Chapter 14. Married?

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Cameth Brin, late afternoon of October 21, 1347
Written by Rian
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When they finally arrived at the king’s stables, Callon produced the letter of recommendation from Eryndil, which had also got them past the outer gates of the upper city and the inner gates of the castle grounds. The stablemaster was thrilled to have such a strong, fine-looking young man applying for his beloved stables. “Times are hard now, lad, not many good men around here anymore,” he said with a nostalgic look in his eyes, taking the letter from Callon and starting to read it. A few surly-looking men came by, pushing wheelbarrows full of soiled straw. They slowed, looking at the newcomers. Their eyes lingered on Caelen, and she unconsciously moved a little closer to her brother …

“I have GOT to get her married! thought Callon grimly, thinking of Eryndil hopefully.

The stablemaster finished the letter and nodded his head in approval at its contents. “I’d be glad to have you, lad – and the young lady? Perhaps like to help a bit inside somewhere with some cooking or cleaning?”

Then Callon got a wild idea. Why wait for Eryndil?

“I’d prefer if my wife didn’t work right now – we’ve had a difficult journey, and I’d like her to rest awhile,” he said firmly, emphasizing the word “wife” with a bright smile on his face, then turning to stare at Caelen intently with a look that pleaded, “Just go along with me on this one!”

“Especially right now,” he added with a final flash of wild inspiration and a (hopefully) sentimental look at Caelen, and had to look away to keep from laughing at the wild variety of emotions flying across his sister’s face.

“Oh, I beg your pardon! Your wife, yes, your wife. Of course, of course! Lovely young lady!” he said with a bow. “Pardon me, but you two just seemed like brother and sister – you look a lot alike, you know!”

“Well, yes, we are closely related – family marriage, you know, known each other for years,” said Callon with what he hoped was a convincing smile, praying that this would also somewhat explain their manner to each other, which was decidedly not that of a young married couple.

“I’ll have one of my men take your lady and your things to the married servants’ quarters, then, and she can rest a bit while I show you around.”

Callon assented with a smile and a nod, and the bewildered and spluttering Caelen was led off.

As the stablemaster took Callon around the facilities, Callon forgot his worries about his sister. Back with horses! It was so nice – and something he was familiar with and good at. Unconsciously, he began to relax and even enjoy himself. The stables were run down, but decent overall. There were more empty stalls than occupied ones, but the horses were generally well-kept. The tack needed some repair, but he was good at that.

The stablemaster was glad to see that this young man obviously knew his way around horses, and after an hour or so, let him take a break and check on his “wife”.

He found his way to their quarters and entered the room to find Caelen pacing back and forth angrily. She whirled around to face him, but he stopped the impending words with an urgent “Shhh!” and a look down the hall at the people passing by. Caelen pursed her lips together and was quiet.

Callon shut the door and sat down on the bed, wishing he was back with the horses. Caelen sat down next to him and hissed in a loud whisper, “Married!? Married?!”

“Well, what else could I do?” whispered Callon back, standing up and starting to pace just as his sister had done. “Did you see all those men in town? Dirty, uncouth … and then those two fellows with the wheelbarrows in the stables – they were staring at you, Caelen, and I’m sure they weren’t just admiring your hair! Maybe it was crazy, but I just had to do something. I had no idea it would be this way here – the king’s city overrun by Hillmen! It’s disgusting!”

He stopped pacing and knelt in front of her, taking her hands in his. “I’m sorry if I did wrong, but that’s all I could think of right then,” he whispered. “As a married woman, you’re a lot safer here.”

Caelen was quiet. “I guess you’re right, but … but …” She shook her head and then leaped to her feet. “Why did you have to go and make me pregnant!?!” she exclaimed, her voice rising in frustration.

The two ladies listening outside of the door shook their heads at each other. “That’s just the way men are, ducky,” said the first as they quickly but reluctantly walked away, conscious that they had been too long away from their tasks and the head housekeeper would be looking for them soon. “What did you expect when you got married?”

The second woman nodded her head sagely. “She’ll feel better about it when she’s holding the little baby in her arms,” she said, thinking of her own brood at home.

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Cameth Brin, before noon of October 22, 1347
Written by Valandil
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The breakfast had been as good as promised, and Eryndil’s men were fresh and well-rested this day. They started the horses at a nice easy walk, leading the horses for one spell to stretch their legs, then a last pause to refresh themselves within sight of Cameth Brin’s tower – no more than eight or ten furlongs (a mile or a bit more) away. Then back into the saddle.

At the Four Furlongs Inn – a half-mile from the first bridge – they broke into a canter, Eryndil leading and his men behind in double file, their horses all keeping time. Just as they changed their horses’ gait, they nearly ran down two older men who were walking unsteadily down the road – one in a grey cloak, one in brown. But Eryndil called out to them and they turned in time to avoid an unfortunate meeting. As they turned, Eryndil caught the eye of the taller one – the man in grey. There was something about that face, thought Eryndil. Was it someone familiar? Or was it just the look of dignity in that face, where he expected to see only an old beggar? Well, no time to think about it anymore. There were more than enough displaced Householders and Thanes, and the man could easily be one of them.

Cameth Brin grew larger in their view, towering tall above them. The road, following the Hoarwell River, brought them along the north of it, and over the first bridge, which crossed the stream coming from the High Waterfall. As they passed the tower above them, they crossed the second bridge, which crossed the stream from the Long Waterfall, EryndilÂ’s favorite, with its run of cascades. Finally, after passing the walled city of Tanoth Brin to their left, where the road ran between the river and a moat which ran under the city wall, they took the left fork and followed it on to another left, over the third bridge and to the gate of Tanoth Brin.

The gate was open and Eryndil was allowed to pass unchallenged – others were coming and going freely, for it was midday. Most of them were townspeople or farmers going in or out with carts they pushed by hand, or in some cases, driving a small wagon pulled by ox, pony or horse. The guards at the gate acknowledged him with a salute, though, for all wore the uniform of Rhudaur. Once through the gate, they slowed their horses and made what speed the roads allowed. But people stood back for them, and a few looked in awe, though their numbers were not so great.

Eryndil had been to Tanoth Brin few enough times before, and up to Cameth Brin but once. He had to admit he felt a little uneasy in the big city – he was so unaccustomed to it. He had positioned Gwiroth just behind him and to his left, in case he had need of direction. Ever-trustworthy Narwaith was behind on his right. Norumar, the big man, was in the second row – he always made a good impression. And bringing up the rear were Nimloss, brother of Narwaith, and Lothrond – one of his other city boys.

On they rode, through the streets of the town, on into and through the crowded, swirling market. Once through the market, the streets became a little more clear and their way easier and faster – for most of the traffic was from the gate to the market at the center of town. At least that was what Gwiroth and Lothrond had told him. Finally, through another gate and out of Cameth Brin, over the bridge that spanned the Cameth River and onto the King’s Road.

Here Eryndil almost stopped but mastered himself and pressed on. For along this road there once had been only a handful of grand estate homes for the highest nobles in the realm. But now the place was filled with rough-looking men, bustling about and in the process of building a new shantytown. He turned to his own men and nodded. This was clearly the place where the King wished him to make a good impression, and his men understood Eryndil’s unspoken command to get back into order. Onward then they rode by the camp, with men pausing in their work for a moment to watch them pass, riding in time with one another at a steady, rhythmic trot.

The way soon became a rather steep incline and they slowed their horses to a walk. Then they reached the steepest part of the climb, with the switch-backs. At last they reached the top of the road, and approached the outer gate of Cameth Brin. This gate was also open, but several guards stood nearby and challenged them when they approached. Eryndil was glad for the break. His men had held their order commendably well, but both man and horse were out of breath from the climb. Eryndil brought them all to a halt and dismounted. Before turning his attention back to the captain of the guards, he signaled to his men to water their horses at the roadside trough. Then he turned back to the guardsman and held forth the scroll with the KingÂ’s Orders.

The guards were immediately satisfied, but Eryndil waited until the horses were satisfied as well. He then re-mounted and led his men on through the gate and into the outer part of Cameth Brin. They took their horses now to a trot. They were over a bridge almost before he noticed it – really the road crossed over a sort of culvert. This upper city was much more orderly – and clearly a good deal richer. In a short way they were before the second gate. This gate was actually shut, even in midday, and this time Eryndil and his men all stayed in their saddles. The guards there were also quickly satisfied with his , and a call was given for the gate to be opened.

Once through the gate they were led to the left, before the stables, and asked to dismount. Stable hands saw to the feeding, watering and grooming of their steeds, and the men were directed to some benches and tables, where bread, cheese and water were brought to them. Eryndil watched for Callon, curious if his letter had successfully gotten him a position there, but he didnÂ’t see him.

Once the gate had been closed, one of the guardsmen ran off to the right, past the tower and toward the palace. He soon returned with a tall, well-dressed, dignified looking man. The guard pointed out Eryndil before returning to his post. Eryndil stood, and the man approached him.

“Eryndil, son of Camglas of Ostinand, welcome to Cameth Brin. I am Orefim, Chancellor to King Tarnendur. If you will please accompany me…” and he bowed somewhat, gesturing behind himself.

Eryndil had been prepared for this. He nodded to his men. Nimloss and Lothrond came up just behind him. They would accompany him before the King, while Narwaith stayed behind in charge of the other men. Eryndil had decided against bringing Norumar, for if he drew the KingÂ’s eye he might be taken into the KingÂ’s own guard. So Norumar remained seated, and Eryndil walked beside Orefim, with Nimloss and Lothrond falling into step just behind.

Orefim led them past the tower and on into the royal palace. Past the guards they went, up the stairs one level, then down the hall. Two more guards stood at an open door, and when Orefim reached the threshold, he stopped and called out in a loud voice:

“Eryndil of the King’s Service, son of Camglas the son of Borlost, Thane of Nandemar!”

This was the first time Eryndil had been in the presence of the King. Eryndil was a tall man, as most Dunedain nobles were, but King Tarnendur was taller still. And his countenance was noble, though given more to thoughtfulness than to great activity. Yet at the present, Tarnendur stood, as if he had been pacing the floor. But at Orefim’s presentation, he struck a very royal pose, and Eryndil strode forth to him and bowed down on one knee about two paces before him, then waited in silence.

“Arise, son of Camglas, the son of Borlost!” said the King. “For now I desire to be seated, and you will stand and hear me out.” At that, Tarnendur signalled for the guards to step outside the room and shut the door. Even Nimloss and Lothrond were constrained to wait in the hallway, leaving only Tarnendur, Orefim and Eryndil in the chamber. Eryndil rose and stood still, his hands clasped behind his back, while Tarnendur approached and descended into an ornate, rather uncomfortable looking chair.

“I suppose you’re wondering why I have summoned you here?”

Eryndil’s instincts told him correctly it was best to keep his silence.

The King turned reflective, his eyes staring off to the side, and paused for a moment before beginning.

“There is trouble in Rhudaur.”

He paused and shifted his gaze to Eryndil’s eyes to gauge what effect his few words had made.

“Alright then, I will just tell you right out. Things are not as I have always hoped they would be. And the more I try to make them better, the worse they seem to become! The Dunedain of this land are falling… falling!”

“Our people have strayed from the Faithfulness that marked the Exiles of Elendil from the King’s Men of Numenor who went down into the depths long ago. What then will become of us?”

“Even in the Council of the Realm, there is trouble. Not all who sit upon it are worthy of it. As their King, I look at them… and I cannot trust them!”

Tarnendur looked even more closely at Eryndil and sighed. Then he continued further, his words building in intensity as he spoke, “So… a few weeks ago, I said to Orefim and Lord Nimruzir… ‘Find me some men I can trust, men to lean on in these trying times to come! Their loyalty to their King and Kingdom must be unquestioned – and they must be men of shrewdness and activity. Of no less than 50 years,’ I said, then, ‘no… 40! And they must hold to the Faith which our people once possessed!'” At this, Orefim fidgeted slightly. “‘Find me six such men, and bring them here to me at Cameth Brin, that they might set a hedge about me, and aid me against the schemes that now beset me.'”

“Well,” he said, more slowly now, “They found five – but one of them was dead already. Hmmph! No use to me is that one, not even to himself. But you, Eryndil, were one of the other four men named – and in truth, your fame preceeds you. You are known across the land for your faithfulness, your integrity, your fearlessness – and your fairness. Now, will you grant me this and aid me here as I see fit?”

At last Eryndil knew it was his time to speak, “It is not for me to grant, but for you to ask. For I am but your servant, my Lord King, and would ever do as you desire and command.”

“And you claim to possess those qualities which I have required for this assignment?”

“Yes, my King, as for loyalty, age and numbering myself among the Faithful and true. As for shrewdness and activity, that can be best measured by others.”

“In truth, others attest to them well enough,” and his eyes searched deeply into Eryndil’s once more. “Then it is settled! My dream, young man, is to remake this land into what it once was… into what it SHOULD be. But first… we must save it! We were to begin to gather and meet at once – but one of your number has not yet arrived – the other two were in town already. Besides there is a special Council Meeting called for tomorrow which gives me too much to think about – it’ll be a Balrog of a time! So – we will start next month – just after the Fall, come back and see me then.”

The King rose, and placing a hand on Eryndil’s shoulder, began walking him toward the door. “Oh – you will be paid 12 gold crowns per month.” Eryndil suppressed the low whistle he might have otherwise made. He had hoped for nine. He could staff a house with 3, keep it stocked with food and supplies for 3 more, if he were careful – he could save 3 and live very well on the 3 left.

“You still have all 12 men of your detachment? Haven’t lost one, eh? Well – you may keep them all as your retainers, still on the King’s payroll, but at half pay, quartered under your roof.” That had figured into Eryndil’s calculation, as it was the normal practice. And his men couldn’t complain – half-pay, but their food and lodging provided.

“And there is a house all picked out for you. I think you’ll be surprised to find what it is. It’s in the outer circle of Cameth Brin, near a portion of the south wall, that overlooks… the King’s Road.”

“King Tarnendur?” Eryndil stopped, remembering something.

“Yes, what is it, young man?” and the King turned to face him directly.

“Horses, Sire?”

“Oh yes – and I heard you did a nice job riding them into town. What about the horses?”

“The horses ridden by my men and myself were on loan from my father – all that he has. I judge that I may need some, even here in town. I think that I may buy from him up to six of them – for your service, oh King. I am sure he would take 15 crowns. The rest I must needs return.”

“Fifteen crowns for six horses?”

“They’re good horses, Sire.”

“Alright then – Orefim!”

“Yes, Your Highness?” asked the other, inclining his head and taking a half step forward.

“Get him 15 crowns for the horses, and five more to pay him up for the rest of this month – he’ll have to get his house in order, won’t he? Then see that he’s added to the roll to get his 12 crowns on the First of each month.” Orefim bowed in response.

The King turned back toward Eryndil. “Take these days to get your house in order, to learn the city – and to start keeping your eyes open. I will summon you when I need you – probably after the First. From then, you will likely be here every day – at least part of the day – unless you’re sent elsewhere at my word. Take heed now, and good day.”

Eryndil bowed, the doors were thrown open, and Orefim and Eryndil strode back down the hall the way they had come, Nimloss and Lothrond falling in step.

“So – I am to have a house in the city?” asked Eryndil.

“Yes,” said Orefim with a smile. “You will find that it’s an old family heirloom.”

Eryndil’s eyes widened. This could only mean one thing, and THIS he had to see. Rhudaur’s third King, Hyarandil, had moved his capital to Cameth Brin, but his eldest son, Tarnendil, had bid all his nobles to build winter homes in the city, that they might be drawn together in unity. Eryndil’s great-great-grandfather, the 15th Thane of Nandemar, had built one at that time, by family tradition – though none now knew what had become of it. For his family had left town and not returned to live there again after Tarnendil was slain – over 200 years ago.

And now… the house was to be his! A surge of delight swept through Eryndil as they neared his men, still waiting by the stables.

But a man who Eryndil didn’t know stepped before his men and addressed him, his cap held before himself and a smile on his face.

“Begging your pardon, sir Eryndil, is it? I am the King’s stablemaster, and I wished to thank you for the recommendation of the good lad Callon, who brought me his letter from you. Knows his horses for sure, that one!” And then he winked and tilted his head, adding in a low voice, “and he has a sweet young wife besides – that Caelen!”

His heart suddenly sinking, Eryndil tried to master his expression, but felt that it must be in vain – his words at least would not betray him. Why would they lie to him, and claim that they were only brother and sister?