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| GwennethSindalúnë |
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| GwennethSindalúnë |
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| GwennethSindalúnë |
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| GwennethSindalúnë |
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| GwennethSindalúnë |
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| GwennethSindalúnë |
 RE: It all started at the the white city fair
on: January 30, 2005 07:47
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Paldor slept only fitfully, his dreams full of Ilmare and his newly remembered past. He awoke over and over again with the strange images from the witch's hovel burning in his mind. Finally, as dawn approached, he gave up on trying to get any more rest, abandoning his tousled bed, and heading for the common wash room which the residents of the building shared. Cold water, pouring from the bucket he held high above his head, soon had him wide awake, and he shivered briefly, as he took the time to wash his shoulder length hair in the dim light of the washroom. The nights were still cool, and the temperature was low enough to send gooseflesh up his arms as he hurried through the rest of his toilette.
Paldor could have used the cauldrons and ready laid kindling to start a fire and heat the water before washing, but he had spent too many years bathing in frigid rivers and lakes on the road, to waste any time on such frivolous amenities. Besides, he thought, the cold water had cleared his head, and he felt refreshed despite the small amount of sleep the night had provided. Shaking the excess water from his hair, he wrapped a cloth around his waist and quickly returned to his room to dress. He chose black riding pants and a white shirt which fell open at the neck, revealing the muscles of his powerful chest. Using the cloth to towel his hair dry, he secured it at the back of his neck with a leather tie. Paldor completed the outfit with a leather vest and the belt he never left his home without. The weight of his sword was comfortably familiar as he buckled the leather low to his hips.
A final glance around the room assured Paldor that he was ready to set out for the day. He had already packed the saddlebags the night before, and they lay ready for his steed, Alanor, whom he would fetch later today. He planned to finish his business before the day was over and ride to the meeting place tonight. He would sleep there, and meet the others in the morn. He had much to do today and first on his agenda was to go see Altair, the head of the guard, to request an indefinite amount of time off. Normally, guards were only allowed a few weeks off a year, but Paldor had been Captain for long enough and proven his worth to Gondor in so many ways, he knew the Chief would not deny his request.
Shutting the door to his room and locking it securely behind him, Paldor set off through the streets. Despite the early hour, merchants were already beginning to set up their stalls in the marketplace areas, taking advantage of the light of the first rays of the sun to exhibit their wares to their best advantage. As he strode through the marketplace, Paldor was reminded of the exuberant and golden atmosphrere which had pervaded the city in his youth. The pale faces and suspicious gazes of the merchants as he walked by their stalls now were a testament to how much the city had changed since then. One of the merchants even reached warily for a blade as the tall man passed his array of goods. Paldor sighed: There was something rotten that festered deep within the city, and he intended to find out what it was. For the past seven years, he had attempted to root out the source of the decay in his capacity as Captain of the Guard, but to no avail. Perhaps now, he and his companions would find the source actually extended from beyond the great White City. Paldor's instinct told him there was a connection between the remaining mystery which shrouded the past of the five companions and the insidious decline of his beloved city.
Shrugging his turbulent thoughts away for the moment, Paldor climbed the steps of the tower which led to the Chief's War Room. Altair was known throughout Middle Earth as a formidable leader, and despite the early hour, Paldor knew he would find the Chief there. It was rumored that Altair never slept, and Paldor knew from experience in battle that the man was capable of going for days on end without rest. Some even whispered that he carried the blood of the elves in his ancestry and that was what allowed him such prodigious feats of strength and endurance. Whether that was true, Paldor did not know, but he held enormous respect and loyalty for the older man who had trained him and been his leader for decades now.
The two guards who barred the way into the war room saluted and moved quickly aside to permit Paldor passage, recognizing the Captain on sight. He noted their curious looks, though, and realized that they were probably wondering why he was out of uniform. But they were just guards, and Captain Paldor owed them no explanations. Passing through the doorway, Paldor entered the large tower room with windows on all sides which allowed the occupants an unfettered view over all sides of the great White City. He found Altair poring over a map of the Misty Mountains, muttering to himself as he traced a path through the peaks.
Paldor took a breath, ready to announce his presence to the Chief, but before he could say a word, Altair beckoned him over, not taking his eyes from the map. "Come over here, Paldor old friend," he said. "Tell me whether you think the southern passage way is safest at this time of year, or if we should reconsider our position?" Paldor smiled inwardly. As far as he knew no one had ever been able to surprise the Chief: He always seemed to know who was approaching, long before they ever came near. Rounding the table, Paldor considered the map, and pointed to an alternate passageway through the mountains. "Our men might have better luck through this route," he said. "It is passable as long as the Spring rains have not started." Nodding, Altair looked up for the first time. "Wise as always, my friend," he said, and looked at Paldor, taking in his outfit at a glance. "How long are you leaving for he asked," with a glint of amusement in his eyes. Paldor smiled: "I don't know yet," he responded honestly. Nothing got past Altair. The Chief cocked his head to one side, considering. "I wish I could forbid you to go," he told Paldor. "The White City needs leaders like you more than ever right now. But I have the feeling that you would not leave us if something much more urgent did not call you." Paldor nodded, confirming the older man's thoughts. "I wish you well, my friend," the Chief said, and moved forward, holding Paldor's forearms briefly in a soldier's parting embrace. "Travel well, and come back to us soon." Paldor returned the embrace, and thanked the Chief for his understanding, turning to leave the War Room.
Paldor was just about to step outside, when the Chief's voice halted him on the threshold: "Would you like to take Jade?" Paldor turned and stared in astonishement. Jade was one of the enormous wolves that the tower guard had begun training from puppies to assist them in protecting the city these past few years. She was a lovely female with startling green eyes which had given her her name. Jade had been assigned to Paldor as a puppy and he had raised and trained her as they worked together to patrol the dangerous lower streets. Her sharp ears and eyes had often warned him of danger long before his own senses could detect anything and her sharp fangs had often brought many a criminal down before he could even draw his sword. She was one of the best trained canines the city Guard posessed, and he couldn't believe Altair would offer to release her from the city to accompany him. Paldor thought quickly: He would dearly love to have Jade accompany him and the others on their journey, but how could he deprive Gondor of two of their best warriors simultaneously?
Altair seemed to understand Paldor's indecision. Reaching for a piece of parchment, he scrawled a quick note on it, using a nearby candle to seal it with red wax that he rapidly imprinted with his signet ring before it cooled. "Take this to the kennels, old friend," the Chief said, handing Paldor the folded parchement. "And may you both return to us safely when you have accomplished your mission." Paldor took the parchment, at a loss for words. His wide golden eyes conveyed his thanks and he saluted the Chief before exiting the War Room and hurrying down the stairs to the courtyard below which housed the kennels. As he approached, a barking sounded through the courtyard as the excited canines within recognized his footsteps. Paldor could pick out Jade's welcoming bark from the rest and he quickened his pace, still unable to believe that the Chief would grant him permission to take her with him on a potentially dangerous journey. The wolf training program had come to life almost accidentally when one of the younger guards had found a wolf pup who had been severely wounded and left by his mother to die. The guard had rescued the tiny animal and brought it home to the White City where a healer in his family had returned it to health. Normally, dangerous creatures were absolutely forbidden within the confines of the White City, but no one saw the tiny injured pup as a threat, and by the time the animal had matured into a full grown wolf, it was so tame, that half the city fed him tidbits as he walked through the city at his owner's heels. It wasn't until the wolf named Jasper had felled a criminal who took his master by surprise, that the Guard first realized the benefits of taming and training canines to assist them in their duties. From Jasper, the canine program was born, and the guards scoured the countryside, rescuing wolf pups who had been trodden on by horses, fallen into ravines, or whose mothers had been killed and were doomed to starve to death alone in their dens. Within less than a decade, the Tower Guard had raised and trained no less than two dozen of the large predators and the breeding program now in place assured a ready supply of the canine warriors.
Paldor nodded to the guards who saluted the Captain from their posts at the entrance to the kennels. They would not question him removing Jade from her bedding area, he knew. Captain Paldor had come to retrieve the wolf from the kennels every day for the past seven years. The parchement would be needed only when he attempted to leave the city with his canine companion. Opening the metal gate, Paldor released the delighted Jade from the area she shared with several of the other females at night. They were all exceptionally well trained and only Jade exited the gate on his command, trotting happily at his heels as he reclosed the door and exited the kennels.
Together, they moved through the streets confidently. With his blade on the left, and Jade on his right, Paldor knew no man or woman would dare cross him within the confines of the white city. The wolves were now legendary and although they were exceptionally friendly to those Paldor indicated as friends, and gentle with children, they were natural born predators and no one with dark deeds on their mind cared to cross the four legged warriors. Together they went to the stables where Alanor, his stallion, awaited. None of the horses in the guards' stables were alarmed by the presence of the large wolf: A large portion of the training program involved teaching both animals to work together in battle, and Alanor appeared to think of Jade as a strange smaller horse. He would often keep the wolf in line with a "hrrrumpf" or even a gentle nip when needed, and in turn, Jade could often be found resting in the shaded area beneath the stallion as he grazed. Paldor quickly saddled and bridled Alanor, only pausing briefly to watch an impromptu game between Jade and the small son of the stable manager. The little boy giggled in delight as Jade pretended to pounce on him and then licked him lavishly instead. They fell into the hay together in a delightful pretend scuffle, as Alanor looked on serenely.
Soon Alanor was ready, and Paldor whistled to Jade who reluctantly left her game to trot peacefully at his side as they made their way back to his rooms. A short trip later, he had retrieved the saddle bags, is cloak, his bow and arrows, his bedroll, a large tarp that could function as a tent if neded, and some other items and provisions for the journey. He secured them all to the straps built into Alanor's travelling saddle. He was ready at last! Although the preparations had not taken much time, Paldor felt impatient to be out of the city and on the road. The sooner the left, the sooner he would see Ilmare again, he thought. He hoped she and the others would welcome the presence of Jade on their journey. Most people instinctively feared the four legged carnivores, and he was nervous about their reaction. Only Tirgoth was familiar with the city's canine program and would not be surprised by Paldor's companion. He hoped that Ilmare, especially would welcome the presence of the large wolf.
Kicking Alanor to a trot, Paldor rode steadily downward until he reached the gates of the great White City. The guards there, stopped him immediately, barring his way with crossed spears. Although they recognized the Captain, he was out of uniform, and no one was allowed to remove the wolves from the city when they were not on Guard business without express permission from the Chief. Handing the guards the parchment Altair had given him earlier, Paldor watched as their eyes widened in surprise. This was unheard of! And yet, there was no mistaking the unique mark left by Altair's signet ring in the wax. Still looking astonished, the guards moved aside, uncrossing their spears and permitted Paldor to ride out of the city, accompanied by Jade. Once free of the gates, he urged Alanor to a gallop and Jade loped easily along beside him, her long tongue hanging out as she followed her master over the plains. Paldor allowed himself to laugh as the wind tousled his hair and sent his cloak billowing behind him. He was on his way to the meeting point, accompanied by the two animals he loved best in the world, and soon he would see Ilmare again! Full of anticipation, the threesome travelled on toward the first stop on their long journey.
[Edited on 31/1/2005 by GwennethSindalúnë]
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RE: It all started at the the white city fair
on: February 03, 2005 05:02
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((Took me a while to get this right...I've been working on it for the last couple days. Enjoy!))
The day flew by as Ilmare and her father worked together on her kit. Occasionally, Ilmare would catch her father just staring at her, happy to see his daughter vibrantly alive again and talking. They talked together about everything and absolutely nothing. She told him about Paldor and everything she had remembered, he teased her about her first kiss, and she swatted him.
The relationship between Ilmare and her father had been like this for years. They were father and daughter, yes; commander and subordinate, definitely, but they were also friends and confidents. Ilmare knew she could trust her father with everything on her mind, and her father told her things that not even the most superior rangers were supposed to know.
As the sun set, Ilmare set her loaded saddlebag and pack by the door and braced her hands on her hips with a sigh. “I need to feed Echui,” she said over her shoulder, “then I think I will go to bed. Long day tomorrow.”
Her father came behind her and put his arms around her shoulders. “A very long day,” he agreed. “Riding all the way to the ranger campground to meet your friends. Do you think you will get there first?”
“I should,” she replied, leaning back against his strong body and resting her hands on his crossed arms. “I am closer than the others, as they are coming from Minas Tirith. I should be there in enough time to set up a camp.”
“Good.” Her father pressed a kiss to her temple and released her. “Best go feed your horse,” he said, smiling down at her.
Standing on her tiptoes, the young ranger pressed a kiss to her father’s cheek before exiting the house. The first stars were coming out, sparkling through the leaves on the trees, as she entered the stable. Echui greeted her with a cheerful whinny. He knew adventure and excitement lay ahead, and he couldn’t wait. Ilmare laughed softly as she patted his nose. “Easy, boy,” she murmured. “Get a good night’s rest; we have a long way to go tomorrow.” She filled his feed box and water bucket, brushed him thoroughly, then headed back for the house.
Yawning, she changed into her sleeping clothes and climbed into bed, blowing out the candle before she closed her eyes. “Good night, Ada,” she called into the main room.
“Good night, Rana,” he replied, calling her by her old nickname. Smiling, Ilmare drifted into sleep.
Hours passed silently as the ranger woman dreamed of Paldor and the road ahead. Around midnight, her ears, never quite asleep even when the rest of her was, picked up the sound of her door opening quietly and soft footsteps crossing the floor to her bed. Only half-awake, Ilmare opened one green eye as someone sat on the bed beside her. She saw her father, dressed in his own sleep clothes, sitting beside her and looking fondly down at his only child. “What is wrong?” she asked sleepily, closing her eye again.
“I cannot watch my daughter sleep?” he asked teasingly, stroking her short brown hair. In a more serious tone, he said, “I am sorry I woke you. I forget sometimes that you are sensitive to opening doors.”
“That is your fault, not mine,” Ilmare replied, the corners of her mouth lifting in a tired smile.
“I know. But go to sleep. You have a long day ahead of you.”
Ilmare nodded and slipped back to sleep.
Morning dawned bright and clear. Ilmare woke up when the sun rose and smiled as she realized her father had fallen asleep beside her. “Silly ada,” she murmured fondly as she got carefully out of bed and went to her wardrobe. Most of her traveling clothes had already been packed, but she still had one outfit. Taking it out, she buried her nose in the fabric and inhaled deeply. Ah, she loved that smell; her own natural smell combined with the piney smell from the woods around them and the fresh air.
Going back to her bed, she placed a hand on her father’s shoulder and shook him gently. “Ada, wake up,” she said softly.
His hazel eyes flickered open and squinted against the light coming in through the window. “Morning already?” he murmured.
“Yes, and you fell asleep on my bed, silly,” she chided gently. “Go away, I need to get dressed and moving.”
Her father laughed and stretched like a cat before getting off her bed and, depositing a kiss on her tanned cheek, leaving her room. The door clicked closed. Ilmare changed quickly, shivering at the chill air on her skin. Glancing in the mirror, she bound her hair back as best as she could before pulling her cloak’s hood up over her face. Picking up her quiver, she fastened it on before grabbing her wrist daggers and strapping them into place. Other daggers fit in other emergency places; one in either boot, one strapped to her upper outer thigh and one placed in a sheath stitched to the side of her shirt. All her weapons in place, the young ranger looked herself over in the mirror, nodded slightly, and exited her room, tossing her hood back as she did so.
The smell of a wonderful breakfast met her as she entered the kitchen, and she inhaled happily. Her father looked up and smiled at her. “All ready to go?” he asked, as casual as if she was going on a normal patrol by herself.
“Ready and willing,” she replied, unbinding her hair and letting it fall around her face again. Her father motioned her to the table, and Ilmare sat down gladly as he placed a full plate in front of her.
Their meal was quiet. Both were coming to terms with the fact that Ilmare was leaving on a quest that she might not come back from. Ilmare finished first and sat back in her chair to watch her father eat. He looked up from under his heavy dark brows and smiled at her. “Finished already?” he asked.
She smiled and replied, “It was so good; I could not leave it on my plate.”
He laughed softly. “You teaser! Go and get your horse ready, then.”
Laughing, Ilmare got up and went to the stables. Her father joined her there after a few moments, carrying her saddlebags. “Well,” he said quietly as she saddled Echui, “this is it.”
“Yes,” Ilmare replied quietly, leaning down to fasten the belly straps.
Nothing more was said until Echui was fully tacked up and the saddlebags firmly attached. Then her father said, “You do not have to do this, you know.”
“Ada, you taught me from the time I was little to keep to a task until it was complete. This is my task.” Ilmare’s voice was soft and heart-felt as she looked up at her father.
“I know,” he replied, resting an arm around her shoulders. “Can you blame an old ranger for wanting to keep the last member of his family close?” He sighed. “But you are an adult now, and you have the right to pursue love and adventure.”
“If you do not want me to go…” she began, turning to look up at him.
He put a finger over her lips. “I also taught you from a young age to keep your promises. You promised to meet your friends there today, and I will not make you break that.”
She blinked rapidly, fighting back her tears.
“Now,” he said, reaching for something behind his neck, “I have something for you.” He detached the gold chain that he always wore and handed it to Ilmare. It was heavier than she expected, and her hand dipped momentarily before she caught herself.
She had noticed, over the years, that he never took the chain off or—and this was the most notable—never showed it to anyone. He touched it occasionally, but no more than that. The chain itself was simple; a fairly thick chain of gold—gold and some other metal, Ilmare decided, noticing how sturdy it was. Mithril, maybe. What hung on the chain, however, caught and held her attention.
It was simple, but beautiful in its simplicity: an eight-point mithril star with strands of golden light radiating from it. Ilmare turned it over reverentially in her calloused fingers and read the inscription on the back: “To my beloved daughter Mir on your wedding day.”
“Mir is a name that your mother’s family used for years,” Ilmare’s father explained. “The necklace is about a thousand years old. It was a tradition for the mother to give this necklace to her eldest daughter on her wedding day. Now I give it to you, in the place of the mother you lost and in the hope of your future husband.”
“Ada, this is yours…” she began, holding the necklace out to him.
“No, it is yours now,” he replied quietly, folding her fingers carefully around it. “Your mother would have wanted you to have it. Wear it with my love and hers.”
There was no words good enough for this token of love, so Ilmare didn’t try to create any. Instead, she flung her arms around him and hugged her father tightly. He held her, cradled her head against his chest, and murmured gentle words in Elvish to her. After a moment, she released him and wiped her eyes. “I should go,” she whispered.
“Yes,” he agreed, brushing a hand through her hair. “Go well,” he added.
“Stay well,” she replied, kissing his cheek and fastening the chain around her neck. The necklace was heavy, but not uncomfortably so. Blinking away tears again, she mounted up quickly and rode away, waving to her father as she rode.
“Ná Elbereth veria le, iell-nín,” he whispered as he watched her ride away, hair and cloak blowing in the morning breeze.
*May Elbereth protect you, my daughter.
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| Caegaraneva |
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| GwennethSindalúnë |
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