Darion smiled.

”You’d best go fetch that sword of yours, my friend.”

But for all of Darion’s warnings, the betrothal went smoothly indeed. The king announced it. Prince Vidugauja and Lord Framloc of Dorwinia both spoke in support of the union. No one spoke against it, either to challenge or oppose it. Once Valacar offered up a suitable bride price, it was settled.

The marriage would be held in the Spring of 1252, to allow suitable time for arrangements to be made. Valacar wrote at once to his father, advising of the date for the wedding and his hopes that his family might attend. But several days after he had dispatched his message to Osgiliath did word from his father reach him. Gondor had lost another Queen and heir and this time, it was feared, it might well break her King. Already there was talk of him surrendering the throne, bringing them all a step closer to the silver crown.


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30 Ivanneth 1251 III
(30 Yavannië, 23 Tvímánuðr)
Osgiliath – Noonday

Minalcar was trying to manage the concerns that had arisen with the death of King Narmacil’s second wife and child, and there seemed to be many. Being he had brought victory over the Easterlings recently; his word was held in very high regard. There were even those calling for Minalcar to be named heir, or even king outright under his ‘East-Victor’ name of Rómendacil the Second.

But Minalcar, despite being inspired by this small vocal minority, waved off any attempt to circumvent the king and his desire for an heir of his own. Added to this was the small minority in Lebennin primarily centered around the seaport of Pelargir that called for the end of Minalcar’s regency and to have the king rule directly. The Mariners Guild kept itself distant from these various calls, but there was belief that some in the guild backed the fringe that called for naming Minalcar’s brother Calimehtar as regent.

None of these had much backing with the ear of anyone in a position of power though, and Calimehtar himself, despite being a member of the Mariner’s Guild and questioning some decisions made by Minalcar, was loyal to the crown of Gondor and King Calmacil’s appointed regent. When such an idea was brought to him, Calimehtar made it clear that he did not have such ambitions and would not go out of his way to seek the crown or even regency.

He even went as far as to point out to those suggesting such thought that it was treasonous thinking, and that no true Gondorian would support such nonsense. ”I will not be the name or figurehead of any such questionable moves upon the Crown of Gondor, and It would be wise for you to be done with such insurrectionist thoughts!” With the only real blood connection between the Mariner’s Guild and the Crown, Calimehtar’s words held much weight. There was little said in the open again while Calimehtar, and his son Carainadur, rose in the ranks of the Mariner’s Guild.

Calmacil was not an old man by Dúnedain standards, and there was a good likelihood that he may seek a third wife after his grieving was done. No matter, Minalcar was in no rush to upset the status quo. For now, his regency was secure.


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

5 – 6 Narbeleth 1251 III
(5 – 6 Narquelië, 28 – 29 Tvímánuðr)
Osgiliath

Minalcar met with both his father Prince Calmacil and his uncle King Narmacil, and plans were made for the next year when Minalcar would journey north to Rhovania to see his son and to solidify the alliance he had made during the war with King Vidugavia. To assure stability among the people with ill words being rumored, both the king and the prince began spending more time together. It wasn’t that either were keen to rule, but they did not want any troubles while Minalcar was away. At Minalcar ’s urging, King Narmacil and Prince Calmacil made an appearance on the high balcony of the royal hall while Minalcar addressed the people.

Talk of trade and the better-than-expected yield of crops this season would go far in their trading with both the Rhovanions and to supply Umbar. All was not good of course, but the positive air and seeing the royal brothers in public seemed to set Osgiliath, and by extension Gondor, at ease.

Later, in the royal chambers of the king, the three men talked more of the coming year, and it surprised Minalcar when King Narmacil brought up the subject of succession. Both the King and his brother agreed that Minalcar was full ripe and fit to rule in his own right, and it was reaffirmed by King Narmacil that Minalcar would rule in regency for the remainder of his kingship. And in the likelihood that King Narmacil did not have an heir to follow him to the crown, Prince Calmacil would become king and set in line Minalcar as heir.

Another matter that was discussed was the office of the King’s Steward. The position had been unfilled since the tenth year after Narmacil became king. The previous steward, Havrios, did all he could to keep Minalcar’s grandfather King Atanatar II from depleting the vast treasury left to him. He was also the guide and counsel for King Narmacil through those first years. With Minalcar’s regency, there seemed little need for a king’s steward. But now, Minalcar considered appointing Maichen of Ithilien as King’s Steward to handle affairs while he was gone. He would have likely chosen Darion, but he knew how little he liked Gondorian court.

The next day, Maichen was quietly yet formally sworn in to the Office of the Steward of Gondor. Not only was he a man that Minalcar trusted; King Narmacil liked him as well. He would be able to caretake Gondor while Minalcar was in Rhovania the next spring. When the official ceremony was done, Minalcar invited Maichen to his study.

"It is well that you have agreed to take up this duty Maichen. My brother Calimehtar had put forth his adjutant Ceithios to King Narmacil with the argument that having a southern Mariner as Steward would provide 'balance'. Being you hail from Southern Ithilien along the Anduin, it should appease much of the guild."

Maichen went over to Minalcar's bar and looked at the offerings. "Anfalas Vineyards wine... I would think you would have some Rhovanion hidden somewhere. May I?"

“Yes, pour two.”
Minalcar nodded. ”And no, I don’t.”

“Well, there is something I may be able to take care of for you then. Some of the rangers discovered a cache of Rhovanion wine aging in a cave complex by the vale creek falls. I ordered the place to be guarded and for the contents inventoried. I’m thinking it will be impounded by the Gondorian treasury?”
Maichen raised an eyebrow as he finished the statement as a question. Minalcar just grunted and nodded. He knew he had the right man as steward.


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

9 Hithui 1251 III
(9 Hísimë, 3 Gormánuðr)
Rhovania

Valacar and Vidumavi were rarely seen apart in the evenings after the betrothal. For Valacar, the days were filled with his diplomatic duties to Gondor as well as official duties of King Vidugavia’s court. Planning for the spring wedding took a secondary role of importance as the work needed to harvest and supply all the provinces, and the supplies and messages between Gondor and Rhovania were coming quickly while the weather held. The surveys for a road were underway north of Osgiliath, though the work wouldn’t be able to begin for some time yet. Still, the track that was commonly used would be close to the route the road would take, and it had worn in well with the increased trade as long as the Autumn rains held off. Once they started, the track would likely turn into mud and be near impassable.

”This is very good that Gondor shares its good bounty of crops with us Valacar.” King Vidugavia said as he walked up behind him. Dressed in a simple cloak and without adornment, Valacar looked around.

”Does the king covertly walk among his people often?” Valacar asked surprised, though he turned and watched the unloading of another wagon.

”Not enough. It was Vidumavi’s doing that led me to do this. I wished to see the work she did among the poor.” Vidugavia pinched his chin with his fingers and scratched his beard. ”I made sure that proper provision be given to all equally. The prince gets the same as the pauper.”

“That is all well and good sire, but the need to be frugal with it must be exhorted as well. I hear word that the seers thin the winter will be harsh, even if they say spring comes early.”
Valacar glanced to the king who nodded before he spoke. ”I will speak of that, but this unseasonably warm reach of summer is a blessing and a curse. Though nights are cool, even beginning to get cold, the days of warmth and no rain has meant the smaller creeks have dried up and the larger ones barely trickle.”

“The rains will come. Until then, we have the cold springs in the fells that we have begun porting down to the west cistern.”
Valacar advised. When the king looked at him with a squint, Valacar added, ”Vidugauja agreed to my proposal to do this when we were up there. Also, that glen… I know access to it is not easy, but both Vidumavi and I think it is the place for the wedding … provided proper spring comes and it isn’t raining.”

Vidugavia scratched at his beard and nodded. ”Who am I to argue with my daughter on such matters? Very wise to have a reserve plan in case of undesirable weather.”

“I feel the Valar will still the hands of randomness of this world and bless us well come the thirtieth of Gwirith … Viressë … first of Harpa.”
Valacar fumbled the months, but recovered, knowing the year was divided in two here, winter and summer, and it would be the first day of the first summer month the wedding would be held.

’You have come far, Vinitihana of the South. I am at peace with this union you will make with my daughter, but my heart fears that it will take her far from here one day.” Vidugavia took a deep breath as he went silent. Valacar was about to reassure him that he was here for the duration, but his hand came up signaling silence, and Valacar stood at ease with his hands together behind him as King Vidugavia lifted his hand. "I believe the clouds of winter come." Valacar looked skyward, and the solid grey against the still firs looked like they should give up their waters, had only so far let a few tears fall... hardly enough to settle the dust and the dry fallen leaves.

With the messages he was getting from Gondor, nothing was certain in the years ahead. Still, he hoped to remain here, and to live his days with Vidumavi as Rhovanions. He too felt the weight of the future, though it could not be known. He would go to the seer and ask the hard questions knowing he will get only riddles and sayings.



~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~


27 Girithron 1251 III
(27 Ringarë, 21 Ýlir)
Osgiliath




The winter in Osgiliath was colder and drier than usual, and The Mariner’s Guild, having initially questioned the appointment of Maichen as steward, quickly went quiet on the matter. Minalcar had set in motion several infrastructure projects to improve the road south from Minas Anor to Pelargir, and from Pelargir west to Dol Amroth. Also, the road south from Ithilien to Poros was earmarked for improvements.

Being wise in a political sense, this was done to appease the south before he started on the new road north. He would have to wait a couple years to get the work started near Osgiliath, but some work further north could begin while he was away north for his son’s wedding. The southern road projects would keep the eyes of the guild away from his stealthier work going on in the north out of sight. It would not be a road in any overt sense, but the track would be maintained and widened and straightened in small ways. It would be preparations for the coming of the road in the years ahead.

Even now it was not known among the royal court that regent Minalcar’s son was to wed in the north to a Rhovanion princess. His uncle the king and his father knew, and they were silent with the news even as they gave Minalcar tacit support for it. It made sense alliance-wise, but word was going to have to come at the right time, and that time was not now.

It was his father Calmacil who came to Minalcar with news that his brother knew his nephew was marrying a Rhovanion. As much as Calimehtar could make trouble with this news in Pelargir, he had agreed to remain silent. It would remain a family affair … for now at least.

What bothered Minalcar most about this was how word got to Calimehtar. He had suspicion that it was Lady Gaelen, Calimehtar's daughter, who along with her maidservant Sirienna, was staying in her grandfather's house while she schooled in the Library and Observatory of Osgiliath, may be the source.

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Vidumavi
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21 - 24 2 Ýlir 1251 III
(27-30 Girithron)

Rhovanion



The snow had arrived late and seemed to know it. The light fall meant that travel for Yuletide festivities was easier. However, in a tremendous flurry, when the snow finally began to fall in earnest it did so in vast quantities. Consequently, the great hall of Rhovania’s King was crowded and was likely to remain so until travel was again possible. Already, their number had expanded through the earlier conflict with Dorwinia and now there was not a bed, blanket nor plate to spare.

Crowded though it was, it placed a new light over the previously unpopular policy of food conservation. Had not the King been so determined, and were it not for the generosity of Gondor, it would have been a bare yule indeed. Though this winter seemed harder than others, the spirit of the Rhovanion people did not diminish. There was music and songs, games and challenges and contests. There were gifts to exchange and mistletoe, of course. No gift, though, could match the generosity of the King.

Vidumavi and Valacar had a surprising ally in convincing her father. Prince Vidugauja joined them over the weeks to counsel King Vidugavia on the fate of the many prisoners caught up in the summer’s tumult. The King bestowed freedom on those prisoners that Vidumavi, Rainavic and his younger brother had established to be innocent of Fenic’s savagery. Accordingly, over two thirds of the men, women and children captured in Dorwinia were suddenly free once more.

Further, the King allotted Dorwinion grants he had settled with Dorwinia’s Lord. Those who had served Rhovania well were rewarded handsomely. There was, understandably, some jostling amongst the proud lords over who got what, but the King dealt with such quibbles handily enough. Even so, it made for long days of bargaining and back and forth. All of this, of course, provided valuable insight into the nature of Rhovanion culture, rule, power and politics. As Darion would note at the time in what would come to be considered the seminal work on Rhovania:

Though many account the Rhovanions as a strange and alien people, time and again, I am struck by how similar we are. They are proud, as are we. Wilful too, as are we. Confident of their place in the world, as are we. They value honour, fealty, service and bravery, as do we. They live in much the same way as the children of Men did before the Darkness came. They are us, before Númenor.


And so, on the eve of Yule itself, Vidumavi was tucked by the fire placing the finishing touches on the gift she had been preparing for Valacar for several months. She tied off the last stitches, set her thread and needle aside, and shook out it out to examine closely. As she turned it about, scrutinising her work, she was quite unaware of Alruna’s approach until her cousin spoke.

”Cheeky,” Alruna remarked as she marked the jacket. ”Darning his coat as a yule gift.”

Vidumavi smiled at the quip her cousin had made. ”Darning,” she murmured, amused by Alruna’s assessment of her work. ”I’d like to see you attempt this.”

Alruna snorted at the idea but did not sit down. Vidumavi folded the jacket up carefully and considered her cousin. ”I know you are not here to discuss the intricacies of needlecraft, Rue.”

“And I know how you got your hands on his jacket, Mavi,”
Alruna quipped back, smirking.

Vidumavi drew herself up. Had Alruna discovered her trysts with Valacar? ”Darion obtained it for me.”

“Mhmmmm,”
Alruna replied, unconvinced, ”But as it happens, it’s not that which brings me either.”

“What then?”
Vidumavi replied.

”Your father wants you,” Alruna said.

”Now?” Vidumavi asked, fearing once more that they had been discovered. ”Why did he send you to fetch me?”

Alruna shrugged. ”The old man is comfortable by the fire,” she supplied and Vidumavi found no other answer in her cousin’s face as she pressed to her feet. ”He is in his study,” Alruna advised before peeling off without a backward glance.

Vidumavi nodded and made her way to the study. The door was pulled to, but not entirely latched and so she knocked lightly.

”Come,” came her father’s voice from within and she slipped through the door and paused within the threshold, Valacar’s gift tucked under one arm. Within, her father was seated by the hearth and on his desk, a single candle guttered. Otherwise, the warm room was shrouded in the soft shadows of the night.

Slowly, her father swung his gaze from the hearth to where she stood. Firelight danced over his face and he beckoned her to him. ”What have you there,” he asked and she passed to him the coat.

Her father studied it, handling it with care. ”Fine work,” he said, ”This is a worthy gift.”

“I hope so,”
Vidumavi replied as her father folded it up once more.

Her father smiled to himself at this. ”He will love anything you might give him.”

“How can you be so sure,”
she asked and her father’s smile shifted a little.

”It was ever that way between your mother and I,” he said, a note of sorrow in his voice. He pushed out a sigh and indicated that she should sit. ”Often, of late, I find myself wondering what your mother might say or do. I know little of the preparations you must undertake for the Spring.”

“I have Rainavic, and my aunt,”
Vidumavi assured him. ”They will help me.”

Her father nodded. ”I know...just as I know that it is not the same,” he said and Vidumavi’s gaze dropped to the silver bracelet in her wrist. She turned it about, thinking that in the span of a few months, she would take it off and set it aside for her daughter as her mother had in her time. As she did this, her father said, ”I remember the day she gave that to you. She would be proud of you, as am I, to see the woman you have become. Would that she could see you now.”

“She will, father, in time.”


He seemed to stir from his recollections at that and scrubbed at his face. ”A long time,” he replied, his voice stern as if he were admonishing the fates themselves. Indeed, it seemed to Vidumavi, that they just might have been there in the room with them. ”I have something for you,” he said, pushing to his feet and stretching.

He made off into the shadows and returned with something wrapped in his arms. He set this on her lap and stepped back. Vidumavi ran her hands over the wrapping. It was quite unlike anything she had seen before.

”It is Elvish,” her father said, ”Open it, Mavi.”

She did so with great care, reluctant to damage the finely crafted covering. What she found within stole her breath.

”Do you like it?” her father asked after several beats of silence. ”They said you might. I wasn’t so sure, myself, and it wouldn’t be the first time Thranduril has sought the advantage.”

“Thranduril?”
she whispered, surprised. Relations with the Elven King had been frosty of late. Trade negotiations over the supply of Dorwinion wine had been challenging, to say the least.

”The Elf King himself,” her father replied, nodding. ”A cold fish, that one, but no fool. He relies on us for more than wine, and well do we both know it.”

As her father spoke, Vidumavi carefully unfolded the rich material and found a note tucked within. It was, of course, written in Elvish but Vidumavi had been working on that of late. The note described what the material was.

”Velvet,” she translated, ”and silk.”

”Silk does not shine like that,” her father replied and Vidumavi frowned, for there was a word she could not translate.

”M...Mithril,” she hesitantly said, slowly sounding the unfamiliar Elvish word out. ”I do not know what it is.”

“Some form of silver most like,”
her father replied. ”Will it serve, Mavi, for the wedding?”

She nodded, transfixed by the material. If mithril was silver, she did not know how it was so fluid and light. Silver thread was stiff and heavier, she well knew after hours of embroidering Valacar’s coat.

Carefully, she set the material back into its wrapping, rose to her feet and embraced her father. He closed his arms around her. ”It is perfect,” she whispered and she heard him sigh, possibly in relief. ”I love it, father, and I love you.”

His embrace tightened and then he eased away. ”To bed with you, child. We have much before us on the morrow.”


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Yule - 1251 III
(Mettarë)
Rhovanian



Yuletide this year was, aside from the crowd, much like any other year. A day filled with feasting, song, dancing and much conversation. Gifts were exchanged. Vidumavi gave Valacar the coat that had mysteriously vanished some months ago. It was his only coat that was suitable to the royal colours of the King’s court and so to have it back was welcome enough. To have it returned, lined in a silver silk with stars embroidered across the shoulders and down the back was even better.

”Stars,” he murmured quietly as he fingered the delicate stitches. It seemed to him that the embroidery was worked in silver thread.

Vidumavi nodded, ”For Varda,” she told him and he smiled at this, sliding his arm into one sleeve to put it on. Remarkable how effective the silk lining was in warming the coat. Once he had put it on, he turned about slowly and Vidumavi smiled. It had suited him well before, of course, but he looked especially handsome in it now.

”That is a fine coat!” remarked one of the nearby lords. He offered a broad, easy smile. ”I’ll give you five coppers for it!”

“Five coppers?” I’ll give him ten silver for it,”
said another.

“I’d not sell it for a hundred gold,”[/i] Valacar remarked, which made both men chuckle as they shook their heads and commented between themselves on the general absence of commercial sense Gondorians had.

Valacar turned back to where Vidumavi stood and she said with a smile, eyes shining, ”A hundred gold?”

“Five hundred,”
he replied, smiling in return and they drew together, hands joined.

”Have you quite forgotten the mundr?” she inquired, her tone playful.

Valacar shook his head. ”I have not,” he replied earnestly and then smiled. ”Though, the very concept of a bride price strikes me as odd,” he admitted.

This was not the first time they had discussed this and so Vidumavi nodded. ”But not the heimangerõ,” she countered.

”Dowries are familiar,” he replied, translating with ease, ”And you might have a point if I or my family were the beneficiary of the heimangerõ.”

“Oh, so were we in Gondor, I would be entirely dependent on my husband?”
she remarked, and shook her head at the notion. ”Our way is better.”

“Of course,”
he chuckled and Vidumavi kissed him for there was mistletoe above.

”And now, for you,” he said a long moment later and reached for where he had set his gifts. He passed to her a book that was covered in what appeared to be a fine leather. The pages within gleamed, like made of gold. She opened it and on the first page, saw Elvish script but it was strange.

”What is this,” she asked, tracing a finger over the flowing characters.

”It is written in Quenyar,” he replied, and she started to turn pages. ”Another form of Elvish.” Vidumavi smiled at this for it meant more hours together, learning and ‘learning’ this new language. As she turned the pages, one caught her eye, and she paused. There was an exquisitely drawn image of a woman.

”Yavanna,” she murmured, recognising the likeness. She had seen similar images before, but never in a book. She looked up and found Valacar nodding.

”There are many such titles, on all the Valar, in the Great Library. I can ask for them to be sent, of course, but they all must be returned. This, however, is yours to keep.”

As the couple exchanged gifts, others in the hall feasted, drank, caroused and sang. And there was much talk of the weather, the state of supplies, the season to come, the wedding and, scattered here and there, strange goings on observed in the forest to the south. Strange and eerie things. More than one southern Rhovanion guest observed that there was a darkness that walked the forest there of late. A darkness that was not to be crossed.


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~


Yule - 1251 III
(Mettarë)
Osgiliath



Far less crowded, fall less rowdy too, were the Mettarë celebrations that year. The King threw off his mourning to hold a grand feast, attended by all his glittering court. There were no open fires, over which meat was roasted. Nor were there raucous bards scattered about the great ballroom.

No, impeccably uniformed serving staff brought forth delicately prepared fare, plate after plate, all in a carefully arranged series of courses overseen in the vast palace kitchens by a small army of cooks and chefs and kitchen hands. Entertainment came from the musicians, soothing music during the repast and something to dance to afterwards. Wine was sipped, and clever, cautious conversation was had.

But in one way, Mettarë and Yule shared common ground. This was a time of bargaining, positioning and trade. Agreements were made, or broken, amongst the glittering noble’s of Gondor’s court.

And as it so happened, Lady Gailraen was in possession of a most advantageous piece of information. Advantageous and possibly dangerous, as her maidservant well knew. Sirienna had, of course, heard the whispers of late. And much like her mistress, the tidings that Valacar was to wed a Rhovanion princess did not please her. Lady Gailraen had been quite vocal about her distaste for the arrangement. Sirienna had heard her remark more than once on the subject. Her opposition was also shared with Lady Gailraen’s mother.

”What do you mean, mother?” Gailraen asked of her mother that morning. Sirienna continued in her duties, laying out the fine gown and jewellery her mistress would wear to the Mettarë ball. She stood at the dresser as the two noblewomen debated, setting out earrings, bracelets and the jewelled pins that would secure Gailraen’s hair.

”We must put a stop to this folly and we cannot do that from Osgiliath!”

“If it cannot be undone,”
her mother replied, her tone suggesting this was not a discussion at all, ”Then I will not appear to endorse this union with my presence and nor shall you!”

“Mother!”
Gailraen objected. ”Grandfather and our uncle are set on this course and father keeps whatever counsel he may have to himself. We cannot hope to prevail if we do not act! And any action that might matter must occur up there.”

“We will not attend the wedding, Gailraen, and that is final.”


And with that, the princess swept out of her daughter’s bedroom, the door closing firmly in her wake. Gailraen’s hands balled into fists as she turned about. ”Did you hear that?” she spat, furious.

”Yes, m’lady,” Sirenna said, eyes on her task. ”We must make a start if you are to be ready in time for the ball.”

Gailraen sighed angrily at this and came forward. She sat on the bench before the dresser and glared into the mirror. Sirenna ignored her expression as she held up earrings. ”The pearls, I think,” she said, setting the other earrings aside. She picked up a brush and set to work on her mistress’ long hair.

After a time, Gailraen’s expression shifted into something more thoughtful. She tapped her fingers on the dresser and waited until Sirenna was busy pinning her hair into place.

”I may not go to Rhovania and put a stop to this nonsense,” Gailraen murmured, ”But mother said nothing of you.”

Sirenna paused, a pearl headed pin in hand and looked to the mirror. Gailraen’s speculation sharpened. ”I know you want to stop it, Sirenna.”

She dropped her eyes and resumed her work. She said nothing, for her reasons had nothing to do with Gondor’s politics. Sirienna was not foolish enough to involve herself in what was solely a noble’s pursuit. Gailraen’s fingers resuming their tapping.

”If you went to Rhovania, he would listen to you.”

“It has been some years, Mistress, and in any case what would you do here, without me?”

“I can find another maidservant,”
Gailraen smiled. ”But I know only one with your particular...qualifications. Did he tell that he loved you?”

Sirenna paused again and covered that by adjusting a pin. ”We were both very young,” she replied, her voice soft with memory. Sirenna shook her head, ”And I know that there could never be any future for us.”

“Indeed,”
Gailraen agreed, chuckling at the absurdity of such a notion. A servant and a prince was quite ridiculous. As foolish as a Rhovanian barbarian, almost. ”You care for him still, though....and you see that this is a mistake.”

Sirenna lifted her eyes to the mirror once more and sighed as she nodded her head. ”No good will come of it,” she admitted and Gailraen’s smile was one of victory.

”Exactly! That is why you will go north.”

“I have tried before now,”
Sirenna replied and shook her head. ”And yet here I remain, m’lady.” She turned for the gown she had laid out and Gailraen rose to her feet to dress.

”I will have you included in the party that ventures north,” Gailraen said with all the confidence of a Gondorian noblewoman accustomed to getting her way. ”It will be unpleasant, of course. These Rhovanians live much like the animals they keep and it is a long journey. But, serve us well and you will never empty another chamber pot for as long as you live.”

Sirenna was silent at this, easing the heavy gown over her mistress’ head carefully and then lacing it up in the intricate knots that were all the fashion at court, currently. What Gailraen asked of her was perilous, else she’d not dangle so rich a prize. Treason, perhaps, if the King had approved the union. But, it was only perilous if Sirenna was involving herself in the politics and that she would never do. Young as they had been, she knew one thing would not change. Valacar had been determined to make his own match in life and to see him defer to the alliance now troubled Sirenna deeply. He had already given up so much of his life.

And if she was acting as friend, that was hardly treason.

”This offer, may I have it writing, m’lady?” she asked.

Gailraen sniffed at the implication. ”Do you not trust me?”

“Of course I do. I also know how busy you are, m’lady. So many weighty matters to remember and I am just a servant. A humble, loyal servant. The least of your concerns.”

“I will not forget,”
Gailraen grumbled but then sighed. ”But very well. I shall write you a letter of dismissal, and promise a handsome reward upon your return.”

Sirenna tied off the final knot and stood back to study her work. Each knot was symmetrical, consistent in formation, size, and aligned to the knot above and below it. Finally, her mistress was ready for the Mettarë ball.

”Well?” Gailraen pressed, turning about to face her maidservant. ”Will you do it?”

Sirenna inclined her head. ”As m’Lady wishes.”

Gailraen smiled at this, her white teeth glittering like mountain snow under the morning sun. Then she swept out for the ball. Given her frame of mind, Sirenna almost felt sorry for the noblemen who would cross her path that day.


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~



The business of arranging the delegation that would travel to Rhovania was almost as fraught as arranging something the Rhovanions called a mundr . Rhovanion wedding customs were quite foreign to Gondorian sensibilities. A bride price, which is paid to the bride’s kin, and a dowry which was given to the bride. A very strange affair. Of course, this was Rhovanian princess and her mundr reflected that. And then there were the gifts they would need to provide.

While the Regent was not a man without means by any stretch of the imagination, the fact that the work on the road to Rhovania was also being paid for out of Gondor’s coffers was not lost on his younger brother. There was more than one strained debate between the King’s two nephews but accord, grudging, was reached when the King reached a rare decision. Of course, he deferred to his Regent’s assessment and agreed that it was in Gondor’s strategic interest.

Calimehtar was not best pleased, for it seemed to him that this alliance with the Rhovanions came at too high a price. As he remarked to his brother, ”It is not as though the Easterlings are at our gate.”

To settle that dispute, Minalcar was forced to compromise more than he would have liked on the delegation. Particularly when it came to the inclusion of his niece’s maidservant. The Regent found himself speaking of his concerns to his wife.

”Perhaps,” Ivannah said after listening carefully, ”It is better to have her close to hand.”

“I fear she means to cause mischief of some sort.”

“That may well come to pass,”
Ivannah replied, ”But my ladies and I will keep her under our watch.”

Minalcar was silent as his thoughts turned. Should the betrothal be disrupted through the actions of one in their party, this would cause grave offense. The kind of offense that, he suspected, even his staunch ally could not look past either as King or father.

It took a little while for the entirety of his wife’s last statement to come to his attention.

”You intend to join the delegation?” he asked, surprised.

”Did you think I would miss our son’s wedding?” Ivannah replied, lifting her brows in mild admonishment. ”And in any case, if there is opposition, we must surely convey that we are united in our support of this union.”

“Aye,”
Minalcar nodded. ”But the way is long and arduous.”

“It is settled then,”
Ivannah declared, nodding at the challenge. ”And the maidservant shall join my retinue.”

And so it was settled. Sirenna found herself taken into the service of Princess Ivannah and taken north, with the delegation Minalcar led into Rhovania for the wedding.

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Valacar
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25 Gwaeron 1252 III
(19 Góa)
Belegant, Rhovania


Sirenna was beginning to have mixed feelings about leaving Lady Gailraen’s service and taking up duties with Lady Ivannah. Being on staff of the regent’s wife was much more challenging in many ways… at least it was how Sirenna felt. Going from being one of few serving Lady Gailraen and having seniority to one of many serving Lady Ivannah and being ‘the new girl’ was a hard change. That and it didn’t take long for Sirenna to realize she was viewed as an ‘outsider’ by the others, and the least of the duties were passed to her as they journeyed north to Rhovania.

So it was that Sirenna found herself emptying the chamber pots of both Lady Ivannah and Lord Minalcar. As disgusting at it was, it did put Sirenna into a position to be within earshot of some of the talks between the lord and lady in their private quarters in Rhovania…

“I don’t think I will be able to put much more into this road for some time. My compromise with my uncle was costly and went well beyond the composition of this wedding party.” Minalcar said as they lay together their first night in Belegant.

“Can you not work around them? Surely there is a way to honour the commitment to the Rhovanions while appeasing the Mariners Guild.” Ivannah countered. “Put more money into developing the north quays of Pelargir and make the city the jewel of Gondor. If it takes a little longer to get this road built, so be it.”

“I have done that. They got a sizable slice of the budget this year, and I have hidden the road-building funds in the Argonath building project. I just meant I can’t increase the overt spending on it. With this smoke and mirror game I have to play, it will push the timeline out longer than I had promised King Vidugavia.”
Minalcar was pondering his discussion he would have the next day.

“Well, a road for the Rhovanions does not have to be built to such a grand scale as one inside Gondor. We wouldn’t want to give the impression that because our son is marrying the Rhovanion king’s daughter that we plan on annexing them, do we?” Ivannah caressed Minalcar’s cheek before giving him a kiss. “Dwell not on these matters. Just let King Vidugavia know that he and his people will be welcome in Gondor, and our bond is strong and unshakable, especially when what blood is bound.”

“Yes, it does much to have such an ally to our north. I hope they do not take offense with the Argonath when it is finished.
” Minalcar wanted it to be a warning to the Easterlings, but it could be taken wrong by the Rhovanions. It would be another thing he needed to discuss with King Vidugavia.


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

(Earlier that day – Noonday)



Valacar was overjoyed to see his parents arrive, and as much as he had immersed himself into Rhovanion culture and fell in love with Vidumavi, seeing them and their guard in all their finery reminded him of the majesty of Gondor. In his heart, Valacar knew that he would eventually be recalled, and with him he would bring his Rhovanion wife and any children they may have to Gondor. It will be a beautiful day when that day comes, but the more Valacar pondered the thought, the more distraught it made him. He really liked Rhovania, especially in the summer. He would have to make it a point that once they return to Gondor to make regular excursions north for Vidumavi and the children to visit their grandparents.

The welcoming cheer drew Valacar from his thoughts, and as he stood with Vidumavi, Vidugauja, and Darion. King Vidugavia stood behind Vidumavi and Vidugauja, and the Company of Shieldmaidens lined the route on both sides of the road in their formal dress uniforms. With the vanguard of Royal Gondorian Guardsmen wearing the heraldry of King Narmacil passing, their heads turned in unison to face the King and they gave a nod in reverence. So too did the horses nod their heads, and as they passed, they stopped when the carriage carrying Regent Minalcar and his wife Ivannah with two of her servants came to a stop before the King.

This arrangement was for show, for they had only travelled this way from the camp they had left earlier that morning, and on the first days after they had left Osgiliath. Some of the time they rode upon their horses, and some of the time Minalcar rode with Gerais, captain of the surveyors, or with the guard while Ivannah rode in the wagon with three of her ladies. It was Sirenna who was charged with care for Lady Ivannah’s horse, and on the days the lady did not ride, Sirenna would ride beside Gerias who had taken the duty of attending the regent’s horse this day.

As Lady Ivannah and Regent Minalcar stepped out of the carriage and stretched. Minalcar breathed in the scent of the new buds of the fir trees and noted that though the day was clear with the sun filling the land, the air was still chill. Lady Ivannah pulled her cloak around her tighter as Minalcar smiled. “Too long has it been since I breathed deep the air of Rhovania. It is good to see you again old friend, and under better circumstances.” Minalcar took Lady Ivannah’s hand and bowed to King Vidugavia. “Sire, my wife and the love of my life, Lady Ivannah.”

Vidugavia stepped down and approached the couple. He bowed his head to Lady Ivannah as he took her hand and gave the back of it a light kiss. Lady Ivannah gave him a slight smile and a nod in return. He then reached out to Minalcar, and they grasped wrists and shook. “Brethren on the battlefield, brothers in arms, and soon to be bonded by blood. You look well my friend.” He then turned and held his hand out. “Minalcar, you remember my nephew and my heir Vidugauja, and this is my beloved daughter and soon to be yours as well, Lady Vidumavi.”

Valacar remained as parade-rest as the introductions were performed, though he was distracted by a rider of his mother’s horse… Sirenna? Here? He showed no emotion or surprise, and for now kept it hidden as an observation. There will be times for questions later….

“Mother! It warms my heart that you came! It is good to see you!” Valacar kept protocol and gave her a bowed head before she wrapped him in her arms and he returned her hug.

“It is nice to see you again my son. You really took your fathers assignment to heart.” She stepped back a little and looked at his face and nodded before turning her gaze to Vidumavi. “And you are the lady who captured my son’s heart.”

“Mother, this is Vidumavi. She has indeed!”
Valacar turned to Vidumavi and smiled. “My mother Lady Ivannah.”

“Welcome my dear to the family! We have much to speak about come time.”
Lady Ivannah gave Vidumavi a lighter hug as if she might be afraid of breaking her, but the return hug was strong. Lady Ivannah then leaned to Valacar, “You and I have much to speak of as well … in private.”

Valacar smiled and nodded. “Indeed we do…” he answered as he glanced over to Sirenna standing with his mother’s horse. He hadn’t prepared for speaking to his mother of things … Sirenna, wedding, or otherwise. He wasn’t prepared to see Sirenna again until such time he may be recalled to Gondor. He was prepared to talk to his father though.

The afternoon grew late and those Gondorian soldiers who had been in the north helped orientate the younger guards of the ways of Rhovania. Minalcar and Vidugavia took a long walk alone with only their personal bodyguards in tow. Sirenna was shuffled off with some other servants to work in getting the Gondor party settled and their animals tended to. It wasn’t what Sirenna expected, and surely not what Lady Gailraen had in mind for her when she sent her north. Still, she was here, and she would bide her time. She would gain her position and status, and she will talk plainly with Valacar in time before this wedding. Today though, and the week ahead, would be a long day for her.


Vidumavi tended to Lady Ivannah herself and made sure she was happy with the guest rooms. It gave a chance for Lady Ivannah to speak plainly to Vidumavi while they were alone… “I can see a lot of myself in you, Vidumavi of Rhovania. Though I only left one part of Gondor to live in the great city of Osgiliath, I can only imagine it will be much different for you when you come to live in Gondor.”

“Valacar and I have spoken of the possibility, and I have made it known that I wished to see his lands with him.”
Vidumavi smiled as she poured tea for Lady Ivannah and herself.

“Oh you will see our lands.” Lady Ivannah nodded. “Do you know that some few of your people have come to our lands seeking safe lands to farm? They say more will likely be coming south from your southern fiefdom. Families mostly, they came in ones and twos, sometimes three. They speak of an ill darkness among the forested hills, and some who lived nearby have decided to seek out shelter in our lands.”

Vidumavi had heard rumors of the darkness, but she had not heard anything of families moving out of Rhovania. She will quiz Lord Rhansik of this when he arrives for the wedding. As far as she knew, both her father and her nephew were unaware of this. “I am sure what you say is true m’lady. It will be nice to see them when I journey south with my husband.”

“Well rest assured they have been welcomed with open arms by Gondor. Our lands in Calenardhon are wide and lush, and there is room for many families there. Minalcar has quietly set in place a policy that allows for acreage to be staked out and developed, and after five years, they are deeded the land.”
Lady Ivannah sipped her tea and nodded with a sigh; being quite satisfied.

“This is news indeed!” Vidumavi said in a thoughtful voice. “Good news it is! Valacar has spoken of Calenardhon, and I wish to see it for myself in my days ahead. Ithilien too. He has told me much of the lands of Gondor.”

Lady Ivannah smiled at her future daughter. “You will be a bright jewel to Gondor, and I believe you will be loved by most. But know this Lady Princess Vidumavi. There are many in our southlands who think our friendship with Rhovania is an ill thing. Surely Valacar has spoken of such to you.” Lady Ivannah set her teacup down and reached for Vidumavi’s hand and her grey eyes looked hard into Vidumavi’s. “Do not wither in the winds of such words that will come. I had my palms read and I have listened to the cards of seers. Great will Rhovania be, yet much travesty will come to your people and mine. Together we stand strong. Divided we crumble into the sea.”

“The sea?
” Vidumavi questioned. “Valacar spoke of tall ships and vast seas from where your ancestors had come. My seer has spoken of your people living long lives, and Valacar and I have talked of this.” Vidumavi swirled her mostly-drank cup of tea and looked as the leaf bits danced in the vortex. “Though younger, I will grow old, wither, and die before he has fully greyed. It is said among my people that I should marry someone more my age, and that Valacar is too old, but they know not the extent of life in Gondoria, and the land west of the mountains called Arnoria. Valacar and I have spoken much of this, and our hearts are, and will remain, as one, come what may for either of us.”

Lady Ivannah was silent for a moment before sipping down her tea and swirling the dregs to watch the leaves. “Your seer… I would be very much interested to have an audience with one outside Gondor. Do you think you could arrange such a visit? Maybe we go together?”

“I have plans to see her five days before the wedding, yes. You may accompany me of it so pleases you.”
Vidumavi turned her hand and squeezed Lady Ivannah’s as their eyes held one another.

Lady Ivannah was curious what would be said of her husband and son. She had gotten conflicting accounts when she asked her seers in Osgiliath. She needed a third to tell their future. What better than one from another land! “I will be much honoured to accompany my future daughter on this.” Lady Ivannah nodded as she set her other hand on Vidumavi’s. "The men need not know. We stand in their shadows, yet much we know that they should know. It is for us to give counsel and advise upon the pillow. You, Princess Vidumavi of Rhovania, would be a worthy Queen of Gondor!”

Vidumavi blinked at such praise. The words Lady Ivannah spoke have solid sense in them, but Valacar had said he was not in line for kingship. Strange are the ways of Gondor though. A king is crowned, but hands the sceptre of the office to his nephew who rules in his stead as regent. It would be a question Vidumavi would have of the seer, and she suspected Lady Ivannah had asked this of her seers. Would the sands of the seashore and the desert shift so much that it would bring Gondorian kingship to Minalcar and Valacar? The sand of the desert gets in one’s eyes, and the sand of the seashore moves under ones feet as the rip recedes and the new waves comes…


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~


(That Evening – The Feast of Greeting)



The evening’s faire was roast kine, presented to King Vidugavia and the regent of Gondor by Framoc, the Chieftain of Dorwinia. He also provided barrels of wine to the father of the bride, and Vidugavia saw to it that one was tapped for this occasion. The aroma in the air was hearty and the talk joyous. As much as Valacar wished to steel away with Vidumavi to the old dwarven bathhouse, he knew such ventures had for now become the thing of the past. He talked and bantered with Prince Vidugauja and Darion, and as the music played and the dancing commenced, he knew that Vidumavi would seek him out in short order. He longed for her to come and take his hand and dance, but for now, he held his wine glass up for it to be refilled.

The weight of the wine lowered his hand as his glass was filled, and Valacar turned and nodded ad thanked the server. He paused when his eyes met Sirenna’s, and they both froze. A Gondorian woman working a Rhovanion feast? Valacar wondered at this, and after an awkward second, maybe two, he nodded and turned to look to the musicians. He looked, but his mind drifted back in time…

~ ~ ~

It was the 25th of Naire in the year 1228 in Minas Anor. Valacar remembered enjoying the ale and the entertainment at the White Tree Inn when a star-struck woman approached him. The ales had Valacar freely talking and bantering, and he paused as his eyes met hers. He remembered saying, “Well m’lady. You are too timid to be bar staff, and by the way you are looking at me, I believe I should know you from somewhere.”

He heard her speak and he remembered the voice. “Lady Sirenna, new servant of Lady Gailraen’s staff. I remember we ran into each other in the halls of the royal house in Osgiliath.”

It led to an evening of drink and talk, and the chance that Lady Gailraen was in Minas Anor that week and had given her ladies an evening to themselves seemed to say to Valacar that it was meant to be. He remembered the night and remembered the morning when he slipped his boots on and slipped away in the dawn. If that was all between them, this wouldn’t be a problem.

But later in Osgiliath, there she was. Lady Gailraen was staying there at the royal house of Narmacil. Valacar was merely a son of a commander who was the nephew and a councillor of the king, so was living in the royal quarter. The year would see he and Sirenna together in their free time more often than not. She was young though, and when Valacar’s eye turned to a woman his age, their relationship ended.

Valacar sighed at how simple life was back then. He had no idea that Sirenna had seen him when she was a child and crushed on him and seemed to have a focus on him in her life. She took his breaking of their relationship as a minor bump in her desire to marry Valacar. Now, she turns up again… here in Rhovania… with that same gleam in her eye… Valacar would not allow Sirenna to cause any issues here. Was she here to pursue him? Was she here to disrupt this marriage? How was he going to talk to her and put her in her place as someone he used to know?

“Would you like to dance mister?” Valacar heaved a sigh of relief at Vidumavi’s voice by his ear. He turned and kissed her before standing up. “I thought you would never ask me my love.” The two were off and Valacar was never so happy to be dancing in his life.


Over by the wall, Brytta leaned to Alruna and said in a low voice, “That servant girl… she has been looking at Valacar a lot since she arrived. She just poured him some wine and his face had the look of familiarity. There is something going on there. We need someone on her.”

Alruna watched Sirenna pouring wine in the hall and wondered how she managed to get put in such a position. It must have had to do with Lady Ivannah. “Have Varocci keep two eyes on her. I’ll clear it with the commander that something is off with the lady servant of Ivannah, the regent Minalcar’s wife.”


The rest of the evening had Valacar and Vidumavi together, and Sirenna serving wine, and the young shieldmaiden Varocci shadowing Sirenna in stealth. All was well in Rhovania, and though the revelry went well into the early morning hours, it was only a minor celebration compared to what was to come as the day of the wedding of Valacar and Vidumavi grew closer.


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

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24 Góa 1252 III – Morning
(30 Gwaeron)
Belegant, Rhovania



With only a few scant encounters with Rhovanians in Gondor and Lady Gailraen’s assessment of Rhovanions to rely upon, Sirenna felt distinctly overwhelmed upon arrival in this settlement the Rhovanians considered their capitol. A capitol, but not a single road paved. It seemed rowdy and chaotic, common folk freely mingling with what she supposed were nobles. And everyone, everywhere, went about openly armed. Even the women and children. As though they anticipated violence at any moment. Particularly the women, the ferocious Shieldmaidens who seemed to have a free hand to do as they wished here.

Everywhere Sirenna went, there was a Shieldmaiden present. Day or night, they were there. And this morning, as she hauled water back to the lodgings, it was clear to her that they were following her. The woman didn’t even seem to conceal the fact. The Shieldmaiden, tall with very red hair smiled openly at her each time Sirenna looked over her shoulder. Sirenna slowed her pace and the Shieldmaiden slowed. She quickened her pace and Shieldmaiden followed. Not that she could elude the woman in this place. Where could she run to here in any case? Unnerved, Sirenna rounded a corner as she looked back once more and realised too late that she was about to collide with a Rhovanian coming in the opposite direction. She pulled up abruptly, causing the pales to slosh and looked up to find that it was not a Rhovanian at all, despite his manner of dress.

”Is something wrong?” Valacar asked with immediate concern, peering around the corner himself. Sirenna set down the water she carried and composed herself. As she did so, Valacar spoke to another he saw approaching. ”Oh, Brytta....good morning! You’re up and about early.”

“Good morning to you too, Vinitihana,”
came a deep feminine voice, heavy with the Rhovanian accent. Sure enough, the tall Shieldmaiden drew up and surveyed first Valacar with curiosity and then Sirenna with bemusement. Her blue eyes lingered for a beat, narrowed with suspicion and then flicked away and back to Valacar, who had missed none of this scrutiny

The Shieldmaiden switched to her native tongue, ”Your mother wants you.”

Valacar’s brows lifted, for he had just left his mother’s company. ”Does she now?” he replied in Rhovanian.

Brytta smirked as she nodded, ”Aye,” she declared and, satisfied with her pretext, sauntered away as though her task were now complete.

Valacar pressed out a breath and turned back to where Sirenna stood, pondering this exchange. A Rhovanian name, a Rhovanian bride. He even dressed like them and spoke their tongue!

”Thank you,” she murmured, grateful that the Shieldmaiden had drawn off. ”I do not know why they follow me so,” she added, looking up to find Valacar frowning with thought.

”The Order is not given to idle pursuits,” he remarked, almost to himself, and then shook himself from his thoughts. ”I advise you to make your peace with them.”

Sirenna switched to Sindarin, “But I have no quarrel with them, Valacar! Or should I call you, Vinitihana? How can you bear it? To lose yourself so?”

“Lost? Is that what you think I am?”

”I scarcely recognise you,”
she answered, and lifted a hand towards him.

He withdrew at once, expression stern, and shook his head at her. ”You are mistaken. I am not lost here, but found. And I am happier than I can ever recall.” He drew himself up and regarded her with some pity. ”I will marry the woman I love and if you ever cared for me, you will not stand in our way.”

“You know that no good can come of this,”
Sirenna replied, sorrowfully. ”They will never accept her. If you love her, why would you subject her that?”

His expression turned stony. ”Stay away from her. I do not want you whispering your poison in her ears, do you understand me?”

Sirenna nodded slowly. ”I understand you better than you might think, Vinitihana,” she answered, collected her pales up and set off once more. She had warned Gailraen that too much time had passed for her to have any effect on Valacar but even so, his cold dismissal stung. Where was the sweet boy she had fallen in love with all those years ago? In so many ways, Valacar had grown much like the father he had once considered cold, calculating and domineering.

But, there was more than one way forward and Valacar did not assign her duties.


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~


24 Góa – 24 Einmánuður 1252
(30 Gwaeron – 30 Gwirith)
Rhovania



With the closing of Winter drawing nigh across Rhovania, and with it the royal wedding, the population of Rhovania was in flux. Many drew to Belegant, for the sowing season, for the business to be transacted, for the wedding and the trade to be hand. Word had reached far, all the way to the Iron Hills, that King Vidugavia was sparing no expense. He had but one child and her wedding would be an event none would soon forget. He retained craftsmen to make Belegant resplendent in all its Rhovanian grandeur. Mannish, Dwarvish and even Elvish. And whilst Vidugavia indeed doted on his beloved daughter, this was also an opportunity to put his wealth and position in Rhovania on display for his own people and, yes, the delegation from Gondor who observed this with some surprise.

There were races and contests of strength and prowess. There were costnangs where the business and grievances that could not be dealt with by individual lords was brought. This Minalcar observed with interest, for the Rhovanian approach to governance was quite different to that known in Gondor. Indeed, a common source of conflict was the misapprehension that Rhovanians had no laws and could not be governed. The truth of the matter was that Rhovanians had a complex set of practices and rules that were not codified in lore but nevertheless were widely understood, handed down over generations uncounted, from the earliest of days. There were markets, where the goods of Rhovania and then Dorwinia were traded. Haggling was considered offensive in Gondor and frowned upon. It was almost a sport for Rhovanians and watching them at it was entertaining.

Then there were the hunts. The wedding feast would be massive and that meant a lot of food was required. Hunting Rhovanian style was bracing. They were master horsemen and the way they navigated the woods and plains was a sight to behold, shouting challenges or insults at each other. But perhaps most remarkable of all was the work that went into the site for the wedding itself. It was here the Elven craftsmen wove their most remarkable feats, turning the glen into something quite wonderful. Laden with green boughs, soft sweet grass and abundant flowers strewn as far as the eye could see.

Across all this time, Vidumavi came to spend time with Valacar’s parents. His mother she found to be warm, welcoming and kind. His father was a little more difficult to understand. He divulged little of his inner thoughts, however more than once she thought that perhaps she had won a smile from the Regent. Certainly, it seemed as though his parents were supportive of the wedding. Both the mundr and the heimangerõ were provided and in both instances, were more generous than what was required. Come what may, Vidumavi and her children would be well provided for, and this generosity was well received by the Rhovanian court. It spoke well of the Regent and his wife and any that wondered whether Gondor supported the match had their questions answered and then some.

Sirenna bade her time, working diligently and ensuring her path did not cross with Valacar lest he arrange to have her dismissed from his mother’s service. That certainly was a possibility, but Sirenna was clever and accomplished at going about largely unobserved. In the burly bustle of the royal lodge, she was careful in her movements. Or, at least she thought she was until a blonde Shieldmaiden grabbed her arm and hauled her away from the press one night.

”Do you know who I am?” the blonde woman asked.

Sirenna shook her head, the empty tray she bore clutched to her. ”I do not believe that we’ve met.”

“I saw you in Osgiliath, on my way from the cells to the Regent’s audience.


Sirenna frowned for a moment and then her eyes flared. ”You tried to set the city afire.!

“If I was going to fredegar burn Osgiliath, it would be ash!”
the Shieldmaiden declared.

”Rue! What is this?”

“shire,”
the Shieldmaiden hissed and turned. ”Mavi, this is none of your concern.”

The woman Valacar was to marry was very beautiful indeed and on that night, her eyes were bright with merriment and her cheeks were flushed. But just at that moment, she did not seem very pleased at all.

”This woman is in Lady Ivanneth’s household. They are guests and guests, Rue, are not to be monstered in dark corners of the very hall they have been welcomed to.”

“Mavi,”
the Shieldmaiden countered but the princess shook her head, unswayed.

”Alruna, I will not argue. Please, return to the hall or I will bring this to my father.”

“You are making a mistake,”
the blonde woman countered but withdrew anyway, scowling.

The princess remained where she was, watching all the while until the Shieldmaiden was gone. Once that had happened, she turned to face Sirenna. ”I am very sorry. It should not have happened.”

“Thank you,”
Sirenna replied and the other woman studied her. She had beautiful blue eyes, so very kind.

”Are you hurt?”

“Just a little startled, m’lady.”

“Would you like to sit down? Catch your breath?”

“If it wouldn’t be any trouble,”
Sirenna replied and the princess smiled as she reached for her hand.

”No trouble at all,” she told her and led her along to what appeared to be something close to a private sitting room, if Rhovanians had sitting rooms that was.

Sirenna sat and so did the princess, the silence awkward at first. Then the princess found something to say. ”Have you worked with Lady Ivanneth for long?”

Sirenna shook her head. ”No, but I have served the royal family for many years. Since 1228, which is when I first met the man you are to wed.”

“You know them well, then?”


Sirenna nodded her head at this, ”Some very well indeed, if you understand me.”

The princess paused, uncertain. ”I am not sure that I do.”

Sirenna smiled. ”You have chosen well in Prince Valacar. He is a most generous lover.“

Most women, in Sirenna’s experience react to something like this. Shock, anger, humiliation, denial. The princess, however, drew in a deep breath. Once she had done so, she rose to her feet and clasped her hands before her. ”Yes,” she answered in an almost conversational tone. ”He most certainly is.”

Then, just like that, she was gone. Sirenna blinked, quite surprised by this and somewhat impressed. She puffed out a thoughtful sigh. Gailraen and her mother were going to find this Rhovanian quite the challenge indeed.

On the morrow, the final rites began. The princess withdrew with her immediate female kin to commence the preparations. And one of the first things on that list was a visit to the Seer, for marriage was perilous for women and no one should enter it unprepared.

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1 Lothron 1252 III
(1 Lótessë/25 Einmánuður)
Morning – Forest Hills – Southwest of Belegant




With the first light of a grey misty spring morning barely allowing one to see, Vidumavi, Alruna and Brytta stood at the edge of the town where the track ascended into the forest. They were shrouded in cloaks as grey as the fog around them. The awakenings had begun...

Varocci's hand shook Sirenna, and though she at first startled, the sound of steel made a muffled around them. the two looked in each other's eyes intensely in the dim glow of a single candle that Varocci held in her hand. After a moment of silence, they broke their stares, and Sirenna was for some reason calmed.

"You have been chosen by Princess Vidumavi to attend." Sirenna silently nodded and Varocci took her hand as she stood. "Come quickly, we must not be late." Varocci held out a grey cloak and Sirenna took it and quickly dressed.

Each shieldmaiden was sent to return escorting a chosen one. Lady Rainavic approached with Rhanna, Lady Maivask approached with Rheaon, Lady Vidmiriah approached with Vocinna, and surprisingly, Lady Ivannah approached with Lilja. Thirteen women then walked silently into the shrouded mist that held close to the trees...


~ ~ ~


The silence was only broken by feint whispers as they walked, and Vidumavi stepped to Lady Ivannah's side. "It is most gracious that you have agreed to join me this morning.

"It was a most gracious offer from my soon-to-be daughter-in-law."
Lady Ivannah's voice was hoarse, and she was clearly becoming winded from the ascent of the mostly upward track. The chill damp air didn't help much either. Vidumavi had concerns.

If it is too cold or…”

“…Don't get me wrong Lady Vidumavi. I would have much preferred to have remained in warm quarters on such a morning, but the words of my husband and the pleading persuasiveness of Captain Lilja had me think differently."
Lady Ivannah drew the grey cloak closer around her.

“I understand Lady Ivannah. We are not far, and already the sun is lightening the morning mist. We will be above it soon.” Vidumavi too drew the cloak around her tighter.

As they walked higher, the trail flattened some, but the chill of the wind had gotten sharper as the sun tried to throw shadows of them on the ground. When they came to a saddle on the ridge, the mists merely swirled around their feet as they stood in the rising morning sun. But the breeze was steady, and the trees were sheared and gnarly. There upon a flat outcrop of rock stood a woman looking at them.

As if some thought instilled in each, they spread and formed a semi-circle before the woman. "You have come Lady Vidumavi, Princess of Rhovania." the woman said in fluent Westron as she looked each one in the eye.

Vidumavi stepped forward a pace. "We have come." She paused as her eyes took in the flat sea of clouds that covered the lowlands just below where they stood in the sun. "We were expecting to see Ayr the Seer?"

"She has gone. I have come. "
the woman spoke without emotion. "I am Orya. I know why you came Vidumavi. You wish a blessing upon your marriage, no?"

Orya then turned and eyed Lady Ivannah and Sirenna. "You bring Gondorians with you. Tell me Gondorian noblewoman, mother of Lord Valacar, what is it you seek here?"

"I seek naught, Orya the seer."
Pausing to clear her throat, Lady Ivannah held her gaze upon the woman. "I have come to this Rhovanion ritual by invitation of Lady Princess Vidumavi, and I intend to listen and observe." Her voice was filled with the air of Gondorian confidence despite reaching put for and taking Sirenna's hand as she stepped closer.

"Then there will be much you will hear." Orya held the wood branch out before her as the beaver in her arm squirmed. "Know this Gondorian and Rhovanion alike. The tides of time are changing. Where they have flowed, they now ebb, and a storm, now far off, can be sensed, as if one hears the first rumble of its distant thunder."

The wind came up and ripped at the women standing, but none wavered in their stance. "This marriage will be blessed and you Vidumavi of Rhovania will be touched with a long life as measured among your people. But you will be seen as fleeting by the Gondorians. Know that much happiness will be brought you Vidumavi and children you will bear. But it will be in the lifetimes of your children that the tides that bears this storm will befall, and grievous will be their days."

Each woman then had a vision in their minds. A gust of wind scooped the clouds of mist from the valley and threw it over the ridge shrouding them all. It was only for a moment that the silver grey obscured their vision, but as it cleared, settling into the swirling thickness of the lowlands once again, it revealed that Orya the Seer was gone.

The rest of the morning would see the women trek back to Belegant where some spoke their thoughts and told of their visions, while others remained silent and pondered the words they heard and the visions they saw in their own heads. Lady Ivannah walked close to Sirenna and kept her eye on the others around them. Leaning in close, she whispered in Sindarin. ”Speak not of any of what you heard here today.”

Sirenna nodded, but she could feel the pinch of the vice she was in. She would have to be silent, and she would have to be very careful. How was she going to do what Lady wished and somehow stop this marriage?


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

1 Lothron 1252 III
(1 Lótessë/25 Einmánuður)
Morning – Belegant



Valacar was up early with Minalcar and out training with sword...

"Yes... you have a good block." Minalcar complimented Valacar. "Your skills with a blade have improved much since we last sparred." The swords rang again in the mists as they sparred another round.

"I have Prince Vidugauja, Commander Darion, and many other Rhovanion veterans of the war to thank for that." Valacar didn't lose focus as he kept Minalcar locked in sight.

"Time here has done you well. Skill in battle should you need them, and love of your heart." Minalcar paused as the screech of blades slid against each other. Minalcar thought about speaking of some concerns that would prevail should Valacar somehow becomes in line for the throne, but he decided that would not be this day. Valacar was wise and surely he had spoken much of it with Vidumavi. How much, he did wonder though.

Soon Vidugauja joined them, and soon after, Vidugavia too came out. The sparring became a four way with the Gondorians against the Rhovanions, and then the younger against the older. With the Rhovanions taking the first and the older taking the younger in the second. They now moved over to the archery range to shoot arrows as they talked.

"This is the the last gasp of winter this mist. The day of wedding will be bright and clear from sunrise to sunset. Mark my words." Vidugavia said assuredly. "Tell me Minalcar... what was that title you took ... Rómendacil the 2nd? Having governed now for many years as regent, could you just walk away should your status change and your king wished to take up rule?"

"I don't think of it."
Minalcar answered as he split Vidugavia's arrow. "I serve Gondor in whatever capacity my king wishes, be that as ruling regent in his stead or be sweeping the streets of Osgiliath."

"I couldn't do that ... I don't think I could do that. Once I have tasted this power of kingship, I don't think I could put it down."
Vidugavia shot an arrow and it didn't split Minalcar's arrow, it slid along its side.

"You will know when it is time to put it down. The test is whether you trust in your heir and hand the crown to him freely. It is a test that some in Gondor fail." Minalcar slid his arrow just under Vidugavia's. He patted the Rhovanion on the shoulder and nodded to Vidugauja.

"I think I want go down in battle. None of this aged mind and body taking everything away. My heir becomes king and carries on. That is the way it should be." Vidugavia took another shot and it was clear the thought of death had drawn his concentration away from his eye as the arrow hit high.

"Who knows the days any one of us have. If it is battle you want, there may not be much up here after the ass-kicking we gave the Easterlings." Minalcar matched Vidugavia's high hit before stepping back. "If it is battle you want my friend, I'm sure I can find you some down south."

"I have heard of Harad and the deserts. Sounds too hot for me."
Vidugavia took a breath and set his bow down. "No my friend, there will always be wars. I will enjoy this peace while it lasts, and should it outlast me, then Vidugauja or his son will lead our people into battle."

Minalcar nodded but didn't add anything more. Vidugavia opened a small jug and flipped it around on his arm and lifted it to tip some smooth burn down his throat. He then corked it and offered it to Minalcar. ”Some of my own. Aged. Made six years ago.”

“I could use an early drink.”
Minalcar took the jug and a swallow before giving it back to Vidugavia. He took another drink before offering it to Valacar as he and Vidugauja walked up after their round at the archery range. ”Here son. Go easy.”

Valacar waved his hand and would have refused had he not been nudged by Vidugauja. He took the drink and let out a wheeze as he handed the jug to Vidugauja. Minalcar chuckled and Vidugavia raised his eyebrows and nodded. Handing the jug back to Vidugavia, Vidugauja tilted his head when Valacar looked to him. ”Let’s go see to those knives.”

Valacar nodded. ”Right, we were going to throw some knives and axes.” He gave his father and future father-in-law a nod before heading off to the blacksmith with Vidugauja.

With the morning growing long and the sun finally starting to light up and burn away the valley mists, the day would soon be aglow with spring warmth. Vidugavia was quiet as Minalcar spoke of having Vidumavi as a daughter. He glanced over at Valacar and Vidugauja who had returned with an array of blades and axes and started throwing them at the log ends downrange.

”Your people… you ever consider having the women be considered in your line of succession?” Vidugavia asked in a questioning tone. Minalcar looked over at him. ”Back when our ancestors lived over the sea in Númenór, the line of succession was for the eldest child. It worked until an ambitious man from a lesser royal line forced the queen to marry him. They were removed cousins, and he took the sceptre and crown, and led the kingdom to ruin.” He took a breath as he thought about his history studies. ”It seemed the line of Elendil decided not to hold to Númenórean law and succession reverted to eldest male.”

“I have thought about it. My daughter is wise and loved by our people. She would be a good ruler. But it would never be accepted by the clans.”
Vidugavia was thoughtful for a moment before tipping another small drink. ”Maybe one day… for my people and yours. If it were up to me, she would be my heir.”

“Maybe one day, yes. There are those in Gondor who say the Númenórean law should be upheld. Me, I am indifferent. I will serve my king, or my queen.”
Minalcar too sounded thoughtful. Vidugavia nodded. Thoughts of getting on with the first day of preparations for this wedding that would bind their two people would be delayed just a little longer for these two as they had one more nip off the jug.

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25 Einmánuður 1252 III
(1 Lothron/1 Lótessë)
Afternoon – Rhovania – Vidumavi’s Party



It took a little while for the reality of Sirenna’s predicament to sink in. Their party had descended again and paused to rest. The elder Rhovanian lady, Vidmirah, was jubilant for apparently, the Seer had shown her something pleasing. Sirenna could not make out what that was, for the Lady spoke in Rhovanian, but the Shieldmaidens nodded and smiled. Even the sternest of them, Lilja and Alruna.

The princess also smiled, embracing her aunt, but there was a sadness in her expression as well. Indeed, the princess had said little on their descent. Then there was Lady Ivannah to consider. Valacar’s mother watched her like a hawk. She too, seemed sober.

Sirenna took water around, and food, trying to make herself useful. Why had the princess asked her to come, she wondered. What was this about? How would she accomplish Lady Gailraen’s task here and if she failed, what would come of her? As she wondered this, the princess turned to where Lady Ivannah sat and approached her. The knot in Sirenna’s stomach grew heavier.

”My lady, do I intrude?” Vidumavi asked Valacar’s mother.

”Not at all,” the woman replied, smiling in exactly the way her son smiled. ”And it would please me greatly if we might set formality aside between us.”

Vidumavi seated herself. ”Of course,” she agreed but found it difficult to add the woman’s name just yet. It felt presumptive to her, somehow. A right she had not earned. ”How would I address you, informally?”

“You may use my name. Some even use familial titles. Mother, daughter and the like.”


Vidumavi nodded. ”I have not had a mother for some time.”

“I know,”
Ivannah replied softly. ”Such a terrible shame, that.”

“Long have I feared that I might follow my mother’s path. Needlessly, as it now appears.”
Vidumavi fell quiet as she thought and then shook her head at herself. ”I apologise. I do not mean to prattle so.”

“I look forward to many conversations between us,”
Ivannah replied warmly. Their eyes met, each searching before Vidumavi’s drifted away again. ”Did you receive the blessing you hoped for, my dear?”

Vidumavi drew a deep breath and released it. ”In truth, I am not entirely sure what I received.” She plucked at folds in her skirt for a long while.

Ivannah reached for Vidumavi’s hand and clasped it between her own. ”You will bring us great joy. That I know.”

“And also great sorrow,”
Vidumavi replied, her voice shaking. ”Valacar will walk many of his years alone, because of me. Because of what I am. He will have no choice but to watch me wither and die. Perhaps our children too. I-” She broke off and fell silent, haunted by what she had seen.

“And yet, what would you do? For he would know great sorrow if you were to withdraw now, without any of that joy.” Ivannah replied, waving the servant off lest she venture too close. ”There are any number of matches that might be made, should he allow it. Yet, for all of that, to what end has marrying within our own kind led us?”

Vidumavi frowned at the question. ”How do you mean?”

“My husband is Regent because the King will not suffer to rule and has yet to produce an heir,”
Ivannah replied.

”But there is still time, is there not?” Vidumavi countered, for Valacar had said it was highly unlikely that the crown would pass to his father.

Ivannah nodded. ”There is and if the crown is to pass to my husband, I did not see it this day.” She paused here and fixed Vidumavi with a keen glance. ”But I tell you this: Gondor will fail without you.”


~ ~ ~ ~ ~


It was late when Ivannah returned to Belegant. Twilight had fallen and windows glowed with warmth as the Shieldmaidens took their leave. Of all who had ventured to the Seer this day, only three remained with the bride now. Two were her immediate kin, being her aunt and her cousin, and one it turned out had been a close friend of Vidumavi’s late mother. They were somewhere in the forest still, but with Captain Lilja and Alruna of the Order in their number, the party were quite safe.

Belegant itself was merry. Excitement was building and even at this hour, people wandered about in search of food or drink. Music drifted about, as did laughter, but Ivannah was wearied after a long day of climbing and all it had brought. She bade farewell to Brytta and the twins and watched them lope off, swiftly merging into the merriment of their kin. Then she turned to where Sirenna stood.

”You may seek your leave this night,” she said, dismissing the woman.

The younger woman ducked a curtsy and hurried away, veering to avoid any that passed too closely. Pressing out a sigh, Ivannah entered the quarters they had been provided and found her husband and her son seated together. Both wore serious expressions that they turned towards her.

”How was it?” Minalcar inquired, rising from his chair.

”Most interesting,” Ivannah replied, turning to set her cloak on a peg to air. ”Although it is quite the hike.”

She turned back and offered her cheek to her husband. As they parted, she shot him a look he understood well.

“And the Seer?” Minalcar pressed all the same, too curious to wait until later.

”Oh, much the same as our own in that regard,” Ivannah replied generally, unwilling to get into the specifics at this time. ”Though what is interesting is how Rhovanian Seers accomplish their feats. Something in the smoke, I suspect. Very powerful indeed, whatever it is.”

“Darion swears by them,”
Valacar observed. ”How was Vidumavi?”

“Shaken. She has been given much to consider of late,”
Ivannah replied.

Valacar seemed crestfallen and he looked to his father with concern, “I should talk to her. I owe her the truth.“

“Are you certain she has not already had it?”
Ivannah replied, swiftly deducing the matter her son had been discussing with his father. ”Was she that arranged for the servant to attend today. That, my boy, should tell you something." She glanced to her husband and noted his expression of surprise and approval.

Minalcar slowly nodded. "Your bride has risen above it, and you would do well to do the same. In any case, this sordid business took place before she was born if I do not miss my mark. She cannot be more than twenty or so years of age."

Valacar, though, remained troubled. Ivannah went to her son and set a hand on his shoulder. "Trust her. If she wishes to know, she will come to you and ask. And in the meanwhile, if you must do anything, strive to be worthy of her trust."

The evening passed without further event. Talk turned to arrangements for the wedding, fast drawing near. Valacar described the Rhovanian customs, drawing on the wedding he had observed a year prior, between Vidugauja and Lady Rainavic. There were some similarities, chiefly the exchange of vows and rings, but there were differences as well. Chief among them was that the wedding could be challenged, or halted, at any time prior to vows. And should the challenger prevail, he won the right to claim the bride as his own and through that, arguably, the throne Vidumavi's father held.

"A death wish, surely," Minalcar exclaimed, "Vidugavia would never countenance it. Certainly the Order will not."

Valacar inclined his head. "Vidumavi is quite able to defend herself, should it be necessary. Still, the ceremony will pause and it remains a possibility that is best prepared for."

"The likelihood of such a challenge?"
Minalcar asked.

"Substantially lower, now that Dorwina has been returned to its rightful lords. The alliance betwixt the two lands is strong, due in no small part to Vidumavi's counsel in that regard. Both have a deep interest in an alliance with Gondor."

"The Lord of Dorwinia has a son of marriageable, does he not?"
Ivannah asked. "It is interesting, given recent turmoil, that a betrothal was not considered to shore that alliance up."

"One still is under consideration, though Alruna is not best pleased at the prospect,"
Valacar replied, recalling well Vidumavi's vocal cousin's response on the subject. "She had several thoughts...and she made sure they were well known."

Across the table, Minalcar remarked dryly, "The arsonist of Osgiliath."

Ivannah started at this. "That's the Shieldmaiden? The King of Rhovania's neice?"

"One and the same,"
Minalcar replied. "And to be fair, there is credible evidence that the fire was started by the purported victim of the crime."

"And she was sorely provoked,"
Valacar added, and his father nodded. "Which leads me to wonder at what will have changed? I would not wish my wife and children subjected to the same disparagement."

"Your family will not be housed in the Eastern Quarter, for one,"
Minalcar replied. "You'd be surprised at how much of a difference that brings."

"Even so, it is not lost on the Rhovanians that the land they are provided is far from Osgiliath. Out of sight and out of mind, as it were. And Sirenna did not happen to wash up here by accident."

"No,"
Minalcar conceded and looked to his wife.

"Whilst there may be those at court who do not agree, they are in the minority. Further, your father and I support this marriage as does the King. And I defy any of them to meet your chosen bride and not find her absolutely delightful."

Later still, after Valacar had shared a meal and he had taken his leave for the night, Ivannah told her husband what the Seer had show her and of the discussion she had with Vidumavi afterwards.

”I tell you this, my love, that girl holds the future of the realm in her hands.”

“But how?”
he asked, perplexed, and Ivannah shook her head.

”I do not know,” she admitted and so it was a long and sleepless night for a good number of people in and around Belegant that evening.


~ ~ ~ ~ ~


30 Einmánuður 1252
(5 Lótessë)
Rhovania



In the days and nights that followed, they sang and danced and made offerings. They laughed and they wept. Vidumavi’s clothing was burned. The silver bracelet her mother had given her was set aside, to be kept for her daughter. As her clothing was burned and their prayers were made, Vidumavi listened closely to what was said and what was not said. A fruitful union. A happy union. But not a safe one, for her people knew that safety was frequently fleeting. The very act of the getting of new life was fraught with no small peril.

It was in this pursuit that her own mother had perished. They shared many tales, unadorned and in their entirety. From how Vidumavi's parents had met, to the eventful wedding that had lingered long in Vidugavia's mind as his own daughter neared marriageable age. Many times had her father's grasp on his throne been tested and each time, he had prevailed. With Vidumavi's wedding, however, another time grew near. All it took was one suitably ambitious man.

In the final two days, purification began. Vidumavi fasted, taking only water and a few nibbles of bread. She dressed plainly in a simple tunic, for her new garb awaited her after the wedding. It was in those days that the questions the Seer had raised grew difficult. She wrestled with each as they arose and while it was not easy it was certainly necessary for, she would not enter into marriage with a mind or heart that was not clear. She would not do that to herself or to the one she loved.

As she sat there, on the fifth night, the air felt warm against Vidumavi’s cheek and the moon sailed, full and high, in a clear sky overhead. There was fragrance in the air, the forest’s flowers swaying in the warm breeze that washed over her. Honeysuckle, she thought, and knew that her bedroom at her father’s lodge would be swathed in it now. A bedroom she would not return to, if the wedding went ahead.

As Vidumavi sat that evening, she wondered whether Vinitihana felt as restless as she. Did he have questions of his own? Did he also wonder whether he was doing the right thing? Footsteps behind her turned her attention from the night sky. Alruna drew up and settled down beside her. She drew in a deep breath and made a sound deep in her throat. ”First thing I’m going to do is take down that wretched honeysuckle. It gets into everything!”

“Rue!”
Vidumavi demurred. ”Surely, not all of it.”

“Every last stick of the cloying, insufferable stuff,”
Alruna announced. ”And I’m going to push the beds together and find a mattress wide enough for both. Right under the window.” Alruna paused, and studied her cousin’s demeanor by the moonlight above. ”Are you nervous?”

Vidumavi sighed at the question. ”It’s silly, I know.”

“What did the Seer show you? You never said.”

“Children. Great joy....and great sorrow,”
Vidumavi said, skipping over the detail. Now was not the time for it. That time had passed. Her mind was settled, as was her heart. Still, her stomach felt like it was filled with butterflies.

”So, life then,” Alruna remarked of the summary.

Vidumavi nodded and changed the subject. ”And you?”

“I was pretty sure I saw Brytta,”
Alruna replied, crossing her legs as she settled in. ”She certainly looked like Brytta, but she also had all seven torcs!”

“Definitely not Brytta,”
Vidumavi replied, and shared a smile with her cousin.

Alruna nodded, ”I don’t know why, but it felt like I was seeing someone a very long way off. Maybe from the past, but I hope it’s the future. Because if it is, then it means our Order endures. And if the Order endures, then so do our people.”

The two cousins sat together in silence after that for a long while. Then Alruna grew restless, as was her wont. ”Come on, you. You’ve got a big day tomorrow. It’s going to take a while to get you ready too. You have a lot of hair to braid.”

“An early start,”
Vidumavi agreed as her cousin pushed to her feet. ”I’ll be along soon.”

“As you please,”
Alruna replied as she drew off. Vidumavi returned her attention to the sky. There was one star, in particular, that Valacar said his people and the Elves revered. She studied it for a long beat.

”I will not forsake you now, my love,” she whispered. "I will stay the course we have set and walk it with you for as long as I able." Then, she sought her own rest for the wedding to come.

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6 Lothron 1252 III – Morning
(6 Lótessë/1 Harpa 1252)
The Forest Glade – Southwest of Belegant


The morning light broke grey over the hills, and the dampness hung low. If it was an omen to have such chill weather on the first day of Harpa, it was a weak one. For within the hour, a warm dry wind birthed far to the south among the inland desert of Harad pushed up the Anduin. In Osgiliath, it was unseasonably warm, but by the time it reached this far north, it had moderated into a comfortable breeze that worked quickly to dry out the grass.

Soon the servants were making the final preparations around the oval-shaped clearing that Valacar and Vidumavi had chosen for the ceremony. Valacar and Darion were getting their full dress Gondorian regalia fitted, and Valacar added a sash Vidumavi had given him in the colors of Clan Vidugavia. When Minalcar came in, he walked up to his son and straightened it a little, so it didn’t cover any of the medallions of Gondor.

”It suits you son.” Minalcar looked him over and paused, scratching his chin. ”Where’s your Mariners signet?”

“I am not sure...”
Valacar looked down at his medallions and could see a place for it, but it was gone. ”I admit I didn’t check after it arrived, so I can’t say when it was lost.”

“It is strange that one is missing. It was there when it was packed in Osgiliath, and it was secure on the journey here. It had to be lost here after our arrival.”


Valacar went to check where he had hung it when he unpacked it, but to no avail. Minalcar looked at his own and he removed it and readjusted the ones around it. ”Here son, wear mine. It’s your day and all eyes will be on you. Doubt anyone save maybe Ivannah will notice it’s not on me.”

Valacar took his father’s medallion and set it in place on himself. The medal itself didn’t signify much other than that one had attended a year of training at the Mariners Guild in Pelargir. ”I’m just bothered in that small way that mine is missing. It was well-secured.”

“Worry not of it boy. You have enough on your nerves.”
Me patted Valacar on the shoulder. ”I remember when I was wed to your mom. Her dad didn’t think much of me and said as much… that I wouldn’t amount to much in Gondor because I didn’t have sea-legs. Never mind I washed out on his helmsman test when I was attending the Mariners Guild Academy. I soon left and came to Minas Anor and joined the army. That medallion there… to me it signifies when I met Lady Ivannah at a ball at the guild. The only thing I really took away from the place, unlike my brother."

Minalcar paused and was silent, lost in thought of the past. Valacar too was silent, wondering where his medallion had gone.


~ ~ ~ ~ ~


Meanwhile, the shieldmaidens were finishing attiring themselves in their finest formal outfits reserved only for high royal events. There was no event lesser than the marriage of the daughter of the king whom which they served. The talk was subdued even if it was cheerful. After one pause in conversation, Brytta asked Alruna. ”Would you go back to Gondor if the opportunity arose again?”

“I don’t know. I would have to be much more mindful of myself if I was there in the service of our sister Vidumavi. Before, it was an assignment in a foreign land. It would be different if I ever find myself going back there.”
Alruna took a breath as she pondered the racism she had encountered and the general attitude toward Rhovanions. She also pondered for a brief moment Brytta with seven torcs. ”I’ll just say I wouldn’t go back if it were up to me. Been there. Done that. It was interesting but wasn’t easy.”

“Should get a battle ribbon for Gondorian service…”.
Brytta mumbled and Alruna chuckled lightly. “You got that right sister.”

Looking over at Brytta, then to the twins. A thought came to her. Gondorians were really keen on marking their services with signets. Maybe one should be fashioned for all who had served in Gondor? She would keep it in mind and sometime after the ceremony and celebration, look into getting some made.

She brushed off Brytta’s shoulder and smiled as she glanced to the others. ”If ordered, and it is in the service of Lady Vidumavi, I’d go to the ends of this world in any direction." Pausing to ponder a thought, she then finished... "But I feel she, and Valacar, will be settled here for years to come. And here is where we will be. Now, let’s get out of here and get ready to escort Lady Vidumavi. It’s warming, and be ever alert as we enjoy this beautiful and most memorable day!”


~ ~ ~ ~ ~


As the morning progressed, the excitement seemed to rise among the people of Rhovania. Musicians had assembled and began to play as the guests began to arrive. Sirenna was busy tending to Lady Ivannah, but was clearly distracted. She needed to make right something she had done to have peace of mind. Why she tried to sabotage Valacar’s happiness by agreeing to do what Lady Gailraen asked was beyond her now. Yet it did extract her from a poor situation working for her. Now that she was in Rhovania, it isn’t so bad serving Lady Ivannah, but she wondered how things would go when it came time to leave…

When Sirenna was tasked to go to Lady Ivannah’s room to get a particular piece of jewelry, Sirenna saw it as a chance to do what she felt needed done. She walked in and found the blue-green-stone brooch the lady had requested, and would take a longer path back… by Valacar’s quarters. Walking nobly about and not drawing attention from the eyes of Rhovanion and Gondorian alike, she saw Valacar talking with Darion and Vidugauja. Her feet hesitated when the prince of Rhovania looked her way, and when Valacar noticed his glance, also looked her way.

“Pardon my lords, but I…” Sirenna started to say. But her words choked in her throat when she saw Valacar wearing a Mariners Guild Signet medallion. What was to be a simple exchange saying she found his signet had fallen away into a pit of guilt and she froze. Vidugauja stepped forward as did Darion. One of Vidugauja’s bodyguards stepped ahead of Vidugauja and seized Sirenna’s arm.

”Stand down Rhenor of the north. There is no need for that.” Vidugauja called out

Darion was quick to step to her other side. ”What business do you have coming to see Valacar?”

“She came to see me…”
Minalcar said from the shadows of the hall before he stepped out. ”You come with me lass. I believe you were on an errand for Lady Ivannah?”

“Y…yes, I am… to get her this.”
Sirenna held up the brooch.

“Then you best get it to her. Time is short.” Minalcar gave Sirenna a hard stare which she held for a moment before nodding and turning.

“Father.” Valacar nodded as he looked at Sirenna when she paused. ”I have something I must say to Lady Sirenna, and it’s best done here with all you witnessing.”

He stepped toward Sirenna, and he now held her gaze. ”There is an unspoken history between you and I, and for the sake of all our futures, it has been put to rest forever. What motive brought you here, know that it means much to me that you support me so much that you will embrace this bonding of Vidumavi and I. Now go. Serve my mother well.”

Sirenna’s eyes got glassy, but no tear fell. She gave Valacar a single nod before her eyes turned to the Rhovanion guard. His eyes now held hers. He said in Rhovanion to Vidugauja, ”By your leave sire, I will escort the lady to where she needs to go.”

“That will be well. See to her Rhenor.”
Vidugauja answered in Rhovanion. The only one there who didn’t have a grasp of the language was Sirenna, and she had a momentary wave of panic start to come over her. It was Rhenor’s stare that calmed her, letting her know that all was well with a glance. As they started down the hall, Minalcar reached out and grasped her wrist. He had noted she kept something concealed in a small leather bag in a pocket of her dress, and he removed it.

”I believe this was what you were getting for me.” He said as he felt the contents inside. He quickly pocketed it before nodding for Rhenor to escort her back to Lady Ivannah.

Once they were well away, Valacar asked, ”What is it you requested?”, and Minalcar looked his son steady in the eyes. “My Mariners Guild signet medallion. I had misplaced it, and Lady Sirenna said she knew where it was.”

No further words passed between them, even if much was said silently by their reading each other’s eyes. They had much more to discuss between them, but it would wait… wait til after the wedding, but before Minalcar and Ivannah returned to Osgiliath in several days’ time.


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The Forest Glade – Belegant
Approaching the Noon Hour


The skies were clear, and the warm winds of the morning had subsided to a gentle wavering breeze. Inside the royal hall of Vidugavia the feasting tables were in their last preparations as the music outside the hall played. Bards or Rhovania and Dorwinia had gathered along with those who had arrived unlooked for from Ithilien and Anórien. Together they bonded in quick friendships with each other as they worked new songs to be sung in celebration of the binding of the two cultures.

In the forest glade, many had gathered, with some from far-away clans of the north and south. Despite the calm nature that held this ceremony in hand, King Vidugavia’s Rhovanion Guard was alert and ever watchful. There would be no recurrence of the yule that was disrupted. So too did the shieldmaidens, despite being in their high formal attire, were well-armed and were ever on the watch around Princess Vidumavi as they awaited under a thick canopy of fir.

Valacar stood aside at ready to receive his bride, and Minalcar and Ivannah stood beside him as did Darion. A little way away, Prince Vidugauga and Lady Rainavic stood, her growing child pressing against her dress for all to see. At the edge of a path into the glade stood King Vidugauja, ready to escort his daughter forth when she appears. All was ready, and the din of voices talking mixed with the chirps of the birds and the buzzing of bees that celebrated the coming of warmer weather and the blooms of many flowers.

When a woman emerged from the path playing a lute followed by another playing a lyre, a third emerged in East Dorwinion attire playing a strange instrument. She blew into a reeded end, and the melodic pitch seemed to change with her movement of a birdlike saddle block over holed openings. As they emerged, the din of voices quieted as heads turned, and the shieldmaidens holding their spears upright then emerged and took up places along each side of the walk that led forward to where everyone had gathered. With a fading birdlike tweet from the piper, the spears were raised and tilted so the heads rested upon the spear from across the way, and the bride emerged from the path. King Vidugavia then took her arm, and they proceeded up the path under the spears, and with their passing the spears were retracted and again held upright.

”Blessed be my dear daughter.” he said in a low voice as they passed Alruna and Lilja, the last two shieldmaidens. As the father and the bride stepped forth up the aisle between the people, The shieldmaidens moved in military precision and fanned out in a partial circle around behind the last row of people and held their spears upright. Valacar then stepped forward to face his bride as she approached, and without word, Vidugavia set her hand in his. Valacar nodded his head in a bow, and his gave turned to Vidumavi, looking so beautiful!

This wedding was different than that of Prince Vidugavia and Princess Rainavic in that it had incorporated some Gondorian rites aa well. Though the main ritual was Rhovanion, Minalcar’s own Valarian cleric stood to the side quietly blessing the marriage with a Quenyan recital. To Valacar, it all seemed surreal. Reciting the passages, Valacar and Vidumavi were binding themselves, and the two cultures, together.

When asked for words of challenge, Both Valacar and Vidumavi turned and faced the gathering. As they stood in silence awaiting the passage of the allotted time given for anyone to speak up, Valacar’s eyes drifted over the faces, only pausing on Sirenna’s for a brief moment. She did not look up but stared down at her hands folded on her lap. Vidumavi’s eyes combed over the Rhovanion clans where there were some stirring and soft inaudible whispers in Rhovanion. She, as well as King Vidugavia, may have expected an objection would come from one of the northern clans, but the one son who scowled evilly at her shifted and appeared moved to stand, he paused when he saw Rhenor standing just behind Vidugauja squint his bright blue eyes at him, silently saying to his cousin, ‘don’t you dare’.

With a light swirling breeze, the words were spoken in old Rhovanion and in Quenya, that the marriage was final and approved in both Gondorian and Rhovanion traditions. The moment had come for Valacar and Vidumavi to kiss and exchange their love. Taking Vidumavi’s hand, Valacar looked into her eyes. ”Ever and always my love, and come what may, you will he my one and only wife to the end of my days.”

“Ever and always my love, my days be long and I depart you not, husband.”
With that they locked together in a longing kiss that worked to transcend the time they had been apart before the wedding. As they kissed, the sun started to darken as a small cloud drifted by, cooling the air around the glade. As the cloud passed, the sin didn’t seem as bright as it was.

”A blessing has come from on high!” the Gondorian cleric cried out. ”Tilion approaches Arien to kiss her as Valacar approaches Vidumavi to kiss her!”

The words had the newlyweds end their kiss and they looked out to the people. There was applause, but so too there were concern on many faces! When the woman who had played the unusual pipe stood and spoke, the skies grew slowly darker. ”It is indeed a blessing! Tilion, servant of Béma’s moves to kiss Arien, servant of his lady Vána!”

Vidugavia’s holy man who performed the ceremony raised his arms as did Minalcar’s cleric. They stepped over and stood behind Vidumavi and Valacar and grasped hands above them. Despite the darkening skies, usually seen as an omen, flowers opened and danced in the warm breeze. It was a rare occurrence for the sun to be shadowed by the moon, and by it happening now at the kiss of Valacar and Vidumavi, words of blessing were spoken by both the followers of Béma and Ebereth.

”Tilion Isil Rána vine Narsilion Urwen Arien!” the cleric cried out. The Rhovanion cried out the names they were known as, and with much reassurance and fanfare, the wedding concluded in the midday twilight. One of the Gondorian bards who stood near the back looked across to a Rhovanion bard he had started co-writing a song with in memoriam of this day, and they silently knew they had to finish their song… the new narsilion and ode to Valacar and Vidumavi.

With the end of the ceremony, there was much mingling and talk, and after a momentary flash of brilliance, the twilight began to brighten, and the day would be filled with revelry and celebration well into the night to come.

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1 Harpa 1252 III
(6 Lothron/6 Lótessë)
Rhovania – The Wedding Day



To the Dúnedain, this month was known as the ‘Flowering Month’ and indeed, all of Rhovania was abloom. The forest, its glades and dells, and the wide meadows had burst into new life. For the Rhovanions themselves, the month of Harpa is considered the first summer month and marks the middle of the Rhovanion bi-seasonal year. A festival known as the Hörputungl (harp moon) was held in this month, where much business and trade took place.

It was, on the whole, an auspicious time for a wedding and Belegant itself was bursting at the seams. Many standards flew, denoting the various lords, thains and chiefs who had gathered with their households to observe this significant event. Amid the brightly coloured pennants of crimson, emerald, sapphire and gold flew one that was raven-black and embroidered in silver with a tree and seven stars. Bards and jugglers plied the press, providing entertainment and vying for attention.

The King of Rhovania had spared nothing on the entertainment or the feast that followed for they were not only celebrating a wedding. They were celebrating the unity demonstrated on this day by Rhovania. Even those that kept to themselves in the Green Wood had come, as had the Lord and his son from Dorwinia. And none had thought themselves rivals to the King or his chosen heir. They had rallied behind their King for the first time and, it was hoped, for a long time to come. They saw a future in a united Rhovania.

Well, all save one fellow. Even now, after the rites and the rousing speeches delivered by the King and the Regent, he was belligerent as he gnawed on a goose leg. Vidumavi studied him at length, debating the course to be taken. As she did so, she reached for the bracelet she no longer wore. Valacar was close to hand. She could hear his voice nearby and she looked over to where he stood, laughing and at his ease with her cousins. Alruna was grinning mischievously as her brother leaned in towards Valacar. They were up to something, she knew, but Valacar seemed well-aware for he glanced towards her and winked. Vidumavi turned her attention back to the scowling fellow. Who was he, she wondered, and what was the nature of his discontent?

”My darling girl, now is hardly the time for such concerns,” said her aunt, revealing her presence with her counsel.

Vidumavi paused at her aunt’s statement. ”Perhaps you are right.”

“Of course I am! This is your wedding day, child. It comes but once and you have the rest of your life to settle affairs of state.”

“Does he not look familiar?”
Vidumavi persisted. ”And yet I cannot place him.”

Lady Vidmiriah reached for some wine and poured a measure for herself. ”Be at peace,” she sighed, good natured, ”My son has it well in hand.” Once she was finishing pouring her own wine, she pushed the bottle towards Vidumavi.

”Oh, I have enough,” Vidumavi replied.

”Be that as it may, the same cannot be said of Valacar’s mother,” Vidmiriah replied and nodded to where Lady Ivannah stood. ”Fresh out of wine if I do not miss my mark.” Vidimirah nudged the bottle closer. ”Trust me, my girl.”


Vidumavi rose and took up both her goblet and the bottle. She carried them towards Lady Ivannah, who looked more than a little bored with the current conversation she was listening to. Valacar’s mother espied her approach with her keen grey eyes and slipped away from her husband’s side.

”Hardly a day for you to be serving wine,” she commented, smiling as she took the bottle and tipped some into her empty goblet.

”I have learned to heed my aunt’s advice,” Vidumavi replied, ”Rarely has she led me astray.”

Ivannah lifted her goblet in Vidimirah’s direction and smiled. Then she gave the bottle to a passing attendant and returned her attention to Vidumavi. ”I shall thank her anon,” she promised and sipped her wine. ”Care to stretch your legs?”

Vidumavi nodded, and the pair set off. ”What a day,” Ivannah remarked as they walked, arm in arm. ”You make a beautiful bride.”

“Thank you,”
she replied, glancing down at her dress. ”My father has been unusually generous.”

“Your father loves you well,”
Ivannah replied. ”As does my son.”

“I am fortunate,”
Vidumavi said and Ivannah inclined her head.

”I well recall the day I wed,” Ivannah remarked. ”My father was not wholly convinced that it was a wise decision.” Vidumavi looked to her, eyes wide, and Ivannah smiled to herself. ”Of course, he has long since come to appreciate his error of his thinking and I think it likely the same will occur for you.”

“You think my father mistaken?”
Vidumavi asked, startled.

”Oh no! The opposite. What I mean, my dear, is that once the court see you and know you, they will set their ignorance aside.”

“You think it as easy as that,”
Vidumavi asked, for Alruna’ account of her time in Osgiliath suggested the prejudice ran far deeper.

”I think you as delightful as that,” Ivannah replied, confident.

But what if she wasn’t, Vidumavi wondered. What then?

Meanwhile, Vidugavia had marked Lady Ivannah’s departure with his daughter and did not let that opportunity go wanting.

”Has much changed in Osgiliath,” he asked of Minalcar.

The Regent paused at the question. ”How do you mean?”

“Alruna provided a full account of her time in your city. Yet there are many who have come from your lands all the same.”
He nodded at the Gondorians wandering about, wide eyed at the revelry around them.

“Ah,” Minalcar grasping the king’s meaning. ”Be that as it may, little has changed. At least, not as much as I would like.”

The King nodded again and seemed, perversely, pleased. ”You agree, then, that they should live here.”

“I had no intention of bringing my son with me on this journey,”
Minalcar replied, for today was not the day to argue and it would be difficult, indeed, to convince this man to allow his daughter to leave him and his people. His son’s new wife was well loved amongst her people. ”I understand, however, that it is custom for the groom to provide his bride with a home.”

“Aye,”
Vidugavia nodded, quite at his ease. ”But Mavi has no need of a stone house hundreds of leagues away in a strange land. It is settled. I will provide.”

“That is very generous of you,”
Minalcar observed carefully, noting to himself that this would be one welcome development. His brother had staunchly opposed the gifting of Osgiliath property to any Rhovanion, irrespective of their station or rank. With that objection and argument removed, it was one less impediment to grapple with.

The King nodded and looked for his daughter in the press. She was not difficult to find, for her extraordinary gown seemed to glow in the afternoon sun. It was almost as if it were made of silver, yet it was supple and light and moved with her. ”Nothing is too much for her,” Vidugavia remarked and then smiled, ”And the last thing I need are newlyweds under my roof.”

Minalcar nodded at the truth of this and let the prickly matter drop. Today was not the day to broach the subject of Valacar’s inevitable recall to Gondor.



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All day and well into the night celebrations ran, but they would run without the bride and groom at a certain point. Both were escorted from the feast and sent on their way, and no one was to disturb them. Vidumavi stood the home her father had first built for her mother. In the lead up to the wedding, it had been restored and refreshed. New furniture too and freshly stocked larder.

”What do you think?” she asked as he looked about.

”I think we shall be happy here,” came his answer and she smiled. Outside, the sound of music and laughing could be faintly heard.

He came towards her, so handsome that he stole her breath away. He took her hands in his and lifted them to his lips. ”Can you believe it?” he asked.

Vidumavi shook her head at his question. ”Any moment now, I expect to be woken.”

She slipped a hand from his and touched the sash he wore. ”Do you like it?” he asked.

Vidumavi smiled at this and smoothed it over. ”It suits you handsomely, Vinithana,” she replied, ”But I like what is beneath it even more.”

He smiled at this, his eyes firing. ”And what would you have of me, wife?”

“Only everything,”
she answered, rising onto her toes to kiss him. His lips tasted of honeyed wine. ”Everything and still more, husband.”

He pulled her to him once more. Locked together, they stumbled back against a wall and began to sink to the floor.

Vidumavi would have been content with that but she heard him whisper something in her ear, ”Wait. We have a bed.”

“In good time,”
she muttered, panting. ”I need you. I need you now.”

“And you shall have me. I promise,”
he said, extracting him and pulling her to her feet as he stood. ”But I have longed to wake up with you...come Mavi....come to bed.”

He pulled her after him and into the bedroom. Once inside, he closed the door and leaned against it. Vidumavi looked about, the hair carefully braided around her head starting to come undone. Fire from the hearth shone through the fair tendrils, almost as if they were transparent. And then there was her dress. He’d never seen anything quite like it before. It rippled with her movement as she turned about.

”You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen,” he said as she came towards him and set a hand to his cheek.

”I love you with all my heart,” she replied, gazing into his eyes. ”I always will.”

“You have seen it?”
he asked and she nodded. ”What else did you see?”

“Another time,”
Vidumavi answered. ”For we have other business, do we not?”

She kissed him again, this time nibbling his lower lip. Valacar groaned as he gathered her up and pulled her to him once more. There was no stopping this time. Indeed, neither of them made their way out of their clothing and only on the second time did they find the bed. As the revelry continued without, they consummated their marriage enthusiastically until both lay, sated, in the other’s arms.

They drifted to sleep, limbs tangled together in sweet oblivion that lingered as dawn crept into the room. Valacar woke, his arm thrown over Vidumavi and her body pressed to his. His face was buried in her hair and he breathed in its scent. She was sleeping still, breathing evenly. He drew another breath, sliding his hand down and over the swell of her hips. Vidumavi murmured something in her sleep too softly for him to catch. He lifted his head free of her hair and kissed her bare shoulder, working towards her neck. And then he heard something that made he halt this sweet moment.

Valacar held his breath, listening, and heard something again. Grimacing, he eased himself up and threw on the tunic he had tossed away in a rush the night before. Sword in hand, he padded out and he saw something on the floor, just inside the door. He set his sword on the table and crossed to pick the note up. As he read it, his grimace turned into a scowl.

”What is it?” asked Vidumavi drowsily. He looked up and saw that stood naked, clothed only in her hair.

”Nothing,” he replied, crumpling it in his fist.

”You are not in the habit of scowling at nothing,” she observed.

”I had hoped to not wake you,” he said, coming forward. ”We should go back to bed.”

“Will you not show me?”


With a reluctant sigh, he passed the crumpled note across and Vidumavi teased it open to read. ”It is Elvish.”

“I know,”
he answered.

Vidumavi’s brow furrowed as she searched for the meaning of the words. ”An apology? Is that what it is?”

“Aye. And meaningless too, most like.”


Vidumavi gave off and looked up and into his face. ”I do not think she came here willingly. And whatever she came to do, she failed.”

“And now she has intruded quite enough, has she not?”
he replied, smoothing back hair from her face. Vidumavi nodded and crumpled the note once more. She let it fall to the floor.

”I do not bear her any ill-will, my love,” she said and then whooped in surprise as Valacar swept her up and over his shoulder. She giggled all the way back to their bedroom and it was not long before the memory of anyone else faded for them both.



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10 Harpa 1252 III
(15 Lothron/15 Lótessë)
Rhovania – Belegant



Sweet as those first days and nights were, they passed all too swiftly. Meanwhile, the revelry took its course, and preparations began for Belegant’s guests to depart. A good many did so with a hangover, retreating to their own halls and lodges across the wide plains and forest of Rhovania. Business was done, of course, and Lady Rainavic was most pleased with the arrangements she had made. That troublemaker would not be left unchecked for overlong. Those returning to Gondor were the last to take their leave, for their journey required far greater preparation.

In this time, the newlyweds emerged, and the long-awaited discussion between regent and son drew nigh.


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