Dol Amroth, Pelargir, The Southern Fiefdoms (Free RP) - II

[Rillewen]

@Lantaelen

Dravedir & Nínimbes Thôrmaetha
Thôrmaetha residence
Lond Col's village (Azrubel side)
Year 3017 TA - Evening

Dravedir appreciated the words of his friend, although he wasn't sure how true it was. What he had said to his son had been meant with the best of intentions, but of course, Devedir had taken it wrong. And therefore, he refused to have anything more to do with his father, and that was the hardest thing to endure for Dravedir. He had hoped to do better with his grandsons, but now.. hearing this about Trevadir.. he felt as if he had failed again.

"Thank you, Uirchanar." Dravedir said, as his friend declared that he would try to help Trevadir as well as he could. "We appreciate that." He squeezed Bess' hand lightly. She kept quiet but nodded her thanks as well. When asked if there was some sort of token or item, the couple both hesitated, thinking for a moment, and glanced at each other, trying to think of something.

"Well.. I'm not sure," Bess said, trying to think of something that might be suitable for this purpose. But before she or Dravedir had a chance to come up with anything, the sound of stomping could be heard at the back door. The grandparents exchanged glances, knowing Toby must be wiping his boots at the door. "If we think of anything, we'll let you know." Dravedir spoke in a hushed tone to Uirchanar. Then, as Toby came in, the pair went quiet and said no more about the topic.

---

Tobedir

He had lingered but a few minutes after Grandfather went in, because he wanted to say goodnight to the birdies. It didn't take all that long, however, and then he had hurried back. There was a visitor after all, and he was curious, and hopeful of getting some sort of treat because of their company.

As the boy approached the door leading into the kitchen, he could hear their voices drifting out of the partially open window. The voices of his grandparents as well as their guest. At first, he was glad to hear that the man in armor hadn't let yet, but then the boy stopped in his tracks as he caught a few of the words passing between the three adults. He heard his brother's name! Toby nearly rushed in to ask what they were saying about Trev. Had they found him? Was he coming home?

But something about the way his grandparents were talking didn't sound.. joyous. Toby loitered under the partially open window, trying to hear more. But the more he heard, the more Toby felt saddened by the things he was hearing. The mystery was solved, at last. Where Trevadir was. Toby almost couldn't believe it, but at the same time, he wasn't all that surprised. He slid down to sit beneath the window, blinking back tears as he continued to listen. So, Trevadir was with their father. The man who had left them both behind and forgotten about. Toby felt hurt, knowing now that Trev had abandoned Toby so he could go and be with the father who'd abandoned them both. Why would Trev want to have anything to do with that jerk?

Toby hugged his knees up to his chest and sat quietly for a moment, thinking and trying to figure out what to make of all this, while listening to the grown-ups talk about how awful Dev was. A criminal! That was news to Toby, but if that all wasn't bad enough, he heard that his grandparents didn't want him to know about any of this. He frowned, unsure now what to do. A part of him wanted to be angry at Trev, another part wanted to cry. But yet a third part wanted him to be home with his family, and away from bad people like their father. After a few minutes, Toby had made up his mind. Trevadir always had wanted their father to come home. He'd talked about it all the time.. how things would be so much better when their dad came home, and so forth. Having never met him, Toby had no opinion on that, but it was obvious the man wasn't planning to return. So Trev had gone looking for him, instead. As for Toby, he missed Trev so much, he could imagine himself going to look for him, even though his brother had always been a little mean to Toby. Still.. now, he could see why Trev might have felt the same about their father. Just as Toby loved his brother despite all that he'd done, Trev must feel the same about their father.

After minute, Toby got up and took a deep breath. He wanted Trev to come home, more than anything else. Especially if he was in danger where he was! He was suddenly really worried about that. What if something happened to him before they could convince him to come home? He wanted to do whatever he could to help in that regard. But what should he do? Because Toby knew his grandparents didn't want him running off looking for Trev, and besides.. where would he even begin? So that was out of the question. But maybe Uirchanar could find him. Maybe he could bring Trev home. So, now Toby had to make a decision. Should he go in now, and tell them all that he'd overheard? Let them know that he knew all about it? Or.. should he pretend like he didn't know anything about this?

After a bit, he decided maybe he shouldn't let them know that he knew. They would worry, and Grandmother definitely didn't need more worry. She had enough to worry about with Trev, after all. Toby took a deep breath and went over in his mind what he was going to do. The armored man had asked for some sort of token to give Trevadir to convince him to come home? Well, Toby had just the thing. He stepped up on the back porch, then made sure to stomp on the doormat, while wiping mud off his shoes, to make sure they heard him before he came in.

"All the birdies are tucked in and comfy for the night," He reported to his grandfather, then went to hug Grandmother as she reached for him. He understood more than she would realize, how much she must need that hug. He smiled at the visitor while leaning against Grandmother, sandwiched between her and Grandfather. "Are you staying a while longer, sir?" He asked, despite knowing he had said something like he was about to leave.

[Lantaelen]

@Rillewen

Uirchanar, son of Himeldaer, Master-At-Arms of House Dimaethor
Visiting an old friend, Azrubêl Family Estate, Lond Côl, Dor-En-Ernil
After the Pelargir Incident, Year 3017 TA

He reached out to squeeze each of their hands in turn, as if loaning his strength and resolve to Dravedir and Bess, of trying to assure them of his intentions to try his hardest to return their grandson to them. The sound of a door opening and closing soon followed, Uirchanar knowing he ought to watch what he said as such news would certainly be distressing to the younger of the two brothers. The last thing they needed was Tobedir thinking he might go off and save his brother or father. And worse, end up joining them and becoming corrupted. Let Tobedir be a child a little while longer! While it still might be obtainable in Gondor in these dark years.

”You know I am just across the water. My door is open anytime. But it seems there might be another naval patrol on the books in the coming days and weeks. I will try to check in with you at least once or twice before then.” Uirchanar spoke quietly to them, knowing he shouldn’t even be relaying the movements of the Dimaethor warship to anyone outside the command staff of the crew. But he trusted both of them not to be sharing those details carelessly with anyone.

He rose to his feet, making leave to depart, leaving the basket of foodstuff with Dravedir as a gift and small comfort for this news. Perhaps Tobedir might enjoy it. He smiled as the younger grandson entered and reported to Dravedir the completion of his duties, birds all looked after. The boy had a good heart, able to care for creatures in a such compassionate way. He walked over and dutiful hugged his grandmother as well, making Uirchanar smile. What a good, noble heart. Then Tobedir turned to Uirchanar and inquired about his own status, whether he was staying or going.

”No, young master, I must be away. It is almost my bedtime.” Uirchanar joked, giving Tobedir a courteous bow of his head. It was almost your bedtime too, little man. ”I just wanted to bring these gifts for you and your family. Sweet apples and pears and honey comb treats, such as we have across the water.” He said, gesturing the basket, before fixing his helm back on his head. He had a minor adventure to get to home, having to return to the river fort, cross by boat, then walk to the barracks at the Dimaethor family estate. He better get started.

”Sir. My Lady.” He addressed Dravedir and Bess in turn. ”Thank you for having me in your home. We shall see each other again soon.” He said and turned to depart after any last parting words. Out the door and the walk home in the dark.

[Rillewen]

@Lantaelen

Dravedir, Nínimbes, & Tobedir Thôrmaetha
Thôrmaetha residence
Lond Col's village (Azrubel side)
Year 3017 TA - Evening

"Of course, my friend." Dravedir nodded as he returned the squeeze to his hand. "Thank you for stopping by." He left the rest of the meaning behind that go unspoken. Uirchanar would know he meant 'thank you for telling us about our grandson, and for offering to help him'.

"We'll certainly try to get in touch with you again soon," Bess added, with her own hidden meaning. When they had thought of something like he had requested. "Do stop in again, anytime." She added with a smile. As he informed Tobedir that it was almost his bedtime, Bess smiled. "As it is nearly yours, too, young man." She informed her grandson. "Say goodnight, and then I'll see you upstairs in a little bit to tuck you in." She promised.

"Good night, sir." Toby bid their guest, while thinking through his plan. He would have to act quickly. "It was nice to meet you!" He grinned, then hurried upstairs.

After watching him go, Bess smiled softly and let out a little sigh before turning to join Dravedir in bidding farewell to his friend.

"Stay safe, old friend." Dravedir said quietly. "I know how hard that can be, during a battle," He referred to that which Uirchanar had mentioned was upcoming. "But, do try not to get yourself killed," He smiled, jesting a bit, since obviously, anyone in their right mind would try not to get killed. "And.. good luck, if.. you should encounter him again." He added, not naming the 'him' as Trev, in case the boy upstairs might overhear the name mentioned.

"I hope you have a pleasant walk home," Bess added. "and sleep well. You have done us a favor.. even if the news is not so pleasant, it is a relief to hear that he is alive.. and, well at least now we know." The not knowing had been the hardest, really. Even though she would much rather her grandson were not where he was, at least she didn't have to keep wondering about that. Now, she only had to worry about what was going to happen to him...


While his grandparents were offering a lengthier, grown-up sort of farewell to the man, Toby ran into his temporary bedroom and dug around in the chest of belongings at the foot of the bed. He had something here that would be perfect for what Uirchanar had requested, but where did it go?

At last, he pulled out a small box, tied with a ribbon, and smiled. There. He had made it for Trev's birthday, but that had come and gone with no sign of him returning. He'd brought it along with him, thinking maybe he might come across him somehow. Now, maybe this Uirchanar could get it to him. But Toby couldn't go down the stairs, or his grandparents would see him. Instead, he stuffed the little box into his pocket and then climbed out of his window, carefully. Trev had, inadvertently, shown him how this could be done, years ago. Toby had managed it a couple of times in an effort to follow after him, but now, he had a different purpose for climbing out of the window. once on the little roof below the window's edge, he carefully walked along the edge of it until he got to the woodpile, then climbed onto the top of that, and from there, hopped down to the ground.

Uirchanar had already left the house by now, and had already begun walking down the street. Toby ran to catch up to him. "Sir," He called quietly, trying not to be too loud so not to alert his grandparents to the fact he had left. "Sir?" He was a bit breathless as he caught up to him. "I only have a minute," The boy explained, as he paused to catch his breath once he had reached the departing guest.

[Lantaelen]

@Rillewen

Uirchanar, son of Himeldaer, Master-At-Arms of House Dimaethor
Visiting an old friend, Azrubêl Family Estate, Lond Côl, Dor-En-Ernil
After the Pelargir Incident, Year 3017 TA

Goodbyes and farewells could be either casual or solemn. This certainly felt like the latter. Uirchanar tried not to worry that Dravedir’s request to not be slain, however lightly spoken, could also severely interfere with his promise to return Trevadir to his family. What if the young pirate was too far gone? The anxiety, same as before his arrival, returned just as potently as he stepped out into the night. Did he really have any peace of mind when leaving his old friend’s home?

No, none of this had been for him. It had been for Dravedir, and good Bess, so that they might have the solace of knowing the truth, whatever discomfort that might bring. There might be a lot of uncertainty to follow in the years to come, grim as things looked for Gondor.

The door was shut behind him and Uirchanar stepped into the cool air of nighttime in Lond Côl, his home and placement of his heart, no matter which side of the river he was on. The lights of the garrisoned, formidable river fortress that guarded the mouths of the Morthond twinkled in the near-distance and he set off towards it, where the ferry would be for passage back to his home upon the far bank. It would not be a long trip, twenty or thirty minutes, depending on the ferry. The watchmen loved to talk away the night. And he was an officer who was still on duty when he shouldn’t be, and-

A voice came up from behind, nearly startling him. Sir, Sir? He recognized the voice and did indeed pause, turning to see little Tobedir panting and breathless as he ran up to him. What was this? Running away from home? Sneaking out? Not a good habit given what your brother got up to. But the young boy was holding a box and asking only for a minute. Uirchanar peered down at him, then back towards the house, which seemed quieted, not having discovered the boy’s absence yet.

Then he sighed and knelt down on one knee, coming more face to face with Tobedir. I only have a minute. ”I’ll give you half of one, before I call for your grandparents. You should not be out like this. What is it, young master?” He said, courteously but curtly, somewhat guessing at what the boy might want to say or do. He must have heard.

[Rillewen]

@Lantaelen

Tobedir Thôrmaetha
Thôrmaetha residence
Lond Col's village (Azrubel side)
Year 3017 TA - Evening

Toby frowned slightly at the thought that the man might call for his grandparents. He didn't want them to know about this at all! He'd have to hurry. "Please, don't." He begged. He held the box, hesitant about giving it over just yet. "I.. well, you asked for a token, something that'd convince Trev you were telling the truth, that we really do want him to come home." He fidgeted. "This is a birthday present I made for him." He admitted, looking down at the box in his hands, sadly. "Please.. if you find him, give it to him? Tell him I miss him. He probably won't care, but.. I do miss him. A lot. And so does Grandma." He looked up at Uirchanar and clarified, "Our other grandma, I mean."

"I don't want them to know I heard, though," He glanced back toward the house. "I don't want them to worry." He sighed, turning back to the man. "But you don't have to worry about me... I don't want anything to do with.. him." He frowned. "I dunno why Trev'd want to, anyway. I've heard enough to know he's no good." He shrugged and offered the box to Uirchanar, with a hopeful look in his dark brown eyes. "Please make sure he gets it?"

[Lantaelen]

@Rillewen

Uirchanar, son of Himeldaer, Master-At-Arms of House Dimaethor
Visiting an old friend, Azrubêl Family Estate, Lond Côl, Dor-En-Ernil
After the Pelargir Incident, Year 3017 TA

It always surprised Uirchanar, the vigour and zeal of youth. The young boy went through a multitude of emotions before his very eyes, as he held out a small box and explained his and it’s purpose. He couldn’t help but offer up a sad smile, despite his earlier warning, of where the boy’s heart lay. In love and family and peace. The box was a token and gift for his brother who had gone wayward, who was sorely missed, and very much had a happy home here. Tobedir begged him and tried to impress upon him that it meant well. And he would be well, not seeking to follow his brother, or the other one.

Uirchanar slapped his hand on the boy’s shoulder, a little boisterously, for he was treating the serious boy as a man would treat another. He took the box with his other hand and held it firm and guarded. ”Do not fret, young master. I will see it through, if I can. You have my word, the word of Uirchanar son of Himeldaer, man of Gondor.” He said and gave the boy a salute, hand folded into a fist, put to his own breast, toy clutched in his hand. Could Tobedir do it too? The mark of a brave young soldier, ready to do his part, for Realm or family?

”I will tell your brother of it and who sends it. But that is long away and in a far place. You, young master, should be off to bed. Hurry now, before your grandparents catch you and we both get a rebuke for our gentle ears.” He said with a teasing light in his eyes, rising to his feet and ushering the young boy back to his home. Yet for all his happy and brave façade, the given token and the intent saddened his heart, making things all the more complicated. What if he could not bring Trevadir back? Or some other misfortune befell him before he could learn of what was waiting for him here, eager to welcome him home?

Waiting until he was assured Tobedir was back in his home, only then would Uirchanar begin his journey home, examining the box in what little light there was. Would he live long enough to see it through? Who knew. This War will make corpses of them all…

[Rillewen]

@Lantaelen

Tobedir Thôrmaetha
Thôrmaetha residence
Lond Col's village (Azrubel side)
Year 3017 TA - Evening

It was a relief that the man accepted the box. His vow was much appreciated. Knowing that he would do all that he could, not only to see that Trev received his gift, but that he would relay the message that he was loved and missed, and ask him to come home.. that meant a lot to Toby. The salute, he recognized well enough from having seen Ryn and Nal do it, and others who had been soldiers. "Thank you, sir." He smiled as he repeated the gesture, though unsure if he was really supposed to, as he was not a soldier, but only a child. Still, he was glad to have some hope that maybe, soon, Trev might have the message that Uirchanar would deliver.

"Yes, sir." He agreed a little less enthusiastically, but with a little smile to the teasing comment delivered then. He knew he was right; Toby must get back to his room as soon as possible. Grandmother would be coming up any moment to tuck him in and kiss him goodnight, and if he wasn't there, she would panic. "Thanks again," He added, feeling much happier now that he felt sure that Trev would soon get his birthday present. And then he'd come home. Right? He had to!

After hastily climbing back up the way he had come down, Toby stopped at the windowsill and waved to the man below one last time before he disappeared into his room, a little out of breath but he managed to jump into bed before his grandma had arrived to tell him goodnight.

[Karis Ziranphel]

@Arnyn

Thûllir Bregedŷr
Dor-En-Ernil
Summer’s End
(Private Ranger RP intro with Kaylin)

Thûllir grinned at Kaylin’s comment about the scream of a kestrel being a smaller yapping falcon and then her displayed ability of cooing like a dove, setting his eyes dancing with humor despite the seriousness of their endeavors. It was tempting to delay further just because he could, but he did take her displeased expression into account, and their desire to return safely to their own camp before dark. “Yes, Hervess, Bainruin nín.” Leaning over, he brushed a kiss across her cheek below those snapping blue-grey eyes, before withdrawing and letting his face fall into serious lines again as he began the slow backward crawl away from the edge, keeping his eyes on her until he was far enough away to move into a crouch once more.

Turning in his crouch, Thûllir retraced their previous path until he arrived at a point where the slope down toward the valley floor wasn’t as long of a drop. Eyeing it carefully, he noted where he could cut off a loop of his previously planned path by finding handholds and lowering himself down. He did so cautiously so as to not come off the slope in a rush and startle any animals, but also not overly slowly. It took a few minutes and added to the dirt stains on his clothes, but he managed to do so with very little sound.

Straightening into a loose ready stance, he wove between the downed trees quietly as he approached the herd obliquely. When the first horse’s head went up at alert, he began a calm and soothing murmur as he eased toward it slowly. Letting it catch his scent in its nostrils, he paused before reaching out letting it wuffle his hand in curiosity. This one definitely was used to people, and although it eyed him warily, once Thûllir maintained his calm murmur without sudden moves, it ducked its head to sniff him again before going back to pulling at the grass tufts. The other animals took its cue and only gave him wary looks and shifted slightly rather than making sound or racing off. Thûllir stroked his hand down its side as he walked towards the hindquarters and then traced the brand he found. Unfamiliar. He repeated the process as he made his way slowly from horse to horse, reaching out to touch and sooth, giving the oxen a wide berth but still glancing at brands. It was an eclectic mix, which wasn’t entirely proof.

And then he saw the first familiar curve of the sigil for the Royal horses used only by the Rangers and the King’s messengers outside of the royal household. His breath stuttered. These horses couldn’t be bought, and they were young enough to not have been taken from the stud farms to the east where they were raised and later put out to pasture once they were retired from service. He continued his search and found two more with the royal mark before he decided he should abandon the herd to look for further evidence if it could be found.

[Ercassie]

Unexpected Company – Part 3.
A (Behind the Scenes) RP - Private (for now)

The stirrings of a new day staked their claim across the sky, a soft warm glow unfolding warmth and colour, that ushered the last dregs of darkness to take up with the breeze and be gone. Red-baked leaves curled and crackled, rolling about the lonely path, cast aside and crushed under the cascade of eager feet. A call, clear as any horn, erupted from the keen hound’s muzzle, for the dog sure had the scent; it spread about his senses like an infection of some thing which had scuttled from the bright light into the comforting shroud of shadows. The baying sounded out the prize, the master came soonafter to ground from his high mount. And hovered about the ragged jaws of a cave that sank away into the earth, who knew to what depths.

The man narrowed his eyes, wrinkled his nose, and recoiled with a hand held back before his face, to ward off nausea. For the smell his dog had found was that of death. A thing which neither a fresh morning nor evolving season can escape. Assured of his duty, he prepared to delve into the cold and damp which clawed at the world above like a silent, patient, waiting grave. For it must be unearthed. Explored. And judged, for what might be the cause of that defiling reek.

---

Lady Sirdis Azrubêl, on the morning of the Dimaethor event’s commencement.
Meeting an unexpected escort. Grounds of Castle Azrubêl, Lond Côl, Dor-en-Ernil.

Though she was keen to catch up to their departed houseguest, Sirdis was hard put to hasten through the wider expanses of land surrounding the estate. So rarely did she venture out this far, for there was ever something which demanded her attention back in the thick of things. This errand of course was something that ought to have been taken care of, back at the castle. But who could count on an Elf to abide by mortal concepts of time and itinerary ?

As the path diminished into lush grasslands, and trees began to dot the tapestry that she rode past, the lady slowed down now undeniably. It would not do to miss her quarry by not trying to imagine where he might loiter, and what may draw his intrigue. He had lived a time in Edhellond, he’d told her, back in the days when Elves had first dwelt in that region. It made sense that he might thus choose to revisit old haunts.

She could understand the yearning, to be sure. Though she might have never explored this portion of their land before, still it sang to her heart as though each of the flowers she marvelled over was an old friend. And already she must admit that she had quite lost track of how long she had been now out this way. The day was getting away from her, and she would be expected .. She ought turn back, then. And might have done so. If she had not in that moment seen what she was searching for.


“Hir nin,” the lady descended from her horse and dropped her chin in unison, and in respect before the ancient one. The Elf was stood amidst the long grass, gazing .. at some manner of thing that she could not discern. “You took from our grounds so swiftly.” Sirdis closed the distance between them, as wary as though she approached a butterfly, or unicorn, or some such other things which gave off the impression that it would depart before ever she could reach out and make true contact. “I have not yet been allowed to grant you my thanks, and appreciation. For the statue .. of my husband ..”

“There is no good cause to gift me any words, or otherwise, good lady,” Silugnir’s answer was fair, if one only considered the diction, and not the rather more disinterested tone it was delivered in. He sounded … bored. He waved one hand that she might count her message marked, her errand achieved, her need to linger a moment longer .. unnecessary .. “I enjoy the art of it. And it is not that the work can ever equal what it hopes to resurrect, in mind at least.”

“It is a kindness,” the widow persevered. “For my son was smaller still when last his father graced our sights. You have given him a memory made strong, and enduring. We are all very grateful.”


Though she had come now so close that she might but extend an arm, and find the immortal beneath her touch, she refrained from the intrusion. In fact it was beginning to feel as though she was unwelcome here. In the grounds of her home .. Of course, this far out from the castles and the homesteads and the forts that guard the estuary .. this had once been the home of his people. Here he, not she, was as the host.

“The Lady Eressild would have you campaign me to attend, for the event of your friends and family and neighbours. She knows I shall refuse, and would rather that you, not she, endure the slight and stand the blame for my refusal.” Eyes so pale blue that they were almost ice-craft, turned to regard the mortal woman, with an expression that was shameless and not remotely sympathetic to his guess at her deficiency. “You ought have spared yourself the ride,” he smiled. And it was not comforting, though it seemed horribly sincere. “Take it not as an affront. For I do not attend such occasions. Not any more. Not for anyone.” The tall form of his figure returned to face the objecting breeze. And somehow it did not meet his silhouette as a wave might strike at the stalwart cliff. If anything the resolute squall seemed to run somehow through him. Hair like silver spun, and sleeves that billowed as a ship’s grand sails … all about the gaunt, hard-boned precision of the rest of him.

“I have spoke my piece,” the lady realised, both that further efforts would be wasted, and that she felt not at peace aside the odd individual. “Thank you for hearing me,” she supposed, was the best that she could manage, under the circumstances. A nod of the Elf’s own head meant that she was set aside from his any further attention. The pensive face she could not read gazed into the world, as though it saw more there than she might ever hope or want to. Carried by the twinned emotions of both shame and relief, the woman left him to .. his escape.



The journey back to the castle was spent in rather less astoundment at the world, but rather a rope that Sirdis grappled her way along, wracked in regret. She ought to have took him a horse perhaps, or insisted .. now that she was not stood in proximity to the immortal, it seemed more likely that he might have humoured her. How hard had she tried, after all ? What was Eressild going to say ?

“Hold ! Wait !”

The protests rose not of the woman’s mind but out of the horizon, where her gaze found a similarly mounted figure, decked out in the proud colours of House Azrubêl. Drawing to a still, she turned, for it would seem she was incapable of going against instructions. The man she did not know, although she marked him for a guard. That was little surprise, given how many extra staff had been assigned to the immensely ambitious event.

“My lady,” the man caught his breath, barely, as he fell in at her side. And expectant, Sirdis waited, for an explanation, without demanding aloud that her curiosity be satisfied. “It is not safe, this far out,” she was bidden to consider. “I was charged with spying out the widest borders of the grounds. And I found .. ” the guard shook his head, denoting without words that he had uncovered something … not good. “Pray do allow me the honour or escorting you back to the castle. For I could not in all conscience leave you, so unattended out here.”


“What did you find ?” she asked, unsure whether she wished in truth to know the answer.

A glance in the one direction, then the other, and the guard called his horse to order. For it seemed fit to bolt, if given opportunity. “I should not like to upset you with the detail. But must see you home, my lady,” he insisted. “It would be unwise to delay.”

“You must make your report,” she realised. As though it were her diligent son before her, tasked with his duty and a heart in turmoil if he should be delayed. “I shall hear of it when we are stood before your captain,” she obliged, for always a man would be concerned foremost with the safety of a noblewoman. Which, she supposed, she really was now. It was taking some getting used to. Why had she not sent somebody out after the Elf, instead of venturing forth herself ? What was out there, .. that had spooked the armed man more than the immortal was able to ? He allowed her to lead, taking up the rear so that she were reminded all the way that they were being hastened out of their own lands. By some thing .. some where out there. Somehow more alarming than the rude immortal himself ? Before long the refuge of home formed shape and their pace picked up the more so, urged by the want to bask in all that home meant. Safety. Security. Strength. She might not know this guard, but his character was shaped by the grand blue and gold. He was of home. She was back .. home. They were safe. But from what exactly ?

---

The feathered fingers of pale grass fell away before the smooth descent of slate. He followed the wind to find his way, as ever he had done. He knew when and how the shell caves had come to be there. Where there stood no formal border to the legend of Edhellond. Though some fell malice contested with the memory of the Eldar in the air, a sensation of being watched. Perhaps by some foe or fearful thing. The trees which stood like sentries seemed to bear back from the entrance way, where the smattering of small white-frocked flowers were smudged by dirty boot prints underfoot. And everywhere the stench of death. He had never been afraid to enter, not ever since discovering the secret caves, when he had roamed here, a mere child in comparison to how many years now he claimed his own. Some other had come since, and made this home their haunt.

He could not allow such a trespass without due reproach. Slow but sure were the feet of the Elf as he descended into the darkness, he who had traversed the deepest mines in ages past, with his brethren, the House of Mole. What he saw caused the skull countenance of Silugnir to stall, and tilt his gaze in proper contemplation. The muffled, desperate noise grew in volume as the bound, gagged man flailed upon the cold hard floor. Hog-tied, he was scarce covered in any garb that would keep him from freezing. And he persisted with his unintelligible summons, as though time would make it form some sort of sense. In the end it required the immortal to loose the knot, and unwind the makeshift muzzle, liberating words, and hot breath, and curses.


Coming back a pace, the elf cocked his head and inevitably held up one hand to quiet the panic. “Slow. And make some sense,” he counselled. Inspiring the unhappy unfortunate to writhe in his bonds, and wonder why he had not been properly released as yet. Did this oddity not understand ?

“Took my clothes, my horse,” he managed to drop small samples of sentences, with eyes wide, ever still thrashing to be set free. “Danger, at the castle .. he said he was going to the castle ..they must be warned !!”

“Who ?” Silugnir pressed, unhurried by all the mortal’s clamour.

“Don’t know. He did ..” the unhappy man led the elf to guess what he’d say next. He did … not tell me ? He did ….. not elaborate …. ? “He did .. that ..” the man got out, with a discouraging inability to look overlong at what he was directing the immortal to observe.


The carcass of the dog was brutal, and it was fresh. Still already glutinous flies bathed in the pooled blood that tainted the hollowed ruin of the animal. It was not the only carcass, but the older remains were now quite indistinguishable. Silugnir stared, slowly rising from his squat to his full height.

“Didn’t even use a knife, did that with .. his bare hands,” the tale was told with an evident revulsion, as though by spilling details, the speaker might be freed of the memory. Of having been witness to such a deed. “He took my weapons .. everything ..” the man bemoaned then, rousing the Elf to action.


Without further delay, the albino elf checked for the axe slung at his own hip, the slender wand of a blade that balanced it at his other haunch. He turned to leave, determined against all want for what he must now do.

“Wait ! Don’t …” the ambushed guard called out, sudden. Don’t leave me like this, his expression gave up the rest of his meaning. “I can help,” he tried, unconvinced himself, and quietened uncomfortably under the unblinking rebuke.

“You will slow me down.” Silugnir was without indecision.



The echo of the Elf’s departure served as prelude to the ancient eyes surveying of the calm horizon. There was not a horse in sight, nor the lady. Damn ! The lady. He would not have put it past the Lady Eressild to concoct this entire theatre in order to force his hand in returning to Castle Azrubêl. Not though the Lady Sirdis. And she was Raxelilta, by blood if not by name. So he was sworn. Ever since his first friend of the edain, back in the first age. He did not have a choice. And that put him in a foul mood.

Stars help the fool who had incurred this mischief onto the house of his allies. With no horse, nor especial want, save for need, to come to his new destination, the Elf took on fleeted race of foot to see him, like the wind rising steadily to a storm.

[Rillewen]

@Lantaelen

Aearonor & Anurion Taurhebor
On their family's riverboat, approaching Dimethor estate
Around 8 years ago

“Well, there it is.”

His brother’s voice sounded unusually glum, as if he dreaded what was about to come with every fiber of his being. Anurion looked up from where he had been leaned over the railing on the riverboat, trying to spot a trout that he was sure he’d seen swimming along with them for the last hour or so. Blinking, he was surprised to see the Dimaethor estate looming up before them. It was huge. He looked at his brother. “You won’t be living here, will you, Aear?” Anurion was a little worried that he would be losing his closest -and only- companion and friend. Not to mention brother.

Aearon sighed and rested his forearms on the rail. “No, she’ll come to live on our estate, and it won't be for a few more years, anyway.”

“Well, that doesn’t sound too bad.” Anurion shrugged. “I mean, sure she’s a girl, but maybe she could play with Linn. They’d have lots of fun together and you wouldn’t have to talk to her that much.” He pointed out.

“I don’t want to get married, though.” Aearon rolled his eyes, deciding not to explain any further about marriage to his twelve-year-old brother.

“You’re not getting married today, are you?” Anurion’s eyes widened.

“No, no.. of course not.” Aearon swiftly assured him, hoping desperately he was right. “This is just.. well, officially proclaiming that we will be married, someday. I.. think. Something like that, anyway. Mother said it was a betrothal.. thing.”

“Well, I still don’t see why I have to come.” Anurion grumbled, thinking of all the millions of better things he could be doing at home. Climbing trees. Exploring that new cave they’d found yesterday. Swimming. Riding his horse. Or practicing with his new bow and arrows. Or playing with his dog!

“I know you’d rather be home, but I’m glad you’re here with me for this.” Aearon muttered quietly. “I’m glad to have someone around that I like, and that I can actually talk to.”

Anurion’s face brightened a little, pleased to hear his brother say that. After a moment, he patted his older brother’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. It’s just a dinner thing, right?”

“With a girl. And her family.”

“So? Girls aren’t so scary. They’re fun to scare. Remember when we put a spider in Gliriel’s stocking drawer?” He grinned.

Aearon laughed. “Anurion! This isn’t the same as a governess.” He shook his head, grinning a little at his goofy little brother. “I have to make a good impression with Lady Azraindil and her parents, I don’t know a thing about her, or what to expect. All I know is what I’ve been told to say, and… what if she says something unexpected, and I don’t know what to say back, because it’s not something my tutors have anticipated.. and..”

“Aearon,” Anurion looked at his brother funny. “You know how to talk to people. You’ve talked to girls before. What’s so scary about this girl? Really?”

“I..” Aearon blinked at him, then sighed. “You just don’t understand, Anurion.” He put his forehead down on his arms, holding back a groan. “You’ll understand better when you’re older.”

Anurion rolled his eyes. “I’m old enough to know there’s no reason to be scared of a girl. And I don’t know why you are. You've never been scared of anything!”

Aearon shook his head a little in amusement, and laughed softly, lifting his head again. “I’m not scared. Just..nervous, is all.” He sighed. “And dreading this thing tremendously. It’s like… the end of childhood. Of fun. All that responsibility and duty that mother’s been preparing me for all my life.. it’s actually upon me all of the sudden. I don’t know what to do.. how to handle it.” He admitted quietly, looking troubled. “Anurion, it’s just.. so real, suddenly. I’ll have to get married in a few years. For the rest of my life. And I don’t even know if I’ll like her.. or if she’ll like me!”

Anurion frowned and nodded slowly, toying with the strands of hair that didn't quite make it into the tie at the back of his hair. His mother made him keep it long, but there were a couple of bits on the front that defied her. He hated like this. One of these days he was going to cut it all short, and she wouldn’t be able to stop him. But he was focused on his brother’s problem at the moment. “Maybe we could run away and be rangers,” He whispered, grinning mischievously.

Aearon smiled. A longing showed in his steel blue eyes, and he glanced toward the woods on the far bank. “I’d love to. But you know how much that would disappoint Mother.” He sighed, shoulders slumping a bit.

Anurion felt bad. He hadn’t meant to make Aearon feel worse. He was rather at a loss for what to say that would cheer him up. He didn’t have a chance to think for long, though.

---

Toggornir Talven
Entering the scene

“Mother says we're about to dock, so you two had best come get ready.” Toggornir declared, barging onto the deck to find his stepbrothers leaned together against the rail. “And Aearon, she said to tell you that you’d best make sure your hair is tied back neatly, and all your clothes must be spotless so you make the best impression on your new wifey.” He added, using a mocking, sing-songy voice at the last bit.

Aearon sighed, nodding. “Alright, we’re coming.” he answered.

Anurion stuck his tongue out at Togg, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Aearon trying his best not to smile in amusement.

“Stop that,” Togg ordered, scowling. At nearly fourteen, he acted as if he were so much more important than anyone else, especially Anurion. Just because he was a year and a half older than him.

The latter rolled his eyes. “Make me.” He retorted, then stuck it out again, blowing to make a rude noise with it.

Togg shoved him, annoyed. “Grow up, will you?”

“Hey, both of you, stop it. Don’t push him, Togg. And Anurion, come on, just ignore him.”

“Fine.” Anurion answered, noticing the weary and stressed tone in Aearon’s voice.

---

Talven/Taurhebor Family
(oldest to youngest)

Dressed in their finest clothing, the trio of boys made their way to the ramp and filed off of the boat, onto shore. Their parents were just ahead of them, with little Dulinneth walking between them in her best dress. The youngest of the family, she was five years old and looked adorable.

As the family traveled up the path from the beach toward the arch that marked the entrance of the small village, Anurion was trying his best to pretend Togg didn’t even exist. Until the other stuck out a foot to trip him. “Hey..!” The word tore out of him as he stumbled, nearly falling on his face, and would have, if not for his quick reflexes. Temper flaring, Anurion whirled without thinking, shoving Togg hard in retaliation.

Togg stumbled back a few steps and nearly fell off of the path into a patch of mud. His own temper rose to meet Anurion’s, and he shoved him right back, harder.

Grabbing Togg as he felt himself falling, Anurion was oblivious to the indignant and upset cries of his mother and stepfather as he and Togg fell, together, into a large patch of mud. Water splashed everywhere. There was a puddle of brown, murky water sitting on top. The mud was wet and slippery and delightfully oozy. He would’ve loved playing in it any other day. But today he was in his best clothes and was supposed to be on his best behavior.

Throwing all of that ‘best behavior’ nonsense to the wayside, Anurion immediately wrestled his stepbrother beneath him, while the latter was caught by surprise, and proceeded shoving him down deeper into the mud.

Then Togg recovered, swung a fist out and struck Anurion on the jaw before he rolled them swiftly so that Anurion was suddenly below him in the mud. He felt it oozing into his hair, down the back of his neck, the water soaking into his clothes. He coughed as a little of the water splashed into his mouth, spat a mouthful of mud water toward Tog’s face before grabbing handfuls of mud to shove at him. His feet kicked at his stepbrother, all the while, sometimes catching him but he couldn’t quite get a foot against him to shove him off. He felt Togg yanking his hair, and absently thought how much he wished it was cut short so that Togg couldn’t have grabbed it.

Meanwhile, Duvaineth was shouting at both boys to cease their horrendous behavior immediately, and nearly came forward to attempt to break them up personally. What if the Dimeathors showed up to greet them, and witnessed this!?

“Stay back, Mother,” Aearon cautioned Lady Talven, holding a hand out as he stepped partially in front of her, to shield his mother and sister from any splatters of mud.

“Someone, do something!” Torthon waved to a couple of servants who traveled along with them. “Get those two apart!” He ordered.

All the while, Dulinneth was highly amused by the two boy’s fight, though she wasn’t allowed to join them, she couldn’t help giggling as she watched. "Go 'nurion! Get him!" She called, before her mother shushed her.

After a moment, Anurion grabbed hold of Tog’s shirt and flipped them both over, putting Togg face-down, while he sat on his back shoving his face into the mud. Just then, hands grabbed him and dragged him off. “Let go, I’m not done with him!” He growled, squirming to try and get free.

“You most certainly are done, young man.” Torthon’s icily furious tone cut through Anurion’s temper, calming him swiftly.

Anurion shook the muddy water from his eyes as well as he could, blinking as he looked up at his stepfather. And suddenly, he remembered where they were, and that he was in his best clothes. Oops. “It was his fault,” He protested immediately.

The servant let go of him and helped Togg up out of the puddle. The other boy was spluttering and furious. “My fault!?” Togg glared at him, flinging as much mud off of his hands as he could, with a disgusted look on his face. “You pushed me! I didn’t do anything to him, Father! He just pushed me, for no reason!”

“NO reason?” Anurion rounded on him angrily. “You stuck your stupid foot out to trip me, deliberately!”

“I did no such thing!” Togg replied in an incredulous tone laced with indignance. “He’s making that up!”

“I don’t care whose fault it was, nor who started it!” Duvaineth interjected sternly. “Look at you two! Look at your clothes! Your best clothes.” She gave them both a stern look, hands on her hips. “Anurion, Toggornir, I am ashamed of you both. And you, Anurion… how could you? Even if he had done as you said, which I doubt, that is no reason to behave like this. Pushing him in the mud, wrestling in it? You are not a child anymore! What will people think?” She looked around, hoping desperately that none of the Dimaethors were nearby, nor any of their people who might tell them of this embarrassing display.

“You two will return to the boat immediately, and stay there. Is that clear?" Torthion decided with a sigh. "You can't come to dinner looking like that. And no more fighting.” Torthon declared sternly.

“Yes, Father.” Toggornir answered with perfect contriteness, hanging his head as if in great disappointment.

Anurion frowned. The mud and water still dripped off of him. He glanced toward Aearon, and felt bad as he realized that this meant he would not be able to be there for his brother after all. “What if we can get cleaned up?” He asked, grasping at straws now. Not that he really wanted to go and sit through a stuffy dinner in his uncomfortable clothes, but Aearon had been counting on him being there, and he hated to let him down.

Torthon sighed heavily and glanced at Duvaineth.

Togg had turned to head back to the boat, and now paused to glance back at the parents. “We have more clothes on the boat." He mentioned hopefully. "Please?”

Duvaineth frowned, taking a look at the two of them. “Alright. If you can both get cleaned up satisfactorily, and find suitable, clean clothing, before we have sat down to dinner.. then yes. You may join us then.” She decided. “ONLY,” she added, holding up a hand to stop them. “If you promise you will behave yourselves, and won’t get into any more fights the entire time we’re here.”

Togg brightened. “Yes, Mother!” He agreed, and rushed back to the boat as fast as he could go.

Anurion offered a faint smile of triumph to Aearon, before nodding to his mother. “Yes ma’am, I promise! I’ll be quick.” With that, he turned and flashed a little grin to his baby sister, letting her know that he'd heard her cheering for him. Then he turned and headed toward the boat. His shoes squelched with every step, leaving muddy steps in his wake. He paused on the deck and pulled his shoes off, leaving them scattered about the deck as he went toward the cabin to find something else to wear. Fortunately, he remembered that there had been a few extra sets of clothing packed for him, as the boy's governess had anticipated possible mishaps. Of course, she had been thinking of things more like food getting dropped in laps by accident, not wrestling in the mud, but whatever. The point was, Anurion should have a few new outfits to change into.

---

Back on the boat

Arriving in the cabin which would provide sleeping quarters for the three boys, in the event their journey lasted more than a few hours, Anurion went straight for the chest where he knew there should be a few changes of clothes that he’d brought. Then, opening it, he stopped and stared at the empty chest. “What…?” He blinked, then looked up as Togg entered the cabin, still covered in mud, except that he had also removed his sodden shoes. But how did he get here behind Anurion? He frowned, noticing a muddy handprint on the lid of the chest, beside where Anurion’s hand was. Along with some muddy puddles on the floor, which Anurion had not caused. He stared at these clues, then at Togg and the smug look on his face as he went to his own chest. “What did you do?” He demanded.

“Nothing.” Togg was wiping his hands on a towel. He smiled at Anurion as he tossed him the muddy towel. “Hope the servants have something you can eat. Something tells me you’re going to miss the dinner.” He replied with mock sympathy.

“TOGG!” Anurion ran and blocked the door, not caring if he got it muddy. “What have you done? Where are my things?” He demanded.

“How should I know?” Togg shrugged, folding his arms. “Get out of my way or I’ll say you started another fight.”

Anurion clenched his teeth and grabbed Togg by the tunic. “You got rid of my stuff, why? Where are my clothes?”

Togg pushed him, trying to get free. They were about the same height, but Anurion was noticeably stronger, and Togg soon found himself pinned against the wall as Anurion pushed him against it.

“Well?”

“I tossed your stuff overboard.” Togg sneered at last.

“What?!” Anurion’s eyes widened.

“Guess you won’t be there to give Aearon someone to talk to, after all.” He added, mockingly. “Poor Aearon, having to face the scary girl all on his own.”

Anurion let go, stepping back. “Wait. You heard all that?” He scowled, annoyed that he’d been eavesdropping, for one, and.. “And… you did all this intentionally, just… for spite?” He glared at Togg, looking so smug. He wanted to hit him. Blacken both eyes. Bloody his nose. Bust his lip...

But he’d promised. Anurion took a deep breath. Togg would go back to their parents. Clean. Dry. Well-mannered. Well-behaved. Like the most innocent boy there ever was. And if Anurion hit him, they would see that and know he had broken his promise. He loathed the boy in front of him even more than before.

Smirking with satisfaction over his victory, Togg pushed him away and went out go to the small washroom to get cleaned up.

Anurion was seething. He looked into Togg's chest and found that he'd brought all of his things with him to the washroom, so Anurion couldn't even do anything to get even. So unfair! He turned and stormed out of the cabin. Along the deck, across the boarding plank, and down to where the river met the bank. He couldn’t stand to be here any longer. He wanted to yell and kick and throw things, or just do something to let out the anger. Instead of all of that, he took off running along the bank, trying to get as much distance between him and the boat as possible. Maybe once he got far enough away, he could make as much noise as he wanted, and no one would hear it. He just needed to get away from that despicable stepbrother of his for a while, and he didn't care how far he went.

[Lantaelen]

@Rillewen

Lord Zâinabên, Lady Orelnith, Lady Zorzimril & Lord Abrazimir
House Dimaethor castle, Lond Côl, Dor-en-Ernil

Today was the day Lady Orelnith’s highly expected guests were arriving. Watchmen sighted the Taurhebor-Talven riverboat was coming down the way, towards the shared Fort and Sea-Chain of Lond Côl. It was a tremendous and yet very delicate occasion the two families were meeting. It had long been a desire of Lady Orelnith and her dear friend, Lady Duvaineth, that their Houses might be joined in matrimony. Her eldest son, to Orelnith’s youngest daughter. There would be a banquet between the two families. They would talk time frames and dates.

No money talk though. Lady Orelnith had to tell Lord Zâinabên to refrain from such banal topics, at least in the beginning, while the two parties got to know one another. At least the frugal and ambitious Lord Dimaethor was sated with some promises. The Taurhebor estate, now under Lord Talven’s purview, produced some of the best quality lumber in Dor-en-Ernil and indeed all the Realm of Gondor. This marriage pact would grant the Dimaethors, mariners and warriors, access to such stocks at a premium price. Every little bit counted, with the looming War and Shadow in the not-so-distant east.

All the more reason to seek matches and unions for their children. There might not be ample time in later years, when the dark storm broke against Gondor. Lady Zorzimril, the elder of the Dimaethor children, had her arrangements made last year, to the Lord of Ossarnen in the vales of the Ered Nimrais, who would also grant the Diamethors much needed ores for their smiths and armouries. Their youngest daughter would have her match made today. And then finally, the son and heir of House Dimaethor, Lord Abrazimir, so recently anointed a Swan Knight of Dol Amroth, by the Prince himself.

All the family was to gather at the front of the castle, just inside the gatehouse in the courtyard, at the end of the road that went down to the Fort and River, with an equal winding road up to the gates of House Azrubêl on the other side. No invite extended to them as of yet. No point inviting the neighbours for a preliminary meeting. What if the arrangement fell through? It would be embarrassing. No, best way until there was good news to report before hosting an official announcement of the youngest daughter’s match.

One by one, each of the children exited the home in their best outfits to join their parents, Lord Zâinabên and Lady Orelnith. First came Lady Zorzimril, the eldest of the family, receiving the honour to be wearing the family’s best jewelry, in a dazzling display of ladyship. Her hair was knotted in buns at her side, with a gold and ruby circlet about her brow. Some might think it demeaning to be displayed like a peahen in this fashion but Zorzimril rather enjoyed the pomp. And then came Lord Abrazimir, not in full kit, but wearing a pristine and fresh blue and white surcoat, over polished chain mail, down to his knees, with dark trousers tucked into polished leather boots. He rested his hand easy on the pommel of the sword he was girted with at his waist. Both the Lord and Lady were similarly dressed as their children. Orelnith, head covered like a modest matron, in flowing robes, albeit with no jewelry visible. And Zâinabên, in chain mail and livery of his House.

But there was a problem, made evident as the visitors were sighted coming up the road. One, by one…equals two. There were three Dimaethor children. And the missing one was the most vital link of the three. Lady Orelnith was starting to agitate, more than usual, over her thoroughly planned day being disrupted before their guests even got here. Where was their Lady of the hour? Missing for her own debut?

”Where is your sister?” Lady Orelnith insisted of her two children. Zorzimril just shrugged while Abrazimir looked positively helpless in offering up an answer. A governess was summoned. ”Where is the Lady Gaerlothriel?” Orelnith requested, as ever, speaking in the Sindarin tongue which was more native to them than Westron.

”I do not know, my Lady. She was not in her rooms. We have combed the entire estate.” The servant reported timidly.

”Comb harder.” Orelnith retorted, uncharacteristic for her to lose her patience like this.

”You will lose the rest of your hair that way.” Zorzimril jested quietly and Abrazimir grinned, but when their father, overhearing snatches of the joke, spun to face them, both clamped their expressions up. Lady or Warrior, father’s stare always smartened them up, no matter their age, both well into their twenties.

”Zorzimril, go and find your sister.” Zâinabên ordered the eldest child. Zorzrimril performed an elegant curtsey in acknowledgement of the rank but when Zâinabên turned back to face the road and the ongoing party of guests, Zorzimril nudged Abrazimir’s shoulder.

”Go and find Gaerlothriel.” Zorzimril ordered her younger, albeit bigger, brother, who baulked at the suggestion. You don’t see him wearing all this armour? And it’s hot out.

”Adar told you.” Abrazimir snapped back.

Now Zorzimril looked aghast. You don’t see her wearing this lovely outfit, that got her up so early in the morning to prep for? ”And I am telling you.” She growled back without a second’s hesitation.

”Enough! Both of you, go, now.” Zâinabên ordered, trying not to let his voice rise as the guests were closing in. Both siblings didn’t argue anymore, turning back to the Keep together.

”This will take all day.” Abrazimir grumbled. His sister loved to go off, mostly swimming, down by the river or along the coastline. She had like…nine different haunts and coves she could be at. And she might be swimming between them, from one to the other, while they checked each one and could narrowly miss her.

”No it will not. I know where she is. Exactly.” Zorzimril said with a knowing smile.

”What? Well why did you not say anything? Why are you telling me to go?” Abrazimir hissed back at her.

”Because I am older. And word travels downhill. Father tells me, I tell you. See?” Zorzimril flashed her prettiest, most charming smile at Abrazimir, though he was long immune to such things. He just shrunk, visibly, his broad shoulders deflating. Well, he couldn’t argue that logic.

”Whatever.” Abrazimir rolled his eyes but followed his sister nonetheless. What the hell was Azraindil thinking on a day like this?

Meanwhile, the Lord and Lady went forward to greet the guests. ”Good welcome, good welcome!” Orelnith beckoned to Duvaineth, embracing her and giving her cheeks a polite kiss. ”And who is this little lady, hm?” She beamed with curiosity towards Dulinneth.

Zâinabên greeted his opposite, Torthon, with a handshake. ”Mae govannen.” He said formally, before turning to Aearonor, his son-in-law-to-be, and the other one. Anurion? No, this was…Toggornir. Wait, where was the other one? ”Hail and well met, little lords.” He offered a handshake to each, to test their strength and decorum.

---

Lady Azraindil
“Sea Walls”, Lond Côl, Dor-en-Ernil

She wasn’t thinking, that was her problem. And maybe it was her parent’s fault a little. They had her so late in their marriage. Zorzimril, Abrazimir, they had been planned. And then Azraindil, years and years later after Abrazimir, a surprise. A happy one, but still unplanned for. Ten years younger than Abrazimir, twelve younger than Zorzimril, she was always perceived as the baby among them. Never taken too seriously. Parents always content to let her have a more…carefree existence, if not restricted to the grounds of their estate.

But she was young. She was sheltered. And her head was constantly in the clouds. What else could she do? She had almost no playmates her own age. Her siblings were off doing other things by the time she reached a state of awareness in her thoughts and feelings. There was no one to relate to here. No one to share the experiences of growing up with. When her life was structured, she felt like an entity outside her own mind, watching herself go through the motions, of language classes or embroidery or arithmetic. Even horse riding was so controlled.

It was in swimming that she felt truly apart of the world, on her own merit and standing though. Something about the water, it’s infinite song, and the way it just engulfed and encompassed her. She felt connected to such presences she could not identify or ever label, but they were familiar, and therefore comfortable, to her.

And truly, in her wandering thoughts, she thought the day was actually tomorrow, not today. So grabbing her towel, right at dawn break, she took off sneakily through the Keep and out the back and along the coast, walking some twenty, thirty minutes at a brisk pace, to the “Sea-Walls”. So dubbed, because here the land rose up in a tall ridgeline overlooking the ocean, dozens of feet above, leaving only the narrowest strip of land between the base of the cliffs and the rolling water. There were many indents and alcoves though in the cliffs, carved by countless centuries of crashing waters, and many secrets in these cliffs. To which she assigned herself as guardian.

One such cove she labeled the Pearly Depths, because within the shallow waters inside the half cave was countless clams…and pearls set within their shells. That, when the Sun hit the cave just right, glittered like a multitude of stars beneath the lolling waters. Usually above, it was a marvel to see such lights below. She liked to go there, and just float among the lights and water and acoustics of the cave, and just…be.

An hour she spent there, just heedless and unaware of the panic she caused back home. Why so long? She named almost all the clams too and every day, routinely went and noted each one, sometimes in the same places, sometimes removed. The movement is what frightened her. Had someone come, and located her hidden lair, and stolen the pearls for their own gain and profit? She knew her family would. Maybe that might be for the best, the way father and mother spoke of the future with such…concern. But she trusted er family to do the right thing with the pearls. Strangers, not so much.

But it was this anxiety that caused her to dip and swim, through reef or seaweed, to find and note every clams location. Almost forty of them. That’s what took so long. Certainly today, because one got really far back in the weeds, so much that she endured the slippery, slimy touch of the weed to explore at the roots. But they were all here. Mostly. No, one was missing. Taken and stolen? Or just misplaced where she couldn’t find it?

And the Sun was rising, high into the sky and past the point where it cast it’s direct ray into this cove, alighting all the pearls. The cave fell dark and lifeless and that was when it was time to go, the magic gone. Azraindil emerged, and dried, and dressed, thankful for the hot day which sped the process up. Then she began to make her way back along the Sea-Walls back home. Her last day of proper freedom, she imagined, not knowing she was already late to the hour for the finish. It did seem to her, like the other, that she would be wed and sent off on that very moment when all was decided. It was like a knot in her belly, unwilling to unwind, but zapping and stabbing every other organ and emotion of her heart. Just wouldn’t let go.

She was making her way back, careful of rock which might be slippery from the water of a wave. She kept one hand on the cliff wall, the other clutching the skirt of her garments, trying to keep it above her ankles for mobility, though keeping them dry was moot, as beneath the knee she was entirely soaked. Not to mention a leaf of sea-weed clinging to her hair, which she could neither feel nor see.

Life, though…felt good. For whatever was left of it, anyways.

And then she turned the corner of a jutting shelf out of the Sea-Walls and…saw him. About a dozen paces away. A boy. Azraindil audibly gasped and visibly stuttered step, half tripping into the wall to balance herself. Where…? Whence…? Who was this boy? Was he the culprit, who stole a clam and pearl from her preservatory? Like…look at him. He was muddy. And dirty. He looked like he had been digging somewhere. It didn’t occur to her that he could not have been digging in waters because he would not be so filthy like that. But he looked the part, down to a tee. And that made her…so very angry.

”What are you doing here?” She snapped so accusatory, across the space, in the elvish tongue. Her voice echoed amongst the cliffs and walls too. ”You cannot be here, this is a secret place!” She said, looking him down and up. He was no Dimaethor boy, she knew all the boys and girls her age. Certainly not an Azrubêl boy either. An outside then! Just the sort of culprit who would steal and go far away with the bounty! Curse him, she had to stop him from going forward, no matter what!

[Lantaelen]

@Arnyn

Lady Gaerlothriel Dimaethor
Mid-January, Estate of House Dimaethor, Lond Côl
Early in the Fourth Age

The arrival of the familial warship, the Bregolalph, was always a cause for celebration in Lond Côl, as warriors and mariners of both estates returned home to their loved ones and families, after voyages against dangers unknown or unseen. But this occasion was ab it more special than the others, for the Captain, Abrazimir Dimaethor, brought with him many guests from Minas Tirith and the northern provinces of Gondor. Rangers in fact, about ten of them, men and women both skilled and keen, to accompany the Captain on a voyage deeper into the ocean. They were to be hosted, regardless of military or social rank, with all honour and pomp.

With Lady Gaerlothriel’s older sister, Lady Zorzimril, now married and off with her new family in the vales of the Ered Nimrais, it was left to the younger to play the part of hostess and cupbearer for guests of the family. While her father and mother both paid their respects and greetings to the Rangers, brave soldiers of the frontier, they left the deeper banqueting to the youngsters while they retired early. Leave Abrazimir, the future Lord of their House, to practice his hosting and etiquette with guests, and enjoy himself without the burden of oversight of his parents nearby. He was old enough.

And fortunately for Gaerlothriel, being old enough now, got to attend the adult’s partying and feasting, even if she didn’t quite know anyone.

The grand hall of House Dimaethor’s keep was well lit by both hearth and brazier. The floor was well swept tiling, while the walls were a layer of smooth plaster over stone, upon which were painted (albeit fading) depictions of scenes of Gondorian lore and myth. Ships and sea-monsters, eagles clutching serpents in their talons, and unidentified warriors with stars upon their brows. There were small nooks and holes though, like where the eyes ought to be, evidencing that once gemstones had been set there to bring a certain opulence to these vivid images. They were gone now, sold and pawned off, as House Dimaethor fell on hard times in recent centuries. But they were proof of a more glorious, prosperous past.

Tapestries adorned the walls where there weren’t murals or frescos, showing both the sigil of House Dimaethor as well as the White Swan of Dol Amroth, their liege lords. All were seated around a central table, draped in rich blue cloth, in the midst of the hall, before a dais where the Lord and Lady of House Dimaethor usually sat when receiving petitioners or issuing edicts for their little territory.

While other servants brought in the various meals, stews and platters of meats and vegetable, seafood and fruit salads, it was Gaerlothriel’s duty to play cupbearer. That is, to ensure all the Rangers had their drink of choice topped and refilled. It was her purview to do so, managing a small collection of silver flagons of water, juice, wine, or ale. She did sit a little apart, to the wall, on a chair of her own, next to a table with the various flagons, waiting for some sign or signal that a guest was running low on drink. She felt a small measure of pride that she memorized everyone’s choice, what they requested before, ready to spring up with the correct flagon when her brother or a guest signaled her to do so. Such was her small battle, a candle compared to the rigorous training these folk were about go through.

Truthfully, she was content to be both on the inside and outside, one foot in the party and one foot out, enjoying the bantering and bravado and hopes and anxieties of these strangers from Minas Tirith and beyond, though at least Lady Azrubêl was a known sight for her. The rest were unique and different and she was content to observe them, especially the women rangers. Two of whom seemed to lead this party of warriors! How curious and astonishing that was for her!

But at present, she noticed one of the officers, a Lieutenant, a blonde woman, seemed to be low on her cup and so Gaer sprang up, seizing the flagon of the drink she had poured earlier for that woman and approaching, one hand grasping the handle, the other beneath to balance. ”Fill your cup, madam?” She said in sindarin, her mother tongue, as she approached the woman’s side, though she raised the flagon a little to indicate what she wished to do, to refill, if the woman did not speak the elven tongue herself.

[Rillewen]

@Lantaelen

Talven/Taurhebor Family
(minas one)

Togg caught up to the rest of the family before they had reached the halfway point. Duvaineth looked back down the path and frowned before turning to her stepson. "Where is Anurion?" She demanded.

"I don't know, Mother." Togg answered innocently. "I think he was still getting cleaned up. I do hope he can still make it in time for the dinner."

Aearon narrowed his eyes at him suspiciously, but Togg ignored him.

"Well, we can't wait around all day." Torthon declared, impatient. "Let's go. He's had plenty of time."

"We'll wait here just a few minutes, to give him a little more time." Duvaineth decided.

"Dear, we shouldn't keep them waiting." Torthon pointed out, a bit annoyed at the thought of having to wait around.

"We'll wait a few minutes only." Duvaineth insisted. She knelt down and began fussing with the sash on Dulinneth's dress, trying to straighten up the bow and make sure it lay perfectly.

Aearon looked back toward the ship, then frowned at Togg. He grabbed his elbow and pulled him aside. "What did you do?" he demanded in a whisper.

"All I did was clean up and get changed." Togg insisted with a shrug. "I don't know what's taking him so long."

They loitered for a few minutes before Duvaineth could no longer find any excuse to delay. She sighed. "Alright. Let's go, I suppose he'll either catch up, or he won't." She shook her head a bit in disappointment.

Aearon held back a sigh, tossing a suspicious glare toward Togg as the family continued on their way.


They approached the castle together, trying not to look too embarrassed by the absence of the youngest son. Duvaineth smiled happily as she came forward to greet Orelnith with joy. "Hello! How are you?" She smiled as her friend turned her attention to the youngest member of the family. "You remember my daughter, Dulinneth?" She smiled proudly as Dulinneth offered a proper curtsy as she had been taught. She was most often left at home when the families went to social functions, and although the families visited one another now and then, it had been a couple of years since they brought Linn along, as she had been sick when the family came last year, and could not come along. Therefore, she had grown a lot since the last time the Dimaethor family had seen her.

Nearby, Torthon smiled as he greeted Lord Dimaethor with a handshake. "Mae Govannen." He replied in turn. "How fare you and your family?" He asked, before standing aside so that Aearonor and Toggornir could greet the lord in turn.

"Mae govannen, sir." Aearonor offered his own hand out for a strong handshake, keeping his head high as he hid his nervousness. He wasn't terribly enthused about being called 'little lord' but he also knew it would be improper to protest the term.

"Mae govennen, lord Dimaethor." Toggornir answered when it was his turn to shake hands. His grip was not as strong as Aearonor's, but as he was a bit younger, and also smaller than Aearon, it should be understandable.

"I hope you'll excuse the absence of our other son," Torthon added, although he actually did not consider the brat to be his son, it seemed better when they spoke in public as if he did. "He had a bit of mishap, and could not accompany us, unfortunately." He explained regrettably. "But he sends his regrets that he couldn't join us."

---

Anurion
At the Sea Wall

He kept walking, steaming for a while in his anger toward that despicable jerk. After a while, the beach changed. There were cliffs on one side, and the path grew narrower. Anurion looked back the way he'd come, then ahead. His curiosity overcame everything else, and he pushed onward. In places, the waves lapped up onto the rocky path, washing the mud off of his legs. He wondered how deep the water was, and debated whether to try and jump in and wash it off the rest of him, but he figured it might not be a smart idea to jump into water without knowing if it was safe.

The cliffs on his other side, however, looked rather appealing. He looked upward, trying to see how high they went, and wondered if he could climb to the top. It might make a nice challenge, if he got bored... of course, it'd be a lot more fun if Aearon could join him. He smiled at that thought, thinking that maybe if they had a chance to slip away, they could try climbing the cliffs here.

The narrow path running along the cliffs, barely above the water level, curved sharply ahead. Anurion wondered what was beyond. Maybe he'd have a great time here, after all. As he was approaching that spot, however, he was surprised when a girl came around the corner. Even more surprising, she started yelling at him. Anurion blinked, quickly glancing this way and that to make sure that she was actually yelling at him, and not at some other person he hadn't noticed. Nope. It was him.

Frowning, Anurion folded his arms defiantly. "I didn't see any 'no trespassing' signs," He retorted, using the same language as she had. "Who says I can't be here? Last I heard, this land was owned by the Dimaethor family. Or, has the seashore here been claimed by mermaids?" he asked, gesturing to the girl, with the seaweed in her hair. He was in a bad mood, after what happened with Togg, and did not feel like being bossed around by some girl covered in seaweed, looking like she'd just washed up on the seashore or whatever.

Curiosity overcame his bad mood a bit, then, and he tilted his head and asked in a tone that was more curious than angry, "What's so secret about this place, anyway? The cliffs are nice and all, but hardly something you could keep a secret from anyone." He found that puzzling. Why did say this was a secret place? What was she hiding?

[Arnyn]

@Lantaelen

Lieutenant Arnyn Dealedwen
January - Estate of House Dimaethor, Lond Côl

They had not exactly expected to be welcomed and feasted as such. And since this outing was a training exercise, none of the rangers had brought anything other than clothes they thought suitable for the endeavour they were undertaking.
Arnyn, wearing all black, cloth and leather, found herself seated next to Kaylin, who was (of course) making merry. As for Arnyn, she was allowing herself to be drawn into the atmosphere - within reason, of course.

Upon the approach of Abrazimir's sister, whom the man had introduced as Azraindil, and upon her offer, Arnyn turned toward her, shifting in her seat. Given her investment in Trastion, and his wellbeing, Arnyn could not help but be... curious... about the young woman whom Tras was - or had been? or might be, still? - betrothed to.

"Arnyn," she corrected the young woman with a smile. "Feel free to call me Arnyn," she clarified, speaking fluent Sindarin in return. "Is that water?" she asked, nodding at the flagon. When that much was confirmed, Arnyn raised her eyebrows momentarily, and then smiled. "Is it customary for the daughter of a noble house to serve its guests?" she inquired, still speaking the Elven tongue. "While I am aware of some of the ways of nobility, it seems that this particular one has escaped me entirely. Do you not wish to join us, lady Azraindil? Or is it that you are... not allowed?" Arnyn mused out loud. Was she challenging the young lady's spirit? Perhaps she was.

[Lantaelen]

@Rillewen

Lord Zâinabên & Lady Orelnith
House Dimaethor castle, Lond Côl, Dor-en-Ernil

Lady Orelnith certainly did remember Lady Duvaineth’s daughter, Dulinneth. ”Of course, dearest.” How could she not? Her own daughters wouldn’t stop talking about how adorable the little Talven girl was. They had last seen her a few years prior when she had been born but not since then. Lady Orelnith put her hands over her chest and heart when Dulinneth performed a pretty curtsy for her. ”Hello, little lady! My, how you’ve grown!” Lady Orelnith mewled over Dulinneth, plucking her up and balancing her on a hip, an arm around the little lady. ”Do you remember your Aunty Orelnith?” She cooed at the young woman.

The men meanwhile were all shaking hands and giving solemn nods. Lord Zâinabên showed no particular, outward attentions on Aearonor Taurhebor, the young man who was to become his son-in-law, though he was impressed by his firm handshake, hopefully signalling a great career as soldier and knight for Gondor. ”Welcome. Welcome.” He said in turn to Aearonor and Toggornir, with Lord Torthon correctly guessing at Lord Zâinabên’s thoughts on where the third and youngest son was.

Lord Zâinabên inclined his head in acceptance of the explanation. As the visitors could see, his own children were not even present. ”I understand. If he is able, he should, for there will be a banquet later, and I know how these youngsters hate to miss out on a good meal. But as you can see, my own children are a little tardy themselves. They will join us shortly.” He stated, though he could only hope Zorzimril and Abrazimir found Azraindil in time and made her suitable and presentable. It was embarrassing. Though, his wife might say, it was fashionable to be late sometimes. Lord Zâinabên never understood that. Timely arrivals were a sign of good upbringing and his children were failing at that. It reflected poorly on him…!

”Come, let us adjourn to the great hall, where the others will join us. There will be cake and juice served in advance of dinner.” Lord Zâinabên invited Lord Torthon and the two boys to enter ahead. ”Ladies, if you will…?” He called over to his wife and Lady Duvaineth, deep in their own fawning over little Dulinneth. A servant would lead on, taking the guests to the Dimaethor great hall in the midst of their castle, where long couches were set in a circle around a small table. There they would await the arrival of the bride-to-be, and discuss the terms and conditions of this marriage contract.

Whenever that might be…

---

Lady Azraindil
“Sea Walls”, Lond Côl, Dor-en-Ernil

The trespasser was argumentative, which only caused a deep red colour to flush up Azraindil’s cheeks. Absence of no trespassing signs? That would only indicate to robbers that there was something of value hidden here! There was better secrecy in hiding in plain sight. And who owned this land? The boy was clearly not from around here or he would know he was talking to a Lady of House Dimaethor! All the more reason to suspect his motives. And now what’s this about mermaids? Azraindil believed there was no one who consumed the stories and fables and myths better than she did. She knew all about the motives of mermaids, certainly better than this muddy boy.

”Mermaids have claim to every seashore.” She said, or rather declared, confidently. And then the young boy tried to act innocent, like he didn’t know what was hidden here. Judging by the mud on his face and hands and clothes, he must have been digging and looking anyways. She wasn’t fooled, and her face stayed wired up in defiance. He thought he knew so much… Well, she knew more!

But his voice was quieter and polite, so she…matched his tone, though with no less arrogance. Maybe he just didn’t know. So, she can educate him then. And she stayed speaking in the elvish tongue. ”The secret is not in the cliffs, but beneath and within them.” Azraindil corrected him, before realizing she had just inadvertently given it away, in her desire to be right and correct, over this boy. But…well maybe he was innocent of thievery and kidnapping of clams. Her expression softened a moment and she pointed back, feeling an urge to share, as the boy felt…safe.

”The water carves tunnels and caves under the cliffs. The secrets are there. But you have to know how to swim.” She explained, pointing back, then turning back to the boy and looking him down and up. She still spoke in elvish, a language she felt better understood by the birds, the water, the rocks, the vegetation, even the clams and the treasures they held.. ”Swim in water, that is. Not in dirt…who are you, anyways? I have never seen you here before.” She inquired of him, curiosity also getting the better of him. Maybe with four eyes instead of her two, they could find the missing clam.

But…would the boy return the clam and it’s bounty to it’s rightful place or try to keep it for himself? Could she be blamed for her defensiveness? Someone had stolen from this place and suddenly there was a strange, unknown boy in front of her. It was not a difficult leap in logic to suspect him, when connecting these dots. Or maybe nothing had been stolen and it was one of those many coincidences that happened in nature. The animal kingdom and all… A bird circled overhead, occasionally crying out.

[Lantaelen]

@Arnyn

Lady Gaerlothriel Dimaethor
Mid-January, Estate of House Dimaethor, Lond Côl
Early in the Fourth Age

This Ranger spoke Sindarin too! And introduced herself as Arnyn, wishing to be called that. Is that water? Gaerlothriel had to double check, having so many flagons to juggle and balance. ”Uh, yes, it is water, Arnyn.” She confirmed and filled Arnyn’s cup about three-fourths of the way. The woman asked if she could join them next. They seemed fun, especially this Ranger beside Arnyn, Kaylin, who was quick and easy to laugh and smile. She seemed fun. Perhaps Arnyn was as well. She glanced at her brother, who was watching them, and saw him give a faint nod. Enjoy yourself…but be responsible.

”Well, as long as I am on top of my duties, I can join in the revelry. To a degree.” She answered back with a smile, giving a quick glance around to see everyone seem content and satisfied with their cups. She put the flagon down on the table and remained standing by the Ranger, adjusting the shawl on her head a moment as she inspected the woman before her. She looked very formidable and strong. ”Though…I do not know if I would fit in here. I am no warrior like you, ma’am. Or the others here. Yet I know I am to support and serve you all nonetheless, daughter and sister to knights that I am.” She explained to Arnyn.

As for the custom of noble daughters serving others, yes it was acceptable. ”And to your previous question, yes it is customary. Apart of my decorum lessons. A demonstration of our respect for our guests. We are to learn by observing our elders.” She explained to the Ranger, though did Gaer really believe that or was she just rehearsing something her father lectured into her head? It did make sense, learning much by watching and listening others. What would these Rangers have to teach her though? Gaer would probably never be like them. But she would keep an open mind regardless.

”How long have you been a Ranger then, Arnyn?” She inquired of the woman, peering into the other woman’s eyes and feeling like there were many lifetimes of experience there. And not all good. Could Gaer do what this woman had done? Perhaps she could. Perhaps there might yet be time to try and learn. Or perhaps a life of tradition and following societal norm was her lot in life.

[Rillewen]

(Private - Flashback scene)

Reilly Veranis
(about 6 years ago - shortly following this post)

He still had a ways to go, but he still held hope that he could make it by morning if he hurried. Reilly had taken the ferry down the Anduin as far as he could, so as to spare his horse from much of the journey. Since he had to go as far as Dol Brannor, the swiftest way he knew to get there would be to go by ship as far as Linhir, then ride up the road that went nearly directly to the beacon. After getting his horse settled in on the ferry, Reilly then got himself situated as well, deciding to take a nap during the ride. He’d ridden as fast as he could across the Pelennor until he got to Harlond, and had barely made it in time to catch the ferry before it left. If he figured right, if there were no delays, they should arrive in Linhir in the late evening, tomorrow. And he’d have only just enough time to get there if he rode through the night. Therefore, He figured he might get a little sleep now, while there was no riding to be done, so that he’d be well rested by the time they arrived. It would be a long trip, and he wanted to get as much rest as he could.

Unnoticed by the young man attempting to nap, another young man, wrapped in a cloak and hood, boarded the ferry a few minutes before him. He took up position just far enough away not to be conspicuous, yet close enough to keep an eye on Reilly. While the one dozed, the other appeared to be reading a book. Whenever Reilly got up to pace around or anything, the other focused more intently on his book.

It was very late when the ferry docked in the Linhir harbor, offering its passengers a chance to disembark. Reilly had spent the trip dozing, or checking on his horse, or pacing the deck, or working on some letters. He was back to dozing when he felt the ferry beginning to dock, and sat up rubbing his eyes right away. By the time the ramp was lowered to allow passengers off, he was ready with his horse. He felt no need to pay any particular attention to any of the other passengers, and smiled as he thanked the ferry staff on his way out.

Once on solid ground again, Reilly took a brief glance around. Should he hurry on toward the beacon, or take a moment to get something to eat? There were a number of taverns located around the area that were still open, and he was quite hungry. He had gotten a few supplies during the brief stop in Pelargir, but it had been hours since he'd eaten. It wasn’t yet midnight, but he wasn’t sure how long it would take to get to Dol Brannor. Fighting a yawn, he headed for one of the taverns he was slightly familiar with. He had come to Linhir frequently with his father, for various business reasons, before enlisting with the guards, and they had often stopped to eat there. He knew they had pretty good food, for not too high a price.

---

|

Before he had taken two steps however, a hand suddenly clapped around his shoulders. Reilly whirled, preparing to fight off a mugger or something, only to see a friendly face there beside him. He let out a little laugh of relief as he relaxed. “Hey, what’re you doing here?” He asked, confused as well as curious, smiling at his friend from training.

“Did I startle you?” The other grinned as he let go of Reilly’s shoulder and faced him.

“Yes, actually.” Reilly admitted, giving a small laugh. “I thought you were a mugger or something, for a second.” He hesitated, taking a moment to study the young man who smiled at him. “Mar?” He guessed.

“How’d you know?” Mar asked, tilting his head with a quizzical half-smile, half-frown.

“Oh, it’s not that hard.” Reilly answered with a little grin. “Once you get to know you and your brother, there are a few little differences to tell you apart. Just gotta know what to look for.” He shrugged.

“What differences?” Mar demanded, though careful to keep his tone from sounding hostile.

Reilly shrugged. “I don’t know.. the way you talk, the way you smile, it’s just a tiny bit different from Ric. Besides, I left Ric in Minas Tirith. He has to work, so I wouldn't expect him to be here.” He tilted his head. “But you still haven’t explained why you’re here?” He pointed out.

“Oh.. just a personal matter I had to attend to.” Mar shrugged. “But when I saw you get off the ferry, and I had to come and greet you.” He smiled.

“I wish I could visit longer,” Reilly said regretfully. “Ric and I have missed you, you know. What’ve you been up to since we last saw you?”

“Not much. Just a bit of traveling.” Mar answered, shrugging. “But there is something I want to show you, now that you’re here. Come with me?”

“Oh, I wish I could.” Reilly sighed. “I don’t have much time, Mar. I was going to grab some supper real quick, and then I have to rush off.” He explained. “I've been sent to the Dol Brannor beacon, if you can believe it.”

“Really?” Mar raised his eyebrows in feigned surprise. “Getting promoted already, huh? Well, concerning food... You’re in luck, I have something better than whatever they have in there.” He grinned. “Come on, friend. I’ll make sure you get a proper meal, and you’ll still get to where you need to be by dawn.” He promised.

Reilly paused, considering that. “Well.. how can I refuse such an offer?” He asked, smiling. “Thanks, Mar. That's very kind of you." He smiled as he let Mar guide him in another direction. “Should I put Winyára in a stable?” He asked, glancing at his horse.

“No, no. Bring her along,” Mar answered, shaking his head. “That way you save the stable fee, and besides, you’ll be wanting to ride away as soon as you finish eating, I bet? No sense in going through all of that.”

“True.” Reilly agreed, smiling. “I still can’t believe the coincidence of running into you,” he added with amazement. “I haven’t seen you since you.. well, since you resigned from the guard.”

“Yes, such a shame.” Mar replied neutrally.

“Where are we going, anyway?” Reilly wondered, following the other young man down toward the beach.

“Oh, didn’t I mention? I’ve got a camp down on the beach.” Mar told him, leading him down to the beach. Sure enough, there was a small campsite set up on the sand, a little above the current level of the tide. There was a bedroll laid out by a campfire, with some food already cooking.

“Mar, you left a fire burning?” Reilly frowned in concern as they approached. “Don’t you know that’s dangerous? You shouldn’t leave it unattended... what if it had started the whole forest burning?”

“I was only gone for a minute,” Mar rolled his eyes. “Come on, sit down.” He motioned to the ground. “I saw you get off the ferry and I just came to say hello.”

Reilly glanced over toward the docks, and saw that sure enough, you could just see the ferry boat from here. He could see how Mar might have seen the passengers getting off, but to be able to identify one person from here? He found it a bit surprising. “You saw me, all the way from here?” Reilly asked in surprise.

“Your horse, anyway. I figured you’d be with her.” Mar shrugged. “Anyway, I wasn't exactly right here, I was walking up and down the beach a little while I waited for this to cook.” He explained.

"Right, makes sense." Reilly nodded, then looked around, noticing the location of the camp. It was low tide at the moment, so the camp was located in a dry place, but it wouldn't be for long. "You realize your camp is going to be underwater in a few hours though, right?" He asked with a little laugh. "You should move up the beach a bit, above the level of high tide, or you're going to wake up wet in the middle of the night."

"Oh, is that so?" Mar looked around. "Thanks. I'll be sure and do that." He answered, then offered Reilly a bowl of some sort of stew. “There, see? A good proper meal, just as promised.”

“It smells really good.” Reilly smiled and situated himself on the sand, eager to eat. “I didn’t know you could cook, Mar.”

Mar smiled. “There are a lot of things you don’t know about me.” He assured the other young man, sitting back as Reilly began to eat.


(edit; adding the proper color)

[Arnyn]

@Lantaelen

Lieutenant Arnyn Dealedwen
January - Estate of House Dimaethor, Lond Côl

"Thank you," Arnyn said with a smile after the young lady refilled her cup with water. She caught the woman's glance at Abrazimir, but didn't watch to see what he might indicate. When Azraindil agreed to join them - to a degree - Arnyn sipped her water thoughtfully. Responsible, then?

She looked around. "We should get you another chair," she mused out loud. Kaylin caught those words, and half stood, stretching her neck to see where Abrazimir's sister had been seated, earlier. "I can get her chair," Kaylin offered, speaking common because it just came a tad easier to her, even though she understood the Sindarin well enough. The redhead was already on her feet and off her own chair. "Be right back. If it's all the same to you, you can already take mine," she shrugged at Azrain, before strolling over to the side of the room, where Azraindil had been seated before, next to the table with all the flagons.

"I have been a Ranger for... about a decade. I joined the ranks when I was nineteen, which seems at once a lifetime ago and yet... not that long at all. As for fitting in - you do not have to be a warrior for that, my lady," Arnyn told her genuinely. "Just as you are more than who you appear at the surface, so are we. There is plenty to explore about anyone's character. And we are all servants of the kingdom, be it one way or another." She tilted her head. "Your brother introduced you as Lady Azraindril? Is that how you wish to be addressed?" Arnyn inquired.

Meanwhile, Kaylin returned with the chair. She told the rangers on her other side to scoot over, so she had room to put the extra chair in between Azrain and where the next ranger was seated. She shot Arnyn a curious glance, as if asking what the Lieutenant was up to by inviting Abrazimir's sister to sit with them. But soon enough, the ranger on her other side distracted her with something, and Kaylin turned away.

"Do you have a drink and a cup of your own, or should we find you one?" Arnyn inquired of Azrain. Her smile grew into a little grin. "I'm curious. You say you are to learn by observation? What have you learned from watching us, so far?" the blonde asked. "Other than the fact some of us could probably use some of those decorum lessons..."

[Ercassie]

@Lantaelen

Lady Ilisys Azrubel and ’Lord Hollin Menilzir II’.
Dol Amroth, six years ago - FLASHBACK

Their voices carried on an echo through the emptied corridors of the grand house, audible enough to allude to a conversation taking place, without betraying quite who or what had spoken. Those residing in any of the decorated rooms within could rest assure that Anardil would keep anyone untoward from access to their refuge in the city. For the Lord Edhelmir had accepted a dinner invitation out this evening with an old friend, and Lady Ilisys had elected to stay and relax after the last of many days jousting at the Prince’s Palace. Her Uncle had not pressed her upon social expectations in the city, for she professed to new acquired aches and bruises, and there were still more than one gentleman who was sore themselves, at losing out in the Contest for the Golden Lance. Besides which it was all too rare now for him to call on his old friends, neighbours, clients, in Dol Amroth. Since inheriting the mantle of Lordship at his family’s estate this ‘second son’ had been forced to prise all business on their side of Lond Col from the all too capable hands of his late brother’s widow. Agreeing to both take a wife and ensure an heir had been the more agreeable efforts that he had undertaken there. But though he loved his family, he missed very much the peace of painting and his old haunts. Catching up with old friends in the city would prove likely as dull for his niece as it would be exhilarating for the Lord himself. And nobody was liable to pay a call to his house in the meantime. Not with the Lord otherwise engaged.

Up the stairs, Isys draped one arm lazily over the side of the bath and did not baulk when Lotte urged her to disembark from such a luxury, before she turned into a prune. Silk sheets and sleep awaited, and both would be most welcomely received. But first the younger woman sank herself slowly beneath the warm water, as the lady’s maid was drawn to a knock at the door. Air bubbles burst in the hush silence, as news came, of an unexpected guest. And after the two servants had conspired between themselves, how to manage this, the elder brought her hand gently to the submerged woman’s arm, still anchoring her idly to reality. The dark head rose like a small island from the depths, until the noblewoman was properly returned to the surface.


“He is waiting, downstairs,” Lotte concluded, meeting a half interest from Isys which betrayed she had not really heard all that was said. “Shouldn’t be calling this late and with the Lord out of house, but Warder said he would not depart. Swore to stand all night on the front step until he spoke with someone. And I dare say we don’t want that sort of attention greeting your uncle on his return. Let alone the neighbours here with their twitching curtains ..”

“So he allowed him within,” Isys blinked, and cast wet tendrils of her hair aside, as she frowned.

“Well, you did say, just the other day, that this particular man was to be granted access, if he should ever come pay a call,” she was reminded, patiently. The sentence was delivered without judgement in the elder woman’s tone, but her eyes .. showcased a world of disapproval.
However it was too late, for the noblewoman sat up, in her suds, as though she had remembered. “The appraiser,” she sought almost nervously for confirmation.

“The very same,” Lotte relented. Even as the lady found her way out of the bath tub, and glanced about her distractedly. Her affectionate aide bundled her charge up in soft towels and hastened her behind the dressing screen. Although she had less need to employ urgency herself now, for Isys had seemingly forgot all of the weariness that had plagued her after such a long day.




When he had come into the city of Dol Amroth, flung off his own ship by Khalsim in the deliberate sight of an oncoming Gondorian vessel, Arkadhur had been kindly received by first the sailors who plucked his scarred and cadaverous body out of the water, and then by the people of Dol Amroth. Not exactly an escaped oar slave, it seemed, but a desperation displayed by his captors to distract and delay their valiant pursuit, to make good an escape from the patrolled waters they had wandered into. By ‘mistake’.

It had not been a mistake. It had been carefully designed for some time before the act was accomplished. The same patience and diligence had seen the then young man accept kind letters of relief from his kin in Belfalas. The Lord Hollin Menilzir who had disappeared some years back with his family, had been only a second son, kept by his birthright from running the vast family estate further inland. He had thus become a swan knight, and believed himself capable of safely sailing his wife and son about the southern coastline without concern. To his terrible detriment. For their disappearance had led all to believe either drowned, or taking by Umbarian Corsairs who’d been raiding in the vicinity.


What Arkadhur could expect then, upon arriving dishevelled ashore years later, was that by claiming to be the son of the first Lord Hollin, he would have to make almost his own way in the world, as soon as ever he was properly situated back in his ‘home’. And that suited the Umbarian just fine. There was a reason he had chosen the Menilzir name, and it did not all have to do with his own almost fond memories of the imprisoned Swan knight he had encountered in the dungeons of Umbar. It had just as much to do with the fact that his claim now, as the son of a second son .. would not alert any great concern or attention by the noble family in it’s entirety. He would not be privy to any fortune he did not earn off his own back, and could never hope to hold the reins of the family estate out in the Dor-en-ernil. He had nothing but the name itself, and some kind sympathies from those who saw the state of him .. and wished him better fortune going forward.

The years that they assumed he had spent, shackled to an Umbarian oar were convincing toward that tale, by the less than soft experience he’d suffered in the dungeons of Umbar. Those scars of his long incarceration and ill treatment there ought be enough to convince any Gondorian who was suspicious, that he had undergone hardship and wished not to speak of it in any great detail. The account he gave certainly excused his less than polished efforts to fit in, with proper society those first matter of months. And nobody had ever reputedly escaped the Iron House of Umbar, so his true identity was safe. Keket had seen to that !


Now the sole and quiet occupant of a house, which stood fairly small by Belfalasian standards, Arkadhur had relished the privacy to educate himself, in first of all the joys of sleeping in a bed. It was the first piece of furniture he bought, and for a long time the only piece in the whole upstairs. It was worth it ! In time, and by means of blackmailing the relatives of Uhta’s ‘concubines’, he had surmounted monies enough to fill a modestly adequate house and employ a handful of trusted staff. But it was not enough. How could he explain away how he was obtaining coin ? He needed a career.

It would have been tempting to take private lessons in self defence and combat, so that he could protect himself. But he feared that would draw the wrong sorts of attention upon him. Instead of weapons and warcraft then, he bettered his literacy, studied the histories of the people he now was living amongst. And financed an apprenticeship, and eventual employment. As an appraiser. For an Umbarian it was almost ironic, as a chosen profession. But coin was coin wherever a man stood, and knowing exactly what a thing was worth .. proved a surprisingly lucrative career. He could in fact have easily supported himself even if he had not been caught up with Keket’s own designs. Appraising was an apt opportunity within the hub of the city. Antiques, property, ill-acquired goods .. he could calculate the worth of all and any of these things, as easily as his countrymen back home dealt in the cost of slaves and stolen cargo. In his entire twenty year long span of posing such a ‘front’, he had only resorted to deceit with his appraising twice. Until it reached the point that he had been ‘undercover’ so long, he barely recalled when he was in Gondor, that he was not in fact a Gondorian. He went to their parties, he plied his trade according to their laws, he secretly blackmailed one or two along the way but never the most grand or wealthy. Remaining below a certain radar allowed for his dealings to go on fairly well unnoticed. For who would ever believe that any man would play such a long game to reach the prize he craved ? And who would ever suspect an appraiser if he were the last man seen liaising with nobles who disappeared shortly afterward. They had secured his counsel, he would explain, time and time again, in their own needs to sell investments and release capital for their own wants. It was not, he claimed, his business to ask why they were selling all they had, and where they might go afterward. Except that it was in fact, his entire business.


A knight engaged about a much publicised joust in the Prince’s city would not be unusual in gathering the services of an appraiser. In the wake of wins, the sporting community would see the losers ransom their armour, their horses, whatever they had to hand, to their defeater. To the victor the spoils ! And it was all managed in gaming attitude, the winners would always release the ‘spoils’ back to those they’d defeated on the sands. For a price agreed upon by both parties, and any appraiser held in the role of unbiased counsel. It was a given courtesy and a knight would often propose he pay more than required to regain his posessions, mostly to prove he had the means to do just that. The appraiser's presence was essential in preventing the need to call that financial bluff. And any knight who sold on their trophies to any but their former owner would be considered uncouth. Honestly the risk of people thinking that they required the money .. would be more insult than starving to death if they really did. Name, reputation, honour, it was all. And when he heard that the Lady Ilisys would be riding in the lines, the timing was too perfect. A long put together plan was finally inching toward fruition. And they had been introduced at a high tail event, some client of his, before they had ‘left’ these shores … The Lady already held Arkadhur’s keen interest, for more cause than her name alone. And this .. this would be where everything came together, or fell utterly apart.

The ’Lord’ then and the lady spent more than three hours in the drawing room together, with Lotte standing chaperone while Anardil made good use of the appraiser’s coat, and was seen by any observant neighbours, leaving the household barely as soon as it’s usual wearer had been granted entry. When it came time for the appraiser to actually leave, some time later, he did so draped in Anardil’s coat and hat, and in an Azrubel carriage which saw him home direct to the dock. No eyes would care for the comings or goings of a squire, or indeed for an appraiser. So long as they were not alone with a noble lady in her house after dusk, and before a wedding. Even an informed observer would assume the squire was taking the carriage out to bring home Lord Edhelmir from his dinner invitation. For that is exactly where the carriage went on to.


Back at the house, Lotte and Anardil embarked on a hushed and hasty conference with the Lady as to how best proceed. Isys had reached her decision before ever her Uncle returned, oblivious to how vastly the fortunes of their house had shifted while he was out.
There were many many questions clamouring for notice in the Swan Knight’s mind, but only one that she concluded, which would make all of the difference if they were to have any hope.

“Is Lord Abrazimir still in the city ?” she had now a critical need to know.

[Rillewen]

private - flashback (continued)

|

Reilly hadn’t realized how hungry he was until he smelled the stew. It was really good, and he ate hungrily. “So,” he said in between bites. “What are you doing here? Fishing?” He asked, finding it a little surprising that Mar would be interested in fishing, since he didn’t remember him expressing any interest in that, during the time they’d spent in training together. But he couldn't think of many other reasons he would be camped on the beach in a fishing area of the city.

“No, nothing like that.” Mar shook his head. “Just sorting some things out, you know.” He shrugged and leaned back on his hands, watching while Reilly ate. "Taking care of a few things."

“Are you going to eat?” Reilly asked, realizing that Mar did not have a bowl of stew, and did not want to be rude by eating in front of him.. or worse, eating his friend's supper!

“Oh, no, I already ate.” Mar assured him. “I’d just finished washing my bowl and stuff when the Ferry pulled in.” He explained. “That’s why I was walking down the beach, actually." He explained. "I cooked too much though," He motioned to the pot. "I was going to save the rest for tomorrow, but that’s alright. I can make more.” He smiled. "Don't worry, you won't cause me to go hungry." He assured him with a little laugh.

“Well, thanks. That’s very generous of you, and I appreciate it. I’ll try to repay you somehow,” Reilly smiled and resumed eating.

“I’m sure you will, Reilly. You do have a sense of honor that’s hard to match.” Mar acknowledged with a little nod.

After finishing the bowl of stew, Reilly set it aside and struggled to hold back a yawn. “Well, maybe, if you don’t have anything keeping you here, you could ride with me to Dol Brannor?” He suggested. "It'd be nice to have some company for the ride, you know?"

Mar smiled slightly in amusement. “We’ll see.” He answered vaguely. "So, Dol Brannor? I guess that came as a surprise."

"It sure did," Reilly agreed. "Very strange, too." He rubbed his eyes tiredly.

"Did the captain say anything to explain why they were sending you?"

Reilly shook his head. "I didn't have a chance to ask." He answered, not sure why he suddenly felt overcome with weariness.

Mar nodded slightly in relief to hear this. "So, you just set out immediately, as soon you got the message?"

Reilly nodded, a little too sleepy at the moment to catch anything unusual about that. He yawned, but tried to fight off the sleepiness. “Well… I’d better get going. I’ve got a long ride ahead of me.” He rubbed his eyes again, and gave a little laugh. “It’s strange. I tried to nap the whole way here, on the ferry, and I couldn’t really sleep that well. And now I suddenly feel so tired I can hardly keep my eyes open.”

“Maybe because the ferry was never really still, and kept bobbing up and down in the waves." Mar suggested. "And sitting there, you’re on solid ground at last.” He offered an explanation, shrugging. “Anyway, you could sleep here, if you like.” Mar offered. “I only have the one bedroll here, but the weather seems nice enough to sleep under the stars.” He paused, trying to think of how to stall him a little more. “We could catch up a bit more. How is Ric, anyway?”

Reilly yawned and rubbed his eyes. “He’s fine. Misses you, though.” He gave a little shake his head to try and wake up, and made himself sit up straighter. “I wish I could stay, Mar. But like I said, I have to get going.” He felt a strange lack of willpower to make himself stand, however. Sleep was weighing on him heavily, making him feel too weary to move to his feet, or keep his eyelids open. He yawned again. “Mar.. I don’t suppose you’ve got any coffee?” he mumbled.

“Coffee?” Mar stayed right where he was, watching him intently.

“I’ve got to get up,” Reilly mumbled. “Ride to.. Brannor.” He suddenly found that he had difficulty keeping his head held up, as his chin dropped slowly to his chest.

“You won’t be going to Dol Brannon, Reilly.” Mar informed him quietly.

Reilly dimly heard a different sort of note in his friend’s voice, and blinked his eyes open again. “Huh?” He shook his head and made himself lifted his head. “What’d you say?”

“Nothing important.” Mar smiled at him. “Don’t worry about it.” He got up and walked over, giving a little push to Reilly’s shoulder to guide him into a more reclined position. “Just get some rest, my friend. You’re exhausted.”

Reilly tried to resist. “No, I.. I have to.. report for duty.” He protested, mumbling. “I have to.. get up.” He yawned, struggling to keep his eyes open. Why did his eyelids feel so heavy, all of the sudden?

“Just relax. Everything will turn out just like it should.” Mar assured him in a low voice. “You’ll be right where you should be, when you awaken.”

---

As Mar watched Reilly for a long moment to make sure that he was definitely sleeping now, some men approached from the tree line, where they had been watching the little camp, hidden.

“Looks like it worked.” Dev commented with a little smirk.

“Indeed. Your men set up the camp in just the right spot.” Mar smiled as he stepped back from the sleeping young man. “The tide will wash away any the tracks that shows he was ever here. And the stew, the dosage seemed to be just right.” He was pleased. “He fell asleep even quicker than I expected. How long will it last?”

“Long enough.” Dev motioned to a couple of his men, who lifted Reilly and headed down the coast a short distance to where a little rowboat was hidden, just beyond sight of the camp. “We’d better get going, before anyone sees us.” Dev suggested.

“Lead the way.” Mar motioned, then glanced at the horse. “Wait. What about the horse?”

Dev looked at the mare, thoughtful. “Could sell it, but.. here. Someone might come looking for it,” He muttered. “Not sure how to get it on the ship, either.” He frowned. “That poses a problem, doesn’t it?”

“We could kill it.” Mar suggested with a careless shrug. Might be fun...

Dev frowned, shaking his head. “No... as much as I’d like to be able to sell it, if you want this guy’s trail to end here, then it’s best to just turn it loose.” He declared.

“Turn it loose?” Mar frowned. “But won’t that create a trail? Someone might realize that he was here.”

“You think there won’t be a record of him getting on the ferry? And then getting off, here?” Dev pointed out. “They keep track of that sort of thing, you know. If anyone comes looking for him, let them believe that he started toward the beacon, and then simply.. vanished along the way. Mislead them in the wrong direction, and they shouldn't ever think to look in the right direction.”

Mar nodded slowly. “True,” He muttered, a bit annoyed to have to admit that the pirate had thought of things he hadn’t. Still, he made mental note of that for future reference, in case he got a chance to do anything else of this sort, later.

Dev glanced around the campsite and motioned to another couple of his men. “Pack that up and put out the fire, make sure there's no trace of it left, that the tide won't wash away. We don't want to leave any evidence there was ever a camp here.” He turned to another man. “You, take that horse and ride up the road toward the beacon for about.. an hour, I suppose. Make sure to leave plenty of good, clear horse tracks heading in that direction. Then turn the horse loose, and meet me back at the ship. And be sure you don’t leave any of your tracks, leaving the scene.”

“Aye, captain.” The man swung onto Reilly’s horse and set off to do as his captain had ordered.

“Alright then.” Mar smiled, seeing that all was coming together as he’d hoped. “Let’s go?” He climbed into the boat with them, smiling to himself as they rowed out to the ship that waited around a curve of the shore, out of sight from the city nearby.

“You have the payment we discussed?” Dev checked, glancing over at the arrogant young traitor, because he wasn’t about to trust this kid one bit.

“Of course.” Mar confirmed. “But not on me. You’ll get it when we arrive at the agreed location.” He promised. As for how he had acquired the money Dev required for this ‘little favor’, he didn’t offer any explanation, and Dev didn’t ask. They set out for the pirate ship while Dev's men managed the last few details.

---

Aderic Androllius
About 1.5 week later

Stepping off the ferry, Ric looked around. He had never been this far down the Anduin, but it wasn’t all that far from where he and Mar had gone through their training, in Pelargir. He wasn’t quite sure where to begin searching, but it had been about a week and a half since he last saw his best friend, and he only had today in which to conduct his search.

“Come on, Lady.” He spoke softly to his horse, leading the mare down the street. He took a moment to think, trying to decide how much of a hurry Reilly would have been in when he arrived. Ric had already spoken with staff of the ferry during his own ride here, so he knew that Reilly had been on board a week and a half ago, and that he had gotten off here in Linhir.

After some thought, he decided to ask around at some of the taverns, in case Reilly had gone to one of them to eat. But no one remembered seeing any young men who matched his description. Ric sighed as he left from the last one, returning to where he had left his horse at a hitching post. “Well. Nothing there, anyway.” He muttered as he offered her a chunk of sugar he’d swiped from a bowl on one of the tables. “At least we know he didn’t go into one of the taverns, I guess.” He frowned, trying to think of where else to check. “Well, I guess.. he must have been in a hurry, then. That just leaves the beacon?” After speaking, he glanced around, hoping no one was around to hear him talking to his horse. No one was paying attention to him though, thankfully.

A few minutes later, Ric and Lady set off up the road that would lead toward the beacon. He went slowly, looking around as he went. It was a bright, sunny day, so it was easy to see well enough in all directions. But he didn’t know what exactly to look for. He figured he would just keep going until he found something, or arrived at the beacon. But how long would it take for him to reach the beacon? He wasn’t really sure, but he hoped he’d have enough time to get there, check around, and hopefully find Reilly. But whatever the case, he had to make it back to the ferry in time to catch it before it departed back for Minas Tirith. If he missed it, then he’d have to ride all the way to Pelargir and hope to catch another, or he might not make it back in time before his time off came to an end. “Wish I could’ve gotten more time off,” He sighed, stroking Lady’s neck lightly as she trotted along the road.

Another horse’s neigh drew his and Lady’s attention. Ric stopped and looked around. It took him a moment to spot the other horse, standing in the middle of a patch of forest undergrowth. Ric dismounted and looped Lady’s reigns around a nearby branch before going to investigate. A mixed feeling of both hope and worry began to rise up within him as he recognized Reilly’s horse, Winyára.

“Hey there, it’s alright, I'm coming to help you.” He spoke calmly, approaching the big mare cautiously. He soon realized he was also approaching a thicket of brambles, and that Winyára was tangled up in them. Her reigns dangled loosely and had gotten caught on some thick briers, as well as her long mane and tail, which were tangled. She was also standing in a deep puddle, which had left her quite muddy. At least it had provided her with something to drink, although Ric didn't know how good that water was for drinking. He cringed as he tried to find a way to get closer, but every attempt had him encountering sharp thorns in all directions, and he sank nearly knee-deep in wet puddles and mud. After several attempts, he retreated back to his own horse, retrieving a pair of gloves and a knife from his saddle. Reilly had once told him it was smart to always carry a knife, in case of an emergency. He wished he had brought a machete or hatchet, now. Still, the knife worked well enough at cutting through the brambles, though he had to work slowly and carefully.

After what felt like ages, Ric was close enough to Winyára that he was able to stroke her side and calm her a bit. “Don’t worry, I’ll get you out of here,” He promised in a soft tone. She still wore her saddle, and all of Reilly’s gear seemed to be on her. Ric frowned, looking around. “Reilly?” He called loudly. There was no answer. He sighed and got to work freeing the horse’s reigns from the briers. Then came the challenge of untangling her tail and mane hair from the thicket. At last, Ric led her through the path he had cut, and eventually brought her back up onto the road to stand beside Lady. “There, now.” He inspected the animal carefully, frowning at the little scratches all over her legs from the briers, and she was a bit thin from not having eaten much, although he hoped she'd managed to find some bushes or something to munch on. “Where’s your person, huh?” He asked, as if the horse could answer. She did not.

Ric spent the rest of the time that he had left searching the area, calling for his friend over and over, but he couldn’t find any trace of Reilly, nor any indication of how his horse had ended up here without him. He did his best to search the murky water where the briers grew, but it was difficult. He hoped very much that Reilly had not fallen into that and drowned. He grew more worried, but the day was growing later, and eventually, he had to return to the harbor.

He brought Winyára along with him, because the horse would need to be cared for. He knew that Reilly would appreciate someone taking care of his horse, at least. But Ric couldn’t help but feel highly anxious about his friend, and wished he could have gotten more than just a few days off. Since he could not personally remain here to search for him, he made a quick stop at the guard headquarters, there in Linhir. After explaining about his friend’s disappearance, and where he had found his horse, he asked if they would please look around for him. Then, he had to hurry up and get on the ferry so he would be able to get back to Minas Tirith in time, although he hated to have to leave without having found his friend.

[Rillewen]

@Lantaelen

Anurion
At the Sea Wall

”Mermaids have claim to every seashore.” The girl proclaimed, sounding rather arrogant to Anurion.

He smirked, amused at the seaweed in her hair. "I suppose you would know that better than anyone.. Uilneth*." He declared with a little shrug, with a playfully teasing grin. She did look like a mermaid.. if mermaids had legs. Though, in some versions of fairytale stories, he'd heard that mermaids could get legs when they came onto dry land, and then got fins again when they went back into the water. Of course, he was overlooking the fact that the water was splashing up onto their legs and she was not reverting back to a mermaid.

He became rather intrigued, however, when she spoke of secret tunnels and caves under the cliffs, and looked at the girl with great interest. "Tunnels and caves? That sounds exciting! Have you explored them?" He wondered, hoping to get a chance to explore them, too. "I love caves! I know how to swim.. could I see them?" He asked hopefully, eager to get a chance to do something fun and exciting, since he was going to be kept from joining the rest of his family anyway.

He was about to answer her question about who he was, when the call of a bird distracted him. He glanced up, just in time to see the bird overhead dropping something from its beak. Instinctively, Anurion raised his hands up, thinking the item was about to hit him in the head, but instead, the item became caught on a jutting out ledge of rock, a few feet above his head. Puzzled, he glanced up at the bird as it circled, then back at the item that he could not quite see. "What was that?" he asked, frowning curiously. "Did you see that?" He wondered, glancing at the girl. Did that bird just throw something at them? Or was it simply a coincidence that it had dropped something near where they were standing?


*Uilneth = Seaweed Girl

[Rillewen]

Private

Ademar & Aderic Androllius
Pelargir docks
Flashback - about 6 years ago

He only had the weekend, but Ric had taken the ferry as far as Pelargir, anyway. He thought he might at least try checking around in Pelargir, if nothing else. It was sort of the halfway point of the journey. Maybe someone here could have seen Reilly. Maybe.. if he was very lucky, he might find someone who had spoken to his friend, who might have some clue about.. something. He didn’t know. He was just desperate to try and find anything that might lead to finding Reilly.

Ric looked around as he stepped onto the docks. He, Mar, and Reilly had spent so much time here in this city, during their training. He didn’t know whether Reilly would have stopped by to speak with their old training sergeant, but it was worth a try, right? He wasted no time in seeking out Sergeant Galion, in hopes of gaining any sort of clue about Reilly's trip to Linhir.

He left from the sergeant’s office in disappointment. Reilly had not stopped in. He wasn't surprised, though, since he figured his friend had probably been in a hurry when he passed through here. He’d probably caught the ferry to continue his journey to Linhir as swiftly as he could, which, if the ferry boats kept on their usual schedule, then that would mean he had only had less than an hour of waiting time between arriving and departing. Given the fact that he’d left in such a hurry that he had only brought what he could hastily cram into his pack, Ric guessed that his friend had probably gotten a few food supplies at the stores closest to the ferry docks. Therefore, he checked these, stopping in each one to ask the same questions over and over.

As the day drew to a close, Ric was feeling rather disappointed in the lack of information he’d managed to gather. All he could find out was that the lady running the general goods store nearest to the docks remembered Reilly coming in, buying some food for traveling, and then hurrying off to catch the evening ferry before it departed for Linhir. She remembered him because of his cheerful and polite manners, and his lighter-colored hair. But that was all she could remember about him.

He let out a sigh as he sunk down onto the bench at the harbor, awaiting the ferry that would take him back to Minas Tirith. As much as he would like to have gone on to Linhir, he had only one day in which to return to Minas Tirith, and then he would have to work an early morning shift the next day. In fact, he had a double shift, because he was making up for last week. If only it didn’t take so much time to get to Linhir! Feeling discouraged and grieved, Ric dropped his head down into his hands as he tried to think of what else to do. He didn’t even look up when someone dropped into the seat next to him on the bench.

“Don’t tell me; you miss me so much, you’re trying not to cry?”

Surprised at the voice that spoke up beside him, Ric looked up. “Mar!” He managed a weak smile, glad to see his brother, although his expression lacked joy due to the concern for their mutual friend. “I have missed you, but that’s not why I’m here.” He explained quietly.

"No, wait, let me guess.. you got transferred back here to Pelargir?" Mar asked with a little grin.

"No," Ric shook his head, finding it difficult to find any humor in the joking words. "Sorry, but it's.. nothing like that. Mar.. something's happened."

Mar tilted his head, curiously noting the look on his brother's face. “You look upset, Ric. What’s wrong? What happened?” He asked, shifting to face his twin a bit more fully. As they spoke, the ferry from Minas Tirith slid into the dock, and several people began to disembark. Mar cast a glance toward it. Pelargir was one of the few places where it didn’t matter if people saw them, for they had spent a long time here together already, but if people from Minas Tirith saw them... well, he tried not to worry too much about it. So long as they didn't see anyone they recognized, and none of the Pelargir people went blabbing to other people in Minas Tirith to say they’d seen them both here, it should be fine. And why would they? They were just a pair of brothers sitting on the bench. He gave his fully attention back to his brother, then.

Ric let out a sigh, oblivious to the cause for Mar's brief distraction. “Mar, Reilly is missing.” he informed him, frowning with a worried look on his face.

“Missing?” Mar asked, feigning surprise and puzzlement. “What do you mean, missing?”

“It’s been over two weeks since anyone’s seen or heard from him.” Ric said. “The last time I saw him, he’d just gotten some short notice of transfer orders, sending him way out to Dol Brannor. Apparently, he was supposed to take over for the guy watching the beacon there, and he had to leave right away. I’m not sure why they didn’t give him any more notice than that, but..” he sighed, shrugging as if to say 'what can you do?'. “He didn’t get the message until late in the evening. He barely had time to catch the ferry." Ric explained. "But he did catch it. And the next day, he was on the one bound for Linhir, and then.. he just vanished.”

“Vanished?” Mar sounded skeptical. “Come on, this is Reilly you’re talking about. Wasn’t his father a ranger or something? He was always going on about it, and telling us all sorts of things his father taught him.”

“Yeah, but.. Mar, he never made it to Dol Brannor. He got to Linhir, then rode partway up the road, and then.. I don’t know. He just disappeared." Ric sighed, frustrated and worried. "I came out here last weekend, and I found Winyara caught in some briers, but no sign of Reilly. I’m really worried.”

Mar folded his arms, thinking over this information. “I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about,” He said thoughtfully. “Reilly can take care of himself. He’s an excellent fighter, remember? He taught us both a lot about that.”

Ric shook his head, sighing. “I know, but.. I’m sure something’s happened to him. Amy’s worried sick, and so am I.” He turned to Mar with a desperate look on his face. “I don’t know what to do, Mar. I can’t get enough time off from work to spend any real time looking for him. It’s too far to try and make the trip out there, and still get back in time for my next shift. Even having five days off, I had only a day's time to look around, and most of that was spent digging his horse out of a mud hole." Ric huffed out a sigh of frustration. "Yet I can’t.. not do anything.”

Mar nodded thoughtfully. “You said you found his horse?”

“Yes. She still had her saddle and all of his things on her. It was like.. like he fell off? Or, I don’t know, maybe something spooked her, and he got thrown off?" Ric's frown deepened. "He could be hurt,” Ric expressed his concern of that possibility. “What if he’s got a broken leg or something and can’t go get help? Maybe I wasn’t looking in the right place?” He worried. How long could a person stay out there, injured? How long could he survive if he was in such a situation? What if he wasn't even conscious?

Mar looked for a long moment at Ric, considering his words. Broken leg. That was a good idea, actually… He shook his head very slightly and focused on what he could say to dispel his brother's obsessive worrying. “Don’t worry, Ric.” He told him in a reassuring voice. “Reilly knows all sorts of survival tricks. He used to tell us all sorts of things he’d learned from his father, remember? He’ll be alright. For all you know, he might have crawled up to the beacon and be just fine.”

“But what if he’s not fine, Mar?” Ric persisted, anxious. “I just… I wish I could keep looking for him.” He put his head down in his hands, upset.

Mar tilted his head, thoughtful. He considered a few thoughts for a moment before speaking again. "Maybe I could look for him?" He suggested.

Ric hesitated, then looked up at his brother. “Could you? I mean.. if you have a job now, I wouldn't expect you to skip work, but...”

Mar smiled faintly. “No, actually.. I don’t have a job at the moment.” he answered. “I absolutely could look for him. Would that make you feel better?”

“Are you sure?” Ric asked hopefully. “It definitely would make me feel better to know someone is out there looking for him.”

Mar smiled at him and put a hand on his shoulder. “Of course, brother. He isn’t just your friend, you know. And besides, I have plenty of time to spend on this. I know you have to get back to patrolling the streets and such.”

“Thanks Mar.” Ric sighed in relief. “I’m so glad to know you’re involved with this search now.” He smiled faintly. "I wish I could spend more time at it. Maybe, if you still haven't found anything in a week, then the next chance I get, I'll take some more time off, and we can both look?" He suggested. “Amy will be grateful for your help in this, too.”

“Right. Amy.” Mar nodded thoughtfully, wondering if he needed to do anything about her. She knew about the two of them, after all. But would she have any cause to go telling anyone about them? He grew thoughtful about that for a moment, and it took him a moment to notice that Ric was still talking about Reilly.

“…found Winyara about an hour up the road toward the beacon, but I got to thinking later, he could have been knocked off his horse anywhere and she might have run off or wandered a while, looking for food maybe...” Ric mentioned. “I didn’t have time to go all the way to the beacon to ask them if they’d seen him or anything.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Mar promised, although he was really just glad to know that the search was focused in the intended area, and not in the place where Reilly had actually 'disappeared' from. “Don’t worry, Ric. Everything will be just fine.” He promised, holding back a sigh as he put an arm around his brother’s shoulders. “Just go back home and stop worrying. I’ll keep you informed if I find anything.”

“Thanks, Mar. This means a lot to me.” Ric smiled slightly.

“Well, I know how much he means to you. And I know how close you two are.” Mar said quietly, looking out at the river as he was careful not to let his voice sound jealous or angry. “Don’t worry, Ric. Everything will turn out just as it should.” Mar assured him, smiling faintly. “You’d better go, it looks like they're already boarding the ferry." He pointed out. "It’ll be leaving for Minas Tirith soon.”

“Right, I better hurry." Ric agreed. "Thanks, Mar.” He smiled slightly, feeling a bit hopeful as he took a moment to hug his brother. “And you'll need to catch the ferry for Linhir,” He added as he stood up. “Write me if you find anything, alright?”

“Of course. I have a little time left though, before that ferry will be leaving.” Mar mentioned. He waved as he watched his twin hurry toward the ferry that would be leaving the docks in a few minutes. Mar stayed right where he was, since he had no intention of actually going to Linhir. But Ric didn’t have to know that.

The next ferry bound for Linhir would be leaving sometime after the ferry bound for Minas Tirith was gone, so he had no need to even make the appearance of hurrying to board his own boat. Instead, he watched the ferry slip away from the dock, waving at his brother until the boat went around a curve of the harbor, and was out of sight. Then Mar settled back and stayed on the bench for a while, deep in thought as time slipped by.

After a little while, the call came for anyone to board the ferry who wished to go downriver. Mar absently watched the people as they hurried to board the next boat. Two men caught his eye, mostly because he’d noticed arriving from Minas Tirith earlier. Mar watched them while they were busy talking between themselves. One of them had dark hair, but the other had lighter hair, and after he'd looked for a moment, Mar realized why this guy had drawn his interest. He resembled Reilly quite a bit. Mar considered that for a moment, making a guess at who the light-haired fellow must be. After a brief yawn of boredom, Mar finally got up, stretched, then went to get something to eat at a nearby tavern. He'd make up something to tell Ric about his search efforts, later, but right now he had other things to do.

[Lantaelen]

@Arnyn

Lady Gaerlothriel Dimaethor
Mid-January, Estate of House Dimaethor, Lond Côl
Early in the Fourth Age

The redhead next to them was more than kind to fetch Gaer a chair, and while offered, she didn’t move to occupy Kaylin’s chair but instead waited for her own to be brought, to be squeezed in between the two Rangers. Meanwhile, Arnyn regaled Gaer with her experience as a Ranger, serving for a decade and all. She need not be a Ranger to spend time with these folks either, as they were, before and after the label of Ranger, still people and folk of Gondor. Like people she would know and relate to right here at home. Arnyn though then inquired about her strange naming convention, to which Gaer smiled and shrugged a little innocently.

”My father adheres to old Númenórean customs. That is, using the ancient Adûnaic tongue that was once spoken by our ancestors. My mother is more of the Sindarin tradition. I guess they couldn’t agree which should hold precedence when naming my self and my siblings so now we have two names, one in either tongue. Azraindil and Gaerlothriel.” Gaer explained to Arnyn. ”I guess despite my father’s best efforts to keep us to more Mannish ways, the dual naming makes us rather elvish more. Oh! And you can call me by either sort, Azraindil – Azrain for short. Or Gaerlothriel. Or just Gaer.” She concluded to the Ranger. No need for titles. If Arnyn wasn’t going to use one then neither would she.

It was then that Kaylin returned with the chair. ”Thank you kindly.” She said to Kaylin in the common tongue, when her chair was positioned and Gaer sat between them. ”You have very nice hair by the way. You both do!” She complimented both women with a smile. Red and blonde, how did they maintain them with so many arduous duties in the Gondor military? Her brother too.

But soon Kaylin’s attention was drawn otherwise and it was only Gaer and Arnyn again, seated close due to the squeezing in. ”I…left my cup behind.” She said to the invitation to drink, but there were plenty of fresh cups arranged in the center of the table, if the Rangers wished to have more than one kind of drink, and not mix in the cups containing other liquids. Gaer plucked one for herself but held the empty cup in her lap a moment as Arnyn inquired of what she was learning so far, by observing these strange folk at the table.

Gaer gave a little laugh, covering her mouth politely, as it was truly hilarious to hear Arnyn’s dig at her comrades. ”I would confess that my observations reinforce the ideal of not judging a book by its cover.” Gaer said in a scholarly sort of way. ”I have seen that, even without decorum, you are all good people. And inversely, just because someone adheres to decorum, does not make them good people inherently.” She explained, reaching for the nearest flagon, which she thought was the water, but was in fact the wine. She only realized when she began to pour in her cup, but stopped midway, filling the remaining half with the correct water jug after that. This would be more than enough for her.

[Lantaelen]

@Rillewen

Lady Azraindil
“Sea Walls”, Lond Côl, Dor-en-Ernil

Uilneth?! Seaweed-Girl?! A deep red hue came into Azraindil’s cheeks and she immediately started to tap at her hair, still soaked and clumpy from her earlier swim. There, she felt it, and drew out a slender and yet as-long-as-her-forearm tendril of seaweed from her hair, holding it aside with a pinch before tossing it into the waters. That had been there the whole time? While she had been trying to act like an authority and protector of this place? Her pout was permanent at this point. Who was this…”Shush, Madhion! Stop laughing at me!” She stamped her little foot in demand towards the Mud-Boy, little spouts of water leaping up about her foot, only driving home the perception she was trying to throw off.

But his excitement was…contagious. And Azraindil couldn’t deny she had longed for and imagined having a helper in this regard. ”I have.” She declared proudly to have explored the caves. All of them, at least a few hours along the coast, but there were even more wonders and marvels no doubt beyond the furthest point she had gone. Madhion wanted to see them. Maybe he could help with finding the missing clam, taken from it’s tribe and home.

She was about to open her mouth and unload this solemn and grave command upon Madhion when a bird cry caught his attention. That was nothing new for Azraindil but she only looked when Madhion seemed overly interested. You never saw a seabird before? She looked up to make sure it was indeed nothing too special or unique, until she too noticed something in it’s talons, before it fell, twirling end over end…in the very familiar silhouette of a clam!

Azraindil gasped with just shock and fright, when the clam struck the side of the cliff, bouncing off one narrow ledge onto another, rolling end over end, until it came to a rest on a ridgeline some dozen feet above their little heads. The seagull landed there soon after, plucking it with it’s mouth, before repeatedly slamming it against stone and rock, trying to crack the shell open. ”Oh no!” Azraindil exclaimed, seeing that was the missing clam from the cove! The one she looked so hard for, now in the throes of a thieving bird!

She rushed to the cliffside directly beneath, looking up with a panicked expression, trying to gauge how she might get up there. ”That’s the clam! It’s been missing, we have to get it back!” She cried out to Madhion, like he was totally appraised of the entire situation at hand. If he wanted access to the sanctuary of Stars-Under-Water then he ought to earn his way in with a service, right? Her little hands gripped the stone face of the cliff, but half soaked with water and not very strong, there was no way she could vault herself up there. Meanwhile, the echoes of each strike of the clam being dashed against stone was like a knife in her heart.

[Lantaelen]

@ercassie

Lord Abrazimir Dimaethor
Dol Amroth, six years ago – Flashback

Lord Abrazimir was still in the city.

Despite another loss in the Prince’s Contest for the Golden Lance, the annual tournament and joust held in Dol Amroth, he wasn’t so put out that he felt the need to return home immediately after the games. It had been a hard fought contest, with the very best Swan-Knights of Dol Amroth present and in competition, but though Abrazimir had given it his best and greatest effort, he had not prevailed to take home the yearly trophy rewarded by Prince Imrahil, liege and master of Belfalas and Dor-en-Ernil.

There were much sores and aches and pains. But while others elected for rest, or for sulking in dark rooms muttering about what they could have done better, or perhaps how they were cheated in some unfeasible conspiracy, Abrazimir had elected, along with his fair share of hurts, to go out on the town with some colleagues and fellow Swan-Knights. A few drinks to numb the pain, to toast the victor, and their Prince, before talking in whispers about the pervading darkness that seemed to grow on their borders year by year. Trouble in the north. Trouble in the east. Trouble in the south. Perhaps their practiced skills might soon be put to the actual test in the field of battle, against most dreadful foes.

Had anyone been keeping count, Abrazimir found himself drinking more and more these days, to deal with the unshakeable trepidation of the dangers that threatened his land and his family and kin. These games and contests were good for a week, to distract the mind and rejuvenate the spirit, but they ultimately came to an end and a man was forced to look forward to the future once again. Time could not stand still, impossibly as that was, but perhaps there was still comfort to be found, in knowing others were fighting a similar battle with their thoughts and emotions about an uncertain future. Who could tell.

Abrazimir had left instructions at his own lodgings in the city of Dol Amroth, a villa employed by his family for whenever they had business within the core settlement of Belfalas, about where to find him and get a bead on his whereabouts, should he be required for anything. It was rare, but never nil, and it seemed that tonight was a day when fate required actual use of this contingency. Messages from the lodgings of House Azrubel would come thither, and from the lodgings of House Dimaethor word would seek out Abrazimir in some of the nearby taverns of the wealthy and noble.

Normally, such business could have been left for the dawn, and it would merely be a heads-up to let Abrazimir know that this individual or that individual sought his attention. But when word reached him, of a very specific person seeking his presence and mind, there was no need to wait. He finished his drink, bid farewell to his fellows, and laid out some coins to pay for his tab and a parcel of the others in generosity. Then, with hood up and cloak tight and sword at his belt, he set out to the grand house where Lady Ilisys was staying.

Why come hurrying at her beck and call, when others even of a higher rank or esteem might be made to wait? Abrazimir wouldn’t be in this sport, or as driven to excellence in it’s pursuit, if not for this woman. Simply put, he would not be the man and knight he was today, had Isys not originally put his haughty, arrogant former self in the sands, years ago. There was a certain gratitude writ deep within his personage that he would never regret, nor cast aside without deep consideration.

Within the hour he was knocking at the door of her house, soon admitted, wiping his boots on the foyer mat and casting back his hood and moving to a parlour, there to await Isys’ presence. Did he want anything to drink? Why yes, more wine. After all, it was the last day of a week’s worth of festivities and tournaments. He was still in a festive mood, at least outwardly. Whatever internal anxieties he carried need not be stated. All of intelligence or awareness shared them and knew better than to needle at it when not necessary.

As he waited, he raked a hand through the strands of his own hair, brushing it out and increasing it’s volume in a way, something to stave away the idleness. A heaviness seemed to be present in the household, as like House Dimaethor, the Azrubel’s had their own fair share of troubles and issues. Kidnappings and disappearances and all.

When he was finally in Isys’ presence, Abrazimir gave her a polite incline of his head. Nothing more formal or arduous. They had been in contact this entire past week, more or less, and there had been plenty of talk and discussion throughout the tournament. ”If our families were not so close, one might think my coming here would be scandalous and scrupulous. But I know you don’t got any such bones in you to commit such a grievance.” He jested in greeting, as if she might be the violator in any ensuing scandal, and not him, in some strange twist of roles. ”How are your bones feeling, by the way, after the jousts?” He inquired casually, unaware of the gravity of the reason for being requested here.

[Rillewen]

@Lantaelen

Anurion aka "Madhion", apparently
At the Sea Wall

He could see that he had gotten her a bit flustered by calling her Uilneth, but it was kind of funny, watching her reach up and pull the clump of seaweed out of her hair. When she returned with bestowing the name 'Madhion' onto him, Anurion blinked, then glanced down at himself. Rather than getting mad, a grin came onto his face. He laughed at himself, realizing he must look quite a sight. "I'm not laughing at you, I promise," He tried to assure her, although her stamping her foot and making water splash, well that was rather funny, too.

He was all eager to ask if she could show him those caves, but the way she gasped as she seemed to recognize what that seagull had, made him take another look at her, then up at the bird. A clam? A missing clam? Anurion didn't quite understand what this was all about, but her distress was pretty clear. Especially when she started trying to climb up the cliff to get to the clam.

"Wait, hold on!" Anurion moved closer, trying to stall her from doing something too hastily. "You'll fall, if you don't know what you're doing." He informed her. He looked around. "I'll climb up and get it. You.. yell and try to distract the bird or something, maybe?" He suggested, to give her something to do. Without further ado, he took a careful look at the cliff and quickly scanned the surface to locate the best route up to where the bird was. Once he was fairly sure of his hand-holds and the path upward that would be safest, Anurion reached up and began to climb, clearly experienced in doing this sort of thing.

The mud on his hands had dried well enough that it acted almost like chalk, thus helping his grip, and he didn't take long before he'd reached the ridgeline. "Shoo! Get away!" Anurion waved one free hand at the seagull, hoping it would fly away and leave the clam behind. While he didn't really know why it was so important to the girl, it clearly was. So he was willing to help her. Especially if it gave him an opportunity to climb these rocks for a good cause!

[Lantaelen]

@Rillewen

Lady Azraindil
“Sea Walls”, Lond Côl, Dor-en-Ernil

Anyone else would have been put off by the stream of demands and instructions shouted by the little girl. What was she talking about, a bird and the missing clam? What system or invisible rubric of standards and norms and context was she going by? But the strange boy – Madhion – didn’t even question it as Azraindil tried to fend off the bird from it’s chosen meal, the clam in question. Poor thing, separated from it’s clan and family. How could it not stir the heart?

The cliff proved insurmountable, at least for the young noble girl. Her long skirts were obstructive, not to mention soaked around the bottom hem, adding extra weight that her skinny arms could not have possibly hefted in addition to her own. She didn’t even challenge Madhion’s warning or next instructions to her, wearing a mask of helplessness, fright, and worry. He would climb? She looked at him as if she couldn’t believe he would sacrifice himself for such a cause he was such a stranger to!

”I-“ she started to say but hardly was the first syllable out, in question or acceptance or anything, before Madhion was approaching the cliff, inspecting handholds, pulling himself up. She just continued to watch in amazement, as he easily began to climb the dozen or so feet above. Dangerously. The bird became aware of him, starting to stretch it’s own wings in challenge, making itself appear bigger as to seem formidable. It could easily peck the boy’s hands and send him tumbling down…!

”Hey!” She screamed up at it, looking around and finding some driftwood, seizing it and waving it about. ”Daro, daro!” She cried in elvish. Stop, stop! She ordered the bird. It did not seem impressed but the clamour and the approaching boy…it gave the boy pause. ”I order you, do not touch the clam! Stop! Go away!” She continued to shout and wave the stick above her head, in effect making herself bigger. And louder.

The bird seemed astonished. Who are these silly, bipedal children trying to interfere in it’s business? I’ll show them… And when Madhion got to the very top, the bird’s head twitched left, right, left again, paused, in serious deliberation…before it beat it’s wing and took flight. Seeming to flee and fly away. There would be a few precious seconds to inspect, and find the clam, the hardened shell overturned but holding fast.

”Is it safe? Do you see it?” Azraindil called out to the boy, her expression utterly marked with anxiety, clutching the driftwood to her chest in comfort and anchorage against the hollow emotions of fear and panic.

But the bird took flight, not to flee or retreat, but to take advantage, and fight in the way it knew how. From above. With a cry it swooped down, intending to snatch the clam before the boy could grab it.

[Rillewen]

@Lantaelen

Anurion aka "Madhion", apparently
At the Sea Wall

The seagull spread its wings, challenging him. It was territorial, he guessed, because he was trying to take what it wanted to eat. But for some reason unknown to him, it mattered to the girl and so he was going to rescue that clam for her. It was the right thing to do, right?

"Shoo, get away," He waved one hand at the bird, while clinging tight to the cliff with the other. One foot slipped slightly, and he lurched an inch downward before his other foot and that one hand compensated for the shift in his weight, and kept him from falling. Quickly, he grabbed onto the last handhold he'd had with his left hand, and took a moment to find a new foothold. All the while, the bird was looking at him, tilting its head from one side to the other. "Shoo!" He yelled again, along with Uilneth's shouts. And it worked! The bird flew away.

Anurion still had to edge a bit closer to the ridgeline, however, before he could grab the clam. He carefully began to do that while the bird gave him a brief respite. "I see it, but I can't reach it yet," He called down to her, as the bird wheeled and then swooped toward him. No, it was swooping toward the clam! Anurion stretched his arm out as far as he could, pushing himself up higher with his feet, but he still couldn't reach it. He found another, closer foothold, then shifted his weight and held onto the cliff with only one hand and one foot, reaching with the other hand, the other foot stretched out to counter-balance himself, and then he managed snatch the clam. "Go away, stupid bird!" He yelled, hastily tucking it against his torso with one hand, hunching his back as if to shield it from the bird.

It was only now, as the bird swooped at him, that Anurion realized the flaw in his plan. He had the clam, sure, but now.. how was he going to get down? He couldn't climb with only one hand. And now, with only one hand and one foot holding him up, he was struggling for balance, occasionally wobbling as he pressed himself as close against the cliff as he could, trying to keep from falling. "Uilneth, can you catch it?" He asked, needing some sort of quick solution so he could fend off the bird as it tried to attack.

[Arnyn]

@Lantaelen

|
Lieutenant Arnyn Dealedwen| Hyandaner Kaylin
January - Estate of House Dimaethor, Lond Côl

Her parents couldn't agree - so now she had a name in Adunaic, and a name in Sindarin. "So you are Azraindil as well as Gaerlothriel," Arnyn repeated thoughtfully. "Or, Azrain and Gaer. And what about yourself? Which do you prefer? The Elvish?" she half guessed, half assumed, since the young lady had just said she felt like the dual naming made them more Elvish. "Your brother takes to his Adunaic name," she stated, knowing Abrazimir only introduced himself as such. "But pray tell," Arnyn said, lowering her voice a little," what is Abrazimir's given Sindarin name?" Arnyn asked curiously.

That question drew Kaylin's attention again as well, right before Gaer complimented her hair. "Thank you," the redhead told the younger woman, using Sindarin for just a moment as she flipped her red hair back over her shoulder. She quickly reverted back to common, though. "I think it's what got me the attention of my now husband," she said more quietly, leaning in toward Gaer and Arnyn and away from the ranger sitting on her other side (which happened to be the man in question).
Arnyn grinned, and still used Sindarin - knowing that Kaylin could understand. "Suppose Kaylin and I are both lucky no enemy has cut off our battle braids yet," she jested. "Though I should say that, years ago, an enemy did try and use my long hair against me."
Kaylin grimaced. "Awwch," she replied in common. "That sounds painful."
Arnyn nodded."It was. Didn't work out for him, though."
Kaylin grinned broadly. "Evidently. Since you are alive."
"And he is not," Arnyn agreed.
"Cheers," Kaylin offered, raising her own cup - which definitely did not hold water - and drinking from it, before someone pulled her attention away again.

Arnyn, meanwhile, watched Gaer's amusement at her jesting, and had to smile at the young woman's answer. "Very diplomatic, young lady Dimaethor," Arnyn said, raising an eyebrow. "What is the difference then, do you reckon, between our cover and what can be read inside it?" she challenged, albeit good-naturedly. "Might you compare us to your older brother? Or would that require a much more detailed observation on your part?"

"Do you have much time for any self-chosen hobbies?" she then changed subjects entirely. "Or do you have too many things you must learn, and too many duties to see to? I admit I know little of the demands of the life of a young lady of the nobility. But that doesn't mean I am not interested in learning..."

[Ercassie]

@lantaelen

Lord Edhelmir Azrubêl attended by Ribedir Calaerion
in Dol Amroth, six years ago – FLASHBACK (before they were lost)

It was Ribedir who had answered the door to the young Lord Dimaethor that eve. And if the even younger man did not look weary, despite escorting his master all the evening at a rather dreary dinner party, it was the reward he had thus garnered for such an errand that saw the valet beam. Lord Heledir Estennin, the astronomer, would not be taking up his invitation to visit the Elvish starguild, out on The Wethrin Isles. The loss of his only daughter, his only child in fact, had rendered the grieving widower unwilling to partake in even such a rare honour. His friend and former neighbour then, Edhelmir was the man’s only choice to go in his stead. And if Lord Edhelmir was sailing out to see the Elves, that meant Ribedir would have to see him there and back safely. They were going to see the Elves ! It was truly so exciting ! A more cheery welcome then could not have met their guest, for the news received by the enthralled valet, was not the same news as awaited Abrazimir ...


“Rather late for my niece to be receiving visitors,” Edhelmir glanced up as the youth helped him out of his evening jacket. And if the sentiment was raised as a prelude to stir him from his seat, and stand as chaperone, the zeal was absent. The Lord was about ready for his bed, and sought most of all, no cause to be kept from it.

“It is the young Lord Dimaethor,” he was informed, and the awe in the valet’s voice at having shared the same air as that legend was quite evident. Ribedir was a fan.

“Again ?” the nobleman sipped thoughtfully however from his glass. As though the art of drinking itself called for great concentration. “I thought the jousting was all done with ..” Edhelmir’s lack of intrigue for the recreation was no secret and, for all that his young valet was his greatest confidante, Ribedir had been forced to explain the rules of the sport to his Lord, every single time he allowed that they venture forth to spectate. Edhelmir did not enjoy the press of the animated crowd, the kicking up of sand and the creak of overloaded seats; let alone the clash of lance, the crack of bone and inevitable threat of bloodshed. He had been dragged to his brother’s competitions for years that he would have rather spent in private study of his books, or scrutinising a canvas .. And though he had been keen to return to Dol Amroth for the season, he had been rather less keen to watch his niece now take up her late father’s mantle. That Lond Col had proven victorious had brought Edhelmir pride and gladness, mostly that the tournament was over and he would not have to sit through any more of the bloodsport. But of all Isys’s competitors, Abrazimir had no cause to seek out an audience to ‘ransom’ back his armour or his horse. The two both rode here for the season to represent the same estate, after all. The winning estate.

“They’ll be celebrating, I imagine,” the younger man supposed thus.

“We shall leave them celebrate without our interference then,” Edhelmir sighed, contented. He knew his niece to be safe in their latest guest’s company. For Abrazimir was a gentleman, and far more importantly, he was kin, however distant. After spending the evening with an exceedingly depressed Heledir, Edhelmir was counting his blessings, that Ilisys was unlike to share the cruel fate of poor, lost Gaelanna Estennin. He could risk his niece merely staying up late into the eve, talking ‘shop’ with a peer. There were servants about yet to attend them if required. And there were certainly worse fates than any he believed the young pair might risk.

---

Lady Ilisys Azrubêl with Lord Abrazimir Dimaethor
at her Uncle’s city House, in Dol Amroth. Six years ago - Flashback

She found him in the parlour, and of good spirits, with a glass of wine already delivered. And no sooner had Lotte followed her lady in to Abrazimir’s company, but the lady’s maid was dismissed and backed out of the room, bringing the doors to a close and those two left closeted within to a place of privacy. There was no call indeed for a chaperone in this circumstance. And Lotte’s grandson was that excited to tell her of their lord’s pending trip to Lindon that the older woman happily escorted Ribedir off to the kitchens to try and quell his excitement before bed. Edhelmir had been attended to and left to locate sleep without further assistance. Anardil had already been put toward a needful task, and now Isys found hers.

Committing to a sedate orbit of the room, Isys paused at a halfway point, so that she could turn and consider her guest. She came close to a smile at his jest. Though the fresh-bathed young woman who had near flown down the stair case not so very much earlier that evening, was now rather more sombre, her mood perhaps maturing along with the hour. And as he enquired after her ‘bones’, the lady came unto an elaborate chair where she might recover them somewhat. Or at least have her body be comfortable, because naught else about this was like to be.


“That was my very cause for seeking your counsel,” she mentioned, naturally delphic. “We are as family, Abrazi and, though my bones sit yet where they ought, my mind is rather out of place. I hope you have known comfort for your own bones since your latest seat ?”

She veered off from her motive, toward a cordial concern instead, allowing him due opportunity to reassure her, that he was not unreasonably hurt after his own trials. “No hurt that would keep you from your own designs about the city for the remainder of the season at least. Have you put thought toward any commitments or revelry in days to come ? My Uncle is determined to remain a while longer here. He has plans even tomorrow, to seek out Lord Eglathor”

She seemed to make idle enquiry. As though her own dilemma might be whether she too ought linger many more days in the capital of Dor-en-Ernil. Did the lord have any recommendations for a lady to make recreation ? Surely he was more worldly and knowledgeable in such matters than she. Certainly she was already pondering on alibis, for what commitment might already have snared her intentions. And the man before her, may not have been the only one she could go to in times of need. But for all that, he was very likely the only one who could help. In this particular situation.

[Lantaelen]

@Rillewen

Lady Azraindil
“Sea Walls”, Lond Côl, Dor-en-Ernil

Her heart was pounding in her chest, seeming all too late to realize, as was common in children, the seriousness of the situation that she had escalated. Here was this stranger boy, so selflessly aiding in her demands and insistences, clambering up this cliff side while potentially getting into a struggle with a bird. That could claw and bite and knock this young boy down and get him seriously hurt. And then it would be Azraindil’s fault. She had dragged him into this. She didn’t even know him. And as a Lady of a noble House, she ought to be in fact responsible for his safety and security, as any good hostess would be.

And now he made it to the ridgeline and answers and certainty lay in the balance. Did he find the clam? Would he be okay? He said he saw the clam. But he couldn’t reach it. Azraindil covered her lower face with her hands, feeling utterly panicked now. Should she ask him to come down? At least he could be safe and unharmed. Or not pull the carpet out from his courageous act, getting him to abandon the task at the final moment? She couldn’t deny that alongside her anxiety was also a large measure of hope, that Madhion would succeed, and reclaim the clam, and return without incident.

And then he got it! She saw him reach, then pull back, holding the shell in his hand. ”Madhion!” She called out, in both fright and congratulatory praise. He got it! Now…get down safe. But he needed two hands and one was occupied. Azraindil already knew what was required before Madhion could state it. Finally, something to do, to be helpful! And not just selfish and entitled in putting this kind boy to the task all by himself. She raced to get directly under him, looking up, trying to measure the distance and space.

”Okay…okay, I got it. I’m ready! Drop it!” She said, hoping to get it over and done with before the bird tried to menace him again. Even the bird was awfully confused by this. It had never encountered resistance to a quick snack like this before! Better hang back and see what these two-leggers are up to…!

Meanwhile, Azraindil readied herself for the catch, both hands raised, and when the clam was dropped, she watched it so precariously…and caught it. ”I got it, I got it! Madhion!” She shouted again, triumphantly, before her eyes returned to him, and his risk. The bird was above him, wings spread, it’s beak looking very dangerously in range of his exposed face… One nasty peck and he could be hurt! Even lose his grip and fall.

”Madhion, watch out!” She expressed with terrible concern, immediately seeking out…something. A rock. She found one, grasping it in her free hand, while she held the clam in the other. She took aim…and flung it. And completely missed the bird, and Madhion, and clattered against the cliff face behind the bird. But that was enough, startling the creature to take flight, rather than continuing to assault and harass Madhion. For now. There was a brief window to descend in peace, until the bird got the idea to swoop and attack again.

[Lantaelen]

@Arnyn

Lady Gaerlothriel Dimaethor
Mid-January, Estate of House Dimaethor, Lond Côl
Early in the Fourth Age

”I’ve always been introduced as Azraindil, but those closest to me call me Gaer. It’s the least mouthful of the bunch.” She explained, liking it as a cute, easy nickname to go with, even if it just translated to…Sea. She glanced at Abrazimir when Arnyn brought up his names, how he chose to go by his Adunaic name. But she didn’t know his elvish name? Gaer flashed a smile at Arnyn, knowing exactly what was going on now. He must not have told them for a reason, mostly because the formality of elvish names made him nervous or shy. Well, what good was a little sister if not to foil a big brother’s silly plans?

”Mîrhimon.” She whispered to them, eyes exchanging from Arnyn towards Kaylin, who had shown interest as well in the answer. Yet during the turn, Gaer spotted Abrazimir watching her, amongst the two older Ranger women. Did he know? Did he hear? If so, what would be his retribution? But he did not know, just giving her a nod of approval at seeing her mingle with his guests, and turned aside to his own conversations.

The two women discussed their hair, how they braid them for battle and risked their loss. The two seemed to be great friends and Gaer in the middle couldn’t help but be riveted by their quick, easy banter and jokes at one another, snickering and giggling at each’s retort or rejoinder.

Which ended with them bragging about someone being dead for their efforts in messing with their gorgeous hair. Now that was a most strange and foreign sensation to the young noblewoman. Was that something to easily boast about? Certainly not in polite society but among soldiers and warriors, it was routine. And this was her first time around those sort who weren’t men of Lond Côl, who would be on their best behavior. She was hearing the banter unfiltered. And getting ideas.

”So many questions! Which should I answer first.” Gaer pretended to ponder a moment, tapping a finger on her chin. ”No one compares to my brother, of course. You are all here, learning to do what he can do, right? On the sea.” She pointed out astutely at first, in the same good-humoured tone of challenge. ”As for you Rangers, I think I’ve learned enough. I would say…you are true to who you are and what you do. And have no pomp or mystique about it.” She said, before sighing a little enviously. Her world was all…dress up and make up, and present oneself in these very rigid and narrow norms.

Look how easily the Rangers just lounged and could casually be themselves. But Arnyn was now curious to the life of a noblewoman. How could Gaer keep that interest without boring her, when that life would naturally be compared to that of a Ranger or worldly person? ”I do get a little time for hobbies…swimming, and riding, and I even started archery a little. But most of the time I am in preparation for becoming a noblewoman. That is, the wife of some Lord or Knight, to keep his home and raise his family.” And given her age, that should all be coming to a fruition very soon.

”I think I should rather try the Ranger business. But I think I missed my window.” Gaer said with a smile. ”Do you get to go to many such banquets like this? Or perhaps each one is all the more relished because of their rarity?”

[Lantaelen]

@ercassie

Lord Abrazimir Dimaethor
Dol Amroth, six years ago – Flashback

Most of his meetings with Isys were rather informal affairs. No need to stand on ceremony or observe the time honed decorum of speech and certain mannerisms. Though her present appearance did raise some eyebrows. Abrazimir could have sworn, that by several orders of magnitude, he had seen Isys more in armour and gear than in plain clothing, whether rich or casual. Of course, it was late in the evening now, and no one was going to be armoured for battle. Still, there was something different about her mood, more emphasized by her slow walk around the room, before settling on a chair.

Abrazimir perched himself in the corner of a larger couch, crossing a leg over the other at the knee, while holding his cup of wine on the kneecap of the above leg. His other arm was stretched to the empty space beside him, fingers drumming softly on the cushion. He never known her for dramatics but this was all feeling very theatrical. Like something big was about to happen. Maybe he should have brought a chaperone, for his protection! Protection…from himself, and his own eagerness, that is.

She opened up with a preamble about counsel, and family, and how his comfort must be faring after the tournament. He smiled and indicated wordlessly his current mind frame, by raising his cup in a silent toast to her then drinking deeply. ”I am still solid and whole. I suppose that is good enough to fare by.” He answered her, which was partially true, as the aches and throbs from striking and being stricken were but momentarily dulled by wine. Enough to numb his pain. But his mind and senses was sufficiently alert, perhaps in that perfect margin where they were slightly heightened. Enough to accept the intuition of his gut that was something was up, without casting doubt or verification of such.

She asked about his intentions in the city of Dl Amroth. He only wished he had more time to spend in these streets. ”If my legs were turned to mush, I’d still be committed to my course. I must depart in the next few days, to deliver messages on behalf of my Lord Father to some of his connections in Harlond and Anorien. Nothing too grave or serious in fulfilment. It is just the timing I must adhere to. I came on the Gaeramar, one of the smaller cogs we used. Fast, agile ship. Should have me to the City in record time.” He boasted to her, the Gaeramar, Sea-Wing, named so for it’s smaller size and higher speed. It possessed a crew of about forty dedicated mariners and half as many fighting men. But he had no soldiers with him for this trip. He was just a dedicated messenger boy with a small ship. Nor was he going to be setting any speed records.

”I can leave at the earliest in two days time, but can spend up to six days here longer if I wished, pushing the final limits of the delivery. A few activities to attend upon if I wished…” Abrazimir mused, pausing to sip his wine, before he clasped it with both hands in his lap, and observed Isys cooly for a moment with his own sea-grey eyes. ”…why?” He then inquired, letting a smile grow on his lips. ”You don’t want to see Lord Eglathor I take it. It is no problem, my Lady.” He used the formality as a tease, guessing she was looking to escape formalities.

”I can find some distraction for you. There’s a Rohirric horse-merchant with many steeds from the fields of Calenardhon. And an exotic salesman who deals in…snakes. Snakes, vipers, serpents and the like. Apparently they are domesticated and kept by some men and women,” Abrazimir explained with a quirk of his eyebrows, indicating how strange and yet curious that particular hobby might be.

”But…we could have discussed such explorations more idly under the light of day, over breakfast or something. You did not simply call me over for recommendations on where to make merry and find mirth. And if you wished to partake with me in mine, you could have simply come to me, and I would have made you a seat of honour amongst our friends and comrades. Hmm…” Abrazimir deduced openly, trying to narrow down the intention and force Isys through this preamble to her point. That there might be some mischief or scheme afoot and she had a role for him in mind. Well, best just come out and say it to him, because he was always up for some excitement. And hopefully not more than he could ever bargain for.

[Arnyn]

@Lantaelen

|
Lieutenant Arnyn Dealedwen| Hyandaner Kaylin
January - Estate of House Dimaethor, Lond Côl

Mîrhimon. Kaylin didn't hide her amusement at the revelation, letting it out in a broad grin and a little chuckle, but Arnyn managed a more demure smile, hiding most of her entertainment into her glass. Both of the women would remember it. Kaylin, perhaps to use at the most unexpected of times, when it would prove hilarious for some reason or other. Arnyn... well, perhaps she would simply keep that little bit of information tucked away, in case it might ever prove useful.

Arnyn was equally amused when the lady Gaerlothriel so readily stated that no one could compare to her older brother. The Lieutenant's smiling eyes flicked to Abrazimir, then, glad for him that he had such a sister - she clearly thought the world of him. And Arnyn thought he deserved as much. "We are," Arnyn confirmed that they were here to learn, her easy smile reflecting she was unbothered by the younger lady's assumptions that Abrazimir was somehow a better or more well-rounded warrior than the rest of them were.

"There is little pomp with us, you're very right about that," Arnyn laughed. "There is much more of that, in your life, then?" She knew there was, of course, knowing a thing or two about Belfalasian culture. "Yet I hope we can each individually maintain at least some mystique," she added, all too clearly pretending at mild offense as she put a hand over her heart while grinning at Gaer.

She smiled as Gaer explained more about her life. "In what spare time I might have outside of my duties and training, I also enjoy swimming and riding." And a few other things, which she kept to herself, and wasn't about to share with this young lady either, however nice she was. "Perhaps we are not so unalike, after all." Pondering a moment on what Gaerlothriel had said about her future, Arnyn sipped her water. "Well, it's never too late for anything," she countered. "Yet somehow I feel like no one in your family would thank me for pointing that out... Are you not looking forward to being the wife of some Lord or Knight, my Lady?"

[Rillewen]

@Lantaelen

Anurion aka "Madhion", apparently
At the Sea Wall

When the girl said she was ready, he glanced down to briefly look at where she was, then, quickly checked to see where the bird was. It didn't look like it could intercept the clam, so he tossed down, watching anxiously until he saw that she had caught it. Thank goodness. He breathed out a sigh of relief before hastening to grab onto the ledge with his other hand.

His other arm was growing tired by now. Carefully, he felt for another foothold, but before he had a chance to locate anything, Uilneth's warning drew his attention to the bird. Startled by the close proximity of its long, sharp beak, Anurion let out a little yelp and instinctively jerked away. He felt his foot slip, and suddenly he was hanging by his fingertips, frantically scrabbling for a foothold while trying to calm his breathing.

Just as he thought the bird was going to peck his hands and make him fall, a rock clattered against the cliff face, and startled the bird away. Anurion breathed out a sigh of relief, digging his fingers hard into the rock he was hanging from, and carefully used his feet to feel for a crack to wedge his toe into. At last, he found a good foothold, and then managed to get a better grip with his hands. "I'm fine," He assured her, then began to climb downward again, taking care not to move too fast, that he might miss a handhold or something.

His fingers were aching a little, but he thought he ought to be able to make it down to the ledge with Uilneth, but before he could get there, he saw the seagull swooping toward her. "Watch out!" He yelled, realizing it would go for her now that she had the clam. He had a couple of feet left to go before he was on the ledge with her again, and therefore, she would have to fend off this attack on her own. "Shoo! Get away!" He yelled at the bird. Worried about the girl, Anurion hastily came down the rest of the way from the cliff face so that he could help her, then turned to Uilneth. "Is there anywhere we can hide?" he asked, worried it was going to attack again.

[Lantaelen]

@Arnyn

Lady Gaerlothriel Dimaethor
Mid-January, Estate of House Dimaethor, Lond Côl
Early in the Fourth Age

Her brother’s name got tremendous grins out of the two women, which made Gaer feel a little proud in being entertaining and interesting. She was starting to feel more at ease around these warrior women, so deadly and yet somehow retaining their femineity and moreover their good looks. Perhaps in another life she might have followed them in their paths. But alas, she had her own battles to fight, of a different nature. Maybe they knew something about those paths too.

”Very.” Gaer agreed about the heavy presence of pomp. Decorum and etiquette, with sometimes thousands of years of tradition behind it, with endless stories told of why it was this way or that way. Because of things taught by the mythical elves or some other dogma. She never questioned it. There was neither any doubt about the mystique of these two women though, as she sat between them, still marveling at their ability to blend both the life of a warrior and being a woman.

Arnyn certainly knew how to push those buttons in Gaer, suggesting certain similarities. When Arnyn sipped her drink, Gaer did too. ”Adar – I mean my father, he used to tell me time is not a luxury our kind get. Even when we had greater life spans like the ancient Numenoreans. They still struggled with finding time. I feel as if these paths dictated for us is merely the culmination of thousands of years of trying and experimenting, and this is simply the best, middle-of-the-road answer they’ve come up with. Our ancestors, that is.” Gaer tried to explain, but felt it was all too disjointed. That she was repeating someone else’s philosophy, that she didn’t quite believe in, but would adhere to, out of familial duty.

But mostly to delay answering the follow up question, which had caused a blush to creep up her neck. But not out of any affections or desire for some Lord or Knight. Quite the opposite. Blushing out of embarrassment. ”There is a…man, I am to be wed to. Son of a noble house.” She explained awkwardly at first. Was it right to call him a Lord, or a Knight? He never fought, as she heard her father say to mother in some discussions that Gaer was not supposed to hear. But the man’s mother – step-mother – was very close to Gaer’s own and they had tried to make a match between her family and theirs a while.

”A son of House Talven.” She continued her explanation after a brief pause. Perhaps Arnyn knew the name. ”It was an arrangement made long ago. Our mother and his are very close friends and I guess they really want a shared family. I am happy to help.” Gaer tried to put a selfless, positive spin on it, even if she did not rightly understand the mechanics of producing a grandchild. In any case, she would do her duty, because of all the paths menfolk decided would be best for women, this is what her menfolk thought was best for her.

[Lantaelen]

@Rillewen

Lady Azraindil
“Sea Walls”, Lond Côl, Dor-en-Ernil

The bird swooped on Madion and he cried out, making Azraindil’s heart pang with such deadliness. But the boy was unharmed, as the bird did not attempt to claw with it’s talon or bite with it’s beak at him, precarious as his position on the cliffside was. Azraindil, clutching the clam, literally could not move, out of sheer fright and paralysis of the moment. Her heart was pounding, in her chest and ears, as Madhion waged an invisible struggle to her.

Her face was reddened and her lips ajar in laboured breathing as she remained panic stricken. She felt like her limbs weren’t responding, but only the indication of a shadow passing between her and the Sun jerked her from this reprieve. She looked up, and just as Madhion warned her, the bird came swooping down against her. To her credit, Azraindil did not shriek or cry out or flail, but immediately crouched, using her hands to shield the clam against her abdomen, rather than cover her own head. The bird missed her by inches and swooped around out towards sea…before coming back at her.

Azraindil sat with her back to the cliff wall, clutching the clam, seeing the bird bolt through the air right at her like an arrow shaft. She didn’t know what to do. Kick? Punch? Run? No, not without Madhion too! She would have to fight, but had no clue of how to fight, and realized she would probably take tremendous hurt and pain. And she thought to herself…so be it.

But as the bird neared, the sudden drop of Madhion and his presence gave the bird paused and it veered off before it reached the pair, finding itself outnumbered. And the muddy boy was rather loud.

Azraindil pushed herself up as Madhion reached her, inquiring on where to hide. The bird swooped high, planning it’s next assault and Azraindil nodded and had to lick her lips to find her voice. ”Y-Yes. The c-cave.” She stammered at first, but she was already turning on her own boots and moving back up the beach from where she had come originally. ”Come on, follow me!” She said, leading Madhion to the cave of the clams. The Glittering Cove. Back to the clam’s kin.

It took only a minute of hasty running to reach it’s threshold, the bird following the whole way, occasionally squawking, but never diving again. Azraindil led Madhion into the cove, where they followed a narrow ledge alongside the flowing and ebbing ravine carved by water to the back of the cave. He might start to see it. Other clams. Some with their shells unhinged. Pearls catching the occasional light, though nothing bedazzling like that brief window of sunrise where the sun shone directly into the cove, that Azraindil beheld every morning.

”We should be safe here.” Azraindil noted, breathless, finally opening her clutched hands to reveal the clam, with a small crack on it’s shell, but otherwise safe and secure. She looked to the water and was about to readily toss it back in with it’s family. Of which she had counted many times, and now completed whole yet again. But…she turned, and extended it to Madhion. The hero. ”Would you like to put him back? Anywhere should be fine, as long it’s near the others…” Azraindil said softly.

But outside was heard the flapping of wings, as the seagull landed, and staked out the entrance and awaited them, though it dare not come in itself...yet...

[Rillewen]

@Melahny_oftheWoods @Pele Alarion
(Invite only)

Xyler
Gondorian side of Wyndhorne Pass - late September
(Continued from here)

Though he'd grown up around the mountain pass, Xyler didn't know exactly where the Gondorian border began, and had not spent much time this far away from home. So, he wasn't sure when they would have officially crossed over into Gondor, but since it had already been a few hours since they left his grandmother's house, and they were beginning to travel more downward now, he guessed that meant they were on the other side of the mountains. Which meant, they were probably in Gondor by now. Little did he know, this was only a small portion and that the path would actually go steeply up again. They still had a few days of travel before they would officially be in Gondor, but he had never actually attempted to travel the pass, before. He knew that it went all the way through, but he had never been there before and did not know where the road would actually take them, nor how rough the journey might be.

Meanwhile as they traveled along, he was absorbed in their conversation. He grew thoughtful as he looked at the bracelet, considering both of the lady's questions and comments. "I wouldn't mind taking a few detours, to see the sights as we go." He answered Hadassa. The information that it was actually only half the time he had expected, was possibly explained by the fact that he had estimated the time it might take for a wagon, since he was not very experienced at riding, and did not want to risk not having enough time to reach his destination within the expected time period. But she also mentioned that this was along the Great West Road. "Perhaps so, but we aren't taking that road anymore," He pointed out. "We're crossing over the mountains so we can travel on the Gondor side, and I have no idea how long that takes." He shrugged.

But in answer to Melahny's question about his mother's name, he could only shrug. "I don't know." He put the bracelet away again, sighing. "I only know her first name. Elspeth." He frowned and thought for a moment, trying to remember.. anything. But he had been too young to remember much, if anything, about her. "It's probably a hopeless quest, but.. you never know." He smiled and shrugged again. "I figure, I'm going to be living in Minas Tirith for about a year, so maybe I'll have a chance to find out something, during that time. If nothing else, I can always ask my friend who lives there, I guess. Maybe he would know some way of helping me search," He wondered whether his friend, as a ranger, would have any sort of ideas on that.

Then, glancing around, Xyler wondered how much time they had left in the day for traveling. "Are we nearly to the other side now?" He asked, hoping they might come to a town or settlement soon. He was not accustomed to traveling long distances, and camping outdoors, and he suddenly wondered if he'd be able to manage it well enough. Not that he'd ever let on if he was having a hard time, but still. He was certainly no ranger, accustomed to... whatever sort of things rangers did. Maybe by the time he arrived in Minas Tirith, he would be an expert traveler, like Melahny.


(Made some edits to adjust things as needed for continuity reasons, as discussed in ooc)

[Rillewen]

@Lantaelen

Anurion aka "Madhion", apparently
At the Sea Wall

The cave! Anurion had wanted to see it, but now he had no time to get excited. He nodded and hurried to follow her, keeping an eye out for that evil bird. It was like it had a vengeance against them! Well, he supposed he could understand that, since he'd literally just stolen its lunch, but he'd only done it for Uilneth's sake.

He moved along the narrow ledge, occasionally using any handholds he could find along the cliff wall, to help him along, since it was rather narrow. They were both young and small enough to manage easily, but she was a little smaller than him, and therefore had a bit easier time with this. Plus, she knew it well, and he had never been here before.

Soon, he began to see things in the water, and about the time he realized that it was a host of other clams, the girl declared 'we should be safe here'. Anurion looked around, awed by the sight of all these clams. "Wow..." And some showing off their pearls, too! This place was amazing! He looked around, wondering how such a place could exist without anyone else knowing about it. And now he understood why she had been so snippy at him, when she first saw him. She'd been protecting this wondrous secret place. If someone like Togg were to find this... he would want to take the pearls, and probably blab to everyone about this wonderful place until others came and ended up destroying it.

Anurion turned to look at the girl he had dubbed Uilneth, smiling slightly. "You really are a mermaid." He joked. "Uilneth, queen of the mermaids, protector of the Clams of Pearl." He declared her a new title, and then bowed in the way a gentleman would bow to a lady in a ballroom or something. He straightened up, surprised when she asked if he would like to put the clam back. She even assigned it as 'him', which some might find amusing. Though surprised, Anurion reached out to accept the small burden she was offering him. "I would be honored, my lady." He answered with another bow as he accepted the clam. After taking a glance around, he carefully put the clam down near a cluster of others, lowering it gently into the water. Some of the mud on his arms was washed off as he did so.

Turning to the entrance at the sound of flapping wings, he frowned at the bird, lurking and waiting for them. "Fear not, my lady!" He declared, squaring his shoulders defiantly. "I shall slay this wicked dragon and save you and your precious clams." He really had no intention of killing the bird, but it sounded... knightly, right? He took a look around, but there was no sort of weapon around. "Keep back, you evil beast!" He shouted at the bird, then kicked at the surface of the water in such a way that it sent a splash toward the bird. "Alas, I left my sword behind," he sighed, then realized... if he could pretend the bird was a dragon, why not just conjure magical, invisible weapons out of thin air? "Ah, but I have my bow!" He 'remembered', then acted as if he grabbed something from his back, then 'took aim' and fired an imaginary arrow at the seagull. "I got him.. I think? Did I get him?" he glanced at the girl for verification, hoping she would go along with the silly game, rather than look at him like he was nuts.

[Arnyn]

@Lantaelen

|
Lieutenant Arnyn Dealedwen| Hyandaner Kaylin
January - Estate of House Dimaethor, Lond Côl

Arnyn's expression turned neutral when Gaer spoke of how her father had taught her that humans, even those with longer life spans, struggled with not havng enough time, and how the path she was being told to follow was the result of years of learning. She did not see it that way at all. But how strongly could she disagree, without it being disrespectful to their hosts? "Personally," she finally began, "I do not see it that way. It sounds as if you are speaking from the perspective that our mortality means there is not enough time, and therefore we should trust our elders to know how to best manage what time we have?" she tried to paraphrase, to see if she had understood correctly. "While I agree that our time is precious, even more so thanks to our mortality, I was taught that we were all meant to forge our own paths," Arnyn said carefully. "We find our own way, and we can chronicle it or pass on what knowledge we have learned, so that others might hear or read all the different possible paths and... choose their own. So that even with our more limited years, we find satisfaction and joy in them."

Kaylin was openly scowling. "Ancestors are all well and good, lady Dimaethor," she told Gaer, "and they are free to offer what advice they'd like. But like Arnyn says - life is too short to live it the way someone else thinks you should. Life is meant to be enjoyed, isn't it? If the mold doesn't fit, then break away from it. My father never wanted me to be a soldier or a ranger, even though he's in the Guard of Linhir himself." Kaylin rolled her eyes. "Overprotective bullocks. He can say what he likes. Look at me now." She shrugged. "But hey, if the mold does fit, I won't be one to judge that you settle into it comfortably."

Arnyn tried to soften Kaylin's statements a tad. "My parents didn't try to point my brother and me into any specific direction, like yours, nor did they try to keep us away from any specific direction, like Kaylin's father. We were simply taught to find our own way - the one that worked for us. My parents were both warriors, so in a way I followed my own 'mold'. But I take satisfaction in doing my work well, in keeping my mind and body sharp - and I take joy in the camaraderie. My brother never saw the allure, and he became a carpenter. I chose the city, and he chose the woods." She took another sip of her water. "That said, maybe in a few years I'll choose to resign my post and move, too. Who knows? Maybe I'll take up some other profession entirely. Even if I'd still have much to learn, if I put my mind to it and focus my energy, it's not impossible. We can learn things both earlier and later on in life."

Arnyn was curious about the blush she saw on the young lady's face after her probing question. Gaer said she was to marry the son of a noble house. And then named house Talven. That... confirmed it then. Arnyn's expression gave away nothing, even as she wondered how Trastion would react to this news. He had not wanted to believe it, when Arnyn had offered up the very possibility before. But there would be no denying it, now.
"House Talven," she repeated thoughtfully. "Toggornir?" Upon the look that got her, the Lieutenant smiled. "The joust results from late summer, in Lond Col, did reach us in Minas Tirith. That should be no surprise, given that Lady Isys Azrubel is also among our ranks and she was one of the participants," she gave as a very reasonable explanation. "Toggornir Talven was also a participant, was he not? As was his father, Torthon?"

Kaylin was looking absolutely abhorred by the idea of an arranged marriage, but she did not comment. Arnyn thought it best to distract Gaer from the redhead's expression. "Do you know Toggornir Talven rather well, if the arrangement between your family and the Talvens has been this long in the making?" Arnyn inquired.

[Lantaelen]

@Rillewen

Lady Azraindil
“Sea Walls”, Lond Côl, Dor-en-Ernil

There was a hidden flush of pride at hearing Madhion’s astonishment at the cave. She had nothing to do with forming it or creating it, it was just her secret, and now someone else to appreciate it as well! But the thrill of sharing such a thing with a stranger was dimmed as Madhion dubbed her Uilneth again, followed by several accolades that belonged only to Lady Uinen of the Seas. She was about to open her mouth, to correct her, and incessantly state that Uilneth was not her name and that it was in fact-

But then he did such a graceful little bow and she almost squealed at how delectable it was. She…supposed she could be a queen for a little while, if only of the mermaids and clams. If they didn’t like it, they would come up and protest, no? Her gut seemed to soar and the muddy boy accepted the proffered clam with the same solemnity as she gave it, before returning it to the waters. Gracefully. He didn’t just toss it in there like others might have.

Then the bird returned with a beat of it’s wing and Azraindil gasped, moving back several steps. They had preserved the clam…but what about them? She fully presumed for a moment that this bird could devour them. And was going to.

Madhion again leapt to her defense, telling her to worry not! That he would slay this…dragon. Now, that astonished Azraindil even more, to the point where she became grounded in the moment with a degree of maturity. Yes, she was treating it like a dragon attack, this silly bird. But Madhion’s exaggeration and act was so…calming. Soothing. She began to smile at his display, how he sought a weapon, then merely imagined one in his hands, and then pretended to…shoot at the seagull. Who remained unbothered, peering at these creatures who stole his morning snack.

”Oh, raquen nin!” Azraindil grinned, slapping her hands together and conjoining them a moment, in delight at his bravery. ”You indeed struck him, dear knight. But I fear your arrows may not be enough to pierce it’s scaly hide! Here, take one of mine…!” She declared, mimicking his actions, pretending to draw an arrow from the invisible quiver that happened to be upon her back and with bow hands offer it to Madhion to use on his invisible bow, inclining her head slightly with the etiquette and decorum of a noble squire.

This second shot…would have the same effect on the bird as the first. The seagull remained unphased and unbothered, it’s head tilting and turning in abrupt movements as it peered at the two within the cave. All this for a snack? Ugh…

But then…there was something out there, on the water. And the bird spread his wings, as if threatening an assault upon the pair, before it beat off and accelerated away from the cave and into the air. Gone.

Azraindil gasped, coming to grasp the loose fabric of Madhion’s muddy sleeve. ”You did it, you did it! You vanquished the dragon, raquen nin!” She shook him gently, excitement at his deed. And more importantly, doing something to scare off that nasty bird. ”The Clams are safe and protected because of you. Thank you.” She said, looking him a moment in his eyes, beaming her widest smile at him. And then she realized…she was staring! She blinked and turned nervously, looking towards the inner cove and the water and rocky outcroppings.

Then she turned back to him. ”I think the hero should have his triumphant parade and receive his gratitude by the townsfolk. Don’t you think too?” She said, now her being a little silly in wanting Madhion to be…acknowledged and greeted by the clams. In their own way. Because they definitely had their own way and mode, right? As did all the creatures and beings of Middle-Earth.

[Lantaelen]

@Arnyn

Lady Gaerlothriel Dimaethor
Mid-January, Estate of House Dimaethor, Lond Côl
Early in the Fourth Age

Both women had such differing answers to the role of norms and expectations in a woman’s life, here in Gondor. They were certainly unbridled answers that Gaer should never have been allowed to hear, even with a chaperone present, certainly Kaylin and her use of foul language. Overprotective bullocks! Gaer chortled so very unladylike and had to quickly covering her lips and mouth, though her amusement was visible in her eyes and cheeks.

But…they were modes of life she had never thought possible, though modes she often wondered about. She did have to ponder as well though…did these women have fathers like her own? Would they have continued down their paths if their father had been the one to find four strict old women to seize one of his daughter’s limbs each and carry her to her room if she acted out or misbehaved?

She had nothing to say to either of them, whether to defend her own point of view, which wasn’t really hers to begin, or to refute their answers, to which she had no experience. It was a lot of think about. Could she choose a completely different path for herself besides that of a noblewoman, expected to wed and have a family and command her husband’s household while he was away at his masculine duties? What would be the consequence? She did love her father after all, and disappointing him was a very powerful mental block to not doing what he wanted of her.

The next topic was no less thought invoking. Arnyn mentioned Toggornir by name and her eyes went wide in surprise that she even knew him. He wasn’t exactly…famed. Or had served as a soldier in defense of the Realm or anything. Sadly. ”You know him?” She asked, stunned. And Arnyn explained how, having heard of the recent joust they had, which brought a flush of emotion and memory. Of secrets to keep. ”They both were participants. My brother eliminated them both actually from the lists.” She said with quiet pride though.

She did know Toggornir rather well. And she’d rather not. ”I’ve…known him since the beginning when the arrangement was first discussed. I was actually betrothed to his half-brother Aearonor. But he…passed away in an unfortunate accident.” She said and seemed to open her mouth to say more, to talk about she came to be engaged to the other one, Anurion, for a brief period, until the same fate befell him. Supposedly. But he was not dead or missing, but in hiding. And technically she might still be betrothed to him if it came out, since the agreement was never officially canceled. Yet. But she didn’t say that to Arnyn, remembering her promise and his letter. Not even to mention him in passing as a middle step between it all.

Gaer instead ran her hands over her lap, smoothing out microscopic wrinkles and all, trying not to fidget too much. ”You’re rather acquainted with the Talvens. Have you met them ever in your travels?” She asked of Arnyn, and Kaylin too, wondering if they might already know how…awkward it was, this man she might be destined to be with.

[Rillewen]

@Lantaelen

Anurion aka "Madhion", apparently
At the Sea Wall

He was immensely relieved when the girl played along with his silly, impromptu game. Though, he did have a minor correction. "I don't want to be a knight," He declared, shaking his head slightly. His mother was constantly pressuring him to train for knighthood, saying it was what second-born sons were expected to do. But it was not what he wanted to do. "I'd rather be a ranger of the forest." He decided, this being one of the very few times he'd spoken of this desire to anyone but his brother. If they were going to pretend this stuff, then at least he could choose his own career path in the game, even if he probably wouldn't get to, for real.

And then, not only did she go along with the game, but she offered him one of her own imaginary arrows! He grinned as he accepted with a gracious bow of his head. "Your own pearl-crafted arrows! Thank you, my lady. These will surely pierce the scales!" He took pretend aim and released the improved projectile.

He didn't expect any sort of reaction from the bird. So, when it spread its wings, he was a bit unsure what to expect. Then, it flew off, much to his surprise. Uilneth's joy was contagious, and he grinned. "Yay! We slew the dragon!" He cheered with a laugh. "It was your arrow, my lady, that achieved success." He reminded her when she thanked him for protecting the clams.

The suggestion of a parade was unexpected, and for a brief moment, he thought she meant in the actual village, but then he realized that she meant right here, with the clams. He grinned. "Alright! Do they have names?" He wondered suddenly, curiously looking around at all the clams she had in here. "How'd they all get here, anyway?" Did she put them here? Or had they already been here? "Do you think they'll be safe from that bird?" He wondered, a little more seriously. "Maybe you should put something over the entrance to keep it out, just in case it returns?"

[Arnyn]

@Lantaelen

|
Lieutenant Arnyn Dealedwen| Hyandaner Kaylin
January - Estate of House Dimaethor, Lond Côl

"I do not know him," Arnyn still thought it best to clarify. "But, yes, I heard about him and his father through that," Arnyn smiled, not displeased at all that Abrazimir had beaten both of the Talven men, junior and senior. Given what Trastion had told her about them, she wanted to see at least the elder in chains. The younger was in more of a grey area, in that department - but it was safe to say that the Lieutenant did not like anything what she had heard. Not through Trastion - nor through her own ears, at the masquerade the month before. "I wish your brother good fortune in the joust that comes next, as well."

When Gaer asked if she had met the Talvens in her travels, Arnyn hesitated briefly. "I have not met either while travelling, I'm afraid." That wasn't a lie. She had not technically 'met' either, since no names had ever been exchanged. And she had never spoken to Torthon, as far as she knew. She had spoken to Toggornir at the masquerade, of course, but she hadn't been travelling then. That had been in her home city, after all. "However, I have reason to believe I might have spoken to the younger Talven at the Minas Tirith Midwinter Masquerade," she did admit, hesitantly, while lowering her voice. "Although I did not quite realize at the time..."

Kaylin's eyes widened. "Nooooo," she said, her voice hushed now, as she leaned in toward Gaer and Arnyn. "Don't tell me that he's the one who you..."

Arnyn made a face. "You mustn't tell anyone," she told Gaer, in equally hushed tones, deciding to use this as at least a test of whether Abrazimir's sister could keep a secret. "But... yes... The one whom I doused in wine..." she finished Kaylin's sentence, still speaking quietly so no one else would overhear.

[Lantaelen]

@Rillewen

Lady Azraindil
“Sea Walls”, Lond Côl, Dor-en-Ernil

Knight, ranger, who cared! Why was he arguing with a Princess? A Queen he even called her. In that moment, that information would have sounded so irrelevant and unimportant. But some strange force saw fit to lodge it away in the girl’s memory, to reveal itself at some future moment. ”Diamond is the hardest metal. I think. So diamond tipped arrows!” She assured him, as he took aim, and the bird flew away for it’s own reasons as yet undiscernible to them.

”And it was your bow that fired it! We’re a great team.” She beamed at him. She honestly couldn’t have done nine-tenths of this rescue mission without Madhion. He did the climbing, he came under assault from the bird, he got the clam off the ledge. All she did was catch it and carry it here. Gesturing for Madhion to follow, she led him around the outer perimeter of the cave, walking along rocky ledges or shallow water, around the greater rift of water or the small, deep pools around, cut into the rock. Seaweed tickled the surface in some places. Clams were seen everywhere, peacefully closed or proudly depicting their treasure. The water blurred everything.

Do they have names? That stunned Azraindil a moment. She had counted each and every one of them, multiple times, but she never deigned to give them names. She never thought she had that power. ”Amil says all creatures and living things have names. Maybe not in our language but they have them. I…don’t know what they are. And they haven’t told me. Yet.” She explained softly, peering into the water as Madhion asked a host of other questions.

”The tide moves and shifts them along the seafloor. I guess they got pushed up here. Sometimes when the moon is out and the tide recedes, they get dragged outside. The birds can’t get them when they’re under water, but sometimes…the tide pushes them up onto the beach. That’s probably what happened.” Azraindil explained to Madhion, looking towards the entrance as they arrived back. The bird wasn’t there.

”We can block the entrance…but then they could never leave. What if they want to though? I can’t keep them here. They might want to go…visit a relative, or family, or friends, elsewhere.” She pouted sadly. Which meant the menacing by birds would never truly be stopped. But that was just…life. It was the natural process. All she could do was revel in the beauty.

”Speaking of…where did you come from anyways? You’re not from my town.” She asked curiously, peering at him more closely. His clothes looked fancy but they were also so muddy and dirty. Did the tide sweep him up to Azraindil’s little patch of beach?

[Lantaelen]

@Arnyn

Lady Gaerlothriel Dimaethor
Mid-January, Estate of House Dimaethor, Lond Côl
Early in the Fourth Age

Disappointment filtered into Gaer’s expression when Arnyn had nothing to share about the Talvens, young or old. But upon mentioning her belief that she had encountered the younger Talven, Toggornir, at the masquerade at midwinter past, Gaer shot up in her seat, staring in attentive surprise at the blonde woman, even as Kaylin leaned over to express a shock of her own.

By the Valar, was that by Toggornir never found Gaer? He had stood his intended betrothed up, even after her family dressed her so diligently and intricately for the event. The white feather of a peahen, depicting purity and forthcoming nuptials, all for naught. But now she knew the reason why. Arnyn had doused the man in wine for some apparent reason.

Now, why would she do that? One only threw wine on a man when…he offended or insulted her somehow. Rude words, or stepping on the hem of her skirt, or just not getting the hint. Gaer had not the honour yet, though her sister had a tale or two. ”Oh.” Gaer finally voiced her surprise. ”Oh! Oh, of course, my lips are sealed.” She promised, making the gesture of bolting shut her lips and turning a key and holding it close to her heart. She would even go further and offer up a most grave and solemn vow – a pinky promise - if necessary.

”He was supposed to find and meet me. There was this whole prearranged signal. He never made it. I suppose he could not after you…embarrassed him.” Gaer reasoned out. ”I suppose it was for the best. Instead, I got to dance and spend the evening, my best friend and I, with a most handsome and polite individual. He wore the masque of a fox.” She explained rather dreamily, not knowing Sir Fox and the unmentioned Taurhebor brother…was the same person. Because she would never then if she knew.

”He was most entertaining. But instead who I get got wine dumped on him.” She rolled her eyes in morbid humour. ”What did he do?” She inquired of Arnyn, leaning in closer, moving a hand delicately to Arnyn’s forearm in an imploring way. She could keep it secret. Very secret.

[Rillewen]

@Lantaelen

Anurion aka "Madhion", apparently
At the Sea Wall

"Diamond, sure." Anurion shrugged. He'd gone with pearl because of the clams, and they seemed more 'sea-like', but whatever. If she preferred diamond, that was fine. It was all pretend anyway. If he had known more about these things, he might have pointed out that diamond was not a metal, but that fact completely passed over his mind, as he was far more occupied by other things. "We are a great team!" He agreed, before following her around for the 'parade'.

He was curious about her response about the clams' names. "Maybe, if you listen carefully enough, they will tell you. Someday." He suggested, smiling. It seemed like a nice thought, anyway. Even though he knew perfectly well that clams could not talk, there seemed no harm in pretending, even about that.

Listening, then, as she explained about the tide pushing them onto the beach, and how the birds couldn't get them there, Anurion nodded slowly. "Well, at least we've saved that one, for now." Too bad about the crack in its shell, though.

Then she asked about him. Blinking, Anurion realized he had never actually gotten around to explaining himself and how he had come to be here. He nearly laughed about that, and a couple of silly responses passed through his mind, when she asked 'where did you come from'. "No, I'm not." He agreed, when she said he was not from her town. He really didn't want to get into the details, for it was all very upsetting. He also didn't really want to elaborate on the whole betrothal matter, much of which he didn't fully understand, himself. "My family made me come along for a thing my brother's doing, but then I fell in the mud. So now, I'm supposed to wait at the boat until they get back. But I didn't want to, so I went off exploring." It was close enough, anyway. He deliberately didn't mention his annoying stepbrother, so not to get himself annoyed again.

[Rillewen]

@Arella

Lord Brenior and Lady Aurien Eglathor
Dol Amroth, Eglathor home

Within a large, fenced-in property in the richer part of the city of Dol Amroth, was the Eglathor residence. It had been passed down through a few generations, and though it was old, it was also a rather pretty home. The family were among the less significant ranks of nobility, and yet it couldn't be denied that they did have a lovely home. Built with white stones like many Gondorian homes, several arches added decorative architecture to the place, as well as balconies and large windows.

From the front gate, a wide path made with matching white stones traveled from the gate to the front porch. On either side of the path, all along the porch, flowerbeds were bursting with bushy, pink flowers. Roses in the same shade of pink also climbed up the arches and trailed around a large, picture window in the front, reaching as high as the balcony that overlooked the front of the house. The bright pink of the flowers showed up beautifully against the white stones of the house.


Inside the house, Lady Eglathor was fussing about making sure the decor was just right. Their cleaning lady had come and gone for the day, so she didn't have to do any of that, but they were expecting company, and it was such a rare occurrence that she was, admittedly, stressing about it a bit.

The doily was not quite centered on the low, circular table that stood in the parlor, surrounded by a semi-circle of chairs and a couch. Aurien kept adjusting the lacy thing, only to frown and nudge it a centimeter the other direction, then another. Every time she thought she had it centered, she'd look at it from another angle and realize it was just a tiny bit off that way, too.

"Aurien," Brenior sighed, after watching her fuss over it for far too long. "Will you just put the vase back down, and leave it alone? It looks fine. The flowers will wilt before you're satisfied with it."

She sighed, giving up on the stubborn table ornamentation. She set the vase of cut flowers down in the center of the doily(or as close as she could to center), then paced over to the window and looked out, checking to see if anyone was coming up the path yet. "You're sure that today is when she's coming? And.. you really think she will be suitable?"

"I'm sure." Her husband sat back in his favorite chair in the parlor, sighing. "Will you relax?"

"We've been searching for a governess for.. years, Brenior." Aurien reminded him of what he already knew. "Maybe this one won't work out, either." She gave a defeated sigh and wrapped her arms around herself.

"And maybe she will." Brenior attempted to bring hope back into the conversation. "We won't know until she arrives, and we speak with her. At least meet her, Aurien."

"The girls are nearly grown, anyway. I don't know why we're bothering, at this point."

"For our son, if not for the girls." He answered softly. "And for you." He added. "It has been too long since you were able to freely attend social events, as you should. You cannot always stay home to take care of him, you know."

Aurien did not reply to that, but instead, stared stubbornly out of the window. Any minute now, the woman who was seeking employment as their governess would come up the path and knock on the door of the house. Aurien had no idea what to expect, not even what age she would be. She wasn't even sure if she was in favor of having a governess, by this point. But she would give the woman a chance, to satisfy Brenior. She just hoped she'd arrive soon, so they could get through the interview and reach a decision about her.


(description of the house is based off of this, if you'd like a visual)

[Lantaelen]

@Rillewen

Lady Azraindil
“Sea Walls”, Lond Côl, Dor-en-Ernil

Listen carefully… That’s what she had been doing! For months and months. Gaer was starting to learn that perhaps speaking with animals and the sea and the wind were indeed childish notions. Elven fairytales, that her amil would tell by the fire, and nothing more. Madhion though, she could tell, meant well. How curious he could be so silly and humouring to her, yet so brave at the same time. He really could have gotten hurt, scaling the ledge and robbing the angry bird of it’s meal. The clam would live another day. But the dance between bird and clam would continue forever and ever. And they couldn’t be here to defend it always.

They did make a very good team though.

They stood at the entrance of the cave now, a little ways inside. The sun shining through the threshold was very bright, making it impossible to see outside or even gaze that way due to the sheer glare of light reflecting off rock and water. Inside it was peaceful. And she was glad to share it with someone, feeling like a burden taken off her shoulders. Who was he, anyways? He told her. And as Madhion did, Gaer was stricken by a very real and severe realization. That today was indeed…that day. The meeting! With the Talvens and Taurhebors! And she had wandered off at dawn, skipping breakfast, absolutely empty headed…

Her eyes widened and her lips parted in shock, even as Madhion told her how he earned that moniker. Wait, was he…that boy? No, her intended was much older. ”Are you…is your brother’s name…Aearonor?” She asked Madhion in a daze. They were here? And she was…out here? Gaer clasped a hand over her parted mouth, covering her shock, before running it up her face and hair. By the Valar, she was in so much trouble.

”Oh no, Adar and Amil are going to kill me! I have to get back! I’m supposed to meet my…” She lamented, not even wanting to say the scary term, looking around as if her parents might materialize out of the dark and shadow. ”Why didn’t you tell me who your family was!” She almost even blamed Madhion. Turning, Gaer was soon striding through the cave entrance and back to the beach. But the bird could still be out there! No matter, she was more afraid of her parents than some bird. Who knows, maybe a nasty bird bite and clawing might earn her some sympathy to lessen the consequence of her meandering off.

Or maybe a brave ranger. She paused and stopped to see if he was following. ”Aren’t you coming?” She insisted of him, stretching out her hand, making a pinching gesture with her fingers to summon him by her side.

[Arella]

@Rillewen

The Eglathor home in Dol Amroth

Indara stood before the grand white stone manor, heart racing. Surrounding arches framed her view, echoing the beauty of Dol Amroth. Her black hair fluttered in the soft breeze, green eyes wide with anticipation.

She had taken a wrong turn, lost among twisting streets. She’d never had a good sense of direction. Her mother Arella had often gotten annoyed and confounded by her daughter’s complete inability it would seem to follow simple geographical directions without getting lost at least once. She knew she could have left the family waiting too long, wondering if she was really coming for the interview, or even that they might be offended she hadn’t been punctual. But hope surged within her; teaching children filled her heart with joy. Besides, she had a good feeling about this one..another quirk her mother seemingly didn’t seem to understand.

With a warm smile reflecting her father’s spirit, she straightened her back. This was her chance. She stepped forward, ready to embrace what lay behind the intricately carved doors. Adventure awaited. And perhaps, a family to teach.