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

[Rillewen]

@Lantaelen

Dulinneth Talven
Túrion Dornea, Edhellon River, Dor-en-Ernil
Late April, Fourth Age

Linn couldn't help being mildly disappointed that Gaer wanted a cabin to herself, for she had sort of thought that her friend would prefer to be in a room near Linn's, but she also could see the benefit in having access to an entire cabin all to themselves. She was a bit excited, therefore, at the prospect of maybe having a 'sleepover' at Gaer's cabin, rather than in Linn's room. In fact, the cabins weren't even used all that often, since the family rarely had a chance to have visitors these days.

Upon Gaer's pronouncement, that she would take a cabin, Glirdis had given the word to a couple of maids, who hurried out to do some hasty dust-elimination in the best cabin. So that, by the time Ravondaer arrived with Gaer's trunk, the entire cabin was swept, and all of its furniture was dusted, and the windows were clean and spotless. By the time Gaer would enter her cabin, a small fire would have been lit, and the bed made with beautiful quilts. Since Gaer had only brought a manservant, Glirdis also assigned a maid to her, so that she would have a lady to tend to her and do any cleaning she needed, and so on.

As Gaer admired her paintings, Linn smiled at the compliments. But she was a bit puzzled for a moment by the name Madhion. She looked at which painting Gaer was looking at, and saw that it was Anurion. She smiled slightly as she came over to look with her. "Birds pecking at him?" She asked, surprised and curious. "When was that?" She absently petted her cat, in Gaer's arms. "They both loved climbing," She said softly. "And doing things outside," She gestured to the painting of them with the tent.

She smiled at the compliment to her painting. "Thank you. I painted from memory, mostly," She explained. She pointed to the one of Anurion. "That was from my imagination. I never got to be around when he was climbing, Mother didn't even want him to." She shrugged. "So, I just remembered what he looked like when I last saw him, and then I pictured him doing his favorite thing." She smiled softly, remembering her brother's enthusiasm for climbing on rocks and trees and things. "This one, I remember," She said, of Aearonor. "But I was pretty young then," She hesitated. "I painted that because I didn't want to forget what he looked like. I was afraid that.. the memories of him would start to fade away." She explained softly. "This one is a memory, too." She said next, of the middle picture. "I was too little to have painted very well, back then. But I was thinking about them and how happy they were together, doing their camping stuff and all." She went to sit beside Gaer on the bed.." She shrugged, then brightened at the thought of getting paintings of them. "I could paint some pictures of us!" She volunteered. "Although, I suppose a professional artist would do a better job. But we'd have to sit around and pose for hours and hours, I think." She frowned thoughtfully. In fact, that gave her an idea for a gift for Gaer. But she wouldn't say anything about that.

"Oh, they will be here for dinner." She assured her. "Father is out talking business with the foresters, but he will be home in time for the evening meal. And Mother will join us, too, but she mostly stays in her room anymore, otherwise." She explained, as if this was nothing new. "In fact, as long as we're not very noisy, we won't bother Mother, and the only one we really have to worry about is Glirdis," She explained in a whisper. "And she's really not so bad. She knows we're going to want to talk and catch up and all, so she'll probably give us some time to ourselves now that you're here. Anyway, we have a few hours before supper. Are you hungry? We can get a snack if you like." She figured Glirdis had probably already started the kitchen composing some sort of snack for the girls.

Sure enough, it wasn't long after that a maid was knocking on Linn's door, bringing a tray of sandwiches and little cakes and other good things to snack on, along with steaming mugs of hot chocolate, which she set on a little table in an alcove in Linn's room, where they could sit together and eat, away from the bed. They spent the next half hour chatting about this and that while they ate, and continued to talk for a while after the maid had come back to take away the tray.

Finally, Linn felt she could wait no longer. They had reached a bit of a comfortable lull in conversation at the conclusion of a topic, and she put a finger to her lips before getting up. She paused to retrieve a key from a little box in the chest at the foot of her bed, then she picked up a candle and tiptoed over to the door to take a quick look down the hallway. Seeing that it was clear, she motioned clandestinely for Gaer to come with her. "I think now's a good time to show you some.. secret things." She whispered, taking her friend's hand as she led the way down the hallway. She stopped a few doors down, taking another quick look around, before quietly unlocking the door of the empty room that had been Aearon's. She motioned hastily for Gaer to come in, and then she took another swift look around the hallway before closing the door after them. She slipped the key into her pocket before turning back to Gaer. "This room was Aearon's," She explained softly, making sure to keep her voice to a whisper. She stood quietly for a moment, letting her eyes adjust to the dim light. "I wanted to show you something." She explained, holding her candle in both hands now.

The room always held a sort of sad emptiness, Linn felt. Every time she came in here, she felt just a touch of sadness, and felt as if the room were too quiet, and yet, there was also something about it that made her feel that she shouldn't break the quietness. Linn, as far as she knew, was the only person who had been in this room since his death, and therefore there was a thick layer of dust on every surface. Her footsteps were even visible, from the past times she had been here. Now, Gaer's footprints would be added to hers, but that was alright. Linn drew in a slow breath before she carefully set the candle on the desk.

"He was very neat, wasn't he?" She commented with a soft smile, motioning to how tidy and orderly the room had been kept, which she knew was Aearon's own doing, not the servants. She crossed over to the bed and reached under it, pulling out the framed canvas she had made, which seemed so long ago now. Her notes and pictures and things were pinned to the front. In the center was a list of questions, puzzlements, and things she wanted to find out more about, with threads running out from each one. Some of these led to answers that she'd already found, and others led to more questions, or to pictures of things she had felt worth including. She carefully laid the board flat on the bed. "This is everything I've compiled about my investigation, so far." She explained, turning to her friend. She frowned slightly as she looked at it. "There's still some questions I haven't been able to answer. And I was hoping, maybe, with you here, that you could help me get a couple of these answered, at least."


(*please refer to this post, and the following two in the same thread.)

[Arnyn]

@Lantaelen @Pele Alarion

Lieutenant Arnyn Dealedwen
with Lord Abrazimir Dimaethor and Captain Pele Alarion
January - Estate of House Dimaethor, Lond Côl

As it became apparent that Abrazimir intended for them to speak not only then - which was good and as desired - but also there - a strange brand of nervousness threatened to wash over Arnyn. A feeling which the Lieutenant had not experienced in...well, a good many years. She knew why; her self-confidence in matters of the mind was still shaken. To such a degree that she was quite uncertain whether she could meet any new negative responses to her decisions and chosen paths with her head held high.

While her heartrate kicked up, the only visible response from the Lieutenant was a glance toward her Captain. "I would prefer it if we could speak elsewhere?" she ventured an attempt. While wondering whether her own insecurities were to blame for the fact she kept forgetting to ask Pele about informing all the rangers who had agreed to go on the mission to Umbar, as well. She had justified waiting to tell them to herself many times over, with all sorts of reasons.

She had been too busy.
Abrazimir needed to be told, first.
They still had plenty of time.
Time, during which, Ava might already prove her true nature. And then they'd be able to inform the peopleinvolved,in full - instead of several times over. Resulting either in no need for panic, or very justified panic.
Yes. Arnyn had spent considerable time on it. But the fact remained, she always seemed to forget when Pele was around. To broach the subject. Or other matters took priority. Like they would on this training mission. For telling the rangers now was surely not the time? They needed to focus on learning their way around a ship. Not think on how their efforts might all be for nought, if no word ever reached Minas Tirith from a certain Umbarian estate. If Arnyn's friends and brother had ended up dead, or worse.

"For the topic we wish to broach involves the appearance of am Umbarian in Minas Tirith, who claims they wish to stop the atrocities in their city and who... asked for help. And offered it." Arnyn once again glanced to Pele, a silent offer for the Captain to continue, if she saw fit.

[Ercassie]

”Lord Hollin Menilzir II” meeting his apparent cousin, the Lord Helchedorn Menilzir, of Aelin Celebhen.
in the latter’s townhouse of Dol Amroth, Shortly after this post
So .. set in the year 3000 TA approx

It had been sheer instinct for him to spring from the bed, upon hearing footsteps in the hall outside. Despite how much he begrudged the departure from the soft feathered slumber, warm blankets, satin sheets, plump pillows .. After twenty or so years of shivering to what could barely be counted as sleep, huddled on a cold stone floor, crowded in a corner for protection where he could succumb to exhaustion .. the last few days ought to have been perfection. But every moment he knew was too good to be true. He could be found out for what or who he was at any given point. He could not afford to get too lapse, too comfortable. And yet .. And so the valet found him lowered into a half squat pose, one slipper in hand, and ready for .. anything. Thankfully this was not the first time the Belfalasian had found the man in such a state. Something as the lord had been through, all these years, surely explained it. So although the drawing back of curtains caused the younger man to recoil from daylight, it allowed the fellow time to recognise. The servant had not come here to kill or rob him.

“If it please you, my lord,” Erodir took his eyes toward, and then waited expectantly for the Umbarian to hand over his ‘weapon’. Which the taller man did .. slipping off his wariness as though it were a coat.

“Very good Erodir” he nodded, as he had seen the Swan Knight Captain respond to his staff. His crew. It seemed an age already since they had docked in Dol Amroth, but in truth it had been little more than a week.


Taking the slipper to where it may do no ‘harm’, the valet went next to the wardrobe, which was in fact an entire room just dedicated to clothes. Arkadhur straightened, and tried not to feel exposed, in his state of bed dress, despite the company of the other, who was fully adorned in house colours, and had clearly been about his day for many hours by this point.

“Your cousin, the Lord Helchedorn is come, and keen for an audience, my lord.” Erodir delivered the news which had clearly brought him to disturb the strange young man. The name of their visitor alone was enough to signify his importance. Helchedorn Menilzir being as he was the owner of the house they both stood in, and the same generous benefactor who had approved the young stranger from the sea to be allowed there for recovery. No doubt he had arrived at last from his country estate, inland, to inspect the pretender. “If my lord does not have a preference for his day’s attire, I might be so bold to suggest.. ?” Erodir advised, revealing his suggestion of a fitting day suit from the wardrobe. And after surviving the stunned, one might almost say awed silence, he received a staggered nod of the recent sleeper’s head. There had not yet been time to see the young man tailored properly. But there were enough remnants dug out of storage to manage until then. This had been the Menilzir family's city home, for visits in the summer season, for some time now.


“Daella has presented his lordship with refreshments, so we may take the time to be ready,” the valet prompted, in as polite a fashion as one could press for urgency. “Does my lord require aid in washing ?”

Honestly it was as much as the Umbarian could manage to not fall down to his feet in laughter. To be treated so. Or perhaps to break down and cry at such kindness. But at his core, he held to the truth that these people would see him to the gallows if they even suspected the truth. He had known Lord Helchedorn must come and meet him at some point, of course. The recent rest and unexpected chance for recovery .. from the last twenty or so years .. had quite put the fact out of his mind though. He straightened, not too embarrassed by this point by the other man’s suggestion of their being so at close quarters.


Erodir had already seen him bathed since his arrival, his hair cut to suit the local style, and tended to what injuries were not yet rendered already to scar tissue. The valet had not baulked once, and as flighty as the Umbarian had been at first, to be so handled, as though he were a doll .. there was some almost engrained tendency for him to find himself almost wholly at another’s whim. And the valet's handling was far kinder than that he'd known before. So the Belfalasian accomplished the dressing of his new charge without any duress to speak of. And of course he would never dream to speak of it. Except perhaps if Lord Helchedorn himself required an account of how his recovered kinsman was acclimatising back into society. To be fair, it had not been long yet and the rescued nobleman had not dared outside of his door, scarcely outside of this room in all that time. Save for when he had been found, wandering the house in dead of night, gazing at all it might offer him. As though he sought for some semblance of the life he’d had here. Before Umbar ..

“There will be no more need for that .. what you did before ?” Arkadhur swallowed unconsciously at the memory. “The smell might be .. offputting .. for our guest,” he immediately clarified, or attempted to quantify his opinion. Of the previous delousing. There were certainly no secrets any more between him and Erodir, after the valet had ‘cleaned him up’ on his arrival. No secrets save for the one grand betrayal of trust that was. That Arkadhur was not the young Lord Hollin II at all.


But now Lord Helchedorn himself had come to reunite and appraise his apparently rescued kinsman. Would the pretender be revealed ?

“No need, my lord,” Erodir sought to reassure his new gentleman employer. As he had thus far looked with patience as this Hollin II. There was little of a physical resemblance between the young man they had recently recovered, and his late father, whose portraits still hung about the house. But there was something about the lost Lady Saeloth (what had ever happened to her ? None might never know) in his eyes, which stood as brown as hers had been. As brown as the eyes of the infant that some of the older staff here still remembered.

And none could deny the yearning which was evident in how this young lord had stared at his father’s portrait, during his early exploration in the dark hours. That was an element of truth which Arkadhur did not have to pretend. For he had met, and learned of the old Swan Knight’s kindness, his character, in the dungeons of Umbar. Hollin I had been as though a father to him in that place, against all of his better judgement to trust any male role model again. After he ended up there in the first place. But between the memory of Lord Hollin I and the real life absence of his real life mother ..(and what had ever happened to her ? None might ever know that either …) the Umbarian was forced to check himself at times, and remind himself that he was pretending. And not really a lost son of Gondor, come home after many years of hardship abroad. But if he could convince himself, then .. convincing Lord Helchedorn should prove an easy feat. Hopefully.


In some astoundingly timely manner, Erodir had readied his ‘doll’ and what had been recovered of young Hollin II found his ‘kinsman’ in the drawing room. In the hours that followed, all the talk he had expected, of reliving the torment he had suffered ..or fabricated in truth, although honestly a lot of the physical torment had been ‘authenticated’ by his cohorts, that this ruse be believable, and was entirely overlooked. In favour of discussing the assignment of Sindarin tutors and dancing instructors. It had been a rather halting admission for the two men to acknowledge that the Umbarian could scarcely read … but that was not counted as any sort of surprise, given the fate he was believed to have escaped.

The prospect of quite what he had undertaken was outlined in excruciating detail. His entire life would change because of this. Perhaps he would change in more manners than he ever expected.

---

”Lord Hollin Menilzir II” reuniting with Lady Ilisys Azrubel
at the Prince’s Summer Ball, at the Palace, in Dol Amroth
a year later (so .. still nearly 20 years-ish before the current day)

He did not see her again until near a whole twelve months had passed; the young woman who had sought to gift him comfort in those first harrowing moments after he was plucked out of the sea. A Swan Knight he had realised at the time. Her identity he had only discovered since then. And her face .. he had carried with him since the first time he ever had seen it. The truth of who she was .. complicated things immensely, of course. But he had come here with a role to play and nothing was allowed to stand in the way of that.

Until the Swan Knights entered the Prince’s grand summer ball, and he, now established for some time as the recovered Lord Hollin II .. was doing his utmost to forget he was any way removed from all the other nobles stood in the ballroom. He forgot everything when the dignified host of knights raised the tone of the evening. Several of the young nobles and gentlemen in attendance had of course, gone out of their way to secure a pretty consort to dance with and attempt their best efforts at small talk .. before the knights arrived. Because as soon as they had … arrived .. near every young noblewoman turned her head. Save for the one who entered amongst the knights, and found no young lord so willing to brave a dance with her. Far from dainty or delicate, she was poised like a lance rather than a flower. And she wore an air of confidence that no young maid had any right to assume in a room meant to admire her demurity. It was evident to all eyes that she would not submit nor waste her time. And as the two gentlemen she had before and only ever would consider enjoying a dance with were not currently available, she ignored the notion of engaging anybody else at hand. Until she saw him.


Later her mother would despair of Isys’s decision to embark in a conversation with a second son. Not even that but a despoiled-by-years-abroad second son, who had been forced to begin his ‘proper’ (or indeed really any) education some decades after he ought to have. Lord Hollin II held no likelihood of land to his name, for Lord Helchedorn had sons, and several. But he held the advantage of a prior acquaintance with the lady. And recognising him meant that this eve might feature some more fascinating entertainment than such events tended toward.

Out of all the brave and noble and more fitting lords and gentlemen in attendance, he alone approached the young Lady Azrubel, and begged the honour of a dance. Thankfully a year had made much difference in countless of the Umbarian’s skills. He could read and write, not with much elegance at all yet but enough that he wished he might have known how to before Keket had thrown contracts at him, back in Umbar. His Sindarin was never going to recover from the native tendency toward Adunaic, which indented the lilt of his accents against all his tutors efforts. Another lasting ‘scar’ of time ‘endured’ in Umbar, people sighed, and shook their heads. But the ability to dance, as capably as one might wish at so grand an event, that was one element of the Umbarian’s new learning, that he had never been more grateful for.


That eve they danced together only once, and that was in itself a daring choice which led the gossips to report such behaviour back to the Lady Eressild in due course. But for that night, neither Ilisys or Arkadhur imagined what it would all lead to, beyond an engaging amusement for the smallest portion of the ball. After all, he was no fitting consort to a noblewoman of her tier and it was so far removed from his missive that he ought never to have spent the time. Meanwhile her appeal had been ever so slightly marred by the decision to take up arms, so that it would take a formidable lord to deign to dance with her at all. At least in public. But as since neither of them were likely to find any other more fitting partners for the evening, and indeed did not, for the time they spent in each other's company at least there were smiles, and there was more speech between them than either one had anticipated. And though they both left the ball that night knowing their coming together ought never occur again, they both housed an undeniable acceptance, that it had. Against all odds.

But after each being informed (after) of the thin line they had walked, in even entertaining that one dance together in a public setting, the two would not speak again for another five years. Even if this was a night that neither could forget, however much they later might wish to.

[Ercassie]

@Rillewen

The false ’Lord Hollin Menilzir II’ at an ostentatious party, in Dol Amroth.
In the very unwelcome company of the equally false ’Lord Amardir Ansellidus’
Not long before the War of the Ring, Late TA. (In response to THIS POST )

Arkadhur did not waste his time by correcting the Gondorian’s erred grasp of his ‘name’ here. Ademar’s mistake was either a deliberate slight, or yet another indication of how little attention the young fool paid to detail. And yet this … (THIS ????) was his apparent replacement .. ? The all but identical alias combined with the utter disregard and hasty delivery of that same alias .. it was an outright insult. The Gondorian was doing everything that Arkadhur had done, twenty years earlier, and he was doing it without any of the same patience or discretion.

The Umbarian seethed beyond all notice as the Gondorian turncoat waltzed off to showcase his new trophy wife .. (because of course his replacement had already secured a Gondorian wife). Was he outraged by Ademar, or jealous ? Mostly he was determined that the other should not succeed where he had apparently failed. Yet .. here Ademar was .. within reach and still .. apparently unstoppable, if the Umbarian did not wish to be uncovered as well. Arkadhur surprised himself by feeling almost as though he were truly one of the ‘countrymen’ who was now going to be bamboozled by the upstart’s reckless greed and arrogance. He had never been a traitor himself. Not to his own people. And this was a war. He was lying only to his nation’s enemies. Umbar was his home. Even if .. thanks to a few less wise decisions of his own, he might never be safe enough to return there now.


There was certainly nothing that he could do about the rude pup’s antics. Not this night at least. But he’d remember the other man’s ‘name’, alright. He knew enough of the other man’s names now to present a threat to him. Unfortunately Ademar knew a few too many of the Umbarian’s as well. Damn him. And damn Abrazi and Isys for turning up .. NOW .. of all times ! There was no way whatsoever he could resolve things with them, not here, not now. Not with .. eyes and ears about them. The smartest thing he could do right now was to leave, with as little notice as could be managed. On the other hand, a glance to find the astronomer recalled that he still had the Estennin matter to manage first. Another reason not to fall under the scrutiny of the Swan Knights. Not here. Not now. But could he really leave a room where they and that despicable Ademar were all in attendance ? No. Mining, he rifled through what the Gondorian had revealed of his assets. He had stakes in mining. Might be worth some looking into .. Who knew what such a man might stow away in secret in the deep places of his possession ? Maybe something worth discovering. Maybe some source of blackmail ..

But since Lord Estennin was busy about his appointed/blackmailed task for the evening, Arkadhur was soon directed instead toward a convenient dance partner. Through whom he could manage his (latest) plot. There were far too many plots, like spinning plates, that he was having to keep from all crashing down at his feet. But all in one room, at the same time ? It was exactly the sort of situation he fed on. As the unfortunate young lady who had accepted his dance offer stammered her way through small talk, brown eyes were upon the many players spread across the dance floor. And how best he might manage to survive this evening.


It had been much easier when his objective had been single minded. When he had only cared to carry out Keket’s wants. His own wants … that was where everything had gone wrong.

---

@lantaelen @Rillewen

Lady Ilisys Azrubêl, at the same ostentatious party, in Dol Amroth
with Lord Abrazimir Dimaethor, and the young Lords Aearonor and Anurion Taurhebor
Not long before the War of the Ring, late TA. (In response to Rill’s post and also Lantaelen’s post )

“That will do, sir,” Ilisys accepted gently, turning her chin although she wore a smile which clearly approved of young Anurion’s efforts, even if her verbal response had been calmly measured. She had put the young lord on the spot, and yet he had not faltered. She respected that. And when she extended her hand, it found his already offered. Educated too, clearly. Given the pending betrothal, Abrazimir and Aearonor ought be permitted the time to get to feel one another out, for Azraindil’s benefit. And she did not entertain the merest thought that she might subtly discern aught of the Taurhebor clan, through this surprising proximity to their youngest .. and thus perhaps most honest .. member. Not the merest thought. She knew a lady’s expectations within such a meeting, even though her dance partner’s age was a little south of the typical. At least nobody could accuse either of them of entertaining any expectations from the recreation. A rare treat then.


“Careful, or I may hold you to such a promise,” she told Abrazi, disregarding any need for ‘sir’ toward him. And her grey eyes laughed amiably though it would be uncouth for a lady to have laughed outright. But it was a promise indeed, returned to the young Dimaethor. He and Warder had ever been her champions of the dancefloor at social occasions, and certainly he stood the less provocative of those where gossips were concerned. There were as brothers to her, both and each. Indeed there were very few others she had or wished to ever dance with. Her partners she had ever deemed ought to be of a quality, rather than quantity. Which had worked out fairly well, for most of those who dared never even to harbour thoughts to ask her .. were those she was glad she would not have to offend with a refusal to oblige them.


“You afford yourself well, sir,” Isys required little time to observe that Anurion knew what he was doing, about the dancefloor. Clearly he was nervous, but he was of an age still that these gatherings must be fairly a new experience for him. It had been a good long while for her to be about such recreation to be fair, and she had only recently removed the mourning blacks to return to more fetching apparel. To make clear that she was of a mind again to be so engaged, in frivolous things. The last year … had been a year. And then some.

“Although I imagine that you did not come here for the dancing,” she ventured a guess without rightly posing it as a question. There was ease enough about the converse, for the lady had fallen unto one of the less demanding patterns of dance. It was both more decent, given the age difference, and also less demanding perhaps for her partner’s limited experience. Of course, many of the ‘dances’ which were popular in the capital were slow paced; designed so that the couple could converse with ease. For many, those most with mind toward courtship, a dance was the only chance they might have to speak with one another privately. Even for so short a time, without a chaperone. And Isys had other reasons entirely why she did not wish to be overheard. Less so for the sake of her latest remark, but more so in case the youth might answer equally as honestly.

[Pele Alarion]

@Lantaelen , @Arnyn

Captain Pele Alarion
joining Lieutenant Arnyn Dealedwen and Lord Abrazimir Dimaethor
January - Estate of House Dimaethor, Lond Col

"I hope you did not have to wait long," Pele replied to Arnyn, though she had calculated the distance walked and time spent as best as her skills allowed, aiming to get back without undue delay. "The sleep was so-so but it was because of my own thoughts and not any lack in your hospitality, Abrazimir."

"The conversation might take a while and the subject is very sensitive as you can see," she spoke in favour of a more secluded location, her eyes meeting Arnyn's in attempt to communicate quiet reassurance. "If anyone overheard this, it might cause undue rumours and panic among people, and that would only make things worse, though I'm sure I don't have to tell you that."

"But it should be said that the said Umbarian might prove an invaluable asset in making sure our mission is a success; however, it is very difficult to prove her good will beyond any doubt, so the risks are extremely high as well," she gave Abrazimir some more general information to see whether he would find it fit to relocate them before discussing further details.

[Lantaelen]

@Arnyn @Pele Alarion

Lord Abrazimir Dimaethor
Mid-January, Estate of House Dimaethor, Lond Côl
Early in the Fourth Age

I would prefer it if we could speak elsewhere? Arnyn suggested, with Pele emphasizing it’s sensitivity. To the point of panic amongst the people. ”Oh no. We can’t be having that.” Abrazimir jested a little drily and shrugged. He gestured for the Lieutenant and the Captain to follow, leading them up the pier a little bit to where some structures sat on the shoreline. Mostly sheds and warehouses, containing a multitude of supplies and equipment for the Dimaethor collection of vessels.

Abrazimir opened the door to the nearest one, seeing it was empty and vacant within. Just a central, dusty table with cabinets and racks lining the walls. Good enough? The wooden walkways were creaky, so if someone was approaching, they’d hear them. And the gaps between the paneling of the shed were occasionally a bit wide or gaping, so if anyone was pressed to the building, their shadow would impede the light and give them away. Enough defenses to allow a vigilante mind some privacy. He walked in to the far side and turned to face the other two, bright sunlight coming in through the doorway. Arnyn looked deep in thought, Pele patient and observant.

So, what did they have to share? A possible informant within the ranks of their enemy? An Umbarin, a woman judging by the pronoun Pele had used, in Minas Tirith, who claimed they wished to hamper the efforts of their own city and offered aide in bringing about it’s downfall. Abrazimir…was skeptical, almost scoffing. He couldn’t believe any Umbarin would be so sincere in such efforts.

He picked up the conversation where the two had left it, mentioning this individual in question. ”And you laughed this person out of the White City right? Into a dungeon. Right?” Abrazimir queried back, his skepticism evident in his dry, unbelieving tone. He looked over at Pele, herself having been a captive in that miserable city, like him. How could they trust the word of any Umbarin, being so dedicated to the arts of cruelty and mischief? And loyal vassals of the Dark Lord.

[Lantaelen]

@Rillewen

Lady Azraindil Dimaethor
Túrion Dornea, Edhellon River, Dor-en-Ernil
Late April, Fourth Age

Birds pecking at him? When was that?

Azraindil looked at Linny with a measure of surprise at first, then soothed into a soft smile. Linny had been very young that time. It seemed such a lifetime ago, instead of the decade or so it really was. A lot could happen in that time. The first betrothal, the loss, the second promise of betrothal, the War, the evacuation, the return, the jousts and parties and dawning of a New Age and all. The Return of the King. It seemed such a small thing, two children playing at fantasy and make believes, defending innocent clams against the excesses of evil and cruel seagulls. ”Oh, it was a long time ago…” Azraindil just explained, looking at the portraits but not really…seeing. She was far off in her mind.

And she only returned to the present when Linny was midway into the presentation of the other paintings. It was a shame the two brothers didn’t get to do much climbing, with assent or approval. They seemed so good at it. This one, I remember. But I was pretty young then. I painted that because I didn’t want to forget what he looked like. I was afraid that.. the memories of him would start to fade away. That realization struck Azraindil pretty hard too. She could vividly remember Aearonor’s voice but his face? She had been so shy and awkward then, always looking away, or eyes downcast and demure. Seeing his face now, accurately represented, it made her wonder what sort of man he could have become, if he had only been better graced by the Valar, or something.

So much loss in the world. Aearonor, her mother, it panged her heart severely for a moment. It made swallowing difficult and the tendons in her neck could be seen struggling for a moment as she willed this emotion down. Her heart beat hard in her chest. She cried many a night in the days after, but felt that severity had passed her by. Not so, it seemed. But for now, she would be brave. Controlled. Her hands stroked Mitten’s fur, finding solace in the gesture, the cat clearly enjoying the attentions.

And when Linny readily agreed to painting them, Azraindil managed to stay composed and smiled broadly. ”You are the professional.” She praised her friend. ”We can…put a big mirror up and sit together and you can paint the reflection, no? You can paint yourself painting!” She suggested, like it was a grand ole idea or something.

Linny’s parents were preoccupied, her father abroad, her mother in her chambers. Lady Talven understood quite well the girls wanting to spend time together. It was natural. ”I think we’re quite superb at concealing our noisiness.” Azraindil managed to re-find her mischief a little, smiling with coy undertones to Linny. But upon hearing Linny’s mother would want some time with her, Azraindil let the conspiratorial grin drop and she nodded. ”I should…call in on her then. Before dinner. Say hello. Let her know I’m here and settled.” She also suggested to Linny. Azraindil would much prefer to meet Duvanieth on a one-on-one basis than together with Lord Torthon. No doubt Lady Talven would have plenty of questions and remarks on what happened last month…

A maid knocked and entered and Azraindil put on her responsible-Lady act. ”Thank you very much for the offerings, ma’am.” She spoke in fluent sindarin to the maid, knowing that good and gracious manners of a guest would carry through the household. And to Glirdis hopefully. See what a good example I am for young Lady Talven? They ate and drank, Azraindil much recovered after her voyage now, and feeling quite at home. They talked about the voyage, the intriguing sights and sounds and milestones along the way, and of future happenings and smalldoings. The world seemed to regain a little bit of colour after such idle and carefree talk, over sandwiches and hot drink in their stomachs.

But now Linny had something serious and solemn to show her. Azraindil nodded her consent to keeping quiet, following after her younger companion. They went down the hallway and into another room, not taking her very long to understand who’s room it was. A boy’s room. Unused for a long time judging by the dust, though kept like a testament frozen in time to the beloved individual it belonged to. The door was shut and Azraindil couldn’t help but feel like they stole into the vault of some dwarven lord of myth, or the treasury of some king. It was…exciting.

She didn’t say a word or make a sound, not to condone or express curiosity. She was committed now to the surprise. And it was quite a process to reveal it. ”My brother is the same way. It must be a soldier’s trait, the organization and minimalist style.” Azraindil had to agree about the orderliness of the room. Aearonor was organized. Moreso than Azraindil. Linny then crouched and drew out something heavy from under the bed, something like a painting’s back card or canvas or something. But there was no portrait or painting upon it.

Her mouth parted in intrigue and wonderment as she beheld the board.

Grey eyes flickered from end to end. Top to bottom, left to right, reading the notes, the little drawings, seeing the web of points and information that had been collected. And the questions and notes. Of…the nature of Aearonor’s passing. Or…murder. Linny explained it was her investigation so far. Azraindil had nothing to say so far, her lips shutting, her brow knitting, her eyes and mind focusing and absorbing everything written and depicted. Her heart began to pound again in her chest. Before they had been silly, or curious, or foolish. Now…now she understood…what sort of monster had they decided to contend with?

And Linny had been chancing it’s deadly lair all by herself for a long time? She looked at her friend then, seeing that Linny too had aged, far more than her present years, that she had truly been through much and more. Azraindil put her hand on Linny’s shoulder and drew her silently into a half-hug, an arm around her friend’s back.

”I will do anything you need of me.” Azraindil whispered at first. ”I…can’t believe how much you’ve done already. This is amazing. I…I just can’t comprehend it all at once.” There was so much data contained on the board. Each question needed a hour or a day just to ponder. The findings that Linny already made, how did they come to be? More questions, more riddles. ”The more we learn, the less we know.” Azraindil repeated an elvish proverb that suddenly came to mind. ”Tell me everything. From the beginning. For as long as we can before there’s threat of interruption of risk of discovery. I…” She trailed off, as her eyes settled on the deadly question right in the center of the list.

The possible monster at the heart of it all. The monster…

Who was to be her intended husband.

Her arm tightened around Linny's shoulders. For anchorage. For...protection. Azraindil couldn't deny that there was no small measure of fear welling up in her. Who were these men, that would do murder on a young man? How come nobody else seemed to see what Linny saw? "Who could have done this? Why?" She had to ask in the quietest of whispers, as if it might draw either one of those wicked men to their presence simply for asking.

[Rillewen]

@Ercassie and @Lantaelen

The false "Lord Amardir Ansellidus", with Lady Alyssa 'Ansellidus'
An ostentatious party, in Dol Amroth
Sometime before the War of the Ring, TA

Alyssa's gaze had sort of glazed over as she stood off to the side of the party. It didn't feel much like a party to her. She wished she could leave. Everyone around her seemed to be smiling and having a good time, while she just felt completely empty and broken.

After scrutinizing each of the people present, she felt her heart sink a little. She didn't see anyone she knew really well. She longed to see someone that was close to her family. Her valar-father, for instance. She wouldn't even have to tell him anything that she couldn't speak about. If he just saw her here today, he would start looking into things, right? But he wasn't here. She supposed that wasn't surprising, since this wasn't any sort of important event. And it would be silly for him to come all the way from Minas Tirith just for this.

Taking a long blink, she drew in a slow breath and tried to not look completely miserable as she searched for someone else that might be able to help her. She wasn't supposed to talk to anyone about any of this, but she couldn't help worrying about her father. Maybe, if she could just find where he was being kept...

Her gaze landed upon the Dimaethor family. She blinked again, recalling that her grandfather had been close friends with Lord Dimaethor. She remembered hearing that her grandfather had tried to set up a betrothal between his son and Lord Dimaethor's oldest daughter. Alyssa wondered if Lord Dimaethor held a grudge against her father for choosing Amelina instead. The thought of her mother brought fresh tears welling in her eyes but she blinked them away. Perhaps she ought to go and greet the Dimaethors.

Alyssa managed about two steps in their direction, however, before Mar was back at her side. "Shall we dance, my dear?" He asked with a smile, having concluded his 'business' here.

She stopped and turned to him. A part of her marveled that he could be so cheerful and talk about dancing, after the things he had done. But then, she also realized, he had no conscience. So why should it bother him that he had murdered members of her family? She forced a tiny smile onto her face and nodded, knowing she couldn't really say no. She let out a silent sigh as she resigned to the fact that she would not be able to speak to the Dimaethors after all, as it seemed she would have to spend the rest of the evening dancing with him.

---

Anurion Taurhebor
Dancing with Isys Azrubel

He couldn't believe it. She had actually accepted! For the next few moments, Anurion had to remind himself to take a breath. Then to let it back out, and take another. Meanwhile, he was fortunately able to manage to make his feet and arms do what they were supposed to do when leading a lady in a dance. Dance lessons was one of his least favorite subjects, but he had been forced to endure them for a few years now, so he did know how to go about it, at least.

It was several moments later before he realized that he probably should try to say something, or she might think he was a mute all of the sudden. About that time, her own words arrived. A compliment! That brought a smile to his face. "Thank you, my lady," He responded politely, clearly pleased by the compliment. Then, he remembered, "And so do you, my lady." Had he said 'my lady' too many times just then? He worried maybe he had. But the concern passed just as quickly as it had come into his head, for now she was speaking again.

Was she asking him? Or was that just a rhetirical thing..? No, he decided that seemed like a 'question' that wasn't a question. "Well, no," He admitted a little reluctantly. "I didn't really want to come at all." He lowered his voice as he made that confession, but he was glad that they were far enough from his parents that he could make that confession. "But it didn't turn out to be as bad as I thought it would be," He hastened to add. "Are you enjoying it?" He wondered. Somehow it hadn't ever occurred to him that the formidable lady knight who had defeated so many on the sands, might also enjoy dressing up in nice dresses and dancing with men.

"Will you be entering the next joust?" He couldn't help but ask, having missed seeing her in them, the last year. "I think you're one of the best jousters I've ever seen, you know," He ventured to add, although his face may have gone a little pink as he heard himself speaking. Maybe he shouldn't have blurted that out, he thought, once it was too late.

Aearonor Taurhebor
Talking with Abrazimir
In answer to this post

Honestly, although his little brother was not only meeting, but now dancing with his 'hero', Aearonor felt like he must be the more nervous of the two brothers. His future wife was around here somewhere, and he was going to be expected to dance with her, he assumed. And while he liked Abrazimir well enough, the guy was a bit imposing, nonetheless.

Though, he began to relax slightly after he commented so casually about Anurion. Aearon allowed the slight grin he had held back, earlier. "I do not think he has yet encountered anything in the world of which he is afraid." Aearon rolled his eyes slightly and smiled. "He very much wanted to meet Lady Azrubel," He explained, smiling at his brother's enthusiasm.

"My family is well," He answered, glancing around as Abrazimir spoke of his parents speaking with the Azrubels. "Yes, I believe my parents are talking with them, also." He mentioned. And then came the inevitable mention of his sister. Azraindil. Aearon nodded. "I will find her soon, and ask her for a dance." He promised. It was expected, he knew. But what he was not expecting was an inquiry specifically about his mother. And in elvish. Aearon gave the knight a questioning glance at that. "Mother doing is quite well, although perhaps slightly stressed. Things tend to be very busy this time of year." He explained. "It's good for her to have a chance to relax and enjoy herself this evening."

[Arnyn]

@Lantaelen @Pele Alarion

Lieutenant Arnyn Dealedwen
with Lord Abrazimir Dimaethor and Captain Pele Alarion
January - Estate of House Dimaethor, Lond Côl

The shift in locale would have to do, Arnyn reckoned. At least they were not visible to prying eyes, now, and she imagined the knight to be experienced enough not to raise his voice too high... even if he were so inclined...

For neither his expression nor his words seemed to promise any kind of positive reaction. Not that Arnyn was expecting - or even hoping for - such a thing.

Even though Abrazimir's gaze was focused on Pele, the Captain maintained her silence for now. And since Arnyn felt that she was mostly to blame for the chosen route with said Umbarian, and thus deserved most if not all of the ire that was likely to be extracted from the Belfalasian before them, it was the Lieutenant who spoke first.

"No," she said calmly. "She was interviewed - humanely." Though Tercen might disagree, in part, with that. "She has not revealed any loyalty to the powers that be, in Umbar," the Lieutenant put forth. "To the contrary, she has offered information to us about our enemies. The information that could be verified, proved true. There is much we have no way of verifying, of course. Including, as of yet, most of her claims that she has helped Gondorians taken as slaves to return to our shores. There is... one story of her help to one of ours, that has already proven true." It was Arnyn's turn to glance at Pele, then. "And there is another story which will prove true or false by the time we return from this training exercise to Minas Tirith."

[Pele Alarion]

@Arnyn , @Lantaelen

Captain Pele Alarion
with Lieutenant Arnyn Dealedwen and Lord Abrazimir Dimaethor
January - Estate of House Dimaethor, Lond Col

As they relocated and Abrazimir resumed the conversation, Pele could see that he all but scoffed at the possibility of having someone from Umbar willingly come to their aid. She could not really blame him for that since she would have the same reaction if not for the circumstance that she was alive and standing here...

"It is surely not a common characteristic for anyone out of Umbar," she then spoke after Arnyn. "But she did indeed provide a lot of detailed plans which need to be verified. If all of those prove to be true, it would be unlooked for assistance, and we would not have to stumble about that city blindly when we get there. And yes..."

Her voice dropped to an even quieter tone: "It was definitely her who set me free from Haarith's clutches. Maybe her motives were not completely pure, but she could have easily used me for distraction without giving a care if dogs ate me as soon as she set me free. But she gave me some food and water, and directions for a more successful escape, willingly and without knowing who I was. For all she knew, I was just another slave."

Pele's shoulders rose in a light shrug. "I might be biased, there is that. But it gives me a reason to test her truthfulness instead of writing her off immediately as an enemy," she sighed. "Though I am keenly aware that the risk is extremely high. But yes, as Lieutenant said, the verification of the other rescue story is in the works."

[Rillewen]

@Lantaelen

Dulinneth Talven
Túrion Dornea, Edhellon River, Dor-en-Ernil
Late April, Fourth Age

She glanced over her shoulder and watched her friend's reaction when she pulled out the board. After laying it carefully on the neatly-made, yet dust-covered bed, Linn stepped back to let Gaer study it. All else had faded into the background; their previous lighthearted talk about paintings and visiting and brothers keeping their rooms neat, and other such things.

While Gaer examined the board, Linn kept quiet for a moment before speaking again. "I've been investigating this for a while now," She explained softly. "Ever since I found this," She pulled the leather tube out, and offered that to Gaer for examination.

As her friend drew her into a hug, Linn smiled sadly and wrapped her arms around her. "Thanks, Gaer." She whispered back. "I've been trying to find some more answers, but it's hard, because no one will tell me things. And of course, I can't just come right out and ask other things, you know?" She sighed and looked down with a little frown. "He kept a journal, Gaer." She hesitated. "Aearon did. See," She took the page and handed that to Gaer, to let her read it. "He wrote this on the day he died," She whispered. "I still don't know what really happened, but I've managed to piece some things together. Just... not enough." She bit her lip and looked at her board, trying to think how to explain what she had learned so far.

"As well as I can figure it, something happened to Anurion.. he was hurt, or something, I think. And Solchion, our healer, had to keep him overnight and everything." She frowned. "Aearon was really mad about it, and he was going to confront him, but he died before he could." She drew a breath. "I'd like to get into Solchion's office, to get a look at his patient records. But I never can manage it, because every time I go in there, he's always lurking around, and I can't get him to leave the files unattended for long enough to get a look at them." She sighed, then smiled hopefully at Gaer. "I was hoping, maybe while you're here, you could help me with that? Maybe... fake a headache or something that needs medical attention, so you could draw him away from his office or something, long enough for me to look at them." She explained.

"I don't mean today or anything, that'd be too suspicious I think. But maybe in a day or two? In the meanwhile..." She hesitated. "It's too late to do much today, but what do you think about going riding with me, tomorrow?" She asked. "I'd like to show you something here." She pointed to the drawings she'd done of the bridge and its debris. "I've done a lot of investigating about this bridge," Linn mentioned thoughtfully. "Maybe you can give a second opinion to what I've been thinking."

[Lantaelen]

@Rillewen

Abrazimir Dimaethor, Swan Knight of Dol Amroth
An ostentatious party, prior to the War of the Ring, TA

Nothing in the world to be afraid of then, huh? What an inconspicuous innocence to have. Abrazimir chuckled sympathetically, shaking his head a little. ”I remember when I was like that. Then I had to face a terrible warrior in the jousts who clobbered that silliness right out of me. Ironically enough, your brother is dancing with that very same warrior he regards so highly.” Abrazimir smiled broadly. ”She’s going easy on him though. We can hope.” He watched the pair dance for a moment, but turned his attentions back to Aearonor as they talked about his family.

He hadn’t seen them since they visited for the betrothal talks a few years back. He nodded attentively and made the appropriate sounds of acknowledgement as Aearonor told him about his family’s well-being, his duty to dance with Azraindil, and his mother’s health. ”It’s going to get very busy for a lot of us in these coming days, I reckon.” He said quietly, with no small amount of foreboding. Not days, but years, with the great conflict with the East looming up over the distant horizon. All the more reason to appreciate and relish times like this. Who knows when the next banquet and celebrations might be.

”You ought to try and enjoy some of it yourself. Don’t waste it talking to a worrier like me though.” He laughed again lightly. ”You nervous though? To dance with Azraindil?” He asked his future brother-in-law. Fighting the evils of the East seemed simpler than navigating the moods and temperament of young women. At least one knew where they stood with an orc. Hopefully at the opposite end of a pointy object. But with a girl? You couldn’t do that to them. One had to use their heart and mind, hopefully in cohesive alignment, and pass through so many hurdles. Maybe Anurion’s innocence to ask a formidable lady-knight to dance was the right direction. Just…be brave. With maybe a little sprinkle of ignorance. Ignorance was bliss, as they say.

Abrazimir looked across the hall and unfortunately had to deliver some bad news. ”They’re here.” He pointed out softly in the elven tongue.

---

Azraindil Dimaethor, Lady of House Dimaethor
An ostentatious party, prior to the War of the Ring, TA

She wore a beautiful gown of blue and silver, with small amber ear rings, and her long hair done up in a crown braid. Very regal, with a swanlike neck and puffy sleeves and a shawl around her shoulders. She felt cold nonetheless. She stepped in with her mother, Lady Orelnith Dimaethor and her sister, Lady Zorzimril Dimaethor, to the great hall. The colours, the sounds, the sights, it was overwhelming, and she pursed her lips and tried to do as little talking as possible as her mother and sister did most of the greetings as they passed through the front.

But such protection would not last. Orelnith broke off to join Adar, leaving Azraindil with her sister, who was much more confident and outgoing, able to spark up conversations with all manner of folk, new and strange, old and friendly, fluently switching between Westron and Sindarin with ease. Azraindil hoped she might be a wallflower, to observe the whole party. It really was nice but she needed a transitionary warm up period. It’s how banquets have been going for her so far. At first, she’ll be shy and aloof. Then by the middle…she’d be deep in it, finding friends, enjoying the food and drink, maybe even a dance if she was lucky.

She had been told to look out for…him. She would be expected to spend time with Aearonor Taurhebor, her future intended. Like all the folk of Dol Amroth see them in their glory and honour! Even though they seemed to have gotten on well during their first meeting, that had been years ago, with no letters exchanged, or word sent back and forth. It felt like they were back at square one. And she didn’t know what to think or act. Even if they had been on constant, good terms all this while, it still felt so imposing and intimidating. A betrothed? A…husband to be? What did it all even mean?

Zorzimril told her to relax though. He was supposed to come find her. Until then, she could slowly work her confidence up enough to adjust and enjoy the surroundings.

[Lantaelen]

@Arnyn @Pele Alarion

Lord Abrazimir Dimaethor
Mid-January, Estate of House Dimaethor, Lond Côl
Early in the Fourth Age

And you laughed this person out of the White City right? Into a dungeon…

Right?

And his astonishment could only grow when no such affirmation was forthcoming. In fact they seemed to have welcomed this Umbarin. No interrogation – an interview! What, with cakes and wine? After this Umbarin’s kind tried to sack and loot their way up the Anduin to join their evil compatriots in destroying Gondor? She was allowed to walk in and just…lie? Blatantly lie? Abrazimir felt he was losing his Valar-damned mind hearing all of this. Apparently this Umbarin woman had helped Pele escape from Umbar all those years ago, something Abrazimir and others had set out to do once.

Abrazimir looked from Arnyn to Pele and back again with complete disbelief. ”I cannot believe my ears. You are…serious, about this all.” He said at first, aghast, half whispered. ”An Umbarin told you this. Okay sure, maybe she did rescue you, Captain. But that was years ago. A long time ago. How do we know…the authorities didn’t catch on to her, and identified her, and now compel her to entrap us in order to redeem herself? The information she might have given could be a trap, to pinch off the head of our liberation efforts. I don’t believe it.” Abrazimir said, shaking his head, starting to pace on his side of the shed.

”And you…are…serious.” He scoffed again. He paused, a fresh wave of realization hitting him…and he turned back towards Arnyn. ”And she gave you information about Umbar’s defenses. …why? Does she know about our intentions, our impending attack? You didn’t tell her, right? You. Didn’t. Tell. Her. Right?” Abrazimir emphasized the concern as he stepped towards Arnyn a moment, but paused, and gave a nervous smile. ”Well, it shouldn’t matter, because she’s in a dungeon in the City right? Or held under guard?”

Because if any of her kind found out this Umbarin was talking to them, they would no doubt take measures to control, or worse, silence her. But not before using their tremendous arts of interrogation to extract every bit of information from her. Which was never prettily done. They could be walking into a trap. Again. Not again. Abrazimir couldn’t. Again. He’d lost a ship before. He lost mariners and good men before. Sawn in half. Sacrificed. Himself almost for the Temple. There could be no mistake this time. No room for error.

And they might have told an Umbar about it all. But fortunately, they still had the Umbarin…right? Because otherwise…

He was already fuming, shoulders heaving, rising and falling, with growing anxiety and frustration at this reveal.

[Lantaelen]

@Rillewen

Lady Azraindil Dimaethor
Túrion Dornea, Edhellon River, Dor-en-Ernil
Late April, Fourth Age

It was only after the brief hug of support and solidarity that Azraindil examined the proffered tube. It was the sort of carrier vessel that messengers and riders would bear, to keep safe rolled up parchment or letters or other dispatches when on the road, through all manner of unhappy weather or conditions. She didn’t open it, though Linny soon explained it’s contents as being Aearonor’s journal. His last journal. A page was handed to her and she took it was a measure of solemnity and fright. The last words of a brave young man about to die. Her heart panged terribly as she swept her eyes over the words. There was much to read, which she couldn’t do all at once, but she caught the gist of some paragraphs.

Most notably, Aearonor’s trepidations that Toggornir…almost got Anurion killed. Accidentally or perhaps…not.

Azraindil could recall a conversation her sister and brother had, not long after the Taurhebor-Talven family had visited the Dimaethors to discuss the betrothal. Toggonir and Anurion had been at each other’s throats the whole day, Abrazimir was telling Zorzimril. To the point of very cruel sabotaging and attempts to humiliate the other. Azraindil couldn’t read it all, not with attentions split between the board and Linny. It would require a careful study later on.

Linny was telling her about Solchion and Anurion’s injury, that there might be more proofs in the healer’s records. And she hoped that Azraindil might help her with that, faking a headache or something. She…did not even hesitate to pledge her assistance. ”Whatever you need, I’ll do.” She declared, though Linny said it was not necessary today or anything. Later on. Azraindil was here for a week so partway through, maybe with some elements of homesickness and the different mode of living, something could be arranged.

”I’d love to go riding tomorrow. Maybe we can do that every day I’m here.” Azraindil mused, maybe as a way to just get away from the presence of Lord Talven and…the other one, for a time. And surely, as this was Linny’s home and land, they wouldn’t require a chaperone to explore the fiefdom. Azraindil was certainly old enough to be trusted now. She could portray the airs of a proper young Lady. When did pretend start bleeding into reality though?

She sat back down on the bed, still holding the pages of the journal. It shamed her to think she had almost forgotten about Aearonor these past few years, with all that had been going on, the War and evacuation and seeming end of the whole world. And her mother’s passing. Reading his last words was invocative. ”I’d…I’d like to read this in full. Maybe I can borrow it overnight, read it in my cabin? I think we’ve been too quiet and stealthy here, they might start to wonder about us. We’re usually loud.” She jested with a sad, small smile. They would have to continue this later. There were so many leads to chase down and streams of information to explore. And Aearonor’s words, glimpsed briefly, suggested very malicious forces at work right under this very roof. And Azraindil was betrothed to one. A possible murderer.

And poor Anurion. Or…his other name. Which she feared to say in this place after what she glimpsed in the pages. If he was hounded too. ”I have letters to show you, too. In my trunk. You think your parents would let you sleep over in my cabin tonight? We can talk more freely by candle light. With all the privacy we need.” She rolled up the papers gently to fit back in the tube, which along with the board, could be returned to it’s hiding place. But not for the last time during the next few days.

Azraindil rubbed under both her eyes, as if a great exhaustion had settled there. She was indeed somewhat overwhelmed by the sheer amount of information that was dumped on her. Her blood was pumping like she had run a mile or three while pursued by wild animals. But she inhaled, and breathed, and with years of practiced, adorned a look of Ladylike serenity in her expression. Out of the frying pan… ”Shall we go meet your mother now?” Azraindil suggested, knowing that was another emotional tribulation that would batter and thrash her mental state even more, to commiserate over the passing of her mother.

And that wasn’t even going to be the end of today’s whirlwind, when she would eventually have to smile and bow and be courteous with her wicked betrothed.

[Pele Alarion]

@Arnyn , @Lantaelen

Captain Pele Alarion
with Lieutenant Arnyn Dealedwen and Lord Abrazimir Dimaethor
January - Estate of House Dimaethor, Lond Col

"It might have been years for me; but we are checking on whether it is true that she has returned captives recently," Pele said, observing Abrazimir's dismay at the fact that they had not dealt harshly with the Umbarian who had almost willingly come into their hands. "If it proves true that the detailed plans she provided of Umbar's locations are accurate, it would give us an edge. However, there is no full certainty. Yet. I doubt the lords of Umbar would willingly give away such plans, though. Even if it was just a cover up, a lure."

She took a deep breath and then exhaled slowly before continuing, as she stood, hands clasped behind her back. "While she was not locked up, she was closely watched to ensure she would do no harm. Restrictions applied," she explained, "She does not know about the mission, though she might suspect that we are planning something. Nor will she be given any information."

Pele shifted somewhat uneasily well aware of the immense risks the whole matter involved and also how difficult it was to explain it without it sounding like a completely mad decision. "This is not a whim, nor a decision taken carelessly," she emphasised, giving Arnyn a raised-eyebrow look knowing that her friend will want to dive straight in. "All pros and cons have been considered as much as possible. Several times. And we've run it by the King just to make sure. It does not take away the huge risk factor though."

[Arnyn]

@Lantaelen @Pele Alarion

Lieutenant Arnyn Dealedwen
with Lord Abrazimir Dimaethor and Captain Pele Alarion
January - Estate of House Dimaethor, Lond Côl

Abrazimir’s expression fell like a shutter slamming down. One moment politely attentive. The next, a flash of disbelief claimed his expression.

Arnyn did not blame him. If she had lived his life, had fought his battles, had lost the people in the way he had... Had experienced what he had... Well. She might have looked like that, too.

Pele noticed his reaction. Of course she did. It was plain enough, written all over his face. He soon voiced it aloud, as well. As he should, for this cooperation between them all to work.

And then Abrazimir turned to Arnyn, asking her to what extent the Umbarian knew... well, anything. It was a good question, a necessary one, and one Arnyn would have definitely asked herself if the roles had been reversed. The step toward her made Arnyn's shoulders tense, because it felt as if that small step were an announcement. That they had reached the point in the conversation where it would escalate in a way none of them really wanted.

Indeed, his nervous smile and his next questions, turned her as still as a statue in the face of Abrazimir Dimaethor's rising and falling shoulders. He was working himself up to a state of anger. Already. And he does not yet even know Ava has returned to Umbar.

And, just when Arnyn had finished bracing herself for the inevitable bout of emotion that would be hurled her way, just as Arnyn was to start answering the questions directed at her, Pele began. The Captain spoke calmly, her tone and words sanded smooth.

“...we are checking on whether it is true that she has returned captives recently,” she said. “If the detailed plans she provided of Umbar’s locations are accurate, it would give us an edge…”

Arnyn clasped her hands behind her back to keep them from fidgeting. She kept her expression neutral. Not because she had anything to hide, but because Pele was still speaking, and interrupting your captain mid-explanation was hardly a good idea.

But as the explanation unfolded, Arnyn felt the first flicker of protest in the pit of her stomach. Pele was telling truths... Just… she was omitting so much, or intentionally being so vague, that...

“...while she was not locked up, she was closely watched…”

Arnyn’s teeth pressed together in silence. Pele’s voice stayed steady as she continued.

“Restrictions applied."

Arnyn's stomach plunged, but the Lieutenant forced herself to keep breathing. What she felt was not irritation at Pele, but at the situation. At the necessity of this dance. Pele's eyebrow flicked toward her, almost imperceptibly. A warning. Almost as if her captain and friend was telling her she knew what Arnyn was thinking. As if Pele was telling not to pounce on the truth like a hawk on a hare.

Arnyn blinked. Pele... Pele was protecting her.
Even though Pele had agreed to what should be done with Ava eventually, even if the Captain and Lieutenant had decided the road ahead together starting December 30th... It was undeniable that Arnyn had met Ava on the eve of the 26th. And everything that had happened, and had not happened, between those two dates, had been solely on Arnyn.

Guilt and unease twirled around inside of her. Arnyn felt oddly touched that Pele felt the need to shield her from blame in this way. Her captain and friend was covering for her, by omission. Making it sound like Ava was closely watched and managed the whole time they knew about her presence. The whole time I knew.

And Arnyn was not angry with Pele for this. How could she be, when Pele was telling her she valued their personal relationship so much, by doing this for her? Only... only Arnyn did not want to be cushioned like this. Arnyn didn't want Pele to have to clean up the mess she'd made. She did not want Pele to even risk a sliver of her integrity, for her sake.

But more likely than not, there was much more to this than merely the close friendship and trust between the two Ranger officers. Maybe Pele was playing a political game here. Maybe Pele was playing at strategy. Choosing her words carefully, not only to protect Arnyn's authority, but also to keep Abrazimir from losing trust. In order to protect the mission. And not to overwhelm the man. To keep the shared information shaped and controlled.

When Pele finished, the shack settled into a momentary, fragile quiet.

Arnyn stepped forward. “Captain,” she said quietly, “if I may?”

Pele gave a single, small nod. Permission granted. Or unleashed.

Arnyn turned to Abrazimir fully.

“If we are to pull off this mission together - the pirates, Umbar - we must cooperate with full trust. We must operate with full transparency.” Arnyn's eyes flicked to Pele's, spelling out her apology. Just in case her principles would strain, or possibly even ruin, the understanding between the two of them and the Swan Knight they were addressing. "Captain Alarion speaks the truth,” the Lieutenant said. “But she is also shielding me."

Arnyn's focus returned to Abrazimir, and she continued, steady and direct. “I was the first to learn of Ava's presence in Minas Tirith. And when I did, I did not restrain her. Nor did I have her watched. Not immediately.”

“Because,” Arnyn said, “she came to me for help. She said she was desperate. That she opposes the idea of slavery. That she wishes to end the power the Blood Priest holds over her people." Arnyn shook her head. "And while I was all too aware that every word crossing her lips could be a lie, I refused to lock her up or restrain her merely because she shares a nationality with people who have harmed our own. I still believe that a person deserves to be treated a certain way, deserves to be thought of as innocent... unless they prove otherwise."

"Instead, I chose to speak with her, extensively, to judge her words and body language for myself. Giving her no information from our side, only extracting it from hers. She told me things that corresponded with information I'd already gathered, so I could not find fault there. Nor did she contradict herself at any point, or behaved in a way that raised any alarm bells for me, personally. ”

She held his gaze. “I chose to let her keep her freedom, those first days. I allowed her to walk the streets, breathe clean air, and speak without a guard standing over her. And I most definitely did not put her in the dungeons." She frowned slightly, the look in her eyes showing her concern and hope that the man she was addressing would see her point, despite his personal experiences. That he would understand the principle of it, the sentiment, the moral reasoning. "For I believe... If Gondor punishes those who claim they wish to help us, we will make certain that no one ever wishes to help us again.”

Arnyn breathed in, deeply. “A few days later, however, a new concern arose. I brought her to the Captain, and while it was confirmed that she helped Pele escape, she was still watched from that point. To mitigate our risks if she were false, but also possibly to protect her from those who would mean harm to anyone seeking to topple the powers that be in Umbar, if she were true. And after an altercation with a northern ranger who had learned she was Umbarian, she was restricted. For everyone's safety. Which is also why two northern rangers are accompanying her return to Umbar.”

Her voice lowered, not softer but more grounded.

“I do not believe in offering trust blindly, Lord Abrazimir. But I do believe in offering it first. And it can be risky., perhaps foolish, in the eyes of those who have been burned by that approach, before.” She had no theatrics to offer. No oratory tricks. Just the truth. Her truth. “And even though I readily admit I would be more careful with a similar situation next time, for I should have been... I still believe in the basic principles behind the early calls I made.”

It would probably be best to emphasize one of the things Pele had said, at this point. "The woman has no tangible information on our plans. As the Captain said, all she has is her best guess and possible her own suspicions. We listened to all of her information, after all. But she would not be able to tell for certain whether we are only gathering information in case we might have need for it someday, or otherwise."

The Lieutenant's chin tilted minutely. She was ready to take the blame openly. Ready to stand by her moral argument, here. "Gondor cannot claim the ethical high ground, while violating the principles it expects others to follow. And I will never choose to punish cooperation."

[Rillewen]

@Lantaelen

Dulinneth Talven
Túrion Dornea, Edhellon River, Dor-en-Ernil
Late April, Fourth Age

She smiled to hear that Gaer would be happy to go riding. She'd like to show her the bridge, but of course, she also thought it would be nice to show her all around her favorite places. They could sneak the bridge in during one such tour. And of course, there were her secret pets that she could show her. She had to keep them hidden from Togg, so they would have to ride out a little far from the house to visit them.

As Gaer asked to read the rest of the journal, Linn sighed in disappointment. "That's all there is." She informed her sadly. "He only wrote that one page, separately, while he was traveling. I guess he planned to add it into his journal when he got home, but.." She trailed off with a shrug. He had never made it home. "You can hang onto the page, if you want to read it later, just.. don't let anything happen to it." She whispered. She didn't think she'd have to worry about that, of course. Gaer knew the value of that paper. It was the last thing Aearon had ever written. His last words, ever. But things could happen if one wasn't being extra careful. "I haven't been able to find the actual journal that he kept, though." She turned to the box on the dresser. "I think it might be in here," She explained in a whisper, carefully lifting the box from the dresser top, and offered it to Gaer. "But it's got a weird lock, and I can't figure out any way of opening it." She frowned. "It does look like about the right size to hold a book, see? But this seems to be a lock, I think? But.. I've never seen anything like that before."

The wooden box was covered with ornate carvings of leaves and a tree. In the center front, where the lid met with the bottom, there was a piece of metal instead of a keyhole, which was sort of sunk into a circular depression with a tiny image of a tree, with two axes crossed over it. "This symbol is part of the design of the Taurhebor's heraldry." She explained. "It's got to be custom-made to go on there, but I couldn’t find any way of opening it." She sighed and handed it over to let Gaer take a look. "It feels like it has a book inside, though, doesn't it?"

She was intrigued by her friend declaring that she had letters to show her. "Really?" She carefully stowed the board away, along with the tube. "Mother is probably still resting," She answered, slightly hesitant. She had not been feeling very well at all, when Linn left to go meet Gaer at the docks. She figured it might be a while before she was ready to receive a visitor. "We can go to your cabin now, if you'd like? I suppose it would be proper of me to see that you get settled in and all." She smiled. "Then you can show me those letters?" She whispered, moving for the door.

[Lantaelen]

@Arnyn @Pele Alarion

Lord Abrazimir Dimaethor
Mid-January, Estate of House Dimaethor, Lond Côl
Early in the Fourth Age

It was not sounding better. Why wasn’t it sounding better? Could he really come to expect that these…these Rangers, and land walkers, and city slickers, really know what it was like to be menaced, terrorized, and in constant malice with the folk of Umbar? Why was the Captain so…okay with this? Pele ought to know first hand, yet they were both talking to Abrazimir about precautions and contingencies. He didn’t trust the Umbarin at all. They lied. They cheated. They manipulated. They could easily have cooked up this farce to lure the Gondorians into a trap, to blunt their recent successes and establish parity again. Returned captives? More spies. More coerced agents to act on their behalf. It wasn’t an uncommon tactic employed by their ancient Enemy.

And…the King knew? And he agreed? Abrazimir’s madness was complete.

Yet before he could answer, Arnyn took up the torch for this insanity. Full trust. Full transparency. He scoffed. Where was his chance to interrogate and question this so-called ‘friendly’ agent? He was finding out…what, weeks, months into the operation? To now hear it was all jeopardized because this one Umbarin battered her eyelashes at them and acted nice? Abrazimir had been to Umbar twice. He lost men and ships already, seen friends extorted and threatened and more. This wasn’t a game to him, this was the safety and prosperity of his folk, who dwelt on the shores, the frontlines of this conflict with the Corsairs. And these land Rangers went and cut a deal with one?

He didn’t believe a word of this individual’s so-called goodness and progressivism. They disliked slavery? Probably because they weren’t making money out of it themselves. They wanted to end the power of the Blood Priesthood? Probably to wield the whips of influence and control themselves. They were content to not lock her up on doubt alone because they did not want to treat the Umbarins as a monolith, all given to evil, that was fine. But they needed to realize…the same courtesy wasn’t going to be extended to any Gondorian over there. The rules of engagement were fierce and cruel and while unfortunate, that was how it was. And they needed to act at the same level of decisive ruthlessness or they would be outdone every time for the simple reason of not being willing to go to the same severity of discipline as their foes.

Abrazimir stopped pacing at least, crossing his arms, looking on with a most critical expression. Brow furrowed, upper lip snarled in distaste and confusion, eyes squinting with doubt and accusation. This couldn’t be real. An Umbarin knew. They must have known. An agent like this doesn’t just drop out of the skies. What, did she come with a neat bow as well? This had to be a trap or a ploy. Something to blunt the Gondorian plans while they prepared a most nasty welcome. Abrazimir couldn’t go through a failed expedition to Umbar again. Simply not again. The loss of life was too catastrophic. The risk was too fatal. They should call of the entire thing.

For I believe… If Gondor punishes those who claim they wish to help us, we will make certain that no one ever wishes to help us again. ”No one was helping us before.” Abrazimir retorted sharply, a sentiment once shared by the old Steward. Many lands had been shielded by Gondorian blood for many centuries. And outside of Rohan, very few came to help. No, this was something they were always going to carry on their backs, alone, and stubbornly. He didn’t care about fair anymore. Their enemies didn’t fight fair. This was a war of annihilation.

Now…what was all this confession that seemed to prove his point. The agent was watched by her own people. She freely admitted that? It was all but guaranteed then that the Corsairs would know then. They had spies even in Minas Tirith. Even here, potentially. And moreover, the woman got into a fight with northern Rangers too? How is that not proof enough of her innate opposition to them? And now they were sending two of the northern Rangers to Umbar, as if that would help anything. They would stick out like sore thumbs and probably be captured or handed over right away. What would two Northerners know about this millennia long conflict, all the way on the other side of Middle-Earth? It was incredulous. Incredulous!

Abrazimir had to turn away from the women and face the wall behind him, fuming and heaving, hands on his hips as he crinkled his nose and shifted his jaw and darted his eyes about in madness at what he was hearing. Slowly, he turned back around, his expression calm, bewildered, his hands spreading in a…staggered shrug. He was truly speechless for a moment. He would not, could not, look them in the eyes.

”My people…have been at war with these Corsairs for a thousand years.” He said softly. ”We have been plagued, hunted, extorted, kidnapped, enslaved, killed, sacrificed, at their whims. And you’re telling me…that a number of individuals, far removed from this conflict, have made such sweeping decisions that will put me and my men and my lands at risk…without so much as a consultation or message?” His voice started to raise. ”Don’t you think it was prudent to at least include me in the decision making? I was in the City a few weeks ago. You make it sound like you had this woman in your custody for months!”

”And by the Valar, if it’s any less than that…” The notion that they made these decisions in such a short time frame would truly cause his lid to explode sky high. From the very depths of the sea to the outer celestial airs. And more. No way they could have made such a decision so whimsical and carelessly without much greater due thought. The King wouldn’t have allowed it. But the King…did.

”You speak of ethics, but it’s not your folk and your family and lands and kin that are going to get brutalized first in any retribution by the Corsairs if this all comes to light. Easy to risk others lives first, huh?” He scoffed, shaking his head. All those sailors lost, and good men sacrificed and…oh good Varda, poor Gaelanna made to suffer such indignities. How many other innocents might follow in her path?

He turned away again and slammed his head on the table, causing dust to fall from the rafters, as he paced around the opposite side again. ”You’re sending two…northern Rangers with her. What the devil is that going to accomplish? What would those two people know of our conflict and the nature of the foes? You’re giving up two people to be sawed in half and their blood painted on the walls of their Temple, I’ll tell ya.” Abrazimir shook his head. Mad, it’s all mad.

”You absolutely cannot let her leave until we’ve completed this operation. That is just common sense. For the sake of security and secrecy. She cannot return. And she cannot be seen to be living freely among us either, or their spies will know. How can you,” he stopped and pointed an accusatory finger right at Arnyn, ”not see the dangerous sensitivity of such a thing? As to send her back to her people knowing even anything about our forces and means?” He emphasised to her, slamming his fist down into the open palm of his other hand with each word.

He put his hands back on his hips and seemed to…deflate. A little. A lot. ”Does Isys at least know about this?” He asked quietly. Did she sign off on this? She lived in the City. She must have known. Someone ought to have spoken for Belfalas and Lond Côl and the rest of them. That seemed to be his biggest grievance. Him and his people didn’t have a voice in this decision.

[Lantaelen]

@Rillewen

Lady Azraindil Dimaethor
Túrion Dornea, Edhellon River, Dor-en-Ernil
Late April, Fourth Age

There was no full journal, just these pages. It made her heart sink, that this could be all there was left of the final weeks, days, hours, of Aearonor’s life. And it had to be such an unsavory and unhappy topic too. No hopes, no dreams, just fears and anxieties for the future, which seemed to have unfolded in the ways he feared most. And it was up to them, Dulinneth Talven and Azraindil Dimaethor, to make it right. To at least try, with whatever means and power they had. Which…wasn’t very great, given some of the examples of power around them. They couldn’t don armour or swing a sword or invoke obedience just by their presence. There was great and dreadful forces arrayed against them.

”I’ll guard it with my life.” Azraindil swore solemnly to keeping the pages safe, even if she was going to hold it for less than a day. She carefully returned the rolled up paper into the tube Linny had given and, sweeping her travel cloak aside, stuck it in the outer belt of her riding frock, and towards her back, before bringing her cloak back snugly around her to conceal it. On the outside, it didn’t look like anything was jutting out there. There was now another item shown to her, eyebrows piqued as an intricate box of colour, craving, and design was presented. Aearonor’s personal box. Most nobles had one. Commoners too, though theirs was usually of more simpler design. Azraindil had brought her own as well, with lock, and the key always kept on her person. Hers was also blue and a bit of gold trim. Fake gold, though. But it gleamed and shined real nice when brought into the light.

”Can I see?” She inquired after Linny explained it’s lock. She peered at it a moment, a rounded shape where the keyhole ought to be. It was different. Round, like a… It momentarily escaped her, her mind and heart still overwhelmed with all she was being shown. By the Valar, did Linny live with the weight of these thoughts and possibilities all this time? The young woman was brave and courageous indeed.

Linny thought there might be the whole journal within but Azraindil wasn’t keen on shaking it or trying to sound it out. She didn’t have much to add or say, just staring at it. The solution seemed so near, like she ought to know. Like a word on the tip of her tongue, momentarily forgotten, but when it came back, she’d feel like kicking herself for not getting it earlier. Ugh! She scrunched up her nose and let it pass for now.

Lady Talven was still resting at the moment. Azraindil understood and nodded to the idea of checking out her cabin. They could deposit the box and cylinder for later examination, instead of hauling it about all day around her family or having to sneak it out later. ”Yes, let’s.” She agreed and making sure evidence of their activity here was concealed and covered, the pair could depart the mansion and head over to the nearby cabin.

Ravondaer was seated out front, leaning against the frame of the building, arms crossed, mouth ajar…napping. A wooden plate with a bowl and some utensils showed that they had fed him well. The girls approached and he did not stir. Azraindil cleared her throat, twice, before he jerked awake and shot to his feet. ”Uh, hullo, young ladies!” He said, inclining his head, quick to smile and stand at attention. ”Just restin’ my eyes.” The man was an ex-soldier but he suffered some wounds that made him unfit for frontline duties with Abrazimir. Still competent and capable enough for rear echelon duties, like sentry or escort work. And above all else, loyal to her father.

”Is everything good, Ravondaer?” Azraindil inquired, nodding at the cabin.

”Oh, very comfortable, milady. Very comfortable.” He nodded his head in approval and inclined his head to Dulinneth. ”They do hospitality spot on ‘ere. Superb, I say. Inside is cozy. Fresh sheets. Wood for ya fire, milady. Water too, and a small pantry, and the shutters close properly here. No icy wind to bite ya, I tell ya.” He praised the environs, his farm accent rather amusing.

Ravondaer looked at Dulinneth again and then back to Azraindil and seemed to…comprehend. He quickly gathered up the plate and bowl and utensils and stuff. ”I ought to be returnin’ these, miladies. I shall return shortly.” He said and bowed his head to them and went off to return the items to their place in the servant’s quarters, probably try to make a friend or two among the staff.

”Mother would have sent a pair of old handmaidens with me but I rather prefer the guard.” Azraindil remarked on Ravondaer. He probably won’t be a permanent addition to her escort though. He was only assigned to take her as far as Minas Tirith, where she would be given to the care of Lady Azrubel and her staff at the house she kept there. The girls could enter into the cabin and it was indeed of high service and quality, most warm and quaint. A small fire was already going in the hearth. There was one large room and two smaller ones, a pantry and supply closet and the other a bathroom.

”Okay, a moment,” Azraindil said, finding her trunk already there, and by the look of it, unmolested by any potential spy. She took the cylinder out of her belt and Aearonor’s box was put aside for now. She dug beneath her clothing, able to refold and correct them later, to dig out her own personal chest, slightly bigger than Aearonor’s, but girls usually had more secrets to keep. She drew out a key kept close to her chest and unlocked hers, sitting on the bed with Linny as she dug through some papers, some letters, some…folded animal shapes and all, like a swan.

”Here they are,” she drew out the two in question, kept close together. One was indeed the note Linny passed to her. The other was…more rugged. More gritty, like it might fall apart to pieces, and was going to very soon. It was stiff and even the smallest pressure would cause it to crack. But the writing was eligible still. ”Does the name…Trastion mean anything to you?” She asked quietly to Linny. ”Because he writes an awful lot like your brother…” she handed the papers over.

[Rillewen]

@Lantaelen

Dulinneth Talven
Túrion Dornea, Edhellon River, Dor-en-Ernil
Late April, Fourth Age

After leaving Aearon's room, Linn locked the door again and put her key back in her room. Then, together, the girls 'sneaked' out of the house, collecting their cloaks at the door before bursting out into the cold. Not that they had a lengthy journey, however. They had put Gaer in the nearest guest cabin, so she would not have to travel far to get to and from her cabin.

Linn smiled politely at the servant man who had come along with Gaer, and remained quiet while Gaer spoke to him. She had to hold back a giggle at the way he praised the cabin. He seemed like a very nice man, but she was glad when he left. She grinned after he had gone, as she and Gaer entered the cabin which would be Gaer's home for the next week. "I think you made a great choice, there." She praised her friend's wisdom. If she had been stuck with a pair of old handmaidens, they probably would have insisted on hovering around, and the girls would never have gotten any peace at all, between them and Glirdis.

Soon, Gaer was digging in her trunk. Linn took a seat on the edge of the bed while her friend searched for something, but soon her interest was piqued as Gaer produced some letters and mentioned an unfamiliar name. "Trastion?" Linn repeated slowly, thoughtful. "I don't think I have ever heard of anyone by that name," She shook her head slightly, but she leaned in closer to examine the writing on the note from 'Trastion'. The other letter she remembered having given to Gaer, only a few months ago at the joust. Her forehead creased slightly as she examined the two letters. She hummed thoughtfully. "Well, this one from Anurion looks like he was trying to.. write more fancily?" She paused for a moment, thoughtful. "But the a's are written very much alike. And the e's. All the vowels, in fact," Her eyes flicked back and forth between the two notes, finding as many similarities despite the differences. One was written more hastily, on whatever he could find, while the other had been clearly well-thought out, with careful penmanship. They needed more to compare... and she knew just where to get them. "Hang on... I'll be right back!" She hurried out of the cabin, ran across the yard without caring about Glirdis' warning about the ice...

A few minutes later, she returned with a box of her own, and hurried back to Gaer, a bit breathless. "Letters!" She whispered, opening her box. "And some other things," She added with a grin. "See," She laid out some of her own letters from Anurion so that they had more to compare, and then she laid out some things she'd sneaked out of the room where she had her lessons. Just some old essays and such that their tutor had stashed away. A perfect sample of Anurion's handwriting from before he had left home. "Also... I'm dying to know how you came to have this? How did you meet him?" She wondered. Maybe they could talk about that while they compared the handwriting.

After extensive study of the handwriting, it seemed undeniable that the handwriting matched remarkably well. So closely, in fact, that if it turned out that it was NOT Anurion, Linn would be very shocked. She leaned back on her elbows, staring up at the ceiling as she thought about all of this. "This has to stay between us," Linn said softly. She looked over at her friend. "He left here awfully fast, that day." She mentioned sadly. "He said goodbye to me when he left. And I didn't think about it much, then. I was only a child," She recalled. Although technically she was still a child, she had been much more of a child, then. "I thought more about it, later. And I think... he was afraid." She thought back to that day, now. "He told me he had to go away for a long time, and he didn't know when he'd be back. He made it sound like he was going off on an adventure, so I just thought..." She bit her lip, feeling badly about this. "I thought he was going off on another camping trip, like he did all the time."

Drawing a deep breath, she continued. "But now, I think maybe he found out something about Aearon's death, and maybe he figured he wasn't safe. So, he had to leave, and.. even now, he's scared. I think." She pointed to the letters she had received from him. "He doesn't want anyone knowing where he is. He's even stopped writing me, now. I'm not even sure if he's still in the.. place where he was, when he wrote to me." She explained, frowning. "But, I remember the letter that he sent me, which also had the one for you, he said I had to make you promise not to tell anyone about it, and that it was a secret, and all that."

She pointed to the note she had from 'Trastion'. "So, we had better not ever say anything about that name aloud, again." She dropped her voice to a whisper. " Just in case... whoever it was he's running from.. was to overhear it.We have to protect him, however we can. Agreed?"

[Arnyn]

@Lantaelen @Pele Alarion

Lieutenant Arnyn Dealedwen
with Lord Abrazimir Dimaethor and Captain Pele Alarion
January - Estate of House Dimaethor, Lond Côl

Arnyn did not speak through the pacing, the crossed arms, the snarl, the frown, the angry look in his eyes. Abrazimir deserved the time to process. He went so far as to turn his back to them. At least that meant he still trusts us enough not to plant a blade in it, a cynical note in Arnyn's mind sounded. Every movement Abrazimir made, spoke of the anger he was trying to contain. His feelings were warring with his sense of decorum, probably. He could not let loose his fury against two ranger officers. Not fully. He knew it was expected of him to leash it.

And so Abrazimir did. Even if he did not wish to - he did. Arnyn respected that. For when Abrazimir turned to face them again, his expression was much calmer than she would have expected, even if the profound disbelief was also rather evident.

Arnyn reminded herself that anger was never a first emotion. Anger was always the result of another emotion. Powerlessness and fear the highest contenders among them. And as Abrazimir spoke, he confirmed them. The powerlessness generations of Belfalasians had felt against Umbarian raids. The fear of their retaliation, the fear of losing more people. Grief, too. So much grief - decades of it. Centuries. Placed upon the shoulders of the Swan Knight if front of them. And he was not much older than she was, if at all, was he?

Knowing all of that, and firmly keeping that knowledge at the front of her mind, enabled Arnyn not to fall prey to her own emotions when he posed the rhetorical question: Easy to risk others lives first, huh? Because it were two of her closest friends who would be stepping into that first, enormous risk, now. Not Abrazimir's. Not Pele's. Hers. Not to mention that she had not kept her brother from going with them, either. If Ava proved false, all three of them were dead men, sooner or later. And when the rangers returned from this training exercise, it would be Arnyn who would join them. She would be stepping into danger, first. And unless she sent word back to Pele, unless she was able to return at all, in fact, Pele would at least know that things had gone wrong for them in Umbar. And the plans would be adjusted accordingly.

Breathe, she told herself, when slammed down upon the table and told them they were to be... sawed in half... their blood painted on the temple walls.... He does not know he is talking about my friends. My brother. Tercen sawn in half. Gladhron's blood all over the priest. Gwestion's against the walls. The Lieutenant's mind sought to calm itself through a trialed and tested method. That is a wooden board. That is the sunlight filtering through the shed. That is the sound of a seagull. Statements. Facts. The technique sanded down the sharpest edges of her own emotions. Arnyn focused on Abrazimir, instead. His words. His feelings. His perspective.

When Arnyn spoke, her voice was not rough. She did not attack, or defend. She sounded... genuine, more than anything else. "Lord Abrazimir,” she said, using his name deliberately, “I hear what you have already lost. What the people living on these shores have already lost. And I hear what you know you stand to lose again.”

She drew a slow breath, as if steadying something inside herself rather than preparing an argument.

“I will not pretend that I understand Umbar the way you do. I will not pretend that a few reports, or a few conversations, give me sight equal to a thousand years of blood on your lands. I have not lived the life you or those who came before you, have lived. I have not had my family and friends hunted from the sea for generations, to be taken in chains, treated as coin... let alone to be used as offerings in some psychopathic temple." That admission came freely. It was earned. It was the truth. "You are speaking, not from prejudice, but from memory. From scars and graves. And you can take pride in the way you defend your people as fiercely as you do."

Her eyes held his openly, without demand. "And now a decision has been made, so far away from the water. By people who do not wake up to count the cost in lives and ships." Arnyn swallowed. "And there is nothing I could say that will make that feel any better. Even though I wish there were." A pause, in which the Lieutenant did not flinch from the Knight's gaze.

"What I can tell you, is that this was not a decision made lightly,” Arnyn went on. “But it was made quickly. Delay would have meant acting against the very principles we are sworn to uphold. I am not new to command, as you very well know. And I took this position, all too aware that upholding those principles may place me at odds with people whose judgment and experience I value.” And even though it was clear as day, she still voiced it aloud: "You are one of those people, Abrazimir."

“I did not choose this path because I believe all of Umbar is suddenly good or changed. I chose it because..." Arnyn raised her arms half a foot, before lowering them again. "Because... I refuse to decide that anyone who comes to us from there is already beyond redemption. You are right that few came to help Gondor before. So why should default to punishing someone who finally does?"

“I know what that sounds like, to someone who has buried sailors, recovered hurt friends and family, seen ships burned - someone who has watched the same cruelty return, one generation after another. I know it can sound like... softness. And maybe even stupidity.” Her gaze did not drop. “But it was not the easy choice, Abrazimir. It was - is - a burden.” The Lieutenant drew a careful breath.

"Even if the mercy of Gondor has been abused by others in the past, as I am sure it has been - that does not change us. It should not change us. Our honor, our sense of justice - where we defend those who need it - our compassion, our mercy - those are the things that set us apart from them.” The look in her eyes turned almost pleading. "Do not let their dishonor and their cruelty cast a shadow upon you, as well."

Her dark eyes lifted to the shed's ceiling for a moment, before flicking to Pele and seeing the Captain was still leaving the floor to her. So Arnyn continued. "The Umbarian knows nothing of our forces, or our means. Nothing she did not know already beforehand. I did not suggest for the Umbarian to return to her home in the company of rangers, while trusting there was not a chance in the world that no one would pay for it. I suggested it because it was the only suggestion I could live with and still recognize myself in the mirror."
"I knew the risks. The Captain and I discussed them at length. The options were to not let the Umbarian return, and risk sending at least a hundred people on her lands to their deaths in her absence. Or to let her return, on her own, without any oversight. Or to let her return with controls in place. Controls in the form of rangers, who could - if she is true - seek to verify that through what they hear with their own ears and through what they see with their own eyes. And who could - if she is false - eliminate her before the risk expands." Arnyn's mouth was dry. So dry. "And since none of our own could go without missing this necessary training exercise." She halted, fighting something within herself for but a heartbeat. "Those two northern Rangers are not being 'given up'. They volunteered of their own accord. And they are people I know and trust with my life - and whom I would not expend lightly." She did not say friends. She did not have to. It was clear.

"We cannot undo what has already been set in motion. The Umbarian has returned, the two rangers with her. And when we return from this training exercise, and I encounter the agreed upon messages in Minas Tirith, I will be going after them, to Umbar. To take the chance to map out current routes, in person. To take the chance to assess the Temple's defenses, in person. So that the plans we can make for our assault can be improved upon."

"“I will not ask you to agree with me today,” Arnyn said at last. “But I hope you can believe that I did not suggest or support this from an indifference to your losses. To any of our losses," she stressed, gesturing at Pele behind her. For the Captain had also lost much to Umbar. Too much. "But that I did so because I am trying - imperfectly - to prevent there being more. I am trying to increase our chances of success."

"If we go - and we fail, what do you think Umbar will do to retaliate, then?" she pressed, trying to keep her voice from shaking. "With the ranger forces, and yours, diminished?"

"This.... mercy... is also giving us a chance to increase not only the success of our attack, but to cause a lasting change in Umbar, that will not merely have them seeking to regroup and attack us in return. And if the gamble is wrong," the Lieutenant went on as she steeled herself, "then the lives of my brother, my friends, and my own - will be the first to be forfeit."

Her breathing had turned too shallow. Her voice too close to betraying the emotions she was burying beneath. The need to be seen. Understood. Without endlessly having to explain herself, often to no avail. While she still had herself firmly in hand, Arnyn offered both Lord Abrazimir and Captain Pele a salute, and then saw herself forced to leave the shed. Her composure as of yet intact, she softly closed the shed door behind her, blinking against the harsher light outside. Her heart was hammering against her chest. Arnyn closed her eyes, and took a slow, deep breath.

Again.

And again.

She should have stayed in the shed. Not leave the rest to Pele. It was unfair. It was a weakness. She should go back in. Mentally, she swore. At least they would still see her shadow, from the inside, if either wished to call her back in. And the two commanders could speak freely now, if they did not speak loudly. Bad excuses, her mind supplied. Arnyn crossed her arms, her displeasure at herself clearly visible upon her face.

[Lantaelen]

@Rillewen

Lady Azraindil Dimaethor
Túrion Dornea, Edhellon River, Dor-en-Ernil
Late April, Fourth Age

While Linny was given the two letters to compare them, Azraindil went over to the small hearth in the cabin, opening the little iron grate and adding a small log to the dwindling fire there, stirring it about with an iron poker. She rested on her hip on the floor by the fire, idly pushing around the embers and wood to rekindle the flame, as Linny began to share her thoughts, indeed noticing the patterns some of the writing and style. Especially the vowels. Something abrupt came over Linny and she proceeded to race out of the cabin, leaving Azraindil momentarily stunned and surprised, though her friend soon returned with a box of her own, containing more letters. And evidence.

Azraindil rose and joined Linny to sit on the bed, shoulder to shoulder, to lay letters and parchment in their laps and compare and contrast. She did see! Taking one from Linny, she laid it alongside the recent letter given to her by her friend at the joust a few months back, seeing such similarities. She then compared with the Trastion note. ”He is…evolving. The neatness I mean.” She jested a little, noting an improvement in the quality of the lettering. But it was very much the same person’s font and style.

Also… I’m dying to know how you came to have this? How did you meet him?

”I’m still not sure myself. I mean, now that I think back, all those times we met before the War, Trastion…he did look like Anurion. He might have been him.” Azraindil pondered, looking up and staring towards the ceiling of the cabin, though she wasn’t really seeing the rafters and woodwork. She was off in her mind. ”It was right after the War. I was at my sister’s home, her husband’s fief, up in Ered Nimrais, passed Calembel. It’s very close by here actually.” She pointed in a northwesterly direction.

”I was waiting to go home, since the War had ended, and there was no need for me to take refuge. I was wandering the woods and…I ran into this Forester boy. Or, well, he said he was, but Foresters aren’t supposed to be lost in the forest.” She rolled her eyes humorously. He did say he was just an apprentice. ”Said his name was Trastion. He had messy blond hair and bright eyes. He asked me my name…I said I was Nimrodel. Not just going to tell some random boy in the woods I was a Lady and all.” Azraindil chuckled nervously. Okay, pointless detail. But Linny might wonder why the second letter said ‘Dear Nimrodel’.

”We were arguing about shortcuts and dangers…and then we heard this fox crying. It got caught in a trap. So we went to rescue it, but some poachers came, claiming it was theirs. So we…freed the fox, and took its cubs, and ran away. We hid in an old barn while the poachers looked for us and nursed the mama fox to health. I went to get some food for them and Trastion and left them there over night, ‘cause I had a curfew. But when I went back in the morning, he was gone. And he left me this note.” She tapped the old wrapping paper, which was very close to deteriorating.

She shifted on the bed to face Linny, leaning in close, whispering very quietly. The renewed fire crackled louder. ”It was barely a year after the War started. You said…Aearonor died just after it ended. And Anurion went missing right after. Ossarnen and Calembel is close by. Could he have wandered over there?” She inquired of Linny, thinking the timelines might add up to. She had ran into Anurion by chance! By fate! It was remarkable. And…very scary to think about. He might still be out there.

Azraindil let Linny absorb the story, and reflect on the letters some more, while she rose and went to stir the fire some more, warmth pervading the cabin space and making it quite toasty inside. This has to stay between us. Anurion though had left, willingly, not chased off or threatened. He may have learned something about his brother’s death. Information that could condemn him too, it seemed. And just knowing that, guessing that even, it might condemn the girls. But who would be so out for the blood of these two young boys? They were still out there. But so was Anurion. And…the truth.

We have to protect him, however we can. Agreed? ”Of course. I swear, by Elbereth, I won’t tell a soul.” She agreed, perhaps a little too hastily, but her heart twisted and sank for the poor boy. If only she knew…she could have gotten him protection in Ossarnen at the hall of her brother-in-law. He was far removed from the power structure and politics of Gondor. No one would have thought to look there. Azraindil sighed at the what-might-have-beens and returned to sit with Linny.

”He’s still alive. I have to believe it.” She whispered quietly. ”Where could he have gone? He must still be in the forests. He said he was a Forester, or wanting to become one. And the forests of western Gondor are huge. Plus if he’s alive…then he’s the true heir of Túrion Dornea, right? And not…Toggornir…” Azraindil trailed off, not knowing where she was going with that tangent. Her, talking politics and succession? But if Anurion returned, then she would be consigned to marry him, and not Toggornir. Truthfully, she didn’t want to marry anyone, but if she had to choose…it would be Anurion. He made her smile. So much. And laugh. Toggornir hadn’t done that once. Anurion could. She remembered fighting over the picnic basket and tickling him…

Suddenly, Azraindil snorted and giggled. ”Your brother is hilarious.” She said, a sincere and honest compliment, just out of the blue.

She waved her hand to dismiss that random thought and began to collect the papers. She still had to read in full Aearonor’s last journal entry. ”So what’s this about the healer - Solchion you said? Tell me more.” She brought the topic back to the present. Where do they go from here?

[Pele Alarion]

@Arnyn , @Lantaelen

Captain Pele Alarion
with Lieutenant Arnyn Dealedwen and Lord Abrazimir Dimaethor
January - Estate of House Dimaethor, Lond Col

Pele had meant to take a roundabout approach and introduce information slowly, but even as she took a bystander position for a moment she wondered if Arnyn's way of taking the bull by the horns without hesitation was better. The conversation already seemed long because of its intensity and stretching it out indefinitely might have been more harmful to all involved. So she listened, and watched, and read between the lines as best as she could.

She could understand Abrazimir's dismay at the news heaped on him, and she could definitely relate to the need to care for the people under his protection, or hers - should their choices prove to be wrong. She breathed in and out on an even count as she did her best not to let any emotions take upper hand, while her eyes flicked backed and forth between Arnyn and Abrazimir.

Arnyn's nearly abrupt exit was unexpected, and having returned the salute by habit the Captain stared at the door for a few heartbeats before turning fully to face Abrazimir.

"I understand your frustrations and concern, Abrazimir," she said, a note of empathy in her measured voice. "And I realise this all looks foolish and unreasonable, but the decision had to be made quickly." She added: "I would have gone myself to make sure that the Umbarian doesn't misstep rather than expose others to risk." She detested the idea of returning to Umbar even within the framework of the mission but it seemed more favourable than the possibility of receiving news that Arnyn, the northern Rangers, Tercen would never return or ended up being subjected to anything resembling her own experiences. She was not even sure how she would be able to live on if anything like that happened. Yet it was a very likely possibility. Pele would have cussed had it been her habit, but now she only held back a deep sigh, instead slowly releasing a longer exhale.

"However," she spoke. "Even if it is a fool's hope.. . but perhaps it would be possible to break the endless cycle of revenge and make sure that our attack would not leave a vacuum to be filled by copies of evil folks. Perhaps the hope of finding people in Umbar who could sway the place in favour of cooperating with Gondor instead of constant wars seems impossible, but there is a tiny glimmer of hope here."

"And... It might reduce our losses in the mission if we could strike with deadly precision having confirmed and updated information and maps," she added, though if it was someone else saying the same words to her she would have trouble believing them. "The risks for the people sent are immense," she said more quietly. "And as I said, I would have gone myself if I could, but barring that I trust my Second in Command as my own eyes and hands."

"Though I would never forgive myself if something went wrong..." she added barely audibly, under her breath.

"But yes, this is how things stand," she spoke at her normal volume of voice again and sighed, realising that she had not added anything much more useful to the detailed information Arnyn had already shared. She tried to prepare mentally to weather any other outbursts of dismay from Abrazimir, or perhaps some well-aimed arguments proving that this was absolute folly, while her gaze remained settled on him and she forced herself to relax her shoulders and stand as at much ease as could be possible at present.

[Lantaelen]

@Arnyn @Pele Alarion

Lord Abrazimir Dimaethor
Mid-January, Estate of House Dimaethor, Lond Côl
Early in the Fourth Age

Had he impeded upon boundaries and respectability so much, with his tirade, that a comrade like Arnyn had to fall back upon decorum, calling him Lord? Even more pointed given his father was still alive and was the true Lord, at least on this side of the river. It was incredulous to him that such momentous decisions were being undertaken without any input from the people who faced the greatest and foremost risk of the Umbarins. They tried to push up the Great River during the War. They knew that avenue of retribution was untenable. But here on the vast shores of Lond Côl, and beyond, there were easy pickings. When they discovered this operation of theirs, if they did not already know from their considerable spy network, there would be danger and harm falling upon all manner of folk who dwelt by the water.

And Arnyn could stand there and talk about…hearing. Hearing his concerns and plight, when she already made the decision to indulge this so-called informant from Umbar. She tried to show to him that she could not comprehend his mode of thinking, molded by years of conflict with the Corsairs, shaped by the experiences of those who came before who fought the long conflict, same as Abrazimir. It was ingrained into their very blood, the soil and rocks even. There was not a family who had lost someone to their deprivations. And she thought she knew enough to say she didn’t know it all? To not pretend?

Here came the justification. Abrazimir didn’t falter his gaze. Not one bit. No indication of showing acceptance or acknowledgement of her words. Not any sympathy for the dreadful responsibilities of command, at having to make decisions, of always being judged, of having other’s lives under one’s purview. And having to spend them, if necessary. She trusted his judgement and experience, or at least placed great weight in it, and yet the fact remained he was outside of this process thus far. Like rubbing salt on the wound. It didn’t make him feel any better. You’re important but not important enough…

But it wasn’t about him. The realization did dawn on him slowly, like soft rain over a blazing inferno. It didn’t do much, but it was there. It was not about him or the risks. If Gondor was to be a beacon of hope and prosperity for all humankind, it must ultimately give all humans the benefit of the doubt. That there could be good amongst the lesser men who followed the Dark Lord, just as there were seeds of darkness even amongst the Gondorians. And they had to give a benefit that these folk wanted to change their societies for the better.

It was hard to believe. And Abrazimir didn’t want to believe it. He wanted to be angry and indulge his wrath and seek all revenge. But the slow avalanche was starting, right now, with the tumbling of a few stones and pebbles before the critical mass would shire.

Honour and kindness to a city of villains and enslavers. To the innocents among them. Abrazimir was loathe to believe it. He was already of a mind that this War had to be fought with equal tactics and ruthlessness, lest they be overcome by stratagems they had no defenses against. It even amused him a little, some shared ground finally, when Arnyn mentioned the Rangers were going along as a form of control…and to silence the informant, should she really be a traitor. Her voice might have faltered with the harsh dryness of such a statement but he perked up a little in response. But that was beside the point. The informant had returned. The Rangers were with her. And if it all indeed proved true, another batch of observers and informants, Arnyn included, would be going there. Taking on the personal risk. As Abrazimir and his people had lived for so many years.

She concluded her spiel with an emphasis on the mercy she had shown to this informant. Of seeking to build the better world that Gondor was supposedly to stand for. The risk would be hers. Consequences would be felt first upon her head and those of her comrades. Was that supposed to make him feel better? Before, and indeed after, his people were, would be, in the line of fire all the same. Before he could say anything however, digesting all the words, Arnyn promptly saluted and departed the shed, closing the door behind herself. Just he and the Captain were left therein. He supposed the curt departure was a way of saying I made an order and I expect you to obey it. Definitely something that Abrazimir would have done.

No, she was still outside, very near, and would probably hear the conversation that continued. He looked over to the Captain now, inhaling sharply through his nose, having felt like his breathing had been stifled the entire time. ”Did she rehearse all of that beforehand or did the Valar just really like her today that they put that conviction in her heart?” He asked drily at first to Pele, who began her own spiel about understanding his concerns. It was more believable from Pele, who had been a captive herself to these very same slavers. More appreciated too, that she would have dared the risks to verify the information this Umbarin informant was presenting to them. He could argue with one of the officers. Hearing it from both of them all but sealed the deal. The decision was made. It was final. And it was already in motion.

All for this little glimmer of hope that perhaps a more friendly regime might be possible in Umbar, that it wouldn’t always be war and conflict, and all. Abrazimir found it difficult to believe that. He just couldn’t see it. Not with his deeply rooted stigma of beliefs and experiences. But if he didn’t trust in vague hopes, he ought to at least trust in people. And he trusted Pele, his teacher and mentor once upon a time. If she had faith, and Arnyn had faith, who was he to push back against it? The Corsairs were going to come for his people regardless if this mission took place or not. That much was certain. He was of the belief that any conquest of Umbar would be a slugging match, a brutal and grinding siege and campaign of battles. They might have another way in.

Abrazimir sighed very deeply through his nose. He felt so cold now, in the absence of wrath. He didn’t know what to feel just yet. The emptiness though bred all sorts of fears and worries. ”I don’t know what to say anymore. The decision’s been made and I just have to wear it. The risks and consequences and all. You can’t recall this informer back now and if she does prove traitor, then that’s what it is. Took a risk, fought, and lost.” it was the waiting-and-seeing that was going to eat him up the most. He thought the War had ended. Now he might have to keep a paranoia in his chest forever about seeing dark sails on the horizon again.

”Fine.” Abrazimir just threw his hands up. There really was nothing to do. No point in trying to prevent this action. No point in being angry with his comrades, all fighting for the same cause. Disunity would have given the Enemy the victory long ago. Friends fight. They get over it. ”I suppose you aren’t hasty folk and lacking in caution. I’m sure you deliberated this opportunity with it’s narrowly closing window and made a choice. I will abide by your choices. And I will trust you and your fool’s hope. Valar knows how often I had my own that almost ended in terrible, fatal disaster.” He said, peering into Pele’s face now. After all, silly me for thinking I would get to live a new life in a new Age, not having to spend any more years fighting Corsairs. ”What more can I say?” He shook his head.

There was one thing he could say at least.

Brushing by Pele, Abrazimir went to the door of the shed and opened it, seeing Arnyn standing just a little ways removed from the threshold. ”Come back.” He beckoned her quietly, gesturing with his hand. Come on, come back inside. No one is going to bite you…again… Abrazimir walked back to the other side and waited, hands on his hips, for the Lieutenant to step back inside and join them, making them a trio again.

Abrazimir pointed uncertainly towards Arnyn. ”I’m sorry I yelled at you.” He said quietly, looking her in the eyes. ”Both of you. It was insubordinate and rude. I trust you. And this news definitely taxes on that trust. But I’ll take your word for it. And I’ll have faith. If it does turn out for the best, the least a man can do is admit when he was wrong and own up to it. I will own this mistake and lack of trust. And earn your forgiveness.” And if the worst happens, he will not say ‘I told you so’.

”Seeing how…dangerous surprises can be, is there anything else I ought to know about this informant? A woman, you said?” Abrazimir inquired softly, trying to seem like an obedient cooperator now instead of an obstacle. With ships, and knowing the way to Umbar, having made two trips before, he could be a useful asset in passing messages or something. The Corsair fleet was heavily decimated during the War, so their naval defenses were momentarily very spread out and thin. Easy for a ship to get closer.

[Rillewen]

@Lantaelen

Dulinneth Talven
Túrion Dornea, Edhellon River, Dor-en-Ernil
Late April, Fourth Age
(referring to this post)

"All those times?" Linn questioned, glancing at Gaer, wondering how many times she had met with this... 'Trastion'. Soon, Gaer began to explain how she had come to meet him. How they had rescued some baby foxes, and their mother! How adorable. And wonderful. Linn was pleased to hear it, and she also thought it sounded just like something Anurion would do.

Hearing that her friend had called herself Nimrodel, she giggled, imagining that. How exciting it would be to pretend to be such a famous elf. And that explained why he had written to 'Nimrodel', but now, she reread the letter carefully. "He led the danger away from you," She said softly, under her breath. Thoughtful. Could there be something like that behind his reasons for leaving home?

She nodded slowly, thinking. "It was around this same time of year when Anurion ran away." She recalled, then paused as she considered what else to tell Gaer. The area... it sounded right. "Anurion definitely could have walked that far," Linn said, leaning closer, her voice an excited whisper. "He was always going off on hiking adventures and such," Suddenly remembering something she had read, Linn looked back down at the note that 'Trastion' had left 'Nimrodel', hastily skimming over the words, written in soot on some sort of wrapping paper. "He says here that he went back to get his pack?" She mentioned, and looked up at her. "Did you see it?" She asked, suddenly a bit wide-eyed. "Do you remember what it looked like?" Gaer had seen the paintings in Linn's room, including the one with Anurion standing on the peak of a cliff, wearing the pack that he cherished. If she had seen this 'Trastion' carrying one like that... then that would leave no question about it.

But of course, it was a secret that must remain between the two of them. Linn still did not know everything she felt she needed to know about this situation, so she didn't dare tell anyone else about any of this, besides her dearest, most trusted friend. As for the question of where he could have gone, Linn hesitated about answering her. Not that she didn't trust Gaer with the knowledge that Anurion's most recent letters had come from Minas Tirith, but she had promised him that she wouldn't tell anyone. So, she must honor that promise. "Yes, he is the heir of this place." Linn nodded. "And of course he is still alive." She insisted, nodding. She pointed out the letter that she had personally delivered to Gaer, back in September. "He sent me letters, for a while. That's how I got that one. But, he might have moved from where he was when he sent it." She tried not to feel too worried by the fact that he hadn't written her in months.

She was thinking about that when Gaer suddenly laughed and declared that her brother was hilarious. She looked at her, puzzled. "Yeah, he is.. but what makes you say that?" She asked, curious. She was very curious to learn anything Gaer could tell her about him, even if it was from years ago. If that had been the same year he'd run away, then he must have been.. around sixteen? Or seventeen? She was trying to remember and do the math, but then decided it hardly mattered.

What mattered at the moment, was getting to the bottom of this mystery. So Linn leaned back on her elbows, looking up at the wooden ceiling. "Solchion is our healer. He takes care of Mother, mostly, these days. And if any of us gets injured or sick. So, according to Aearon's last journal entry," She indicated the page that Gaer had yet to read, "Something happened the day that Aearon left. Anurion was supposed to go with him, you know, but.. well, I was little, so I don't really know what happened. No one tells me things, you know?" She sighed. "But I guess, Togg did something, and Aearon isn't so sure that it was accidental like he claimed, and Anurion almost died? And.. I found out that Solchion had to act quickly to save him." She frowned. "And Aearon was angry about it. I figure that's why he stopped and wrote about it on that loose page, when he didn't have his journal with him. He probably needed to get it out on paper, or something." She had put a lot of thought into this and this was the best explanation she could come up with.

"Solchion wouldn't tell me anything about it, though. And neither would anyone else." Linn pouted slightly as she explained. "They all think I'm just a little girl, and they won't tell me anything useful." Very frustrating. "And, I overheard him and Glirdis talking about how I was asking questions, and I guess they have orders not to talk about it or anything, because they said something like that. So, I got to thinking... and I know that Solchion keeps records of all the people he treats, so if I could just have a few minutes alone in his office, I could find the file with Anurion's name on it. I'm sure there must be something in there that'll explain it all. It might even have all the answers I've been looking for. I just... need someone to draw his attention away for a few minutes... so that's where I was hoping you could help."

[Arnyn]

@Lantaelen @Pele Alarion

Lieutenant Arnyn Dealedwen
with Lord Abrazimir Dimaethor and Captain Pele Alarion
January - Estate of House Dimaethor, Lond Côl

Even though Arnyn could hear their voices, she didn't focus on what Pele and Abrazimir were saying inside of the shed.

She focused on keeping on the mask of her composure, hard-won through all the years. For she couldn't throw it off - not now. Not with Pele and Abrazimir in the shed behind her.

She told herself it was necessary. That it was the cost of leadership. That she was the one who had chosen this road. All of these roads, really. She had chosen to agree to help Pele by becoming her second. She had chosen to offer Ava the benefit of the doubt, and had chosen to defend that to Pele, to the King - to anyone involved, so far.

Her posture had still been intact, but stiff fingers adjusted her clothes, smoothing out wrinkles which had never really been there. She checked her sword belt. Once. A second time. Not because it wasn't sitting right - but because it was a ritual that anchored her.

Lieutenant Dealedwen, she tells herself. Not sister. Not friend. Lieutenant.

When Abrazimir opened the shed and prompted for her to come back inside, Arnyn had mostly managed to shove down her fears. But her hands, now folded behind her back, had curled into fists so tight her nails bit into her palms. Arnyn didn't notice the sting. Her attention was upon the Swan Knight, as he invited her back into the shed. For it was not an order. He was beckoning. And he was being... almost... gentle about it? Like he was asking a person, not an officer. It threatened to destabilize her, pulling at the door behind which she'd shoved the softer parts of herself.

But it stayed shut.

Arnyn came back in with measured precision, the mask in place - but under strain. She chose a position. Neutral ground. Neither too close nor too distant. She avoided Pele's gaze. Abrazimir's, too. She did not look down, though - her gaze was fixed at eye level, at one of the planks making up the shed wall.

'I'm sorry I yelled at you.'

Arnyn blinked at the wall. Then, slowly, dark brown eyes moved from the wall to Abrazimir. He was already looking at her, and their eyes met. Whatever she had been expecting... an apology had not been it. It took her by surprise. She fought the urge to turn to Pele, to ask what she had told Abrazimir to calm him down so fast to... this. But Arnyn did not turn. For she also owed it to the knight to consider he might have gotten there all by himself. Arnyn knew them both enough to know one thing, at least. If Pele had said anything, it hadn't been an order or an ultimatum. And beyond that, what did it matter?

The tension left Arnyn's shoulders. He was apologizing to her. To Pele, as well. Her first instinct was to wave the apology away. To restore order by pretending it was nothing. But she didn't. Because that would be dishonest, and it would cancel out the weight of what Abrazimir was offering. She held the knight's gaze and nodded once. He went on, though.

"I trust you.'

Even if what they had just told him, was putting a strain on that trust - it hadn't broken it. Arnyn's mask, however, did break. Her mouth relaxed and her eyes shuttered as she felt a tightness leaving her chest. "Thank you," she said quietly, once Abrazimir had finished. "I don't take that lightly. And if it does not turn out well... I swear I will not leave you and yours to deal with it alone," she promised willingly.

When Abrazimir asked about Ava, Arnyn regained her footing. This was operational ground. Her voice steadied. "A woman, yes. Avaleazar Hazadazra. The heir to an Umbarian noble estate - or their version of it, I suppose. Her parents died - she claims her father was sacrificed in the temple by Pharak Halsad. It left her alone to manage the family estate and funds before she was of age - sixteen or thereabouts. She has no political influence, no power sphere in the city, as I understand it. But she has resources. A location. Money. A ridiculous amount of it, it seems. She bought a house in Minas Tirith, to use simply for the short duration of her stay. She also has people whom she pays well enough and knows well enough to trust with certain tasks. Such as a captain who goes by the same Daamri-" Arnyn searched Abrazimir's face, to check if he had heard about the ship captain, "to bring her to Gondor. And taking her, my friends and my brother back to Umbar, as well."

Arnyn drew a breath. "She came across as intelligent to me. She also moves like a trained warrior. About our age," she told Abrazimir. "I should also mention, that my brother is completely infatuated with her. They've obviously been sharing a bed." Full transparency, right? At least she knew Tercen would honestly not give two figs about her disclosing this information.

"Regardless - our intent so far is to use her help to learn as much about the situation in Umbar as we can, before we attack. What she knows, sure - but also what I can confirm in person. It would be... interesting, to be able to move on the slave market at the same time as the temple? It would also be interesting to be able to prepare different routes across the city, to get in and out. And to avoid the Umbarian harbor upon our arrival. I am sure you will also have further ideas that I could explore during my time there. As long as I won't be walking into a trap, of course. Thoughts?"

[Lantaelen]

@Arnyn @Pele Alarion

Lord Abrazimir Dimaethor
Mid-January, Estate of House Dimaethor, Lond Côl
Early in the Fourth Age

She wouldn’t even look at him. But when he voiced his apology, modest as it was, Arnyn’s eyes finally floated over to her. She seemed…taken aback by it. Like she expected to be harangued and rebuked further. Whatever initial fire that gotten Abrazimir so heated was extinguished by now. And it had not been the proper outlet that he had done it, for which he was acknowledging his wrongdoing and error. It was fortunate for him that she appeared so understanding. No rebuke or bitterness was flung back at him. Just simple gratitude. She was willing to take responsibility should things go wrong. He nodded his head appreciatively. That was what’s important. That they stood together against this.

Arnyn told him about this informant. ”Avaleazar. Hazadazra.” Abrazimir repeated slowly. He figured he could appreciate the naming convention. It was Adûnaic, much like how he preferred to present his own. She was some sort of noble, with her own personal grudge against the Temple, who had sacrificed her father, leaving her alone as the heiress of her estate. That seemed rather benevolent for such a violent culture, letting a young woman keep her lands and wealth. Very…progressive. But Avaleazar had land and money, to aid in any covert operation in Umbar, even smuggled some over to buy a house in Minas Tirith, with all it’s vacancies. No, he did not recognize the name of her Captain, Daamri.

He glanced over at Pele though, for whom it had been mentioned this Avaleazar had saved her life, where Abrazimir and others had missed their opportunity to do so during their second expedition to Umbar some years ago. Did she confirm all of this?

And then Arnyn mentioned…her brother Tercen was sleeping with Avaleazar.

”Oh bloody hell,” Abrazimir huffed and rolled his eyes and threw up his hands, all those feelings of paranoia about this informant being an inside agent for the Corsairs coming to the fore. Seduction was one of their preferred methods, was it not? And they got the Lieutenant’s brother. They were making such progress and it all got knocked back to square one. It had sounded so professional before, now there was the threat of personal biases at play. He fumed and furrowed his brow, clenching his hands and all. Settle down, old boy. Settle down.

He put his fists on his hips and stared at Arnyn critically, trying not to blow up again. Well, it’ll be her head on the line, going in first with this reconnaissance mission. His head felt so very hot right now. Well, if she got in, and got out, with the others, then that all but proved the validity of this informant, he supposed. That lessened the danger by stretching it out to a later date. ”When I went there last, we came and left by the harbour, so if you’re trying to avoid that, my scarce information on the city is rather moot.” He rubbed the front of his face.

”Tell your…tell Avaleazar she should look into stockpiling supplies for us in advance. Grain and water. In this fancy house of hers. If the city is taken successfully, we’ll be cut off in the midst of a hostile land, and resupply by sea isn’t always guaranteed. Make note of granaries, reservoirs, whatever we can do to best fortify this occupation surrounded by foes. That’s really all I can think of for now.” Abrazimir said, moving to pace around, and glance through some of the cracks in the shed paneling down to the docks, and the ship. Men and sailors were starting to loiter. Preparation was almost complete. This was insanity.

”We should get back. They’re waiting for us.” He concluded softly. This was still a lot for him to take in and he needed some rest to absorb it all. By the Valar, how his world had been thrown upside down and all. The War was very much still on, if the frontiers had only shifted a little. But that was a first in his lifetime and they could very easily be shifted back to the shores of his own home right here.

[Lantaelen]

@Rillewen

Lady Azraindil Dimaethor
Túrion Dornea, Edhellon River, Dor-en-Ernil
Late April, Fourth Age

All those times? ”You know…the betrothal with Aear, the dance, the other events,” Azraindil trailed off, waving a hand vaguely. They had not always interacted at these things but they had seen one another. Usually Azraindil had been focused on Aearonor because at the time, he was fated to be her betrothed. Then when he passed away, her parents talked about shifting the betrothal to Anurion, but that lasted hardly a blink before he vanished too, leading to the betrothal’s present incumbent; him. The economical and business side of the marriage contract was more important than the actual people involved. Her father wanted the timber for the Dimaethor war machine. More ships, more weapons, more, more, more.

”His pack?” She thought long and hard but honestly could remember nothing. ”I cannot. It’s such…a common and simple thing, one’s pack. You see them everyday, borne by all sorts of people. You never look twice, think twice, about it. I’m sorry.” She said with a frown, knowing it could have been something that further cemented proof that Trastion and Anurion were the same. Most of their encounter in Ossarnen had been without his pack, as he had to leave it behind for the sake of the foxes.

But regardless, there was a strong feeling, an intuition, that the Forester boy she had met in the vales of the Ered Nimrais had been her brother. Azraindil felt so confident. It was…a look in the eyes. She remembered vividly the passion, from where he fought for her against the seagulls as Madhion, to how he strove with her to protect the foxes as Trastion. That same fire of resolve in the eyes. He was alive. He was out there, surviving, perhaps even prospering, if he could send letters and all even as late as six months ago during her family’s joust. Could they…not get a return letter to him? Let him know he was not totally alone, and there were others fighting for him, in what little way two young women could do. Azraindil had her lips pursed and her brow furrowed in determination, but no outright method came to the front of her mind. Yet.

Yeah, he is.. but what makes you say that? Azraindil stopped thinking so hard and smiled. ”I’ll tell you later.” She promised Dulinneth and let her now tell Azraindil about this deal with the local healer, Solchion. So apparently, Anurion got suddenly sick the last day Aearonor had been alive. It was so clearly conspiratorial, something deliberate to separate the brothers, and get Aearonor alone. Maybe it had been intended for both to be killed. Whatever it was, whatever had happened, Solchion might know. There might be a record of whatever afflicted Anurion. It could be proof. Powerful proof.

Linny just needed an opportunity to get in there and search the files. She needed a distraction. Azraindil was already nodding in affirmation to the request even before Linny voiced it a second time. ”I can think of something. There’s always something. Headaches, nausea, cramps, allergies, sprains, maybe something with the coldness here. I mean, it’s not that cold, but it’s more so than home, and we can play into that maybe…” she trailed off, a number of possibilities they could try and utilize. Something to hold Solchion’s attention. ”The more genuine the better. Maybe I can eat some weird berry? They aren’t poisonous around here, are they? Good thing I chose the cabin. He can make a house call to me and you’ll have time to sneak in and snoop around.” She wiggled her fingers, stimulating taking a gander or ruffling about.

So the plan was decided. Just not this first day or even the second, as it might look suspicious. These things take time to build up in the body too. In the meanwhile, Azraindil regaled Linny with a fuller retelling of both situations, the Sea-Wall encounter back when they were little children, about the clams and seagulls, and then the more recent Ossarnen encounter, with the foxes and poachers. Who…shot at them, with bows, trying to maim or kill them. And then the barn, the picnic basket and arguing over who’d make the sandwiches and Trastion being a stubborn butt. She had to tickle him into submission (Azraindil overinflated her victory).

Eventually word came that Dulinneth’s parents were returned and up, so the pair retired from the cabin to the main manse, for Azraindil to make her introductions to Lord Talven and to Lady Taurhebhor, with whom came a long hour of commiserations, sympathies, and condolences regarding Azraindil’s deceased mother. And Toggornir too eventually made his return. They had a large, intimate dinner and there was much talk, about the past, and the near future, of nuptials and Azraindil’s Houses of Healing apprenticeship, so traditional in the elven manner of the Faithful of Gondor. That men should serve and fight, while women healed and maintained. Azraindil played up the obedient wife-to-be dynamic, playing into both men’s expectations. But in secretly cast eye-rolls to Linny, it was all apart of the plan to build a cover story.

Night came and went and a new day dawned.

It was a spoilt thing to do but Azraindil had some chocolates before breakfast. On an empty stomach too. She and Lady Talven had shared a set, in memory of her mother and they were rather delicious. It was still so near to the grief and it was always in those lonely moments before bed and upon awakening when the sorrow hit hardest. Azraindil needed some sort of picker-upper and the chocolate was perfect. At least she wasn’t crying anymore, whether bawling her eyes or in silence. But sometimes…the feeling threatened to overwhelm her. At least once a day. She had to press on with her own life.

Today, she and Linny were going riding. She wore boots and a long overcoat to shield her clothing, as she had not brought an entire wardrobe to take on to Minas Tirith. Steeds would be provided and Azraindil made all the show of riding side-saddle like a proper Lady, though the moment they were out of view of the men…she was definitely going to ride full mount. It was just easier that way, to maneuver and of course the thrill of acceleration and speed while safely tucked. It was in the moment just before they were about to depart the stables that…something happened. In her gut. ”Oh,” she said, holding her stomach suddenly, as something roiled in there. Luckily, she had some breakfast to hold it down, whatever it was, causing a binding effect. Had she not, the effects would be most dreadful.

Right now though she wrote it off as a combination of anxiety and grief. It’ll pass. ”I’m okay,” she waved off to Linny. ”Let’s lose ourselves in the forest. Maybe we’ll see some foxes.” She grinned knowingly at Linny. Hopefully Toggornir did not try to tag along. She could not focus on suppressing her grief and her disdain of him at the same time. Only one. ”The birds sing so loudly here too! But I suppose it’s because the forest is literally next to the home.”

[Rillewen]

@Lantaelen

Dulinneth Talven
Túrion Dornea, Edhellon River, Dor-en-Ernil
Late April, Fourth Age

The temperature had risen today, and Linn was happy to find that it was warm enough not to need more than a light cloak, and most of the snow was melted by the time Linn emerged from the house, hastening off to the stables to see if Maerdor had the horses ready yet. Only a few slushy patches of white remained, but by midday it would all be gone. It seemed kind of funny that they'd had such a random cold snap right when Gaer was due to arrive, but in springtime, the temperatures always seemed to fluctuate for a while. So now, it was warming back up to what spring weather should be, in Linn's opinion.

Before long, Linn was leading Rhovan out of the stable, brushed, saddled, bridled, and ready to go. Beside her, Maerdor led a gentle yellow-colored mare, Malen, to meet Gaer. Linn had grown much taller since her first lesson at riding, but she still used the mounting block to get on, while they were near enough to the house that her mother or governess might look out of the window. Away from home, in the woods, she could just use the stirrup and swing herself up.

She waited in the saddle while Gaer was getting on Malen. Although they had a special side-saddle, Linn had asked Maerdor to please use a regular saddle for Gaer, since her friend had expressed her intentions to Linn. The side-saddle, therefore, "needed repairs" and so they had to use a regular style.

Linn watched with a small frown as Gaer seemed to have some sort of problem when she was about to get on. But then she insisted she was fine, and Linn relaxed with a little smile. Seeing Togg emerge from the house, Linn wanted to get away quickly. "Come on, let's go." She urged, tapping her heels lightly to Rhovan's sides. Malen would follow the other horse without much urging, and soon Linn was leading the way off to show Gaer her favorite places in the forest.

There was a lovely little clearing, where there would be a lot of flowers growing once the weather had warmed a little more. As they rode along the paths in the forest, she showed Gaer different kinds of trees, in particular, pointing out the dogwood trees blooming, some trees with white flowers, and other trees with pink flowers. All the while, Linn checked back frequently to make sure that her friend was handling the ride through the woods well enough, since she was not used to the forest.

[Pele Alarion]

@Arnyn , @Lantaelen

Captain Pele Alarion
with Lieutenant Arnyn Dealedwen and Lord Abrazimir Dimaethor
January - Estate of House Dimaethor, Lond Col

Pele thought the flood of information they had poured onto Abrazimir so unexpectedly might be tough on him, and she wondered if her approach of pouring the same amount gradually rather than all at once would have been any better. Probably not. She observed the knight once she had spoken, not rushing him into any sort of response and waiting for him to formulate his consecutive thoughts out loud.

"There is no assurance that my fool's hope won't end in a terrible disaster," she responded quietly when Abrazimir expressed his trust. "But it is better than an endless gnawing wrath and revenge that would eat up my own life and spill over onto innocent people."

Pele then said no more about this, figuring it would not do to express all of her inner doubts and insecurities; she would tackle those by herself - she would have to if she were to make sure to be as effective as possible in this mission. Meanwhile Abrazimir had already moved to call Arnyn back into the shed, and she observed the interactions, a shadow of a smile touching her eyes and lips.

The smile disappeared to give way to a slight frown when the knight gave what instructions he thought would be necessary for success. She had not thought of them lingering in Umbar for longer than necessary and had thought that they would be in and out as soon as possible. She definitely had not imagined them fortifying themselves inside Umbar to hold on there for a lengthy period of time. However, it was clear that this was not a time to hold a much lengthier conference on it right away, and any decisions taken on this matter could not be taken on the spot and hastily. They'd have time to discuss and plan further details - they would have to. So she did not comment on the matter right away.

"Suppose we should be going then," she only said. "Though I figure there's a ways to go for us to clear up more details and all so that we can act as one."

[Arnyn]

@Lantaelen @Pele Alarion

Lieutenant Arnyn Dealedwen
with Lord Abrazimir Dimaethor and Captain Pele Alarion
January - Estate of House Dimaethor, Lond Côl

Abrazimir's response to Tercen's involvement with Ava, made Arnyn release a sigh. "I know," she acknowledged. "From all the women he could have picked," she mumbled. And now he was over there, with her - and who knew what would happen to him. The Lieutenant resisted dragging a hand through her hair.

She nodded at the knight's comment about the harbour. That was not entirely unexpected. Arnyn tilted her chin when Abrazimir gave his advice. Stockpile supplies. He was talking... he was talking about the future. About what would happen once they had successfully taken the city. Yes, that would have to be laid out carefully... Umbar was an island of sorts, surrounded by enemy tribes... Arnyn's attention shifted to Pele, but the Captain did not comment.

Both Abrazimir and Pele seemed to agree it was time to go to the ship. Arnyn agreed. There was still one matter, though.

"The Rangers still need to be told," she reminded the Captain. "They all know a mission to Umbar is in the works, and that it is voluntary. As you are aware, Kaylin knows some more, because I asked her if she would consider going with me, when I go there after sea training." Arnyn's gaze flicked back to Abrazimir. "She declined. What she knows is limited to that we may have someone on the inside, but we still need to determine how much we can trust them - and that is why I'll be venturing out there soon. And that going with me would be risky and highly unpredictable."

The Lieutenant resisted a shrug. "In my opinion we should not wait long before informing all rangers of the developments. Perhaps let them to focus on this training exercise first. And inform them shortly after our return."

"Isys also does not know yet," she told Abrazimir, now reminded of his earlier inquiry. "She was away from the city, on training, on the days where the decisions were made and Hazadazra left. Isys returned shortly before we set out for this exercise. The timing was very tight." She looked to Pele for her opinion on whether Abrazimir should or should not share this with her in the days to come. There were multiple considerations, after all. On the one hand, Abrazimir and Isys had a shared history when it came to Umbar and its attacks. They were neighbours. They were close. On the other hand, Isys was now a Ranger under Pele's command, and Pele might not want her having full details until the others were made aware of the same. It was the Captain's call to make.

[Pele Alarion]

@Arnyn , @Lantaelen

Captain Pele Alarion
with Lieutenant Arnyn Dealedwen and Lord Abrazimir Dimaethor
January - Estate of House Dimaethor, Lond Col

"Yes," Pele agreed with the reminder that other Rangers would have to be informed, a hint of a smile touching her eyes as she looked at Arnyn. "If told immediately it would likely distract their attention from the tasks at hand and they might not learn all they should. So yes, it might be better to brief them right after."

She then looked away thoughtfully, observing the movement of the waves through a crack between the wall boards as she considered the matter of Isys knowing. She had skipped over the question unwittingly and was grateful that Arnyn had brought it back up. It was clear that if something went wrong in Umbar, any retaliation might first of all hit here, and it was Abrazimir and Isys who held the fort, working together. Coordinating no doubt, even while Isys was in Minas Tirith.

"Look, Abrazimir," she said, unwilling to draw the pause out too long, and turned her gaze away from the waves towards the Knight. "While Ilisys is one of the Rangers and should be informed along with the others, I am also aware that you might want her informed sooner for the purposes of holding defences here, right? While I would prefer to treat her as one of my own, I trust you to share with her the information in the scope needed and when needed - if such time of need comes before the time Rangers are briefed and if you deem it necessary for protection of your lands. What do you think of this?"

Pele then glanced from Abrazimir to Arnyn and back again waiting to see if they might have something to add or perhaps object.

[Lantaelen]

@Arnyn @Pele Alarion

Lord Abrazimir Dimaethor
Mid-January, Estate of House Dimaethor, Lond Côl
Early in the Fourth Age

He was at least more sympathetic to Pele’s expression of anxiety than he was before. His mind and heart had been broadened to a greater degree by the soft explanations of both the women before him. Soft, to his harsh critique, the contrast in tone shaming him in a way. Abrazimir should have been in better control of his reaction and mood but the news he was receiving was astonishing. Outrageous. Flash storms from out of the deep sea was less shocking than some of the things he heard here today.

Now Arnyn’s brother was involved rather deeply in the whole affair. She had a personal stake in this matter just like he did. As for who else knew about this situation, the Rangers definitely would be need to be informed, but Pele suggested it should wait until after the training was complete to preserve their focus. Isys had missed the entire unfolding in Minas Tirith so she knew very little. But she would have to be informed, Abrazimir was thinking. It was her home and family too here on the frontlines if and when a Corsair reprisal came. Her people would be fighting side by side with his own folk. They would ask questions naturally when they saw the Dimaethors preparing for an attack. She needed to be told.

Pele agreed with that need at least, and trusted Abrazimir not to say too much that was more than necessary. ”I will at least wait until after the training to inform her then. That much I can guarantee. We can touch base again at it’s conclusion to determine if the timing is unripe or otherwise too. The danger isn’t exactly coming over the horizon right away.” He inhaled and then exhaled long and slowly. That was a sobering thought to calm his nerves down. The Corsairs weren’t provoked yet from this forthcoming espionage on their part. They had some time. Time to figure things out properly and more thoroughly.

”You’ll have your chance to share with her and the other Rangers first, then me and her can put our heads together to think about the long term defence of these shores. I will be patient. But…not forever.” And they’ll have to inform their respective families as well. Abrazimir’s father for one, who managed a lot more, and would be less forgiving about being in the dark about a potential danger to his fiefdom. But that can come after he and Isys figured it out, once she was in on the loop as well.

”I got nothing more to say. Let’s see how the training goes and how the Rangers react as a whole when you are ready to make known these developments to them.” A week or two, the world shouldn’t end in that small time frame. Right? ”Let us return now. Come on.” He gestured, signalling for the two women to exit first and all three of them return to the ship and their personnel, under the strong light of day, where hope was most greatest. While it lasted.

End Scene

[Lantaelen]

@Rillewen

Lady Azraindil Dimaethor
Túrion Dornea, Edhellon River, Dor-en-Ernil
Late April, Fourth Age

It seemed such a good start to a good day. Spring was blossoming and the snow was melting, only visible in ditches and depressions. They managed to bolt from the stables before Toggornir or any other adult caught on to the ladies very unladylike style of riding. It was a rare whiff of independence, being in the deep country, with no chaperones or escorts, able to talk and express themselves freely in the absence of danger. Azraindil got to wear a rare smile that she hadn’t had in a long time. They talked about birds and trees and flowers and for a time the woes of the world seemed forgotten.

But something new was brewing, as a strange element began to work inside of Azraindil. At first it seemed a distant thing, a roiling in the stomach, like it was unnaturally clenching upon itself, giving her the sensation of severe cramps. The pain would lance suddenly, but only lasting a few seconds, but slowly it drained blood flow from her head and the extremities of her body. Her fingertips and toes tingled with numbness. And the edges of her vision began to blur. Vertigo was growing on her.

She grew pale. And cold. She followed Linny, smiling and making comments of acknowledgement to the trees. The flowers felt weird. Like funeral flowers of condolences. It was so strange that something so beautiful could seem so…poisonous. Perhaps such a feeling was forewarning to what was happening to her, though Azraindil could not fathom it at present. Pink flowers… And something all shifted within her. Felt like roaring hell was going to consume her entire abdomen.

In the midst of the next explanation, she could hold it back no longer. Her body could no longer tolerate the invasive element. Suddenly dismounting, landing hard, gloved hand over her mouth, the other extended to grip the trunk of the nearest dogwood tree and slamming hard against it for balance. She barely saw it and only by luck did she manage to stumble to it’s anchorage, as she began to vomit, something distasteful and putrid. Yellowish, a mixture of stomach acid, though the volume was less than a cup of water, she gagged and made terrible gurgling sounds as it forced it’s way out involuntarily. She couldn’t breathe during the moment of incident, but her resulting inhale was shaky and pained. She gasped, and coughed, and tears stung her eyes. What was wrong with her? It felt like death. She wiped her mouth with the back of her sleeve and just held it against her lips, eyes shut.

”Uinen save me,” she croaked, coughing and sinking down to her knees, leaning hard against the tree as sweat stained her brow and she felt so tired and weak, her head spinning and her stomach roiling, though much lessened by the expulsion. Dear Valar, what was that?! ”I’m alright, I’m alright,” she declared obstinately, putting a brave face on it, when she most clearly was not alright.

[Rillewen]

@Lantaelen

Dulinneth Talven
Túrion Dornea, Dor-en-Ernil
Late April, Fourth Age

Their ride seemed to be going well. Linn was enjoying it, anyway. Just two girls, with their horses, out in the woods. For now, it was all very lighthearted and fun. She intended to take Gaer to see the bridge, too, but later. Right now, she wanted to show her the nicer places that Linn enjoyed visiting. She was thinking maybe next, she would take them to the little glade where sometimes deer came to graze, and see if they might be able to spot one.

It was at that moment that she heard a thud behind her. What was that? Linn turned in her saddle to check if everything was alright with Gaer, only to see that her friend was.. throwing up!? Linn swiftly climbed down from Rhovan, looping his reins around a nearby bush before hastening to her friend's side. "What's wrong?" She asked anxiously, completely ignoring Gaer's claim that she was alright. Linn pulled out a lace-edged handkerchief from a pocket, and carefully dabbed at the sweat on her friend's forehead. "You should sit down," She decided, taking a look around for somewhere that she could do that. "Here," She said, motioning toward a nearby log which could serve as a bench. "Just rest for a bit." She suggested, trying to think of anything else that might help.

"Do you need some water?" She suddenly thought of that, and before Gaer could offer a reply, Linn ran back over to her horse, reaching up to grab her canteen from the saddle. She brought that back to offer to Gaer, worry clear on her face. Maybe a little water would settle her stomach? Whatever could have caused this?

[Lantaelen]

@Rillewen

Lady Azraindil Dimaethor
Túrion Dornea, Edhellon River, Dor-en-Ernil
Late April, Fourth Age

Dulinneth was at her side in an instant, as Azraindil pressed her hand to the tree trunk for support, doubled over, panting huge, gasping breaths. Some of which ended in a wheeze. Her friend dabbed at her forehead and Azraindil closed her eyes and mouth, trying to level herself out. You should sit down and she complied, allowing herself to be led to a nearby log upon which she sank down. She put her elbows on her knees and put her face in her gloves, still shuddering with pained breaths but it was getting easier.

Whatever it was, the majority had been expelled. But enough remained to discomfort her further. ”Oh, my…” she just lamented, breaths still shallow, but no longer forced. Getting easier.

Water. Thank Uinen! Water was most welcome and she looked up when Linny brought it over. ”Th-thanks.” She said, drinking a small sip at first, rinsing her mouth, turning aside to spit. So unladylike. She was embarrassed to have to do so in front of Linny. She was supposed to be a good role model and everything. She took another sip and managed to get it down, the coolness feeling refreshing as it washed down the burning sensation of retching that remained in her throat. ”I…don’t know what happened.” She explained weakly. ”It was so sudden…” She tried to explain, wiping at the corner of her teary eyes.

”I don’t want to be sick, this was supposed to be fun…” she lamented, looking up at Linny, eyes pained but…managing to smile morbidly. If her Adar found out, this soon after her Emil’s passing and all, he’d never let her travel again. This was supposed to be her test and mark of adulthood, that she could survive on her own. And she got sick day one? It was unfair. It felt cursed. What could she have eaten to do this to her? Nothing she hadn’t had before. ”It’ll pass, gimme a mo-“

It roiled again. She hiccuped and slapped her hand to her mouth right after, before drinking from the canteen quickly, which kept it down. For now. ”Oh no,” she lamented again. It was just so pained and unexpected, she wasn’t even thinking…this was something they had wanted, right? For their conspiracy… ”I’ll be okay. I’m alright.” She said, voice almost a croak, but her breathing was much steadier. And she felt less unbalanced.

[Rillewen]

@Lantaelen

Dulinneth Talven
Túrion Dornea, Dor-en-Ernil
April 23rd, Fourth Age

What was going on? Linn watched, anxious, as her friend struggled to recover from her sudden sickness. She knew nothing about healing, aside from tending to basic scrapes and such. She had only been sick a few times in her life, but this... it seemed very mysterious and worrisome.

"Is that helping?" she asked hopefully, watching Gaer take another sip from her canteen. She was trying to think of what to do. And all that came to mind, was that she needed a healer. As Gaer insisted she was alright, Linn bit her lip, trying to think. "Can you sit on your horse, you think?" She asked, having an idea. "If I lead her along with me, could you stay in the saddle? I could get you to Solchion. He'll know what to do."

With that thought in mind, Linn looked up to see where Malen had gotten off to. The mare, without having been secured anywhere, had wandered over to investigate some nearby bushes that she thought looked tasty. Linn hurried over to grab her reins before she got herself tangled, and led her back over to her friend. "I could help you get up in the saddle, if you need it, and then all you have to do is hold on and not fall off."

[Lantaelen]

@Rillewen

Lady Azraindil Dimaethor
Túrion Dornea, Edhellon River, Dor-en-Ernil
Late April, Fourth Age

She nodded to the question of water helping, soothing the burning sensation of retching that lingered in her mouth and throat. Azraindil was sure this was the first time she had ever vomited and it was a most unpleasant sensation. Her stomach still felt like it was twisting and roiling, a weakness that would spike up and so paralyzed her that she lost motor functions even, threatening to fall over. Her head spun and there was a coldness creeping at her fingertips, toes, her nose, all over.

Can you sit on your horse, you think? …could you stay in the saddle? ”Y-Yeah. I could have but I just didn’t want to…throw up on her. Malen wouldn’t have liked that.” She nodded and jested weakly. Linny went off to fetch the mare and Azraindil rose to her feet, stumbling to the nearby tree for support and anchorage, waiting for her friend to return. She held on to the canteen, taking continual small sips, each one having a tremendous restorative effect on her throat. But her stomach felt like hell, jagged and burning.

Linny returned with Malen. ”Help would be appreciated. Just in case. My hands feel…weird…” she murmured, walking slowly towards Malen’s side, her legs feeling like they might give at any moment, just barely holding on. She grabbed the saddle and with Linny’s assistance, was able to clamber on. Barely. It was…rather undignified, how she struggled to get on but they managed together. ”Thank you. Sorry the ride was cut short. I’m just…not feeling well.” She made a face, hand on her stomach, the other gripping the reins. She stayed bent forward, able to grasp the mare’s neck for support if becoming unseated was looking to become reality.

”Was it something I ate…?” She pondered aloud as Linny led them on. ”It’s basically the same food I eat back at home.” What was different? The chocolate. But it was too insignificant in her mind, too simple, to be considered a reason. Just yet.

[Rillewen]

@Lantaelen

Dulinneth Talven
Túrion Dornea, Dor-en-Ernil
April 23rd, Fourth Age

Linn was usually the one needing help getting into the saddle, so she knew how to make a cup with her hands, lacing her fingers together to give Gaer a little step up. But she was also young, and had never tried to lift anyone else up into the saddle, so it was awkward and she was glad there was no one around to watch their pathetic efforts to get Gaer back into the saddle.

Once they were both back on their horses, though, Linn brought Rhovan up close to Malen and took her reins, pulling them over the horse's head so that it became more like a lead rope. She smiled slightly at Gaer as she took a moment to secure the reins to the back of her own saddle. "It's not your fault," She assured her friend. "Don't worry about it, really. We'll figure out what's wrong, and then when you're better, we'll try again." She promised, smiling over at her. Trying not to look worried... but she really was. What could be wrong with her?

Through the forest paths, Linn led the way back home by the most direct path. She glanced back as often as she drew a breath, just about. Just to make sure that Gaer wasn't about to fall off her horse or anything. And to try and see how she looked. Rhovan sensed the girl's suppressed panic, and he picked up his pace slightly, to a brisk walk. Linn tried to keep a close eye on her friend, watching for anything seriously worrying. "Keep sipping on the water," She encouraged Gaer, hoping maybe that would help. Maybe she'd only gotten a little dehydrated? Or, maybe she hadn't eaten enough at breakfast, and she needed some food? Maybe she needed to eat something, to get her strength up or something. That's what Glirdis would suggest, most likely.

Whatever the case, she was beyond relieved when they finally climbed up the winding road to her home, and reached Solchion's cabin, which wasn't far from the main house. Linn dropped to the ground, looped Rhovan's reins hastily around a post, then hurried over to help Gaer down.. rather than risk her falling off of her horse or something. "Solchion will figure out what's wrong," She spoke with confidence, having faith in the healer's abilities. He'd always been able to help her family members if they were sick or hurt, so she knew he was good at his job. Leading Gaer to the door, she began banging urgently on it.

The door opened swiftly, as the healer came to see what the fuss was about. "Miss, what's the trouble?" He inquired, immediately taking notice of Gaer.

"I don't know," She explained, worried. "We were out riding, and she suddenly got sick and started throwing up. She said her hands feel funny, and.. and.."

"Calm down," He instructed, reaching out to offer aid to the one who was clearly the patient. "Come in and sit down, lady Dimaethor," He requested. Of course, he knew who she was, for everyone knew about the guest at the estate by now. He would guide her inside, through the main room, and to the one he used for an examination room where she could sit or lie down if she was not feeling well enough to sit up. Linn trailed along after her, for the moment, too worried to think about anything but seeing that her friend was alright.

[Lantaelen]

@Rillewen

Lady Azraindil Dimaethor
Túrion Dornea, Edhellon River, Dor-en-Ernil
Late April, Fourth Age

”I just h-hope it passes soon.” Azraindil said, as Linny led them back the way they came, back towards the estate. Their hopes of a girls-only ride dashed. So quickly, so abruptly, right at the moment of success. It felt like rotten bad luck. Or perhaps…an opportunity. Linny walked ahead of both horses, occasionally glancing back, Azraindil managing to stay in saddle though at times she swayed and tilted like a person on the verge of great fatigue. Sweat glistened on her forehead and it was hard to breathe, lips constantly ajar, her lungs feeling so…heavy. The water was a relief though and she near drained it’s entire contents by the time they were back.

They reached Solchion’s hut soon enough. With Linny’s help, she dismounted safely. ”You should become a healer too.” She laughed weakly in gratitude to her younger friend’s help. Ironic given that Azraindil was on the way to train at the Houses of Healing in Minas Tirith and here she was, sick from out of the blue. She hated that she was starting to understand their parents urges for a chaperone or escort as well. They hardly managed this incident. Had it been worse, who knew what the consequences could have been. But they managed. And were wiser for it.

Together, they made it to the door, where Linny banged on the front. It sounded so sharp and thunderous to Azraindil’s senses. Was Linny always that strong? Or was it just her that was…unbalanced. She kept her hand on Linny’s shoulder, the other resting on her stomach, and the door opened to reveal the elderly healer who immediately saw the discomfort in the young women’s faces. Linny did the talking, Azraindil nodding along in affirmation, with some other details left out but there would be time to explain. Solchion beckoned them in. Sit. Explain.

She wobbled in and took a seat, staying upright, even as her stomach roiled. If she laid down she had the anxiety that she wouldn’t be able to get up again. She refused to surrender to bedrest just yet. Not when there was a whole world to explore just inches away beyond the walls…

She realized too…Linny needed a distraction like this. She shot Linny a look, somehow trying, manifesting, the thought somehow across to her friend. To read each other’s minds.

”We were out riding…and I felt this dizziness, out of nowhere. My stomach started cramping and twisting, or it felt like, and the next thing I know I was throwing up.” She recounted to Solchion slowly. ”My hands feel so tingly and numb at the finger tips, like they’ve been out in the cold.” She said, staring at her hands, which were still gloved and all. ”What do you think it is? Nothing like this ever happened before. I’ve been riding, I’ve been in the woods, why did I start feeling so sick? It still hurts, too.” She described, genuine symptoms she was going through.

[Rillewen]

@Lantaelen

Dulinneth Talven
Túrion Dornea, Dor-en-Ernil
April 23rd, Fourth Age

As they were admitted into the cabin, Linn could think of nothing but ensuring that Gaer was going to be alright. She stood off to the side while her friend took a seat and began to explain her symptoms. Wringing her hands, fidgeting a little as she felt quite useless in this situation.

Solchion nodded thoughtfully as the young lady explained her symptoms. "Tingly, hm?" He frowned as he tried to make sense of that. "How tight are your gloves?" He checked, first. "And how long have you been out riding?" He also felt it would be good to check that.

"Hardly any time at all," Linn insisted. "And it's not even hardly cold, out."

Solchion glanced at her. "Miss Talven, perhaps you should go and find Glirdis, and stay with her." He told her gently, seeing how distressed she seemed.

"No, I'm staying with Gaer." Linn frowned, folding her arms stubbornly.

The healer sighed, but he nodded. "Alright, but I need you to let me do my job, without interference." He informed her. "Perhaps, you could wait in the entry." He suggested.

Linn frowned, wanting to pout. She wanted to stay right here. She wanted to be right there next to her friend. But, perhaps, she was being a distraction. She glanced at Gaer, then at Solchion, before letting out a sigh. "Alright." She grudgingly agreed, exiting the examination room with reluctance. Frowning, she sat down and crossed her arms sulkily as she found a seat in the entrance of the healer's cabin.

Meanwhile, Solchion turned back to his patient and spent the next several minutes asking her questions, trying to get to the bottom of this medical mystery. What she'd eaten today, what she had done, whether she'd touched or handled any unfamiliar plants, and so on. Whether the tingling was this way, or that way, and how bad it was, and when it began. But none of her answers seemed to explain the random illness. He felt somewhat puzzled at hearing the symptoms, though. That sounded.. strangely familiar, in fact. Hadn't Glirdis suffered from a similar thing, back in September? He needed to check her file to be sure about that, so after he had asked all the questions he felt necessary, he asked that the young lady wait for a moment. He left the examination room, passing through the entry where Linn was anxiously waiting, and went into the office room where he kept a cabinet full of patient records.

Linn looked up when he came through, then glanced toward the door he had come out of. She couldn't see Gaer. She hoped she was alright, though. Then, her worry began to give way to a bit of curiosity. What was he doing in that room? She got up from her chair, tiptoeing over to the doorway, and peered in from the side. She saw the healer unlock a drawer in the tall cabinet. Then. he began looking through the files stored there, until he pulled one out and glanced at its contents. After reading whatever was on the papers, he gave a nod to himself, set the file down on his desk, and went to another cabinet, which was also locked. He unlocked it and took down a couple of jars.

Linn hastily tiptoed back to her chair, watching the door intently. She had briefly forgotten, due to her worry about Gaer, but now she remembered her scheme. When Solchion came out, Linn stood up. "Is she going to be alright?" She asked, starting to follow him toward the examination room.

"She's going to be just fine, now please, sit down and wait, Miss Talven." He told her, a little impatiently. He had a vial of medicine in hand, and took that into the room with Gaer. "Alright, miss Dimaethor." He declared, smiling reassuringly. "This should help your stomachache," He poured measured out a small amount of the tinture made from a particular bark, which was for when stomach pain was accompanied by nausea and similar symptoms. "It's a little strong, so I'm going to add it to a glass of water, and I want you to drink it. That should help ease your stomach cramps." He mixed the tincture with water, and waited while she sipped on it.

"And as for the tingling," He handed her a jar of something that seemd like handcream, next. "Apply this cream three to four times a day," He instructed. "Just get a little bit and rub it into the tingly area. It should make your fingers feel normal again before long." He said, although he really wished he could figure out the reason for this having happened. It was difficult to treat something without knowing what was causing it, after all. "Also, I would recommend you spend the rest of the day resting," He added. "Even if you start feeling well again, I wouldn't like to think of you ladies off in the woods somewhere and this happening again." He frowned at the thought of that. "And, I think it would be best if you let me walk you girls back and see that you get settled in somewhere comfortable, to rest." He declared, moving to open the door for her so that she could rejoin Linn in the entry. "Whether it's the main house, or your own cabin. Or, at least, let me call your servant to come and help you?" He suggested.


Meanwhile, Linn had waited for the healer to go back into the examination room before she hurried into the office room. The file was still lying on the desk, so of course, she took a look at it. Glirdis' file. She frowned, skimming over it thoughtfully. Wait.. yes, she remembered this. Her governess had been feeling too poorly to come to the joust. Curious, she slowed down to read it more thoroughly, surprised to see that Glirdis' illness was very much like Gaer's. It was a little jarring to see that. Why would they have the same symptoms? She frowned, feeling a bit puzzled about that. But she had another file to check.

Turning to the drawer, Linn began to search. It didn't take but a second or two to realize that it was arranged alphabetically. So, that was helpful. So, she moved straight to the A section, seeking Anurion's file. To her surprise, though, he was not the only A in there. Linn paused, seeing not only Anurion's name there, but.. his father's name, too. Authion Taurhebor.

Just then, she heard Solchion's voice at the door, talking of walking them back. Her time was up! Oops.. She had spent too long reading Glirdis' file, and now she had no time to even look at Anurion's, let alone Authion's! With only a couple of seconds left to make a decision, Linn hesitated, glancing toward the entry room that was in between where she was, and where Gaer was. Then, she grabbed both folders and slid them under her cloak, pushed the drawer back to the place it had been, and hurried back to her seat... with only seconds to spare before Solchion emerged, escorting Gaer out to join her. Linn gave a small nod to signal to Gaer that she had it, but she didn't know yet how they'd get the files back again. Talk about cutting it close...

[Lantaelen]

@Rillewen

Lady Azraindil Dimaethor
Túrion Dornea, Edhellon River, Dor-en-Ernil
Late April, Fourth Age

”Fifteen minutes, maybe less.” She added on to the query about how long they had been out riding, and Linny’s response to it. The healer though tried to dismiss Linny like she was a small girl still, something that Azraindil too had experience with, often shunted away by her parents or older siblings. No, she was old and mature enough! So was Linny. An annoyance swelled up in her at the rude dismissal and she decided she wasn’t going to feel sorry at all for the deception she and Linny were about to play on Solchion. And besides, Linny is your Lady, you can’t tell her what to do…!

Linny insisted on staying though but Azraindil understood, for their conspiracy, she needed to step away. ”I’ll be alright, Dulinneth.” She informed her friend quietly, with a small smile. All the while trying, futilely no doubt, to will a thought into Linny’s mind; this was our chance!

Now it was just Azraindil and Solchion. No chaperone. By the Valar, her father would have a fit. But Azraindil felt herself properly old enough to deal with this. Her stomach still roiled and cramped. Her fingers, and toes, felt tingly and on the verge of numbness. Indeed the tingly sensation being the nerves trying to reassert feeling. The entire ordeal had her exhausted and fatigued. She still clutched the canteen that Linny gave her, though she had consumed most of the water, causing her throat to resume it’s burning ache. The danger of further vomiting still lingered deep within. A small measure of whatever invasive substance still in her body.

She answered all his queries truthfully too, about her eating, her activities, removing her gloves.. Nothing needed to be faked or falsified, as originally intended. This was, in a way, a boon to their hidden cause. And she tried to overstate and overexplain the answers as well, to keep Solchion focused as much as possible on her.

And she too filled the air with other rambling too. Oh, I too am going to become a healer, to train at the Houses of Healing. Have you been before? What’s it like? How many years have you been a healer? Was your father or mother or both a healer? And so forth. She tried to speak loudly too, as if to alert her friend in the other room what might be going on. But Solchion finally did detach himself to go check his records. Her heart began to race,

But there was no shout, no discovery or declarations of confusion. Linny either hadn’t attempted or already completed her mission to check the records. Solchion returned after a few tense minutes of anticipation. Alright, miss Dimaethor, this should help your stomachache. ”You can just call me Gaerlothriel.” She smiled politely, giving her Sindarin name. A tincture was prepared for her, mixed in water. She continued on her scholarly curiosity in the healing arts, peering at the cup. What’s it made from? What properties or effects does each ingredient have? And so forth, delaying the drinking of the medicine for a moment, seeing that he was waiting on her to consume it. Eventually she did.

The same procedure too for the handcream. What’s it made of? How does it work? Again, all prefaced with her repeating how she was to go on to Minas Tirith in a week to train as a healer. She only wanted to do what Solchion did! She deliberately asked rambling questions to keep him focused on her, heedless if it was annoying him or not. Indeed, maybe a little, she wanted to, for the dismissive way he treated Linny. And she appeared so innocently and inconspicuous all the while. ”It’s okay, I will rest the remainder of the day. I should listen to you if I want my patients to listen to me in the future, yes?” She rambled on. ”Lady Talven can help me to my cabin. I am not totally incapable.” She said, already feeling some relief from the tincture. ”Or maybe you should call for Ravondaer. Hmm…” she weighed up the decision further, delaying Solchion for a few more seconds.

But eventually the decision would have to be made. Solchion would take her back himself. Like a spoiled Lady, Azraindil extended her hand and expected the healer to help escort a young noblewoman out, at least to the door. Just to waste more time. She carefully got down from the examination table where she sat, one foot at a time, and gathered her cloak and dress about her, fluffing it out to make it all look neat. Just to waste more seconds. They would emerge to the entry room, where Linny was blissfully waiting. All good Azraindil hoped.

”Lady Talven can take me the rest of the way.” Azraindil said and separated from Solchion, going to Linny’s side now, wrapping her hands around the younger girl’s arm. ”You’ve been most helpful, Master Healer. Thank you. I apologize for all the questions but I learned a lot. I shall remember you when I am at the Houses of Healing!” She said with a smile and bowed her head.

But when she and Linny turned to depart, exiting the healer’s hut, she dropped the pretenses and sighed. ”He’s got a lot of air in his head, huh? Why being a healer if he’s so…impatient.” She commented to Linny. Especially how he was do dismissal of Linny. That seemed to offend Azraindil more than it did her friend. But neither did she know the toils and stresses of a healer too. Not yet. ”I do feel a little better. Still don’t know what…caused it. But…did you…do the other thing?” She asked vaguely as they walked back to her cabin slowly. She was feeling better. Still tired but at least not discomforted. They could talk more once they got inside and the door was shut behind them.

”Did you hear me? I was trying to…talk to you. Through my thoughts. Into your head.” She laughed weakly, it sounding quite ridiculous now, and how impossible it was. Telepathy was not a real thing, at least for their kind. In a way they were both quite young and naïve. And maybe they shouldn’t be so quick to leave behind such innocence and carelessness.

[Rillewen]

@Lantaelen

Dulinneth Talven
Túrion Dornea, Dor-en-Ernil
April 23rd, Fourth Age

She could hear the many questions Gaer was asking, and all the answers that Solchion gave her. She smiled to hear her friend. Was she stalling on purpose? Or was she genuinely asking those questions? Linn wasn't quite certain. But it turned out just perfectly; about the time Linn got settled back in her seat, so that she didn't look like she'd been doing anything she shouldn't, Gaer and Solchion emerged. Linn had hardly had a chance to slow her breathing, and to let her heart stop pounding. But fortunately, Solchion had no interest in checking her heartbeat, so she was fine.

Hopping up, Linn smiled in relief to see that Gaer looked better, at least. "Is everything alright? Are you better, now?" She asked, hurrying to her side. "Yes, I'll help her." She assured Solchion, upon hearing Gaer say that she would help her get to her cabin. "I won't leave her side the rest of the day, unless I have to." She promised. "And I'll be sure to call for you at the first sign of any problems." She added.

Solchion nodded in agreement with that plan. "I'm glad I was able to help, lady Dimaethor," He answered with a respectful bow of his head. "And don't worry about the questions," He smiled. "I am glad to be able to assist in your studies, and I wish you well in those." He paused slightly. "Still, perhaps it would be best if Glirdis was alerted, so she can stay close by," He frowned in concern.

"Oh.. that is an excellent idea," Linn agreed, although she did not really agree. "Yes, I'll be sure to speak to her," Linn promised. She did not say when she would speak to her governess, however. "Thank you so much, Solchion." She added, smiling gratefully to him. And with that, they made their escape.

Linn breathed a sigh of relief once they were outside again, but she did not dare to pull out the folders just yet. A giggle escaped her when Gaer mentioned him having air in his head, and being so impatient. "I think he just loses patience with me, because I used to ask him a lot of questions about things he can't answer." She explained quietly. "Which is why... you know." She gave her a sidelong glance. Their secret. The mission.

"I'm glad you feel better." She added, relieved to hear that it wasn't said just as a ruse to get out of there. She gave a little smile in answer to the question of whether she did 'the other thing' and nodded. But she put a finger to her lips and didn't comment further on that. Not while they were out in the open, where anyone might overhear if they were passing by. Not that she saw anyone around, but you never know who might be within earshot, without realizing it.

"Hear you?" She glanced curiously over at Gaer, then grinned slightly at the explanation. "No, I didn't." She answered regretfully. "I wish I could've. That would've been very neat, wouldn't it?" She tried to imagine being able to do such a thing, but she was pretty sure that was only a thing that elves and maybe wizards could do.

As they arrived, and entered, Gaer's cabin, Linn looked around slightly to make sure that no servants were around the vicinity. Then, she pulled out the folders from under her cloak, and dropped them onto the bed. "Tada!" She smiled proudly. "I didn't have time to read them right then, so I just... um, grabbed all of them. Aearon, Anurion... and their father, too." She added with a lowered voice.

She hopped up onto the bed beside the folders, and reached for the one on top. Only to realize... there were four folders there, not three. "Oh.." She paused, surprised to discover this mistake. "Who..?" Curious, she laid Anurion's folder down and picked up the extra one, which she had not even meant to get. "Avorndir? I wonder who that is?" She murmured under her breath, reading the name on it with puzzlement. Perhaps, someone from long ago? But it seemed, at the moment, irrelevant to their case, so she put it down again and picked up Anurion's. "Alright. Let's see what happened to Anurion that everyone is so determined to keep quiet." She declared, eyes narrowed in determined focus as she opened the folder and began to read. Gaer, of course, was welcome to read any of the files herself, whether she chose to read over Linn's shoulder, or to read one of the others, and then swap.

[Lantaelen]

@Rillewen

Lady Azraindil Dimaethor
Túrion Dornea, Edhellon River, Dor-en-Ernil
Late April, Fourth Age

The pair got out of the healer’s hut without further hassle. Solchion did not seem none the wiser, though he hadn’t the chance to figure out some files had been lifted from his cabinet as of yet. How long would they have? How were they going to get them back? ”I suppose I’ll have to return tonight or tomorrow for another check-up.” She mused aloud, already forming up ideas for the cover and guise to allow Linny to return the files after she read what she needed to read. And no, her friend could not engage in telepathy with her despite their best efforts…

They got back to Azraindil’s guest cabin. The door was shut. The windows closed. No servants in sight. A small fire had been left in the hearth though. Boots discarded, Azraindil sighed with relief as she collapsed onto her bed, face down, limbs just spread. Linny was beside her, the ruffle of papers being heard as she began to examine them, impressed and proud of their efforts. She apparently grabbed more than one. Her fathers, her brothers…and anothers. At first, Azraindil had no motivation to look herself. Her stomach still roiled and she was exhausted and felt a measure of disgust inside with the vomiting and sickness. And besides that…it was Linny’s family. A private affair. Their personal health. If it was pertinent, it would be shared with her.

But eventually, Linny’s discoveries and her surprise over revelations got Azraindil’s attentions. She got up, bleary eyed, and moved to sit on the edge of the bed, rubbing her face. ”Avorndir? Could it be your grandfather?” She guessed, based on the alliteration of her father and brothers names. She didn’t peep at any of the files herself…until Linny mentioned Anurion’s file. Trastion. Madhion. Azraindil’s…true betrothed, after the passing of Aearonor. And before being usurped by Toggornir. She scooted up next to Linny and peered at the file on her friend’s lap, eyes darting as she read the scribbled notes and observations. Could she not be curious about a boy she could have married…? His problems would have became hers.

Anurion’s file was…heftier than she imagined. Well, how much was average for a young man of their age? There were numerous incident reports, from minor injuries like scrapes, bruises, aches, to a reoccurring ailment that caught her eye. A reaction to wine, which popped up a few times in the record, Solchion going on to describe the strange effects it caused upon Anurion repeatedly, until it was recommended he just…refrain, from wine and alcohol, completely.

”Huh. I didn’t know that. He is allergic to wine?” Azraindil mused, but then shook her head and waved her hand vaguely to dismiss the line of thought. That’s not why they were snooping! Oh, but it was. Apparently the final entry mentioned Anurion having a glass of liquid, potentially alcoholic, flung into his face, causing such a terrible reaction that he needed some sort of throat surgery just to help him breathe. He almost died! Azraindil gasped when she realized the implication. And recalling Aearonor’s last diary entry that she was shown by Linny…

I may have to confront Togg about what he did back there. ”Remember what Aearonor wrote in that diary page you have? Did…did Toggornir throw a glass of alcohol in Anurion’s face knowing he was allergic? And it caused such a reaction that they had to open Anurion’s throat just to help him breathe? He almost suffocated. That is so…wicked and evil. Poor boy.” Reading the procedure Solchion had performed had Azraindil cringing internally from discomfort and unease. It sounded so horrible and painful. ”He almost killed Anurion. It feels like…” she gulped, more intensive given her present ailment, but the realization made her feel so cold. And afraid. A distraction to get Aearonor alone or…something more vicious? ”It feels like there was an attempt to…murder them both. I don’t know. It’s so…evil. What do you think?” She said, her voice a ghostly whisper.

[Rillewen]

@Lantaelen

Dulinneth Talven
Túrion Dornea, Dor-en-Ernil
April 23rd, Fourth Age

Linn was focused on the papers in her lap. Reading the healer's notes about some incidents that had happened in Anurion's childhood. Getting sick from wine? She'd never heard of that. But, she'd been much younger, back when these things happened. There was even one incident that happened way before she was born. And the last incident, a glass of alcohol, thrown in his face? She frowned thoughtfully as she mentally went over the journal entry that Aearon had left behind. She'd read it so many times by now, she practically had it memorized.

She glanced up when Gaer sat up and scooted closer. So, Linn adjusted slightly to let her see the papers, too. At the question about Avorndir, Linn shook her head. "No, my grandfather's name, on my father's side, is Therion." She said absently, unsure whether Gaer had forgotten that Torthon was her father, and Authion had died years before Linn was born. "And, Aearon and Anurion's grandfather's name was Aearonor," She recalled, having seen the portraits on the wall often enough. Besides, she'd heard often enough that Aearon was named after his grandfather. "I could show you, sometime, if you'd like? They have portraits of all the Taurhebor lords for the last several generations, lining one of the hallways. Aearon's should have been there, too." She added sadly. "And Anurion. Maybe, one day, his will be on there." She added optimistically.

She passed Anurion's file over to let Gaer read it, while she picked up the one for the mysterious Avorndir, to try and find out who he might be. "I didn't mean to grab this one," She admitted a little sheepishly. "I just.. got in a hurry, you know? But now, I'm curious..." She added, wondering whether this might be another member of the family that she had never heard of before.

”Huh. I didn’t know that. He is allergic to wine?”

"I've never even heard of that being a thing," Linn admitted, looking back over at the file Gaer now had, the one in her lap temporarily forgotten. "I certainly never knew about it, either." She added, before a thought hit her. "Oh... but that must be what they wanted kept quiet!" She exclaimed in a whisper, remembering on her board. "That must be what Mother didn't want the servants to discuss. She must not have wanted people knowing about his problem." She realized, feeling hopeful that maybe, another question could be answered. She nodded eagerly when Gaer asked if she remembered what her brother had written in his journal entry. "Yes! And he said 'I can’t help wondering if that idiot meant to kill Anurion! The way he just stood there, staring. Not making a move. If I hadn’t come in when I did, I would have lost my only real brother.'" She remembered. She bit her lip, feeling as if her suspicions were being confirmed. "And he also mentioned that Togg claimed it was an accident," She added, frowning. "I mean... how do you 'accidentally' throw a drink in someone's face?" She asked, shaking her head.

She paused, giggling suddenly. "Did you hear about that happening to some guy, at the masquerade?" She asked suddenly. "I didn't see it, myself, but I heard that it happened. Apparently, some guy was being obnoxious and rude, so the lady he was being rude to threw her drink in his face. That sort of thing doesn't just... happen by mistake, you know?"

Back to the matter at hand, however. "I don't know if Togg knows he's allergic," Linn replied thoughtfully, frowning. While she disliked her brother tremendously, and she strongly suspected him of some sort of guilt in this whole thing, there was still a tiny part of her that nudged her to speak what little defense she could for him, on the off-chance that he might not be guilty. "I mean, if he didn't know that, he could have done it while they were fighting, and then been so shocked by how badly Anurion reacted to the alcohol, that he just.. froze up." She frowned. "They were always fighting, those two." She recalled with a sigh.

When Gaer proposed the thought of someone trying to murder them both, Linn felt a little uneasy with that thought. She frowned, leaning back on her elbows as she thought hard about all of the facts. Trying to weigh it all together, and come up with a reasonable answer. "Anurion was supposed to be with Aearon, when he died." She said softly. She knew that much from her own memory, but also from Aearon's journal page. "Aearon even mentioned it, remember? He mentioned that it wasn't fair, and that 'He was supposed to be with me'." She turned her head to look over at Gaer. "If you think about it, actually.. if Togg hadn't done that, then Anurion would've been with Aearon and.. they probably both would've died." She said quietly, saddened by the realization. "Togg almost killing Anurion, actually sorta saved his life. Weird, isn't it?" She frowned as she tried to wrap her mind around that.

She was quiet for a few minutes, thinking about that. Thinking about these medical records. And, thinking about Aearon's journal entry which had set this whole investigation in motion. Then, suddenly, she giggled again at something Aearon had written near the end of his rant. "Can you imagine, if Aearon had come back, how funny it would've been if he'd put poison ivy in Togg's underpants?" She asked, unable to help the giggles at the idea of such payback. Anurion definitely would have enjoyed that, she agreed.

[Lantaelen]

@Rillewen

Lady Azraindil Dimaethor
Túrion Dornea, Edhellon River, Dor-en-Ernil
Late April, Fourth Age

Linny was right, Azraindil often did forget that Torthon was also Linny’s father. It was difficult to grasp sometimes how such a gentle and sweet girl like Linny could come from such a hard headed man like Torthon. An understandable misunderstanding, no? ”Mm, sure we can go have a look when I’m feeling better. And Anurion’s…I’m sure it’ll be painted by his very skilled and talented painter of a sister.” She tacked on to Linny’s optimism. But as for this Avorndir…who knew what his file might contain? But she would let Linny discover that, Azraindil wanting to respect their private medical information and all. Except Anurion’s. Curiosity just got the better of her. She felt their lives were very intertwined, despite the handful of times the pair had actually met.

”There’s probably a fancy term for this allergy.” Azraindil mused over this condition of Anurion’s. Maybe the Houses of Healing would have information on it, if such a thing really did exist. But she didn’t share Linny’s realization in what her Mother tried to keep quiet, that having an allergy towards wine would be some sort of embarrassing thing that needed to be hid. It seemed a thing of virtue to try to abstain from drinking. Azraindil had only tried a few times in her own life so far and while it seemed…enjoyable at first, it left her feeling exhausted and fatigued the following day.

She shook her head too though at Toggornir’s proffered excuse about the thrown cup being an accident. ”Probably a lie to try and avoid responsibility or consequences.” Very childish thing to do. She would know she used to do the same. Like ten years ago or more, though. People mature and grow up. Clearly not all. She giggled at the Winter Masquerade reference. ”Yes, I did hear that. I was dancing with Sir Fox when it happened so I missed it but my brother told me about it afterwards. That is certainly an intentional act.” And very justified if the culprit was acting rude and unpleasant towards a Lady. Pushy and just wouldn’t get a hint. Now who did that remind her of?

But she was back to frowning as the conversation returned to the incident in question. That knot of anxiety was still in her stomach, of murderers and killers near and far. Very near. She could sympathize with Linny trying to give Toggornir the benefit of the doubt. Ignorance of Anurion’s affliction with wine could be a very real thing. But she had also seen a sort of darkness and tension in Toggornir at time, like a spring very wound up and ready to burst apart with the slightest pressure. It frightened Azraindil in a way. Maybe her bias was coloured a bit too much.

Linny had a different theory though, that perhaps the flung wine cup saved Anurion’s life, when otherwise he would have went out riding with Aearonor and they both would have died. Instead Toggornir’s evil act had in a way spared Anurion from an even greater evil outcome. ”That is an irony. An unhappy one still.” She murmured, staring down at the files in Linny’s lap. They both fell quiet, with little other noise in the cabin except for the dancing fire in the hearth, wood crackling and all. Any further observation and recording in Anurion’s file ended soon after, as Anurion went missing soon after his brother’s passing. There was nothing else there. The shadows seem to grow in the room. Her stomach still felt the occasional cramp and roil from whatever she had ingested earlier.

Then her friend giggled and Azraindil looked up, startled from the deep reprieve she had been in. ”Poison ivy in his pants? That’s cruel, even for him.” She said, albeit with a little mischievous grin. It felt good to laugh and find humour though. It made her forget the knot of anxiety in the pit of her body. It was going to be there a long time, making itself known. ”Maybe we can fulfill this final wish of Aearonor’s.” She even suggested, wiggling her eyebrows briefly.

”But,” she looked down at the file again, touching it gently, ”what now? Anurion could have been with Aearonor. He might even could have saved him. Or they both would have been… Do you think Anurion learned or overheard something, that caused him to leave? What else can we run down and learn?” Other than learning about Anurion’s allergy, they still seemed at a dead end in their search for answers and the hunt for the truth. ”The other files might have something useful in them.” She encouraged Linny to take a look at them. She wouldn’t unless offered, out of respect for the individuals privacy.

[Rillewen]

@Lantaelen

Dulinneth Talven
Túrion Dornea, Dor-en-Ernil
April 23rd, Fourth Age

Linn smiled innocently in reply to Gaer's protest about that being 'cruel, even for him'. "Aearon said in his journal page, that he wanted to give Togg a rash, like the way Anurion was suffering from one." She explained. "It was his idea... but I'd say he probably deserves it." She shrugged. After what he did to Anurion? After what he may have killed Aearon? He definitely deserved something like that. "Except... I'm not even sure how we could get poison ivy in his clothes without also getting it on us." She realized with a little frown. Ah, well. It was an amusing thought, anyway.

Gaer asking 'what now' reminded Linn about the case. She frowned at the suggestion that Anurion may have heard or learned something. Thinking back to that day he left, she went back over it. Again. She'd been over that last goodbye so many times now, she could picture him very clearly in her mind. The way he had looked. The way he'd told her he had to leave, and that she couldn't come, and that he'd write to her when it was safe. "Maybe." She agreed slowly, thoughtful. "I've thought something like that, before. But right now, I can't think of any other things to investigate."

She looked down at rest of the files. She had only meant to take Anurion's, but... well, now that she had all of these, she figured she might as well look and see if there was anything useful in them, right? She decided to start with Aearon's. She opened it and looked through everything Solchion had listed, but there wasn't really much to see. The last entry, however, had her eyes stinging with held-back tears. The healer had recorded the condition of his body when he was found, dead. Blinking, Linn looked toward the window for a moment, steeling herself, before she turned back to read it.

Drowned. No surprise there. He'd had bruising and such in various places on him, which were listed as being consistent with being struck by branches and rocks, such as he would have gotten when he was swept into the river's current during the flashflood. Plus, Solchion noted that having his horse thrashing around in the water near him had surely caused some wounds to him, as well. Linn was about to close the file when the last note caught her eye. Solchion was thorough in his descriptions. These notes, of course, had never been meant to be read by a little girl. He had detailed every wound that he found on the young man's body with as much description as he could, since there wasn't a skilled artist on hand to sketch pictures of them. Even if such an artist had been available then, something like that would have surely been considered a waste of time and money to pay an artist for such work, for an accidental death.

Whatever the case, Linn frowned as she read about a bruise, and some strange scratches, on Aearon's neck and chin which Solchion could not make sense of. And some tiny, purplish-reddish dots that he noted resembled a rash? "Strange bruises, scratches, and rash." She murmured, thoughtful. It was kind of too bad that Linn had been so little when he died. They hadn't let her see him at the funeral, having kept the coffin closed, so she hadn't seen him. While it was probably better for her to remember him as he was, alive... it would have been helpful for trying to solve this, if she had seen him herself. Then again, maybe she wouldn't have remembered any particular bruises and whatnot. "I think I'll add this to the list," She decided. But how she would investigate it... that was beyond her.

Next, she decided to take a look through the file of their father, lord Authion Taurhebor. He had died some years before Linn was ever born. In fact, he'd died right before Anurion was born, she remembered hearing that her mother had been pregnant with him when she became a widow. Linn skimmed over, noticing a lot of the same types of general injuries throughout childhood, as both her brothers had had listed. The type of injuries that came from climbing around on rocks, she thought with a little smile. She remembered Aearon and Anurion telling her before that their father had enjoyed climbing, and that was part of what they loved about it, too. So, that part made sense.

It was the last part that had her catch her breath. As with Aearon, Solchion had made a detailed report, recording the state of Authion's body when he died. If she'd thought Aearon's was difficult to read, she was certainly not prepared for this one. She closed her eyes, took a slow breath, and reminded herself why she was reading these. Then she let out a shaky breath and kept reading, cringing slightly. "This is horrible," She whispered. "I had no idea.." Brushing at tears that had gathered in her eyes, Linn looked up at Gaer. "Anurion's father.." She sniffled. "I.. I knew he died in some accident, but I didn't know how."

Biting her lip, she decided that she wouldn't encourage her friend to read it, but if she wanted to, she wouldn't stop her. She closed it and set it aside. "He was climbing some big, tall cliff," She explained, summarizing. "Something went wrong, and he... he slipped, I guess? His rope broke or something, and he.. fell. A really long way." She couldn't imagine how terrifying that must have been for the man. And, she understood a little more, now, why her mother was so opposed to Aearon and Anurion wanting to climb cliffs, like their father had done.

"Poor Mother." She sighed. To have lost so many people in her life, it was no wonder why she grieved all the time. First her husband, then her son, then her other son, now her best friend... She really couldn't imagine how her mother could deal with it all. She looked over at Gaer, wondering how she was dealing with the loss of her mother. But, she didn't want to bring it up, so she kept quiet about that. "Any ideas how to investigate this weird bruise that Solchion mentioned?" She asked, picking up Aearon's file again, to change the subject a little. "Or the other stuff.." She frowned slightly as she tried to make sense of that. "Maybe.. we should copy this down? Then, when you go to the houses of healing, you could maybe ask someone what they think about it? You could pretend it's part of your studies or something?" She suggested.

[Lantaelen]

@Rillewen

Lady Azraindil Dimaethor
Túrion Dornea, Edhellon River, Dor-en-Ernil
Late April, Fourth Age

Linny seemed serious about fulfilling this last desire of Aearonor’s, to somehow get poison ivy upon Toggornir’s clothes. The vehemence from her young companion and best friend was surprising…and Azraindil found herself agreeing. More, she began to think of how they might actually accomplish this in the next few days. Firstly, the handling of the plant. Gloves for one, disposable and discardable gloves, as they would be tainted, and no exposed skin, and some sort of vessel to transport the poison ivy from the wilds to Toggornir’s bedroom. And further, studying his schedule, to learn when he would be most away, to permit the girls to sneak in and infect the necessary clothing…

Okay, maybe they could discuss that later.

What now? Linny was as stumped as Azraindil was. And Linny had been involved in this investigation from the beginning. She started it. She didn’t know what to do now? It was demoralizing but they needed to have faith. They had absorbed a lot of new information and they needed time to process it all. A revelation might yet come to them, of a new angle or perspective to the whole ordeal. ”Why don’t you read the other files? There might be other clues and leads.” She suggested to Linny. Azraindil herself would not look, out of continued respect for the individual’s privacy, even if they were passed on to Mandos and beyond.

Her stomach still roiled a bit and her throat felt dry from the retching and coughing. While Linny engaged in the task of reading the new files, Azraindil hobbled off the bed and went to the table, where a complimentary water jug and some cups waited on a small tray. She poured herself one and took small sips, swallowing slowly, feeling the cool relief against the slightly burning sensation that lingered in her throat after her sickness. Most of whatever had been so invasive had been expelled but a remnant still lingered, enough to leave her with numbing tingles in her fingers and toes, and her stomach to occasionally cramp and squeeze, like it was cringing inwards. She put a hand on her stomach and drank, peering out the window in a quick check to make sure they weren’t being spied upon.

And then she turned back, about to inquire if Linny would like a cup, when she saw…tears, swelling up in her friend’s eyes. And heard the hitched breath. Oh no. Without asking now, she poured a cup, setting hers down, and bringing it over, along with the stack of complimentary napkins resting on the table. ”Everything okay?” Azraindil inquired nervously, sitting back down beside Linny, water and napkins in hand.

It had to do with the boy’s father. Lord Authion. Azraindil had heard he passed early but not the details. She kicked herself mentally for never paying attention when her parents discussed these affairs. She had been young, and afraid, and not wanted anything to do with the scary idea of this other family that she was promised to and was going to marry and join. Linny explained that Authion had been climbing, a sport or hobby of his, and the rope snapped and he felt to his passing. Climbing…like father, like son. ”Like what Anurion would do.” she said softly. Azraindil remembered how Anurion – Madhion at the time - had ascended the sea cliff to rescue a clam shell for her in their youth. With no rope or equipment, while being pecked by a seagull. How dangerous and foolish they had been. How easily…a great tragedy could have been repeated because of their silliness…

Her heart panged terribly. So many tragedies and near-tragedies to this family. Their poor mother indeed. Azraindil wanted to hug her all the more. So many losses. How did she cope? Azraindil was in a state of limbo when it came to her emotions, still dumbstruck by the complete and final absence of her own mother. She could not fathom what losing a husband, two sons, friends, family would be like. It would break the mind. And yet…Duvaineth still carried on. Still held her head high. Still stood. The woman was a rock in a storm. So very, very brave.

”Here, drink.” She traded the water and the napkins to Linny and took Aearonor’s file for herself, laying it in her lap and rereading the segments that Linny mentioned. The description of the bruising on the neck and all. Not like anything she ever saw or read about before. ”Hmm, you’re right. We should. I got some paper and a quill in my trunk.” She agreed, suggesting they should move to the table for this, rather than the bed. She retrieved the items from her trunk, a quill and inkpot, though for parchment…nothing fresh. She would use an old letter from her brother, the last he sent before the War started. The backside was clean.

She got to copying, the files and her paper side by side. She could transfer it later to fresh paper when she found some but for now, time was running down and who knows if the files were being missed and they would be discovered. She wrote speedily, yet neatly at the same time, quill scratching furiously against the parchment. ”Could you try and depict these rashes in a drawing, you think?” She asked Linny, knowing a distraction would be good for her. ”This is strange. He died from…drowning, right? What would these rashes be? Did something get caught around his neck? Or did he run into some poison ivy before the accident.” She mused over the possibility. Stupid Toggornir she thought out of the blue.

Or did someone put their hands around Aearonor’s neck and strangle him when the broken bridge and fall didn’t do the job?

It was a meaty paragraph of description regarding the bruising and rashes around the neck. Azraindil got it written in the common tongue in a few minutes, giving it a quick reread. ”I hope someone can identify these symptoms at the Houses of Healing. I fear it’ll be too vague of a thing and we’ll only get theories. But it’s a start, a jumping off point, so to speak.” She said, holding up the sheet, then passing it to Linny for a double check, if there was anything else they should copy down as well. ”When I’m feeling better, we should go down there. To the bridge. You’ve already been, yes?” She said, assuming Linny had visited the place in question. Perhaps many times, given it was within the bounds of her home, no? Or was it further out? ”There might be some clues there still.”

[Rillewen]

@Lantaelen

Dulinneth Talven
Túrion Dornea, Dor-en-Ernil
April 23rd, Fourth Age

Reading the other files, so far, had only brought up more questions, and not really any answers. While it was a little disheartening in a way, Linn tried to tell herself that was a good thing. Moments before, they'd been a bit stumped about what more questions they needed to ask. Now, they had plenty more. That was a good thing, right? She hoped so. And while Linn couldn't really go asking Solchion about medical things, it just so happened that Gaer was about to go train at the houses of healing, where she'd have access to all sorts of sources to get those sorts of questions answered. It couldn't be more perfect, right?

She wiped her eyes, smiled faintly at Gaer for the hug, and accepted the glass of water. "Thanks." She whispered, sipping it slowly after setting the files aside for a bit. "It seems like the more we dig, the more questions we find." She sighed, reaching over to set her glass on the nightstand.

Gaer had a good idea with moving to the desk, getting paper, quill and ink. It seemed that she found something to write on, however, and got to work copying that paper right away. Linn was quite glad to have some help in this investigation at last. While Gaer was doing that, Linn picked up the last file, with the unknown name. Time to find out if this was anything important or not. She was pretty sure she'd never heard the name Avorndir before, so she couldn't imagine that it would've been anyone related to her brothers.

Soon, Linn discovered that this man had been a forester employed by her family. She was sort of relieved that it wasn't some long-lost relative or something. It was starting to feel like her family had too many secrets going on. She sighed and was about to close the file, when a date caught her eye. The last entry for treatment, which turned out to be an extensive entry, was on the same day in which Lord Authion was listed as having died. That was... an odd coincidence. Odd enough to look a little closer, and read a bit more.

By the time she had finished, Linn was a bit stunned. Such horrible injuries that man had endured! She set the file in her lap and let out a slow, shaky breath. "Wow. This poor fellow," She looked at Gaer, sadness in her eyes. "He isn't a relative or anything, but apparently, he and Lord Authion were friends." She'd found that rather interesting. "He was with him when he died," She added, thoughtful. "I wonder why he isn't here, now. He was a forester, but I've never heard of him before. He was attacked by a boar." That was a scary thought. She'd heard of those being dangerous, but she'd never realized they could do the sort of damage described in this file. And how well did those injuries heal, anyway? Did they heal? Or did he die from them? She realized she hadn't seen anything to indicate continued treatment.

With a small shudder at the thought of having boar tusks slicing through a person's skin, Linn flipped back through the pages, trying to find some sort of clue that she might have missed. Then, she caught what she had missed the first time through. "Oh.. that's interesting," She murmured. Looking up, she mentioned, "it says here that he was transferred... to Minas Tirith!" She looked up at Gaer. "Maybe you could find out more about him? If he got healed, or what ever happened to him."

She set the file aside then, and came to see how the copying process was going. "Hmm," She considered the question about whether she could draw the rashes. "I don't know," She hesitated. "I mean.. I'm not sure I could draw what he's describing, without actually seeing it myself, you know? It's difficult to picture it in my mind, and I can't exactly ask Solchion to take a look and tell me if it's accurate or not." She shrugged. "I'd be afraid it would be inaccurate." She frowned, then looked around for some paper. "I do want to write down those questions, though. And yes... everyone says he drowned," She answered. "And that doesn't sound like poison ivy he's describing, either." She narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. "That doesn't get little red spots. It has more like... raised bumps, blisters, and so on. They get super itchy." She made a face. "I'll have to show you what those plants look like, so you can avoid them." She added randomly.

"Hang on," She said then, and let out a small laugh when she realized what Gaer was writing on. "There should be some fresh paper in the desk, Gaer." She told her. The desk's surface was on a hinge, so that it could be lifted up. In the compartment below, they usually kept a jar of ink, quills, paper, and other things like that in case guests needed to write letters or whatever.

Once she had a bit of paper for herself, Linn jotted down the questions Gaer had asked, along with a few of her own.

• What could have caused the rash and bruises?
• Was there something caught around Aearon's neck?
• Why was Avorndir transferred to MT?
• Did Anurion see or hear something that prompted him to leave in such a hurry?
• Where was Togg, the day that Aearon died? What was he doing? Can anyone verify it?

That last one occurred to her as something she ought to try and find out, but she wasn't really sure how to go about it. She stared at the list, then at what Gaer had copied, then she was distracted from that when Gaer asked about the bridge. "Yes, several times." She answered, nodding. "That's what started me into all this, you know? I fell off the bridge, trying to get that leather tube thing, and I nearly drowned, myself." She shrugged. "Since then, I've been much more careful. Usually, I keep to the bank. The water will probably be pretty high right now, but we should be safe enough."

She frowned thoughtfully. "That's funny, actually. They said a flash flood must have swept through, you know? But Aearon would have heard it long before he was in any danger, and he would've known not to be on the bridge. That much, I established pretty early. But something else that I've been thinking about. They said those are pretty common, that they happen a lot when the river swells. But that bridge... the broken parts of it are still there. After all these years, no other flash floods have swept away the remains of it?" She shrugged. An oddity to take note of, anyway. "But yes, we'll definitely go to the bridge. I would have shown it to you today, except.." She shrugged, leaving the rest unsaid. "But maybe tomorrow."

Then, Linn paused, thinking about something. "Actually, I have a something from it that I think might be a clue, but I don't know how to verify what I'm thinking." She frowned. "I found a piece of the bridge, just a short piece, that has a mark on it. I'd like to ask a carpenter or someone who knows about wood, what that mark is. But... I don't want to ask here, because they'd probably tell my parents I was asking weird questions. And I don't know how to get it to anywhere further away without anyone finding it even more odd." Sighing, she sat down on the edge of the bed and let her upper body flop backward on the covers, staring up at the ceiling.

[Lantaelen]

@Rillewen

Lady Azraindil Dimaethor
Túrion Dornea, Edhellon River, Dor-en-Ernil
Late April, Fourth Age

The more we learn, the less we know. It was an old elvish proverb that Azraindil heard her Adar say a few times. There was never a true answer, but merely deeper layers, and this web of conspiracies and strangeness they were delving into seemed to prove the adage all the more. The remaining file was that of a friend of Lord Authion, who had been with him when he fell and passed away in that tragic climbing accident. At first, Azraindil thought it would lead to another dead end, quite literally, when Linny announced that the man was still alive, serving as a forester, and even posted in Minas Tirith. ”I could follow up on that. He might have some answers or explanations for these riddles. He was around during that time, no?” She agreed with Linny’s request. ”Maybe you can think of some questions I can ask him. Or if I can locate him, and then you come to visit, we can ask him together.”

Any sort of drawing of the described bruising around Aearonor’s neck amounted to nothing. They had no point of reference or anything so it was a moot subject. For now. ”Poison ivy spreads all over, especially since you’re always scratching it. This is like…dots. They didn’t spread. That much I can tell from the notes.” She mused thoughtfully but until they knew more about how such things afflicted the skin, they couldn’t do much more. Someone at the Houses of Healing would know. Silence settled as they both got to writing, Azraindil copying the respective notes from Aearonor’s file, while Linny drew up some further questions.

She asked about the bridge, but Linny had indeed checked it over. Over many trips, even almost injuring herself! She was going to take Azraindil there as well, until whatever afflicted her stomach had interfered in that. Almost as if…someone or something didn’t want the girls to know. Now the desire to go down felt amplified. No one was going to stop them. ”We can try again tomorrow at the bridge. I don’t know if we’ll find anything more. You’re quite thorough in your investigation skills and all. But who knows, two heads better than one, and all. At least we can try.” She mused to Linny, though she doubted if anything was left behind. It had been so long. Winter came and went and spring washed everything away. Nature had probably refreshed it all. But the least they can do is try. Try, try, try.

Linny though seemed to think she found something worthwhile in some broken parts of the bridge. Azraindil wondered how she might even know if some bit of carpentry looked out of place, tampered with, or adjusted, or if it was just how it was supposed to look. She never sawed or cut wood. A thought struck her, and while many of her thoughts usually led to dead ends, she was never going to stop proposing them, because there might be a thread somewhere that can be followed up to new truths and answers.

”What about Ravondaer? He used to be a soldier in his youth. And soldiers spent half their time doing construction work. Hewing trees, shaping wood, building forts, walls, all that stuff. Maybe he knows something about it. But…” she frowned, knowing what a talkative goose her newly assigned servant and guard was, ”he might answer us, but then he might also go and blab to your family’s people over dinner in the servant’s quarters, why two young noblewomen are asking questions about carpentry. As a joke or curiosity. It’s risky. But it might tell us something.” She figured, though if it was all indeed an accident, why would anyone try to stop them? That seemed suspicious. It might flush out whoever was behind it all, if there was anyone behind it all.

Her notes were done. Copied twice, on the back of an old letter of Abrazimir’s and again on a fresh sheet of paper. One copy for her, one copy for Linny, or something. She peered at Linny’s notes, eyeing each question. The first and third, she might find out in Minas Tirith. The second and fourth were beyond her present knowledge or knowhow. But the fifth…Toggornir. She tapped it with a finger. ”Maybe I can do something about that. I know I’ll have to spend…quality time…” Ugh, it pained her just to say that, ”Maybe I can, in conversation, bring up how I miss his brothers and what happened on that day and all. Feed him a drink or two. He might say something, reveal something.” She suggested to Linny most seriously. It did feel like something useful she might pull off. A little…manipulation. Where all her questions and musing might fall short, she might actually accomplish something with this at least.

”I’ll use my womanly charm on him.” Azraindil jested morbidly, in a dry tone. As if she even knew what womanly charms were. But a smile and some doe eyes, that might do something, right?