| Fennuir |
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| NÃnimelle |
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| Ohtariel |
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| Dinenlasse |
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| NÃnimelle |
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| Fennuir |
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| NÃnimelle |
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| ~Laesneniel~ |
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| Dinenlasse |
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| Ohtariel |
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| Fennuir |
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| NÃnimelle |
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| Dinenlasse |
 RE: A King's Legacy (KEEP)
on: June 05, 2011 10:54
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Thyrin paced the length of his main chamber, thoughts in turmoil. The news Emir related to the Steward of Ithilien troubled him greatly. Lake-town and Erebor had become unprotected by their lord, and the Dwarves had become recluse. Thyrin had already sent his people in Tolech-en-Ernil into hiding to escape the devastation wreaked by the Gurothos. Renault positioned his military around his fiefs to “ensure protection against wrongdoers to the realm of Gondor”. It was as if all territories under the crown had become a giant chessboard with the King of Gondor on one side and the Prince of Annúminas on the other. Thyrin knew Aeron had begun acquiring and arming his own troops in the North over the past year, but he had made no mention of it. Such a thing was at the discretion of the Prince to reveal, but Thyrin suspected, however, that the time for military action against the king might not occur should Renault prove wrong those apprehensive about his taking the throne and rule justly. But he would not come out against the king no matter the circumstances until necessity forced it. It would be foolish to do so. Renault already questioned Thyrin’s loyalties, and being so close to Minas Tirith, Thyrin was reluctant to place himself, his family, and his responsibility in the place of danger.
He took another turn around the room, his footsteps echoing against the stone walls. Servants raced back and forth, preparing his wardrobe for dinner. Already a day in the city, and tensions escalated. Oh, to go back to the halcyon early days of Hingaer, Thyrin thought, running a hand through his black hair. A servant halted the lord with a request. “Sire,” the man began, bowing deeply, “the lord Matthias requests an audience.”
A smile crept up on Thyrin’s face. “Send him in.” Matthias entered the room, taking off his cloak and hanging it on a metal hook embedded in the wall. “What can I do for you, son?” Thyrin asked, keeping relations formal with his retinue around him.
Matthias bowed. “May we speak in private?”
With a quick word, the servants scattered, and father and son retired to Thyrin’s private library in the far back of his quarters. “What news do you bring?” Thyrin spoke straight to the point as the man knelt to place logs on a smoldering fire. They sat in large chairs stuffed with goose down.
Matthias appeared troubled. “Nothing new or out of the ordinary, Father, but I’m greatly worried. I fear there will be no coronation for Renault before armed conflict breaks out. Everyone already wears somber, fearful expressions when we should be celebrating. Only a fool or one lacking all five senses would fail to realize the transparency of the façade Renault puts on. Furthermore, if it comes down to gathering our own forces for an alliance with Emir and Lord Aeron, what shall be done with Adrienne?” His brow furrowed in concern.
Thyrin considered his only son. For being only twenty-four years of age, Matthias was a politically astute man, not merely blindly following his father but realizing the importance and danger of what a rebellion would constitute. Indeed, Matthias had his own network of contacts and friends in Rohan and Osgiliath with whom he exchanged regular correspondence. “Aye, I’ve been thinking the same thing. Knowing the nature of our own forces in Ithilien, especially since the Rangers left, we have relatively little in the way of cavalry or even infantry. Our forces number at the most tenscore able men with extensive experience in archery. But we’ve already secured the cooperation of Dîrmedlin who approached me first all those years ago for aid in securing Ithilien’s borders. Our people know stealth and disguise, ‘tis how we live our lives as it is.” He paused, inwardly grateful to have Matthias completely in tune with his own thoughts. The lad, seemingly dull-minded and immature at times, was truly a formidable, intelligent man.
“As for Adrienne, she’d prefer to not see any action at all. Poor lass; her heart is in the right place. Indeed, none of us want to face the possibility of war, and I sincerely hope it does not come down to that. And I believe she understands that, especially because she knows our plans as well as you do.”
A shadow of fear and doubt crossed Matthias’ face. “Do you think she would betray us?” he asked in a dead whisper.
Without a beat, Thyrin replied, “Never. You know your sister, Matti. She’s not stupid, and I cannot disagree with her fears. She might not agree with armaments used against the Crown, if it comes to it, but Adrienne would never hinder us. I plan on sending her north with Aeron if he’s agreeable to such a proposition. There she is out of danger and will be our contact with the northern nobles. She’s a born diplomat and a well-intentioned lady, if not stubborn and confrontational at times.”
Matthias bowed and put his head in his hands. “I’ve no doubt of her abilities. But it seems like we’re facing the calm of the storm. Wars are supposed to take weeks, months to develop, not spontaneously on a spur of the moment. All of these situations disturb me, especially since we cannot trace them all back to an enemy.”
Thyrin leaned over and patted his son’s shoulder in a reassuring manner. “Matti, we’ve been preparing for years. You knew this. And there's no certainty of imminent warfare, or any war at all. We are just taking preventative measures. We know not how Renault will turn out as king. Besides,” he continued, leaning back in his chair, “we will not attempt any action against the throne unless the king gives us a solid reason to. Furthermore, I believe my agents will be closer to determining the nature and origins of the Gurothos.” Silence fell for a moment before Thyrin stood, pulled Matthias to his feet, and said, “Let’s go to dinner. The sight of the pretty ladies will get your attention off political troubles for a night. Come to think of it, we all need a night of revelry.”
*~*~*~*~*
“Breath just a little more deeply, my lady,” Adrienne’s maid Moelfryn coaxed, attempting to tighten the corset. Adrienne inhaled deeply, resulting in her maid tightening the laces. Moelfryn, a sprightly young blonde, deftly tied the laces as Adrienne fought to breathe.
“And they call this fashionable?” Adrienne cried irritably, her chest heaving with exertion. Moelfryn stepped back and surveyed her work. Her mistress merely had on a shift and her stays, and clothing of various colors lay spread out on her bed.
Moelfryn stifled a chuckle with her hand. “Yes, my lady. Even I must wear one.” Adrienne whirled around and surveyed her maid. She had little need for one since she was well-endowed and sported a trim waist, honey-hued curls, and cornflower-blue eyes. Her dress of light blue brought out her eyes, and it was clear Moelfryn would have been a heart-breaker to any lad who chose to pursue her.
“I know not how you can stand them!” She laughed, returning her gaze to the mirror in front of her. “And now what? I’m thinking one of the pale gold petticoats and the burgundy overgown,” Adrienne remarked, turning once again to face Moelfryn.
The maid cocked an eyebrow inquisitively. “Are you out to impress someone tonight, mistress? A young gentleman, perhaps?”
Evading the question, Adrienne returned, “I could ask the same about you, Moelfryn.” The maid visibly wilted, her manner downcast. “Dear, I meant nothing harsh with my comment,” Adrienne continued with a quick smile at her friend. “I am not attempting to impress anyone tonight, but I cannot step out into a formal occasion for the first time in over a year looking like a frumpy housewife.”
Moelfryn brightened and laughed. “What peacocks some ladies at court are, are they not, mistress? I shall envy you tonight. I must stay here.”
Adrienne picked up the petticoat, pulled it over her head, and tied it around her waist. Admiring the effect in the mirror, she shook her head. “I’m sending you home, lass, since I know you’ve been making eyes at one of our local knight’s squires. Spend some time with him tonight. Rest assured I can undress myself tonight.” Moelfryn smiled and thanked Adrienne profusely. In truth, Adrienne and Moelfryn were closer as friends than as lady and maid. Moelfryn placed the burgundy cloth of gold gown around Adrienne’s shoulders, hooked it to a matching stomacher, and caught her hair up in a silver coronet, detailing her status as a noblewoman. A beautiful pendant of diamond interwoven with silver filigree formed the shape of a star graced her throat. As a whole, Adrienne was pleased with her appearance, for surely she could match other Gondorian noblewomen.
A half hour later, Adrienne sent Moelfryn off and soon found herself in the Lamedon Room. She quickly seated herself next to Matthias who raised an eyebrow at his sister’s arrival. A servant bowed and pulled out her chair, and Adrienne sat and adjusted her skirts. And yet another half hour later, the royal family entered. Gwyneira sat near the head of the table as the Dowager Queen while the two younger princes and princess sat further down, close to where the Steward of Ithilien and other nobles were seated. Thyrin frowned but said nothing. Indeed, he could say nothing as Renault entered in all splendor, trailed by what Adrienne considered his lackeys. Wisely, she kept her opinions to herself though she shared a knowing glance with her brother as Renault launched into a self-righteous speech about his accession to the throne and “welcoming” his guests to his first spread as king. Soon enough, formalities were forgotten as the first course of dinner was served.
Adrienne caught herself noticing first of all, that not all of the nobles had arrived, including an old family friend, the lord of Osgiliath, and second of all, that even as conversation flowed and ebbed like the wine being consumed, much of the chatter appeared hollow. Matthias interrupted her thoughts by nudging her in the ribs and asking jovially, “Dear sister, please tell me there is not a gallant I must worry about for your attire this evening is simply splendid.”
She gave her brother a mock angry sidelong glance as a servant poured her some Dorwinion wine and another gave her a slice of mackerel for the first serving. “Of course not, Matti. Why must you think I’m out to attract a man?”
Matthias leaned over to whisper in her ear conspiratorially, “Because it appears you have an admirer. Lord Aeron has not been able to keep his eyes off you the entire night.” He grinned triumphantly.
Fire crept up Adrienne’s face, and she replied heatedly, “Surely he has not! There are others more attractive here tonight than myself.”
Matthias sighed, closing his eyes to gain patience. When it came to matters of the heart, his sister had a habit of complete denial. “Addie, why must you underestimate yourself? You are among the fairest and most eligible women in the realm. We are descended from the king Arvedui himself, an ancient and noble line of men, and we claim kinship with the throne of Dol Amroth! How can you not think you’d be a match for the prince? You do realize such a betrothal was considered when we were young?”
Adrienne struggled to keep her voice down as the object in question was seated a mere three seats away across the table. “Indeed, but he soon had his Anórien from the north. Tragedy had the lady pass so why can you think he’d want another so soon?” She tipped the contents of her silver goblet into her mouth, trying to calm herself down.
“He has not been able to keep his eyes off you the entire night,” Matthias repeated simply, raising a glass to the Prince who glanced their way.
Adrienne refused to reply, her thoughts returning to the troublesome news Druick had brought. Yes, she was privy to what her father and brother had knowledge of, and she was determined to further gauge the depths of the water later tonight once the wine loosened tongues. But yet, anxiety and doubt gnawed at her insides. Would they end up going to war at all? Adrienne had heard tortuous stories of Renault's grandsire's reign. Surely the king desired to learn from his predecessor's mistakes and not plunge his country into civil war.
But then, another disturbing thought crossed her mind. Are we safe here?
[Edited on 6/6/2011 by Dinenlasse]
"There is no such thing as a geek, just those who love things the rest of humanity finds weird."
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RE: A King's Legacy (KEEP)
on: June 25, 2011 05:40
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(This is a joint post between Dinenlasse, Laesneniel and Fennuir.)
“I here talk of you going to Rohan my Prince.” Emir commented as he walk up to Aeron. “Something tells me this was not his idea?”
“It is as Elfwine says my friend. Who am I to contradict the Lord High King of Rohan?” Aeron smiled as he and Emir embraced. “You look well Emir. I am pleased fate brought you here. It is good that the Chief of the Dúnedain is here when we lay our King to rest.”
“Hingaer loved his people and his people loved him. He will be greatly missed.” Emir replied. “It is the new King that concerns us now my Lord. We must talk.”
“We will meet in your quarters at two. I have a few of my own loyal men in the barracks and they will see to it that we are not seen or overheard. Still, be on your guard, we are watched.” The Prince replied quietly. Emir nodded and left the Prince. Aeron watched him leave and knew what was coming. Renault’s actions had sent tremors of fear through the ranks of the Nobles but he would not take up arms against him. Renault would be crowned and rule Gondor as he saw fit. Whatever the future held it would be of his own doing.
It was not a celebration feast that would go on into the small hours of the night so by nine the guests were all heading to the rooms. Aeron went to his rooms and made as though he was going to bed. He dismissed his servant as he usually did and once he was gone he dressed in dark clothing and stretched out on top of his bed. He slept a few restless hours and was up well before two. He’d decided not to tell Gerant of the meeting until the following day. Gerant didn’t need to be involved in anything that might draw unfavourable attention to him should they be seen. Gerant had other things on his mind now that a new bride had been chosen for him.
The time dragged on and at one thirty he quietly slipped out of his room. Outside he stopped behind a column and waited to see if he was followed. He watched as Thyrin and Matthias skirted around the buildings and entered Emir’s quarters. Matthias should not have been brought to the meeting. This was not something Aeron would have allowed had he known. The fewer people who knew of this meeting the better. A cloud crossed over the moon’s face and dimmed it’s glow. Aeron quickly crossed the grass and open the door to Emir’s quarters and closed it quietly behind him. Emir lit a single candle. He walked across the room and confronted Thyrin.
“Matthias should not have been brought into this. His neck would be in a noose if he were found out. We know what the risk is, he sees only the adventure. What of Adrienne? Do think they would not interrogate her were her brother to be caught plotting against the King?” He shakes his head and puts his hand on Thyrinn’s shoulder. “Friends... do we even know what we are doing? Well what’s done is done. Be careful and keep your council to yourself and those in this room Matthias. This is no game. One ill chosen word and his men will fall on you.” He pulled out a chair and sat. “So what news do you bring me gentlemen?”
Thyrin nonchalantly crossed his arms and legs and leaned against the wall. The Prince's confrontation was not unexpected. "My lord, we would all have our necks in a noose if we were found out, yourself included," Ithilien's Steward replied calmly, settling his gaze on Aeron. "'Tis simply the nature of this business. But I'd rather be prepared for naught than not prepared at all. This is why I've began to get my own affairs in order since I first heard of your sire's illness. It is not plotting against the king to be securing my own borders against potential marauders upon the change of reign." He raised a hand to silence Aeron before he protested. "Let me be frank, my lord. My own goal in doing what I've done is not be caught unawares should things go awry. You know your brother's personality as well as I do. I will not take up arms in any sort of insurrection unless he leaves me no choice."
Matthias, who had remained in the shadows of the fireplace, bristled at Aeron's distrust of him. "My lord Prince, you truly have not known me for years. I keep my own web of contacts and am well-informed. I realize I could lose my life over this, and I would never dream of jeopardizing our goals by a misplaced word. Regardless, it is a risk I'm willing to take if to keep Gondor safe."
Thyrin smiled approvingly at his son's even-worded bravado. He was reminded of how Matthias and Aeron mock fenced each other in sparring matches as young lads. Except this time it was verbal sparring. "You needn't worry about my children, Lord Aeron. And definitely don't underestimate Adrienne. Should she be questioned, she has a well-rehearsed story.
But think not I haven't a thought of their safety, especially Adrienne's. She is returning to Ithilien within the next fortnight to help return our refugees to Tolech-en-Ernil. We've recently been under attack from young men who call themselves the 'Gurothos'. They hide in the shadows, murdering livestock and people, stealing goods, disrupting trade. Our very livelihood is threatened by their destructive acts. In any case, Adrienne is safer away from the capital. Her knowledge of Ithilien surpasses anyone's but my own."
Emir spoke up then, moving from his shadowed place by the opposite window.
"You should know, as well my lord Aeron, that the North suffers. Lord Suern of Laketown has vanished, along with a few other men of importance that your father had stationed in my lands. The dwarves have cut off all communication with the outside world, taking whatever Rangers I send to investigate." he paused, struggling to once again contain his anger, "I have caught 5 traitors in just this month, attempting to take my life and that of my councilmen. All were men paid with coin bearing Renault's symbols."
Aeron was stunned and his face showed it. Attempts on Emir’s life in the North, the Chieftain of the Dúnedain, unheard of in a any age. In addition Lord Suern of Laketown had gone missing ,Tolech-en-Ernil had been raided and left in near ruins, assassinations attempted on Nobles and Emir’s councilmen. There were always traitors when money was involved but 5, that was very unusual for men of the north, they were always loyal and hard fast. Even more troubling was the fact that all these men were paid with gold coin bearing Renault’s image. How was that even possible unless the coin was struck outside of the realm and where did the gold come from. To have accomplished all this he would have had to put his plans into place over a year ago. Renault had started to spread his tendrils far and wide long before the death of the King. He must have done so at the first sign of his father’s ill health, maybe sooner. Now he understood now why his benefactor had urged him to lay in supplies early and recruit men and train them well. To build a large reserve force. But how did his benefactor know all this was coming? Questions, to many questions. He had expected Renault to make a move but nothing on such a grand scale. Was anyone opposed to him safe in their bed. How far would he go?
“I’m deeply trouble by this dire news. I knew that he would move to consolidate his strength. Men caught spying on those who oppose him in the north are in my dungeons, other who fled are dead. But the coin is the most troubling because it shows that he has been working to this end for at least a year.” There was concern in Aeron’s voice. “What other plans has he laid that are yet to hatch?” He paused for a moment to collect his thoughts.
“I to have news gentlemen. Renault attempted to take Isengard from the Ents. A week before the King passed men rode in as bold as brass and declared Renault to be King and that by rights he reclaimed Isengard. The Ents saw them off. I have posted a company of cavalry at Dol Baran to prevent a repeat. The standing garrisons at Edhellond and Tarnost are on the move but we don’t know where or why. Now, Thyrin have you spoken to Renault of the troubles in Tolech-en-Ernil?”
“I have said nothing of it.” Thyrin replied.
“You must speak to him of this. If he knows nothing of it he will give you aid, simply because it is a threat to the realm and his prestige. It wouldn’t do to have troubles overshadowing his coronation. If it was part of his plan to destabilise the south he will give you minimal support and tell you to remedy the situation and use your own men to find these raiders. All I can offer you is a few men from my guard. I have men in Tharbad but it would take a few weeks before they would arrive and then they would have to evade the scouts that roam Anórien They would also need to pass through Rohan, which would require a letter from Elfwine. A company of men is difficult to hide even if they are not dressed as soldiers. If you wish to move your household or others they can join us when we move Northwards through Rohan” He turned to Emir but at that moment there was a knock at the door.
The room went quiet. Aeron and Thyrin slipped into the shadows to not be seen. Emir opened the door a crack and saw a lone sentry standing there.
“Good evening sir. What brings you to my door at this hour?”
“The watch changes in a half hour my lord. Thought you should know.” The sentry, one of Aeron’s, turned and walked away as though he’d never stopped. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief. Time was short and they needed to end their discussion. Aeron’s last words were for Emir.
“ Emir I can give you whatever help you need to protect your people. I will be posting men at all of the Northern Noble’s estates and key points to watch the country side. I have 2 battalions posted north of the Isen and three further north. I will have dwarven made amour, swords and shields enough to arm four legions but not enough men to fill them all. I have not yet the numbers I hoped for but the Nobles from Forlindon, Harlindon and Enedwaith say they will fill the ranks with their own men. But, this is a slow process, I will not be ready for some time yet, possible a year. And then only if Renault continues to move against his people and Nobles for his own interests. If he sees sense and heeds his councillors words there will be peace in Gondor, I will not move so long as there is a chance. It is early days yet and much can change. The coronation will not be impeded by any action on my part nor yours. I will give what aid I can but I will not act rashly and divide the Kingdom. War is to easily entered into but peace can be elusive, even though it is most desired by all.”
Thyrin added in his final word before the gentlemen dispersed. "My lord, 'tis wise to have men posted around the north, but such numbers you are mustering might catch the attention of the King and cause speculation. I'd advise that you keep the armed men to a minimum necessary to keep peace and instead keep your informants about. There's no need to cause the King worry." Thyrin disliked the notion of keeping soldiers stationed everywhere, but then, Aeron was lord in the north, and not he. Matthias had remained silent throughout the exchange, not offering his own words. He did not desire another confrontation from the prince.
Then, another knock sounded from the outside.
Unbeknownst to the men, another had sought out Emir. Adrienne padded carefully towards Emir's quarters without knowledge of the secret meeting. A messenger had flown from Ithilien to Minas Tirith, searching for Thyrin but only managing to find his daughter Adrienne. She had answered the door, bleary-eyed, as though she had not been sleeping. Upon hearing his message, she cautioned him to remain in her quarters while the lady sought out her father's close friend.
Adrienne knew the dangers of being caught alone, but necessity and fear drove her pace. Clad in nothing but her shift and a thick cloak, Adrienne ventured to Emir's quarters, desperately hoping that he was in and would not mind an early morning wake-up call. She reached his door after a quick word to the sentries who guarded the passageway outside and halted. The maid hesitated for a moment before knocking. It was a soft but insistent knock. The door opened, and Emir's head poked out. His expression read clear shock, but Adrienne whispered, "Know you where my father is? I've need of him." He paused, but eventually relented and let her in.
Immediately Adrienne became concerned and embarrassed as she saw she had arrived in the midst of what was clearly a furtive occurrence. Her disheveled hair and paled face alerted the men to something amiss. Adrienne caught sight of Aeron, and her face blanched further then flushed. What had she walked into? But soon, Thyrin was at her side and muttered, "Love, what is it?"
Turning away from the others, Adrienne clung to his tunic and whispered, "A messenger from Ithilien resides in my chambers. Tolech-en-Ernil is on fire, as are other camps in the area. Our home is a loss." That was all she could tell before she began shaking with exhaustion and exertion. Adrienne tried to calm herself, but the chill from the night and the terrible news caught up to her.
Thyrin hugged his daughter tightly to him and kissed her forehead. "All will be well, dear. Let us go see this man." Without another word and a simple nod to Emir and Aeron, Thyrin carefully made his way back across the courtyard with his family, the two other nobles right behind them. The bright full moon lit the courtyard, the silver light reflected off the white cobblestones that made up the paths. Soon, seen by no one, they had all gathered in Adrienne's quarters where the messenger related his message that cloaked men had set the entire town ablaze, and nothing was spared. Thyrin listened intently and replied after the man finished speaking, "I must inform the King, and then I shall leave for Ithilien tonight. Matti, I want you with me because we know not what wraiths might try and stop us."
Adrienne stared at her father, a wild look in her green eyes. "Let me come with," she said simply, directly.
Thyrin turned to his daughter. "Addie, I'd have you remain here. I need you in the Citadel." He said nothing furthered, and Adrienne immediately understood his implied message. "I shall send word for you in a couple of days, and then if the king allows it, you shall be recalled from court." She nodded mutely, and the messenger, Thyrin, and Matthias fled her chambers, leaving the maiden with Emir and Aeron.
Moelfryn pulled out a chair for her mistress, and Adrienne sat wearily, energy spent. The maid then went and fetched some mulled wine after stoking the fire with pine and oak logs. The room soon warmed, dispelling the chill that had crept in. Adrienne turned to the gentlemen who remained standing and apologized, "I crave your pardon for interrupting your meeting. I hadn't known it to be happening." Moelfryn handed Adrienne and the two lords each a tankard of wine, and Adrienne held tightly, letting it warm her hands. "What was going on?"
“It was a meeting of friends my Lady. We had come together and were discussing events in the lands for which we are responsible, in fact we had just discussed the threat these “Gurothos” were to Ithilien and the realm. I had urged Lord Thyrin to speak with the Crown Prince to seek aid and hunt down these dogs. But I know not if the city garrison has the men and mounts needed to mount such an undertaking. “ He took a long drink from his tankard and set it down. “The Valar curse me I’m such a fool. I have the men and mounts camping outside the city gate. We can be ready to ride in an hour. We have 3 days before the Kings funeral and laying him to his final rest. We could speak with the Crown Prince and ask for leave to ride to Ithilien. Forgive me my Lady but I must make haste if I am to find your father.” He took a few steps and turned back looking at Adrienne. “We will find these murderers and usurpers my Lady. For what they’ve done they shall pay with their lives. I will do all I can do, this I promise you.” Aeron and Emir both bowed to Lady Adrienne and took their leave.
Aeron with Emir at his side sprinted back to the castle and ran through the Great Hall to Renault’s private wing. He found Thyrin and Matthias speaking with Renault’s assistant trying to convince him of the urgency of the matter and that they must speak with him immediately. The man repeatedly refused them, likely fearing the Crown Prince’s wrath at being woken at such an hour. Aeron heard the conversation as he walked up to the side of Thyrin and had little patience with the aids refusals. He stepped up and stood 8 inches (20 cm) from the man’s face and spoke with a hard resolve.
“My good man , the realm is under threat. Either you wake him or I will.”
The aid turned and left to wake the Crown Prince without saying a word. Aeron then explained to Thyrin that he had 50 battle hardened cavalry sitting outside the city wall and that he’d sent word for them to prepare to ride to Ithilien within the hour. All that was needed was Prince Renault’s leave to do so.
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RE: A King's Legacy (KEEP)
on: January 03, 2012 09:38
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(A joint post between myself and the lovely Ohtariel.)
“He said what?!” Moelfryn cried as Adrienne stalked around the perimeter of her room, as agitated as before. Surely this day had not been the most positive for the lady from Ithilien. First, having no family around left her vulnerable to other nobles. Then, Lady Déorath had denounced her in front of the court. And now, the king desired to dine with her in private.
Adrienne unfolded the heavily creased letter and repeated the message again to her maid. “He wishes to share a meal in his private chambers to ‘further reacquaint himself’ with my person and glean further information on recent happenings in Ithilien.” The maiden paused, feeling suddenly exhausted and alone. “Can I trust you?” she asked suddenly, quietly.
“My lady?” Adrienne’s maid asked, confused. “What do you mean?”
“Beyond that of a maid and mistress, but that of a friend, can I trust you?” Adrienne continued after her maid’s astonished nod. “Molly, I’ve come to find I have few true friends at court, though I’ve scarce been here a few days. I like not court intrigues, and already I’m being ensnared in their webs. Do I have a friend in you?” her eyes pleaded with despair, an emotion Moelfryn had never seen before in Adrienne. She was truly frightened.
“You do, mistress. Always.”
---
Later that day, when the last needy citizen had been served, Renault was finally able to retire from his presence chamber. He mused briefly upon a king’s duty to be a public servant. It would soon be his job to appear as if he cared whether or not his subjects were left in want of anything. Renault smirked to himself. The only person from that whole crowd who stood out in his mind, even a little, was Lord Thyrin’s daughter... and it was certainly not because her needs were anymore dire than anyone else’s. He sighed to himself and gathered up his robes around him. With a quick wave, his remaining attendant came to stand by his side. As Renault left his presence chamber, attendant in tow, he was quickly flanked by the next shift of guards.
Wishing greatly that her steps led her through the verdant, sun-lit canopies of Ithilien rather than the stony corridors of the palace, Adrienne sent Moelfryn for a noon repast before venturing back out into the castle. She missed the carefree days of when she and the royals were younger, when after they would run through the courtyard gardens after their lessons were done for the day. Renault was always the ringleader, Aeron and Matthias not far behind. Gerant, being one of the youngest, often trampled over his brothers’ footsteps, and Eira and Adrienne remained last, stepping out at their own sedate pace. She leaned against a stone pillar near the presence chamber and stared out through a window facing one of those gardens. Peace stole over her until a shrill voice returned her to reality.
“Back again to secure even more favors, lady?” Adrienne bit her lip as Déorath sneered the use of her rank. “What is it this time? More money, more jewels, more land?”
The maiden ignored her and remained staring out the window. Holding her hems, Déorath sidled to Adrienne’s side and drew in line with her peripheral vision. “It is impolite to ignore your elders and betters, Lady Adrienne,” Lady Déorath continued provocatively.
Adrienne dipped respectfully, controlling her temper. “Forgive me, my lady. I am merely taking a rest from this busy day.”
“What is it the Crown prince gave you? ‘Tis always favorable if the royals present you with something handwritten.” She inched closer.
“Simply a listing of my possible inheritance, my lady, should my father pass before my marriage,” Adrienne repeated the same lie she told Araenil. “It was nothing favorable from his Grace.”
“Your marriage? You are not betrothed, are you? For it seems you have been rather attentive to Prince Aeron, and I believe you not when you indicate no betrothal exists between you and the prince. I have it on good authority that discussions on your betrothal occurred a time ago and have continued into the present.”
Flustered at the relentlessness with which Déorath pursued the topic, Adrienne’s temper finally snapped. “Lady Déorath, there never has been and there never will be a betrothal between the prince and myself. I would never seek to marry without the consent and knowledge of my sovereign liege and my lord father. Do you think me so deceitful, so naive, so insidious that I would damage my reputation so with such actions? I am not a woman led by emotion but rather by intellect.” Her voice pitched even louder. “I beg pardon if my presence at court has so disrupted your comfortable status that you should seek to lower my own through slander and deceit of your very own!” Adrienne turned her back to her rival when Déorath cornered her yet again.
Her voice remained sickeningly sweet like poisoned honey. “Then I advise you to maintain your reputation and good graces with my family by keeping your distance from the royals, lord Aeron especially. Your pedigree might be ancient and royal, but your looks and temperament would never complement a man’s. Your arrogance and ambition far outweigh any other merits you may possess.” Adrienne bristled, and her faced flushed crimson. Not normally a temperamental person by nature, Déorath had stretched the young girl’s limits. Fortunately or unfortunately, it was at that time that Renault came out of his presence chamber just as Adrienne was about to truly release her temper.
“Ladies,” Renault said calmly. “If you have some other request of me, it will have to wait. I am no longer receiving.” Clearly this had nothing to do with his presence chamber, but Déorath and Adrienne were both blocking his way. Renault had to wonder why he kept guards at all if he had to make his own path. The scenario had bored him at first, but he could see now an angry flush in Adrienne’s cheeks. It was a look he had not seen from her since childhood.
Harassed and embarrassed, Adrienne fumbled another curtsy, hardly daring to meet the prince’s eyes. “My lord,” she muttered. “I beg pardon if I blocked your way.”
Lady Déorath, on the other hand, had another agenda. “Your Grace, have you word that Lord Aeron and Lady Adrienne have spent an unseemly amount of time together upon her arrival in the city?” she asked with proper respect and matronly duty.
Aeron, Aeron, Aeron! Renault thought to himself. I fail to see the fascination people have with him!
“My Lady...” Renault snapped his fingers and leaned toward his attendant. The man whispered into Renault’s ear for a moment. “...Déorath, will you have me repeat myself? I am quite finished problem solving for the day, and matters where my brother is concerned take my counselors weeks to work out. You may seek audience again with me next week.”
Déorath sank to her knees. “Yes, your Highness, I understand. Please forgive my insolence.” With that, she cast one more withering glance at Adrienne, whose eyes were still down turned, and stalked off.
Adrienne, seeing that Renault had sent Déorath off with a sharp word, hastened to her full height (which was not much considering the prince had at least a head and shoulders above her). Not wanting the future king to see her in her flustered state, she said lowly, “I shall be retiring to my rooms now, if it pleases you, my lord. It seems I’ve interrupted enough for the day.”
Renault considered the young woman for a moment. “Sadly, Lady, it does not please me.” This seemed to bother Adrienne, but the man she was speaking to was not someone to disappoint. “Will you walk with me?” he said gently, though Renault’s requests were usually commands as he was used to being obeyed.
Adrienne was taken aback. She had seen Renault send many of his inferiors off sharply, but his demeanor towards her was somehow different. Never expecting this, she gave the answer she knew would please him. “I shall be pleased to, your Grace.” Thyrin’s daughter took the proffered arm, and they began to walk.
Instead of taking a direct route in escorting Adrienne to her chambers, Renault veered off and out of the cold palace corridors. He was silent at first, as if choosing his first words carefully. “Do the palace nobles normally bother you so?”
Feigning indifference, Adrienne cast a sidelong glance at Renault. “My lord?”
“It is a strange concept for me. Court gossip remains faceless in my presence. And so public opinion is never clear until it becomes a majority. But the Lady Déorath, it seems, does not conform to that rule. At least not where you are concerned.”
Trying to find a balance between indicting Lady Déorath and blackening her own reputation with Renault was like walking on a double-bladed sword. No matter what was said, someone’s opinion of her would lessen. “It seems my family’s arrival in Minas Tirith has sparked many stirrings within the court.”
Renault chuckled in reply, but decided to drop the topic. “You speak as privately as my brother does. It is no wonder that you get along.” He said in jest, though this also appeared to cause Adrienne some discomfort.
“Indeed, my lord,” Adrienne replied noncommittally. “But now,”-she decided a change of topic was necessary by this point-”what news have you on your end, if you don’t mind my asking? ‘Tis been quite a time since we last chanced to speak together.”
“Yes it has been far too long since then.” he replied, feeling her weak attempt at escape mildly annoying. “I have been stuck in audience for quite some time today, which leaves little enough left over for anything else. I cannot say that I hate the feeling.” Renault stopped their walk in the middle of a courtyard, knowing well enough that this particular one was overlooked by his Mother’s personal balcony. It would give the old woman something to talk about, and for once it would be by his own design. He grew impatient and continued on towards Adrienne’s rooms without spotting Gwyneira.
Adrienne wondered at their sudden stop in a courtyard but thought less of it than she did of Renault’s sudden change in demeanor. He now seemed annoyed, and she could not decipher if it was because of her or something else. “I’d hardly relish the position you are in, lord. But, I will admit, donning petticoats and stomachers provides just as much discomfort as listening to supplicants, I’d warrant.” A bright smile lit her face as she attempted to lighten the mood a bit. Renault had always been known to be surly and stolid.
“It is part of the title, but yes it can get tiresome. Thankfully I am not yet some old king whose shoulders are bowed by the weight of wars. Unless of course that war is between two neighbors involving a stray chicken. I had one of those cases today! I’ve shadowed my Father my entire life and these are things I deal with.” Renault shook his head.
Another smile creased Adrienne’s face. She was fighting to gain back her good humor from before. How she missed the side-splitting laughter Druick had caused just the day or two before! “Chickens! Farmers really will sue each other over the most miniscule things! I cannot imagine it.” Her eyes surveyed the scenery surrounding them. “I have always aspired to my own father’s position in Ithilien as I shadowed him growing up. Unfortunately it would never be a position I could hope to obtain.” She increased her vulnerability by letting out this bit of personal information, but Adrienne sincerely hoped it would dispel rather than increase Renault’s apparent disapproval of her.
Finally the two arrived in front of Adrienne’s chambers and Renault dropped her hand from the crook of his arm. “I’m afraid, lady, that the chickens would bore you. They do not make as frivolous a case as one might think.” He said, deciding not to delve into the issue of women in power. “I will take my leave now, hopefully your friend Lady Déorath has not tracked you here.” Renault took Adrienne’s hand in his. Instead of brushing his lips against the back of her hand, as was customary, he turned it over face up and kissed the base of her palm.
A shudder ran through Adrienne at the touch of Renault’s lips on her palm, but whether it was dread or desire, she couldn’t tell. The former would be more likely as the lady found she could not be comfortable around the Crown prince. His presence chilled her, and Adrienne found herself desiring the enjoyable and warm company of Aeron instead. She ignored the mention of Déorath and instead dipped yet again as low as Renault’s station as heir apparent required. “I bid you a good eve, your Grace.”
As she flew into her chambers, Adrienne passed Moelfryn in haste and threw herself face-down onto her large bed, landing in a crumpled heap of skirts. “My lady, what happened?” Moelfryn asked in alarm.
Sending her other servants out for the night, Adrienne turned on her back, hair askew. “How is it that I can manage to create such a ruckus, attract the attention of two royals and the enmity of the lady of Lebennin, and be left completely and utterly void of support?” she cried. Adrienne began to shake, and Moelfryn rushed to the bed and held her mistress as Adrienne sobbed her heart out on her maid’s shoulder. But if her encounters of the day had taught her one thing, as she reflected later that night, Adrienne learned the necessity of keeping a straight face, her business to herself, and to never wear her heart on her sleeve. The Gondorian court was a treacherous place, and Adrienne would have to learn to stand on her own two feet and preserve herself should she be left to her own devices, something neglected in her shaded life in Ithilien.
"There is no such thing as a geek, just those who love things the rest of humanity finds weird."
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| Erucenindë |
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| Ohtariel |
RE: A King's Legacy (KEEP)
on: March 01, 2012 07:06
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((JP with dinen. sorry for all the JP's. Really I am))
“Sorry to disappoint you, Sister, but the matter of your betrothal is still in the process of being made.” Renault said as he sat with Eira that afternoon. “It seems I cannot yet make any decisions in that regard until my coronation.” Eira’s betrothal was much different than his own. For one, hers required the draft of a dowry. A dowry Renault himself could not process without his counselors peeking over his shoulder.
Eira sat nearby sipping at a glass of water. If Renault’s words comforted or devastated her in anyway, it didn’t show on the princess’s face. She was not a child just coming to court. Eira knew how to play the game.
“I am to dine with Lady Adrienne tonight, if that interests you any.” said Renault, watching his sister closely for a sign. Any sign of emotion, negative or positive. The princess seemed set on refusing to feed her brother today. Renault recalled that he had recently walked with Adrienne through the palace courtyard. It intrigued him to no end that he had still heard nothing of his mother’s opinion. If Eira knew anything on that matter, and Renault was sure that she did, she never brought it up.
~~~
Later that evening, as if the day’s exhaustive events had not been enough, Adrienne now had to prepare herself for a lone meal with the soon-to-be-king. She had sent her assent to Renault via courier and had received the time and place in return. Thyrin’s daughter could not fathom why Renault had taken any interest in her at all, especially since he had never shown any inclination toward any woman, at least, not to Adrienne’s knowledge. Still, she mused, rather placate Renault’s will than turn him against her.
A half hour before the designated time, Adrienne took one more turn around her room, stomach flipping with nerves. She had scrubbed her face clean, dabbed rose oil under her ears, and changed gowns. A loose-fitting navy gown over a cream petticoat served the lady’s purpose of dressing for the occasion. Her hair was caught up in a net of silver filigree, and a shining pendant fit at her throat. Moelfryn called her mistress a simple beauty for Adrienne needed no ornate adornments to enhance her overall appearance. Content with her appearance, she waited for the messenger to fetch her.
Renault sat awaiting Adrienne in his private solar. His servants had recently furnished the room specifically for this occasion. He looked around slowly only half satisfied. His fingers unconsciously drummed against the table before him. Something was missing. The problem was driving into his mind like a thorn, and Renault felt it would drive him mad. He promptly sighed to himself. His coronation was fast coming. He was going to be the King of Gondor! Why should he be nervous about courting?
There was soon a knock on the door, and Renault quickly pushed the thought to the back of his mind. He stood and checked himself in the mirror, quickly straightening out his clothes. Renault nodded to his servant by the door. The man opened it, and in strolled his messenger and the Lady Adrienne.
Adrienne, following behind the stout messenger, mentally prepared herself as they navigated the endless corridors of the palace. They halted outside the door to the king’s private solar, and after a knock, she was bowed into the room. “My lord, the Lady Adrienne,” the messenger heralded, bowed grandly once more, and strode pompously out of the room. The door shut behind her, and suddenly, Adrienne was left alone with the most important man in the kingdom.
The lady froze, overwhelmed and completely terrified. But, why ice filled her veins, she knew not. It was unprecedented that she should receive the personal attentions of the king unless he was courting. But Varda knew he could not even think about courting Thyrin’s daughter! But perhaps stranger things had happened. Remembering herself and who she represented, Adrienne showed the customary respect, falling to her knees with a respectful greeting. For as confident and aggressive as Adrienne could be, this was not her realm to be the leader.
Eira has chosen well, Renault thought as he looked Adrienne over. She looked small and a little uncomfortable where she knelt, so Renault stretched out his hand to assist her. “It costs me nothing to admit, Lady, that I have been looking forward to your company.” he said as she regained her feet. He kissed her hand when she finally stood and escorted the lady to her chair. A servant saw that she was comfortably seated before placing goblets and wine in the middle of the table. He filled both glasses as Renault sat down at the opposite end of the table.
“It may interest you to know that I have had some report about your father and brother.” he said as the servant set out light trays of fruit and nuts. “Though it is not so exciting, they have been spotted riding for the river Anduin to your father’s small encampments.”
Adrienne picked at a couple of pecans, and a smile lifted the corners of her mouth. “It is good to hear that, my lord. The garrisons have been well-fortified as of late, and it gladdens my heart to know that Matthias and my father have reached them in safety.” She paused, her fingers lingering on a crystal goblet. “I find it disheartening, however, that these men resort to such thievery and vandalism when there are honest ways of making a living. But perhaps that is not for me to say.”
“I have no doubt that Prince Aeron and your father will deal with them accordingly, but let us not talk of men and foul deeds.” Renault said as he picked lightly at a few grapes. “I like to think I have a finely tuned talent of judging a man’s character, and I am certain that the right men found this quest.”
Renault paused here. “Lets call it intuition, but there are other things I like to discern from spending time with people.” He snapped his fingers and the fruit platters were cleared away to make room for mutton baked in a honeyed glaze.
Adrienne’s brows furrowed in disbelief as her favorite meal was placed before her. “My lord, how did you know I favored this meal above all others?” she asked, catching the meaning his last comment had denoted.
“As I said, intuition...” he said with a soft chuckle. Renault flashed a slight but rare smile. “You ask as if it is a fault to be noticed. When realistically we have known each other for sometime. If this displeases you Lady, you need only say the word.”
“Not at all, not at all! I meant it not as a fault but as a surprise. I consider it a great compliment because it is indeed such a minor thing,” she backtracked hurriedly with a genuine smile. “Indeed, ‘tis rare to find someone who pays attention to the minor details.” Adrienne paused for a moment. “But now, you have piqued my curiosity. You are a good judge of character, you say, then I must ask. What would you say about me?” She smiled again.
“You, Lady?” Renault said innocently. Adrienne was starting to come out of her shell and it pleased him greatly. “Well we first need to set aside the Adrienne I once knew. She was adventurous, though wisely private about it. In all honesty I can only hope that this side of you remains.” Renault bought himself a few moments to think by taking a sip of wine. When he had finished, Renault stood and moved his seat to her right hand side of the table. He leaned forward and looked at her intently. “Yes, I think you are still that way now. Though it seems you are often discontented with the way of things. Finding your place in the world can be troublesome, and part of you is certain that the mystery of it all is for the best.”
Renault leaned back into his chair, trying to bite his tongue for fear of pushing the maiden too far. Eira may have suggested this match, but that did not mean Adrienne was aware of it. The crown prince knew his own place in the world, and to him it was the most satisfying feeling he knew. Knowing what you were expected to become and having a clear path set before your feet could often be intimidating if the challenge proved too great. But Renault reveled in the feeling. He realized now that it was unfair of him to expect the same of Adrienne. Despite accepting Renault’s invitation to dine, she could hardly be expected to react positively to a marriage proposal. Even if the prospect of a crown would set a new path before her.
I shall have to speak with Thyrin, Renault thought, immediately annoyed.
He abandoned his train of thought and decided to pay the lady one last compliment before they ate. “You were, and still remain, a constant delight. Both in spirit and appearance.”
Adrienne smiled with thanks at the compliment Renault paid her and looked demurely away. It was rather unlike her to play the compliant maiden, but since being at court, she had learned to mask her true feelings and play along with court protocol. And, if that meant stroking Renault’s ego, then so be it. She paused a minute before speaking. “I must say your assessment of me was indeed correct,” Adrienne commented as she took knife and fork to slice into her meal. “‘Tis easy enough to know what is expected of me, the business of marriage and such. But the knowledge that such a thing is likely to be arranged without little...” Here Adrienne paused, not daring to speak her mind further. Renault had already shown an inclination towards disliking any mention of women stepping outside their traditional roles. He could only disagree with her frustration that in any marriage she made, the maiden generally would be the last one consulted.
“Was it easy for you to follow in the steps of the heir apparent? To know that your future was already decided?” Adrienne felt safer discussing Renault than herself. They clearly held differing views of what women should and should not be allowed to do and think.
“It was never a struggle to accept duty. Though I find it is more of a problem for others to let me. There is always a long line of hoops that need to be jumped through before I can do anything.”
The night went by at an even pace. Though Renault revealed virtually nothing of himself, he couldn’t deny enjoying Adrienne’s company. When their time finally came to an end Renault took both of her hands in his and lingered there for awhile. He pressed his lips to each one and then bid the lady good night when her escort finally arrived.
As he retired to his bedchamber a frantic knock sounded on his door. Renault sat up in bed and growled at his attendant to hurry up and answer it. A young messenger stumbled through the threshold panting heavily as if he had run all the way from Lamedon.
“My Lord,” he said in between gasps.
Renault waited.
The messenger nearly doubled over trying to catch his breath, and so he restarted the message. “...My Lord... there is... I... My Lord.”
Renault’s patience wore out. “Spit it out, boy, or I’ll have your tongue!”
The boy’s face turned stark white. “They have found them!” he squeaked in a panic. “The Gurothos!”
It took a moment for the name to register on Renault. When it finally did he grabbed the water pitcher next to his bed and flung it across the room. Oh, how I curse that brother of mine! he thought angrily to himself.
“But my Lord!” The messenger continued, just managing to duck under the flying water pitcher. “There’s more of them than they thought! They ask for reinforcements!”
[Edited on 2/3/2012 by Ohtariel]
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| Dinenlasse |
RE: A King's Legacy (KEEP)
on: March 04, 2012 07:47
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“You foul heathen! Who sent you? Who?!” Matthias snarled, his dagger point pressed against the vagabond’s throat. Thyrin had posted guards at his garrisons on the Anduin, and as soon as they sighted his standard, they had flooded out onto the sloping grounds. Eventually, leaving only enough men behind to maintain their defenses. Fortunately, or rather unfortunately, Thyrin’s and the Prince’s men arrived in Tolech-en-Ernil in the midst of the Gurothos’ raid. There was virtually nothing left of the village beyond charred remnants of houses, a few scattered livestock, and stricken inhabitants. The defenders rounded up as many of the raiders as they could after slaying several others. A few slipped away, and in the sudden stillness of the night, at least twoscore bodies could be heard crashing away into the underbrush. There were more than what was originally suspected.
“My lord, I know nothing!” the cornered man stammered, his Adam’s apple throbbing against the steel blade. Pure terror glimmered in his eyes, and he remained still, hands tied behind his back.
Matthias pressed the blade harder, unmoved. “Liar! If you do not tell me what I want to know, I shall slit your throat here and now!”
Thyrin strode into camp, Aeron a pace behind him. “Son, stop! This is not the way to solicit information from our prisoners. They must be treated courteously,” the Steward of Ithilien said, staying his son’s hand. The bedraggled man scrambled a foot backwards, clutching his throat. Thyrin turned his attention on their captive. “Now, my good man, I entreat you to tell me everything you know.” He remarked leniently, keen eyes staring the man down.
The man found his bravado and sneered, “You can’t force nothing from me. I ain’t speaking!”
Thyrin exchanged glances with Aeron and sighed. “Perhaps I should have let my son extract information his way. But, I concede. If you do not speak now, perhaps a term in Osgiliath’s cells with only bread and water for sustenance will change your mind. Or a swift death.” He unsheathed his own broadsword and laid it evenly at the man’s throat. “Your choice.”
The man gulped and began burbling forth like a brook. “You already know all, lord. We were paid to raid and destroy dwellings and hideouts throughout Ithilien. Ultimately, we were to ‘take care of’ yourself and your family, my lord.”
Father and son stood thunderstruck for a moment before recovering. “This does not surprise me, I suppose,” Thyrin allowed, not lowering his sword. “Who ordered this? In whose employ are you?” His voice was stern, unrelenting. His family had been threatened; it was all that he could bear to hold his tongue.
“I cannot honestly tell you. We had our orders from our leader, Sorg, but we know not for whom we work.” Thyrin could tell that the man was being honest. “My lord, there are more of us than you know. Our ranks number at least fivescore more.”
“And your headquarters?”
“We have none. That is part of our reason for success: our need for secrecy. There are three captains under Sorg, myself included. We are only told where to go, and we go. If you let me live, I can give you names of every man under my command who still are at large. And in turn, I trust you’d allow my freedom after all is finished.”
Matthias butted in. “How dare you seek to negotiate? You are in no position to make offers for your release. It is only by my father’s good grace that you are alive!” he said harshly.
“Matthias, enough,” Thyrin stepped in again, overriding his son’s words. “I am willing to negotiate, but on my terms only. You will give me names, and lead us to other hideouts through Ithilien. You will then spearhead efforts to rebuild Tolech-en-Ernil. And only then, if you serve me faithfully, your release will be secured. I promise this on my honor.”
The man fell on his knees and gave thanks. “I owe much to you, my lord. You shall not regret my service.”
Thyrin felt the prince’s and his son’s disapprovals emanating behind him. “Very good. We shall speak later.” He nodded to the guards on either side of his prisoner, and they led him away.” He turned to his liege and Matthias and began to explain. “They say you win others over more with honey than vinegar. This man was honorable, in my opinion. I do not think he took the bribe willingly but rather was forced. Perhaps his family was threatened. We need at least one of them on our side, even if we dare not trust the others. I stand by my decision, as Steward of this forest.” He sheathed his sword and appraised the wreckage. “And Lord Aeron, I do not doubt for a moment that were you in my place, you would have done the same.” The prince and Thyrin parted ways for the night after securing the glade and posting sentries.
“Matthias, might we speak?” Thyrin asked as he began his nightly patrol around his former home. Matthias, expecting to be chastised for his lack of tact, grudgingly agreed. “Son, I appreciate your attempts at diplomacy, but there is a time and place for physical threats. Still, I admire you all the same. You are truly blood of my blood.”
Cocking his head in confusion, Matthias responded as their steps took them around the perimeter of the clearing, happening upon refugees and groups of prisoners. “Father, I meant not to contradict your authority. My youth and inexperience spoke for me. And Varda knows what Lord Aeron will think.” He shook his head, remembering his last confrontation with the prince.
“Matti, if anything he must see a kindred spirit. I acted on my authority as lord of Tolech-en-Ernil and because Ithilien is under my jurisdiction. So if he disapproves, it cannot be at you moreso for my actions. Worry not, son.” He paused and sighed heavily, as if burdened by a heavy weight. “Our more pressing concern is our livelihood. Our home is destroyed, our livestock scattered or dead, our belongings looted. We have next to nothing but the clothes on our backs and our things in the capital. Truly it is low that our station has fallen, and I’m concerned on how your sister will take it.”
“She will understand and bear it as you do, Father. Addie is a strong girl, and we have Uncle Ardyn and Aunt Midlar to fall back upon until we get back on our feet. Tolech-en-Ernil will be rebuilt, even grander than before. And in the meantime, let us send our refugees to Henneth Annûn with Tarhad, and we can return to Minas Tirith for the coronation.” His confidence normally would have lifted Thyrin’s spirits, but it only dampened them more.
“Your mother and I built our dwelling together before you and your sister were born. I swore to her that I would protect it with our lives, and now that it is gone, I feel I have lost a part of her as well.” His voice broke for the first time in Matthias’ knowledge, and the young man pulled his father to him in a strong embrace. Thyrin had lost his wife Rhea nearly sixteen years before from a pneumonia epidemic. He rarely spoke of her as it caused him great pain. He had always lived in their quaint but sturdy home, and occasionally, the lord would hear her trickling laughter echo throughout the halls. But now, there was nothing.
Thyrin quickly pulled himself together and began to walk again. “You speak sense, son. We shall do as you say, and I also want your intelligence from your men as soon as they reach us. In the morning, we remove ourselves from here and return with all haste to the city. From there, we plan to eradicate the Gurothos.”
Startled cries rent the air as another wave of figures entered the camp under the cover of darkness. Thyrin cursed and began to bellow orders. Matthias ran from his father’s side and withdrew his sword, heading towards the enemies. Shrieks began to sound as the Gurothos hurtled into camp, seeking to deal greater damage to the defenders. Thyrin grabbed a young soldier from Aeron’s ranks and sent him back to the city with a cry for reinforcements. They were needed here for another day or better in order to both reduce the enemy numbers and find out more about their mysterious foes.
*~*~*~*~*
A knock awakened Adrienne from a deep sleep. What now? she thought angrily, vaulting off her bed and running towards the door. A messenger and Moelfryn sprinted into the room and halted. The messenger bowed quickly and gasped out his message. “Lady, word from Ithilien. The prince and your lord father have found and engaged the Gurothos in Tolech-en-Ernil. Nothing remains of the village beyond ruins. I am to tell you that there are more foes than anticipated, and the danger may reach far beyond the threescore they engaged tonight.”
Adrienne visibly paled, and her heart quickened. Without even processing the information, she instinctively grabbed for her traveling clothes and made for her bedchamber. “I must return with you to Ithilien and aid my father.”
“Lady, no! I am to advise you to remain here and send and receive news to your uncle and lord Emir. You are needed as your father’s emissary in the city,” the messenger advised, fiddling with the missive in his hands.
“Very well, but I need my own eyes there. Send for Feladir,” Adrienne told Moelfryn who curtsied and scurried out of the chamber. After her maid left, Adrienne drilled the messenger further. “Who keeps them?” she demanded, anger flooding through her veins.
“We know not, my lady, but your father suspects someone in the city with a vendetta against your family. There was an assassination plot as well.”
Adrienne drummed her fingers impatiently on the stone wall she leaned against. “Is there no end to the enmity of my family?” she cried, pounding her fist into the wall. “First rumors circulate around court about my betrothal, or rather lack of, and now enemies touch my home. Certainly dark forces are at play.” The messenger bowed his head gravely.
Moelfryn entered with the man Feladir, a trusted man in Thyrin’s service charged with remaining with his daughter for protection. He was a broad-chested man in his early forties. “Lady Adrienne, you wanted me?” he asked, bowing from the waist.
“Yes,” she replied with no formalities. “I need you to return to Ithilien with this messenger and return with any and all information you may glean from camp. I need to hear about matters from a man I trust beyond any missive from my father. I trust him, but I do not desire to be spared from any details. Go tonight, and return tomorrow with word. Seek out my father and give him this.” She quickly scribbled a veiled message of support and love on a piece of parchment, and then handed it to Feladir.
“Of course, my lady. I am ever your humble servant.” Without another word, the two men bowed once more and left on the wind. Adrienne remained seated on her bed the rest of the night, talking lowly with her maid about the night’s events. She was still reeling from her encounter with Renault and now the destruction of her home. The clever maid could not help but wonder if there was not a correlation between Renault’s courting and the decimation of Tolech-en-Ernil.
"There is no such thing as a geek, just those who love things the rest of humanity finds weird."
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| Nifredil |
Re: A Kings Legacy
on: April 07, 2012 04:22
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(Here comes the JP with Ohtariel. Have fun!)
Even before his coronation it was Renault’s job to protect the realm. A plea for reinforcements was not something he could ignore. Anything other than immediate action would be viewed as neglect on his part. All he needed to do now was find the lucky man to carry out his will. There was no way Renault was going to deal with this issue on his own, even if he wanted to.
He grumbled to himself in frustration. There were so few, even in his own employ, that he could trust. He need a loyal man. A King’s man! Renault realized now that he had sent most of his own men with Aeron. He needed as many eyes on that one as possible. Minutes went by before Renault finally decided that the only thing to do was side with family ties. What else were noblemen for if not to breed sons loyal to their king?
Protocol demanded that he call his advisors to him for such decisions, but Renault was in no mood for the senseless ramblings of tired old men. The highest of these men was named Ardyn, and he had been a counselor to Gondor’s latest sovereign. Because of this, Renault trusted him the least. But there was a man working under Ardyn who did pose some potential. His protegee, Naurind.
Naurind was from a high standing family, taught ever to honor his country. The more Renault thought on this, the more the idea appealed to him. Before long, he sent a messenger to summon Naurind.
~
It was late when Naurind was finishing the watch post inspection. As one of the Captains of the White Tower, it was his duty to coordinate the watchposts around the seventh level, a responsibility he was sharing with of his comrades. This night, it fell on his shoulders, to inspect the posts for the dutiful execution of their orders.
He had seen much during his night watches. Guards gambling, sleeping, even inviting women over to keep them company. But nothing of the previously mentioned had made him as angry as he was now. Not angry, no, that was too weak a word to describe the raging emotions Naurind fought hard to keep at bay. He was furious.
It was the final watchpost he had inspected. All three guards were sober and awake, but so lost in their conversation they barely noticed him arriving. But that, was not the worst. Things like that happened, especially on relatively calm nights. The fact was, this night was far from being a calm one. There had been an attack on the King's property,on the King's people! Every guard had to be watchful.
But even that would have been understandable. Such an disturbing event might have one worried, and wondering about the possible events in the near future. It was what the guards were discussing. As Naurind had been approaching, he had overheard a part of their discussion. They had been questioning King Renault's rightful position as the sovereign of Gondor! This had shocked Naurind so deeply he had stopped, and listened further. He learned the guards would prefer Prince Aeron to take the throne instead – which was not a surprise, as he had heard the same opinion from many people all around him during the last months, and those talks were getting more and more frequent. This concerned Naurind greatly, as he shared his mentor's opinion completely: the rightful heir of a King is the one to wear the crown. And no other options based on personal likes or dislikes should be considered at all! Naurind was sure that were the situation reversed, people would be finding many flaws on Prince Aeron instead, blaming him for being too soft, or too protective of his own, or too reluctant to recognize another person's trustworthiness. Naurind had to admit Prince Aeron would make a good king – someday, someplace – just as Prince Gerant would. All of them were bred to be kings, after all. And Naurind knew Aeron, had known him for years. Aeron was a good man, a trusted and wise leader, and Naurind would support him without any doubt or reluctance in the case of Prince Renault's demise... But that was as far as it went. Prince Renault was to be the King, and that was enough for Naurind, to be ready to swear his allegiance to the future King.
However, the reason for his anger was the talk he overheard, the talk of the guards being willing to leave their service under Prince Renault, and joining Prince Aeron's ranks, in case an open conflict started. Naurind had stormed in the scene, made the guards jump up, had berated them, and had promised to let them walk all the way North if that was what they desired, - in case he'd hear another word of leaving the duty they had sworn upon.
Still fuming in anger, Naurind dismounted next to the command quarters. He intended to denounce on the three guards for a careless watch, letting the treasonous talks hang over their heads for now.
“Sir! I have been looking for you!” a page boy ran up to him, seeming very much agitated, scared, and relieved.
“Yes?” Naurind frowned.
“King Renault is asking for you in his chambers.”
Renault! Naurind stared at the boy, so appalled he even let the use of the improper (for a little while still) use of Renault's title slip.
“Lead the way,” Naurind's shoulders straightened. What could he be wanted for? He definitely hoped he wouldn't be considered responsible for the opinions of his underlings.
The boy led him quickly through darkened passage ways, until he stopped by an intricately carved wooden door, and knocked. A barely heard invitation to enter was heard, and there he was, Prince Renault himself. Naurind entered and dropped to his knee with respect.
“My Lord, you sent for me?”
Renault had met this man who was now kneeling before him on only a few occasions. The rare occurrences were enough to peg his character. This honor bound, nobleman's son would serve his Kings purpose. Or so Renault hoped, he had a feeling that to push Naurind’s moral obligations would be the day he lost this man. The thought brought a small amount of irritation to the crown prince, and he had to remind himself that jumping through hoops was a part of being King.
“Rise, Naurind,” Renault said quickly. “It is late and we shall have time to observe customs on another day.”
Naurind stood as commanded. “How may I be of service to you my Lord?” he said, keeping his gaze on the floor.
“As you know, your Master is my trusted advisor...and because of that I have a task for you. I am in need of someone I can place my full confidence in. For the love you bear Ardyn and most of all Gondor, I hope you can be that man.” Naurind looked speechless at this, causing Renault to hide a wry smile.
“I have received word that my brother Aeron is in need of reinforcements. I denied him the right to ride out in full force chasing ghosts in Ithilien. But it seems those specters are real.” Renault hung his head in attempt to appear ashamed. “Help must come to him now, especially while it is in my power to command it. Naurind, I need you thin the city guard and take what spare swords you can find to aid Lord Aeron.”
Naurind could barely believe his ears. His Prince, his future King was asking him whether he could place his trust in Naurind? The young man's head was spinning. He had never spoken to Renault, he had barely been in the Prince's presence. And now he had found himself in the very position he had been dreaming about. He could personally serve his country and his future King! And it also meant helping his old friend Aeron - how could he ever refuse?
Naurind almost fell on his knee again, but luckily he remembered Renault's instructions against that kind of formalities in the present situation. Instead, he pressed his fist against his chest.
"I am at your service, my Lord. I assure you, I will not fail you, or your trust in me. Your word is my command."
"I appreciate that," Renault said. Was there relief on the Prince's face? "I am fully confident you will not fail me, Naurind." He smiled as his words made the young noble stand even taller before his Lord.
"Thank you, my Lord. With your leave, I shall depart immediately," Naurind gave Renault a curt nod, and turned to leave.
“Oh, and Naurind, I would be very happy if you wiped those thugs who had the impertinence to attack my subjects, out of existence. Such villainies cannot be permitted to happen.”
“As you command, my Lord,” Naurind gave a short bow, and left Renault’s chambers.
Renault waited for his attendant to see Naurind out before he moved back to bed. He felt a small weight lifted from his shoulders now that he no longer had to worry over the matter. No one would be able to say that he did nothing. If Naurind and his men were torn to pieces, so be it. Action had been taken and the realm would have its sacrifice. It pleased Renault to think that his interference would likely anger his brother, and to the crown prince that was the most special part about this whole ordeal.
On the matter of Naurind’s fate, Renault still bore mixed feelings. If the man died serving his King, it would not be so big a loss. But if he lived, Renault would have won his fealty. Naurind would certainly have his uses. As dispensable as noblemen’s sons were, Renault found himself hoping the man would live.
We still remember, we who dwell
In this far land, beneath the trees
The starlight on the Western seas...
In the Realm of Ulmo |
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| Dinenlasse |
Re: A King
on: April 17, 2012 08:49
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(Joint post with our newest addition, Lilypad!)
The death of his father had wounded Gerant more deeply than he ever cared to divulge to anyone, even his own mother. It had been the first time he had cried since he was no bigger than his father’s knee. Even then he had not wept like some. He had seen them; his father’s beloved, weeping at the death of their once good King. It was a show of weakness to cry in front of another. That was perhaps the only lesson he had learned from his father that he had actually taken seriously. Being the youngest of the sons Gerant was prone to jovial antics and had a stubborn as well as a jocular streak when the mood suited him. This is perhaps why his family and subjects perceived him quite accurately as the most immature member of the royal family. Before his father’s death Gerant had tried on a number of occasions to prove his father’s love and to gain his acceptance, but had received neither. The turmoil which was quickly arising notwithstanding this failure left an emptiness inside Gerant which he desperately needed to fill.
Gerant sought to fill this whole like he did everything else, namely with women and focuses others deemed childish. He considered Synne, like other ladies of the court to be perfect distractions from the multitude of thoughts and unanswered questions weighing on his mind. However the interference of Synne’s father the previous night had prevented Gerant from getting the complete distraction he so required. Gerant was perfectly capable of heeding his mother’s warnings but in times of grief and other displays of extreme emotion Gerant tended to do quite the opposite.
Though he was betrothed there was no harm in consuming himself with other distractions as long as no one found out about it. Aerwain, his handmaiden was a perfectly reasonable distraction, among others, or so he had thought. Synne was still far too pious for his liking with her father still there, guarding her it seemed from his every advance. With Aeron gone to Ithilien and not being invited what else did he have to do but entertain himself? It wasn’t as if he was going to corrupt or defile Synne, they were to be married.
Vibrant colours of fuchsia, cerulean, maroon, and viridian swirled in front of him as a troupe of traveling minstrels performed for them, namely for the King Renault. Gerant sighed, finding himself bored as he glanced around at the festivities and thought of this new arrangement. Why had he ever thought he could be the marrying type? To simply prove he was an adult to Aeron and his mother? Perhaps. Gerant smirked at the idea. He was not mature enough to join the hunt, why should he be considered mature enough to marry? Gerant’s eyes darkened as he drained his goblet of wine. He frowned into the empty bottom watching the last remaining beads of the burgundy liquid sink to the base of the goblet, his face reflecting in its gold surface. It wasn’t long before Aerwain was attending him with a pitcher of wine. Gerant smiled at her. “You always were my favourite,” he told her. Even for a maid she was dressed in her finery for the occasion: a clean flowy white dress and decorative pearls clasped in her hair.
“Yes,” she nodded whilst filled his goblet, “And I see the wine has warmed your head already though it is not yet supper,” she smiled pleasantly at him while subtly teasing his newly acquired drinking habits.
Her raven hair pooled between his fingers as he lifted his hand to touch her forehead, sweeping a lock of her dark hair behind her ear. Gerant leaned in, “And yet you still fill my goblet to the brim?”
Aerwain tilted her head slightly and gave him a final curtsy, “Of course my lord,” and then with a fleeting seductive glance which spoke volumes she left to attend yet another thirsty lord. Gerant drank nearly half his glass as he clapped along to the music of the violin and drum before he vacated the room altogether.
–
After sending Feladir back to Ithilien, Adrienne discussed the night’s events with her maid. Soon enough, however, it was evident that the adrenaline had worn off, and the ladies decided to retire for what little sleep could be had. Hours later, Adrienne woke to pale tendrils of light twisting in through her curtains, dust motes dancing in and out of the spectrum. She cursed, pulled the blankets back over her head, and turned on her side. But her reprieve was not to last. Moelfryn soon attended upon her. “My lady, it is almost noon. You must arise for I’m sure there will be news of your home. That, and I presume your presence must be missed,” the maid said cheerily, curtsying and then going to the window to pull back the curtains. Sunlight filled the room, and Adrienne sighed reluctantly, sitting up and letting her dangling feet touch the cold stones.
An hour later, face washed and with a sort of repast in her stomach, Adrienne stole through the strangely silent corridors. Hints of jaunty music filtered through the hallways, and Adrienne followed them to the great hall. She peered through a side door, and the entire hall was full of people. The king sat upon a raised dais and watched the festivities at hand. There were a troupe of traveling minstrels performing a play. From what it seemed, they were reenacting a feast from far-gone seasons. Almost all nobles at court could be seen clapping along to the music of a violin and drum. Head aching slightly, Adrienne shut the door and went instead to a nearby courtyard where she could find peace.
The fresh air pricked his skin as he strolled into the courtyard. Gerant weaved along the mossy path and began to meander aimlessly through the greenery and flowers, each of them reminding him of a different maid he wished to bed tonight, but no, tonight he would be faithful to his bride-to-be. Then another more robust scarlet flower reminded him of the fleeting expression Aerwain had given him. Nobody was perfect. The light breeze felt refreshing. A much needed change from the suffocation of the castle. There amongst the foliage he found Adrienne.
She stepped out onto the mossy path and began to wend her way through the greenery. The air was pleasant, and Adrienne began to sing a little ditty about spring that her mother had taught her as a child. For the first time in about a week, Adrienne felt at ease. Though her home destroyed, her family separated, the kingdom on the threshold of massive change, Adrienne took a small reprieve from the worries of life to enjoy the semblance of nature. But, it would seem, she was not alone.
Gerant almost laughed at seeing her, “Adrienne, what are you doing out here?” he asked, “Not avoiding my brother, are we?” he teased, flashing a cheeky grin her way. If he were honest Gerant got by on his boyish charm alone most days.
Adrienne dipped respectively, but soon a smile creased her fair face. “I might ask you which brother you think I seek avoidance from.” She replied with a grain of truth, “for it seems that as soon as Aeron leaves Renault decides to court. What know you of this?” The shifting shadows of a nearby ivy plant shielded the shadows which darkened her demeanor for but a moment.
Gerant brushed away her proper etiquette with a wave of his hand. He didn’t care much for formalities. The perks which accompanied his being Prince was the only thing he truly cared for in what it meant to be royalty. Everything was handed to him. Everyone gave more to a Prince, even those that had very little to give. No one ever had anything wicked to say about him, or at least not to his face. These were things he admired about being royalty.
At her remark as to which brother he was referring to a small smile etched across his face. His hazel eyes glinting playfully reflecting the greenery around them. “I think you know the answer,” he told her tauntingly. “Well yes, that is the way of it,” he stated as if stealing ones lady were a regular occurrence between the brothers and he was merely an observer. “I would have joined the fray but you have made it quite clear that I have no chance of winning your heart or your head and therefore I had no business entering into such a competition,” he replied good-naturedly. His own brothers seemed quite taken with her and he could see why Adrienne was quite beautiful, intelligent and in his opinion had a good sense of humour. In his mind every woman should be want of a good sense of humour. “As to which do you truly inquire after? Of Renault or Aeron’s courting? For both of men I must say they have done quite poorly at it,” he added with a rather arrogant edge to his jocular tone as if to imply that he could fair better.
They fell into step together as Adrienne pondered another revelation. “Should you not be attending upon your betrothed, my lord? It has been said that one as fair as she should be pricked with a thorn and not put on a pedestal for display, though I daresay the king has made it difficult for your interactions, I’d warrant?”
“Yes,” he sighed and paused in thought for but a moment before he spoke again, “It is said a great many women are fairest in the land.” He flashed Adrienne another charming grin as if to suggest that perhaps she was one of the aforementioned beauties, “Synne is by far one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen, like an angel, but alas she is rather untouchable.” A smirk slowly curved the edges of his mouth at the challenge Synne presented. “Almost untouchable,” he added, “If I must I will wait until we are wed, which it appears I might have to,” he rolled his eyes at the absurdity of it, in his opinion of course it truly absurd. “And what of you?” he turned his attention back to Adrienne. The one peculiar thing about Gerant, he was actually a surprisingly thoughtful listener and genuinely wanted to know about other people’s lives. Some would say nosey, but he was sincerely interested in those he cared for. And he had begun to consider Adrienne one of them. “Do you in fact fancy either of my brothers? I do not know the entirety of Aeron’s feelings for he is somewhat of an enigma when it comes to his affections but I can gather that Renault is more forthcoming with his fondness for you, is he not?” he paused for a moment as they meandered gazing at each passing flower. “Or do you secretly fancy me?” he joked, and couldn’t hold back a chuckle at the idea. They fought more than they spoke really.
Adrienne smiled indulgently at Gerant’s choice of words. “Gerant, you ever were one for the chase, weren’t you? Well, consider me the prize you would never win.”
“Is that a challenge m’lady?” he interjected allowing her to continue speaking over him for the time being.
“For I would deem that it is not me who fancies you but rather the other way around!” She cast him a teasing glance, plucked a nearby rose, and tapped him on the nose with the fragrant flower. “I seem to remember a certain young tousle-haired lad chasing me betwixt the trees in the central courtyard with a frog when I was merely a lass.” A sigh of laughter escaped from her lips.
“How else would I figure out if the fairytales were true about the frog Prince? I couldn’t very well have one of my own trapped inside a frog’s body now could I?” he said, even as a child Gerant was more focused on his appearance and the flattery of others than the affairs of state or his lessons. “Who better than to test my theory then on my sometimes friend,” he continued, “Well, I was merely a lad and you merely a lass, I have grown wiser and turned my affections on the more amiable ladies since then and you have aged significantly,” he responded dryly, implying that she was old, when really Adrienne was as young and fresh as the rose she decidedly tapped him on the nose with, something he did not altogether fail to notice.
Although she jested with the prince, Adrienne always remained on her guard around the youngest son. In their earlier years, the pair would always be found quarreling about something Gerant had done to Adrienne, whether it was the aforesaid chasing with the frog or other small pranks. Under such pranks ran tried and true discord between them. Thyrin’s daughter could not suffer such ridicule without a form of retaliation, and as such, they had often engaged in fits of physical and verbal disagreements.
Placing the rose against her nose and inhaling deeply, Adrienne reveled in the smell of springtime. At Gerant’s question about her attraction preference, she was instantly on guard. Adrienne grasped the hems of her gown and sat down on a nearby stone bench. She gazed up at the still-standing Gerant with a rather indifferent face. “And what of me?” the lady commented dryly. The less Adrienne spoke of her attractions to anyone, the better. Déorath’s inclination to believe the rumor mill still pierced Adrienne to her core. “The Crown Prince’s courting has come as a surprise, I will admit. But, I cannot say for certainty if it is my person or my lineage he desires more. Your other brother and I have merely reacquainted our persons beyond what others may speculate. My own heart remains a mystery for I desire no man for a husband as of yet. If my father should propose such a match for me, however, then I cannot in fair obedience deny his request, I suppose.” She plucked rose petals agitatedly and watched as the scarlet-hued petals dropped against the verdant ground.
Noticing her visibly stiffen as if on guard once more he listened to her as he leaned against the bench, sunlight cast upon his noble features and strong jawline. Gerant was certainly one of the most handsome Princes. With a sigh he sat beside Adrienne, “No desire for a husband, well that is a pity,” there was an edge of teasing in his tone. It was then that Gerant turned to face Adrienne and for a moment seemed almost serious. “It you do not want to marry my brother,” he shook his head, “Either of my brothers for that matter, it’s alright, you can say so,” he shrugged the moment of intimacy off as though it were nothing and gazed out at the colourful array of flowers surrounding them. Glancing sidelong at her he began again, “I’m betting, if it is not you of course, that Aeron goes for the newest addition to our serving staff, the pretty redhead with the large bosom,” he joked easily, “And I would bet that Renault would go for that petite wealthy noblewoman, the one with curly black hair if her voice wasn’t so off-putting,” he made a comical face and then smiled at her.
At the mention of Aeron’s name, Adrienne felt an immense surge of concern. He had risked all in his mustering of forces to Ithilien. She sincerely hoped he was alright, but Thyrin’s daughter knew she couldn’t let the emotion show on her face. As much as she hated to admit, Adrienne had always been attracted to the elder prince. He had always been brotherly towards her, moreso than Gerant or Renault. And it was not entirely out of the realm of possibility that a marriage could have been arranged. But if Renault meant to court her, then Adrienne knew better than to let anyone, least of all the youngest royal son, know of her predilection for Aeron. Maintaining her guard, she returned Gerant’s smile. “There are certainly many ladies with which the princes could satisfy their desires, including yourself.” She began to thumb the now-petaless rose stem, pricking her finger on a thorn. “But as for marriage, the council would have to sanction any sort of royal proposal. Even if I desired such a match, there are many hurdles to jump. Hurdles I’m not sure if either would be willing to take.” Adrienne watched the blood pool on her forefinger before sucking it out. “My preferences matter little in a world dominated by men.” At this, she hoisted her skirts and took off down another path, steps aided by frustration.
Gerant followed close behind calling after her, “Adrienne!” He hurried alongside her, “Adrienne, I have angered you,” he surmised catching up to her. With a heavy sigh, “I am sorry if I have offended you in some way,” he admitted as if it were a difficult thing. “If I am not mistaken in thinking that your reacquaintance with my brother Aeron is more than what it seems, do not find me so offensive that you should close yourself off to me,” he stated. “With your brother gone, you have few friends and allies here. Don’t mistake me for an enemy my lady for I am not yours,” he told her in words of finality before leaving her side and striding on down the corridor in an effort to return to the festivities.
Flustered, Adrienne watched Gerant leave, and almost immediately intense guilt flooded her. She hadn’t counted on his support, but the lady also found that anger at Déorath blinded her to others’ good intentions. Adrienne retreated back into her quarters where she knew she could avoid not only the scrutinies of the other courtiers but also find some peace of mind.
"There is no such thing as a geek, just those who love things the rest of humanity finds weird."
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| Fennuir |
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| Dinenlasse |
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| Lilypad |
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| Nifredil |
Re: A King
on: October 16, 2012 08:33
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Horse hooves fell with an eager urgency on the hard rocky surface of the dark road, and the sound reminded the riders of an approaching thunder, full of restrained power and wrath, looking forward to the first chance to release it. The men were all tense, they were bowing low, close to the stretched necks of their mounts, hoping to make their run easier and faster, hoping to get to their destination sooner. Naurind could sense his men's yearning for a fight, to assist their comrades and battle the lowly attackers of a peaceful village. High and noble reasons usually worked like charm when men needed and inspiration to do battle, but Naurind had long before realized that smaller and more private reasons were equally powerful, if not even more so. When the lives of their friends, their comrades, their families were threatened, med tended to fight like beasts. And those who had sworn their own lives in protection of others, those often saw every peaceful citizen unjustly attacked or killed, as something close to family.
When Naurind had gone to talk to the men, the guards on duty that night, just after receiving orders from King Renault, he had asked for volunteers. It had warmed his heart to see an instant energetic response from everybody present at the barracks. The very moment the men had heard that the King himself had asked them to go to the rescue of a village, and of their brothers-in-arms who were hard pressed fending off the attacks of mean thugs, all of them jumped to attention volunteering for the job. Naurind even had to choose the team he was to lead to Tolech-en-Ernil leaving the rest of the disappointed and disheartened volunteers behind. They only accepted their fate when Naurind reminded them that their primary duty was to keep the City and its inhabitants safe and sound.
Maybe it was just the yearning for a good battle? They had not seen one in years. Although peace was fruitful for a kingdom, it meant the risk to its warriors to grow mild, weak and slow to react when the need to fight finally arose. Naurind surely hoped it wouldn't prove to be the case here.
He had chosen a team of 50 men, hoping that it would be enough reinforcements. He had to leave enough men to guard the City, after all. They had readied their weapons, adjusted their armor and taken to horses in a few minutes time, and left the cozy illuminated streets for the dark, dangerous road.
Several hours had passed by, altering the horses' step from gallop to walk, and to trot and gallop again. As eager as they were to reach their destination, to arrive there on time, they had to spare their mounts. An exhausted horse was no help in a battle. However, what they feared most, was to be late, to arrive to Tolech-en-Ernil only to find its defenders all slain just because their help was slow to arrive. The horses seemed to feel their riders' agitation, and were restless themselves.
Finally, the sky was getting lighter by the eastern edge, and the approaching of light seemed to renew the fading vigor on both men and horses, after the difficult ride.
Naurind had sent a couple of scouts ahead, in a lighter armor and on faster horses, to give the main force an early warning in the case on an ambush, or in case the village they were hoping to save, and the men they were hoping to reinforce, had been taken by the Gurothos. Now one of those scouts appeared on the road ahead, and a jolt of adrenalin rushed through Naurind's veins. But the man gave them an “everything all right” signal, and an audible sigh of relief echoed through the ranks. The men slowed down, and the scout met them halfway.
“Tolech-en-Ernil has been fortified, and is being defended by our men. However, we couldn't get close to it. The village is surrounded by the Gurothos, and we didn't dare to come any closer due to the possibility of our presence to be discovered. Galdreh stayed behind to keep an eye on them. The forest seems full of them.”
“All right men,” Naurind raised his voice, “stand ready! We are likely to encounter the enemy before reaching Tolech-en-Ernil, so keep both of those eyes open!”
There was the sound of fifty swords being checked to slide out of their sheath lightly, strings readied on the short bows handled my mounted archers, and arrows rearranged in their casings. Naurind made sure to have his on weapons and armor battle-ready, and gave the command to proceed.
They continued with much more caution than before. When entering the forest the village lay, trees seemed tall and ominous tho them, and although on an empty road their numbers had seemed grand, no they were diminished in comparison to the grandness of the nature. They were as silent as possible, but the horse hooves were falling heavily, and the occasional clatter of armor and weapons was way too loud for their ears.
Suddenly the scout at the head of their procession gave a warning, and deadly arrows shot in their midst.
Naurind had no time to take in the results of this first wave of attack. He pulled his horse's reins to stop him in his tracks, and shouted:
“Close up the formation! Shields up! Archers in the middle!”
The well-trained men obeyed instantly, and so did their mounts. A couple of seconds later, the caravan had turned into a densely packed group with the horses' heads pointing outwards thus presenting a much more difficult target for the arrows of the attackers, and the elongated shields of their riders were in a vertical position, at ready to stop another wave. Only then did Naurind spare a glance around to count his losses.
Two horses lay dead on the forest road, but not a single man was hit bad enough, and that was a relief. Naurind had estimated about forty arrows be released, and saw some of them sticking in the bloodied legs or arms of his men, but none of the wounds looked mortal. Either the Gondorians had had a very good luck, or the attackers weren't good shots.
More arrows were loosed their way, but most of them were interrupted or went wide. The attack wasn't coming in waves, so Naurind judged the attackers not to be a trained company. He spotted several heads poking out of the lush greenery of the forest.
“Arrows ready!” he yelled, and heard bowstrings creak with tension. “Fire!”
Arrows rushed over the lowered heads of the trained warhorses like a gust of wind and tore into bushes. The Gondorians were rewarded by painful shrieks, as their winged weapons hit true. The experienced archers had marked and calculated the positions of their attackers well.
A response followed from the Gurothos (Naurind assumed that was who the attackers were), considerably more scarce and less organized. Several screams told him some of the arrows had broken through the defense.
“Arrows ready!... Fire!”
Another solid wave hit the bushes.
“Swords! Mark your targets! Everybody! Full attack!”
The tight circle formation instantly dissolved. The swordsmen, eager to hit back, tore in the forest heading towards the places they had noticed the arrows coming from. Naurind himself remained on the road, keeping an eye on the progress of the battle, although his sword was drawn and restless in his hand. When all of the men were gone, he followed to the place he heard the most intense fighting going on. A man came yelling at him from behind a tree, brandishing his sword, but his appearance promised more than he was actually worth. Another one shot an arrow at him and missed but by an inch, and Naurind cut him down chiding himself for the mistake he had done, underestimating his enemies.
All too soon, the battle was over. They counted about twenty men down, but the majority had apparently retreated when the fight had gone bad. The Gondorians counted two horses and five men down, including several wounded. But they had no time to spare. The wounded were helped on their horses, and the company hurried towards the village.
When they were close enough to see the buildings in the faint light of an early morning, Naurind halted his company and gave the Gondorian recognition-cry hoping to hear Aeron's voice responding him. Suddenly, he realized that this place had seen quite some battle, and that his friend might had fallen or be injured.
We still remember, we who dwell
In this far land, beneath the trees
The starlight on the Western seas...
In the Realm of Ulmo |
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| Dinenlasse |
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