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gwendeth
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Post RE: Dartho Annin An-uir: Be With Me Always
on: November 13, 2003 05:39
Faevathor was not best pleased to have had the meeting interrupted. There was too much of importance that was being discussed, and he needed to hear it...although...he knew that Ivor would fill him in later.

Curiously, he eyed the messenger. His brow furrowing a little, he said, "I know you, do I not?" For the elf looked familiar, but Fae could not quite place him. Nodding, the messenger said quietly, "I am a servant in your father-in-law's house - or - " and then the elf hesitated. Continuing on, his voice still quiet, he said, "At least I was." Biting his lip then, he handed Fae the sealed message he had brought.

Faevathor's brow darkened as the messenger's words sank in. 'Was?' What manner of speech was this - using the past tense? Wordlessly, Fae looked at the note. It was from his wife's mother. Glancing at the messenger for a moment, he then broke the seal and began reading it. As he did so, his face turned unbelievably white, and he fell heavily against the corridor wall. Crushing the note, it then fell to the floor as his fingers suddenly lost strength. Closing his eyes, he let out a great cry of anguish and despair. "Elvainiel!!!!"

So great was his cry, that several of the Elves came out of the meeting-room, Ivor and Súlfalas among them. Seeing the note on the floor, Súlfalas picked it up. The note was short, and the words blurred by dried tear-stains. His voice quiet, he read it aloud:

“My dearest Faevathor, the village has been attacked. I can hardly bear to write what I must say. Elvainiel is dead – killed while trying to defend our house. I am sorry, my son, I am so sorry.”

Hearing the words aloud, another cry of the deepest grief escaped Faevathor’s lips. Smashing his fist against the corridor wall, he collapsed.

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[Edited on 14/11/2003 by CarolP]
"Tolo si, a tiro i cherth Eru" "Come now, and see the works of God"
Dolenaglar
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Post RE: Dartho Annin An-uir: Be With Me Always
on: November 13, 2003 06:06
Iavaisil shrugged off the ellon's apologies as if they were nothing. She did not miss the warning look she gave her cousin, however, so she still left her guard up. Saida began herding them towards the palace, seeming to be in great haste.

"What do you want to speak to m--"

Saida cut off her question with a sharp sweep of her hand, and stood listening. Footsteps were approaching. She felt the other two tense next to her, and her heart skipped a beat.
Nifredil
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Post RE: Dartho Annin An-uir: Be With Me Always
on: November 14, 2003 12:39
At the far endo of the table both of Elendil's sons, Anarion and Isildue were seated, alond with several captains and councelors of theirs. They were tall, stout and handsome men, strong and proud. But in their faces irritation and annoyance was read, that made their features far less prettier than they really was. Some of them wore very good clothes - they were the men that had come with Elendil from Annuminas already the previous day, or those that had escaped Minas Ithil together with Isildur and his family and had arrived to Lindon a week ago or so. The latter looked grim and depressed. And then there were also men covered with dirt and mud, tired after a long journey - they had arrived with Anarion this very morning. Most of them had fresh wounds, barely tended. In their eyes anger and hate lie, and eagerness to get up from the beautifully carved chairs and march on, as soon as the order sounded. They seemed to look especially annoyed.

One of them sat apart from the close group of the others, that were gathered around their Captain Anarion. This one sat at the very side of Isildur, talking quietly to the son of Elendil. He looked only somewhat 25 years old, although he was approaching his fourties already. His dark hair was cut short, not reaching his broad and mighty shoulders, and was just as dirty as the man himself. He noticed one of the elves at the large table looking with disgust at the dirty marks his muddy boots were leaving on the exquisit carpet and carefully carved chair and table. He smirked.

"Look," he turned Isildur's attention towards the elf. "So worried about there pretty things, isn't he? Beauty," his voice trembled with disgust. "That is the only thing that really matters to them." he stared in the elf's grey eyes until the ellon lowerd them. "Beauty..." he murmured darkly, continuing his observations. With dislike he eyed the colourful tunics with remarkable stitchcraft.

"Like women they dress. I do hope they don't fight like women on the battlefield."

"Oh, don't worry about that, Ohtar," Isildur countered, "they are very good, although you can never guess it," a smile played about his lips. "After all, they have centuries to master their fighting skills."

"Really?" Ohtar arched his thick black eyebrows. "Then it does take longer for them, because the numenoreans master their skills in half a century. And, by the way, I would never agree to live several thousands of years with a face like this!" he turned his head towards Sulfalas. Isildur looked that way and barely could hold back laughter, as Ohtar made a parody of the elf's expression.

"And their hair! I bet they spend half a day arranging it..." at that moment Ivorcheneb enterd, his long braid swung as he turned to greet King Gil-Galad. The two Numenorians burst out in an uncontrollable laughter, releasing the tension that had held them for weeks, only the angry glance from Elendil made them calm down a little.

They continued whispering to each other remarks about the elves until the meeting opened officially.

First spoke the High King Gil-Galad himself. For the first five minutes Isildur and Ohtar listened attentively, then Ohtar sighed, the expression of annoyance again on his handsome face.

"Blah, blah, blah... Now we'll have to spend hours listening to how mighty Sauron has become and what evil things he has done in the Middle Earth," he leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms on his chest." Great."

After the High King Elrond spoke, then Elendil, and the face of Ohtar grew ever more grim.

"I bet that the last time Sauron attacked these lands they were jsut as nicely and comfortably seated around an expensive table in a beautiful room, waiting until we arrived and drove the enemy away," he spat out the words in disgust, then cried in a loud voice, still sitting, and interrupting Elrond's speach:

"If we just sit here, having an everending discussion on the subject "How we could possibly stop the indescribably poweful Sauron if only we lifted our asses from these beautiful chairs", we will be sitting here and talking until he comes here and joins us!"

Elendil glared angrily at him.

"Ohtar..."

The Numenorian jumped up, throwing over the chair he had been sitting on.

"Instead of talking we should attack Sauron, and attack him fast, with all the force we can gather. To surprise him! Not to let him prepare! We bet his forces that were sent out to Minas Anor, that..." he paused, emotions swirling in his head, "That... took and destroyed Minas Ithil and The White Tree! He is confused by his defeat in this one battle, and we can take him, if we act now!" Ohtar's hands were folded in fists, his chest rose and fell mightily, his eyes burnt with fire.

"Ohtar, sit down!" Elendil spoke firmly. "You are a guest in the palace of the High King Gil-Galad, and you will honor his house and his guests."

Ohtar stood stubbornly for several seconds, then obeyed. Lifting up his chair and sitting down heavily, he noted some elf slipping in the conference room, then one of the seated elves followed him. A minute later there was a cry from the other side of the heavy doors, full of deep pain and despair.

"Elvainiel!!!!"

He lifted his head surprised. Some of the elves rushed outside, and he and Isildur followed, curious.

"You see?!" Ohtar cried, when he heard the message of the note. "This happens when we wait. I say we have to go for a war, and we have to go now!"

Elendil was about to say something, when the ellon with the long braid stepped forward, his eyes burning with rage. Ohtar had never seen such rage in an elf's eyes, and it bewildered him. The man fell silent and calm.
We still remember, we who dwell In this far land, beneath the trees The starlight on the Western seas...
In the Realm of Ulmo
gwendeth
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Post RE: Dartho Annin An-uir: Be With Me Always
on: November 14, 2003 02:44
White-faced, the messenger watched while several of the Elves tried to help the grieving Faevathor, but all of his news had not yet been told. He had another message of even more importance to deliver - however, he wasn't quite sure who to give it to.

Removing another, thicker, sealed note from his pack he said quietly, "This message is for the King, but it's contents are no secret. Our village has been attacked and nearly wiped out."

Ivorcheneb turned and held out his hand. Nodding, he said, "I will take it to him."

[Edited on 14/11/2003 by gwendeth]
"Tolo si, a tiro i cherth Eru" "Come now, and see the works of God"
Faenauliel
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Post RE: Dartho Annin An-uir: Be With Me Always
on: November 14, 2003 04:01
**Hearing the words aloud, another cry of the deepest grief escaped Faevathor’s lips. Smashing his fist against the corridor wall, he collapsed.**

Ivorcheneb watched as his friend cried out in anguish, calling out the name of his beloved wife. Ivor’s brow furrowed and he found it difficult to breathe through the heaviness in his chest. He heard the thundering approach of heavy steps that could only belong to the Edain.

"You see?!" Ohtar cried, when he heard the message of the note. "This happens when we wait. I say we have to go for a war, and we have to go now!" Ivorcheneb turned. It was the very same man who had be insolent enough to interrupt the speech of Hîr Elrond… And now he has not even good enough sense to still his flapping tongue in respect for what Faevathor endures. Ivor’s mind raged. His crystal-blue eyes blazing like flames, he descended upon the Númenorean. Ivorcheneb stopped a mere inch from Ohtar and looked down at him, a dangerous and humorless smile sat upon the ellon’s face.

The look upon Ivor’s fair features spoke clearly—You will NOT disrespect my King or my warriors again!! There were no words needed; it was clear from the bewildered look in Ohtar’s eyes that Ivor had made himself understood. Súlfalas touched his arm lightly, and Ivor turned and walked a few paces away. He was more angered at himself for losing his temper than he was at the expected insolence of a Númenorean!

The messenger stood nearby, white-faced and looking about expectantly.
Removing another, thicker, sealed note from his pack he said quietly, "This message is for the King, but it's contents are no secret. Our village has been attacked and nearly wiped out." Ivorcheneb turned and held out his hand. Nodding, he said, "I will take it to him."


Ivorcheneb took the sealed parchment and noticed that the messenger’s hand trembled slightly. He placed his hand upon the messenger’s shoulder. “Avo ‘osto, mellonen….Agorech vae. Bado si a îdh.(1)" Ivor nodded to one of the young attendants, who led the messenger away down the finely tapestried corridor.

Ivorcheneb went, then, and knelt beside Faevathor. As Fae looked up to face him, Ivor could see that the light had faded from his friend’s eyes. “She is gone, Ivor,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “I have nothing….” His voice trailed off as his tears began anew. “Do not speak of such, Gwador (2)!” Ivorcheneb began. He noticed that the Númenorean Prince and his underling were still looking at Faevathor with disdain in their eyes. Ivor’s own eyes narrowed and the Edain looked away quickly.

“Come, Faevathor,” he said as he helped his friend to stand. “Go to your chamber….I will be there as soon as the meeting has ended.” Faevathor only nodded silently. Ivorcheneb did not like the glazed, empty look that Faevathor now wore. He turned to the new-comer, Súlfalas. “Go with him, please. I will be there as soon as I can.” The dark ellon nodded and hurried off alongside Faevathor.

Ivor stood for a moment in the outer hall as the others slowly made their way back into the Councilroom. He sighed deeply and rubbed his eyes with one hand. He dreaded giving such news to Gil-galad, but knew it must be done quickly. The Númenorean is right on one point, he thought. We must strike quickly!

He turned and entered the Councilroom. Everyone seemed to be speaking at once, all the great room resounded with speculation. Only Gil-galad and Lord Elrond sat, calm and silent, at the head of the great table. Ivorcheneb approached them and placed the sealed parchment on the map which still lay open before them both. The King nodded his head to Ivor and smiled wanly.

“We shall set forth in 3 days time, Ivor… See to it that your company is prepared. But, for now, go to your friend.” Ivor bowed to his King. “Hannon le,” he said quietly; then he turned to go.

The light streaming through the high windows near the ornately painted ceiling had become reddened by the setting of the sun, and it cast strange shaddows about the Councilroom as the arguments continued. Ivorcheneb stepped out into the hallway and closed the heavy wooden doors behind him.

The moment they had shut, a great and commanding voice rang out. “Allano (3)!” And the huge room became instantly silent. In the hallway, Ivor smiled to himself. The wrath of Gil-galad has been unleashed! He laughed to himself as he turned and made his way hastily toward Faevathor’s quarters.

(1)Do not worry, my friend… You did well. Go now, and rest.
(2)Friend who is like a brother.
(3)Silence!!

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[Edited on 15/11/2003 by CarolP]
gwendeth
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Post RE: Dartho Annin An-uir: Be With Me Always
on: November 15, 2003 03:53
How he reached his room, Faevathor didn't know. It must have been by pure instinct, as his eyes were unseeing. He was barely aware of Súlfalas walking silently withi him. Once inside the small chamber, he felt the walls closing in around him. Closing his eyes, he felt his chest heaving. He couldn't comprehend...couldn't believe...she was supposed to have been safe there! The emptiness he felt threatened to overwhelm him. As he stood unmoving in the middle of the room, Fae felt Súlfalas lay his hand on his shoulder, and heard the Warrior say quietly, "I know how you feel, Faevathor."

Whirling to meet Súlfalas' eyes, he glared as rage flared up within him. His eyes blazing, Fae angrily spat out, "How can you?" Súlfalas met the grieving warrior's eyes steadily. His voice still quiet, Súlfalas said, "Because I do." Fae's anger died then as he saw a lingering sadness in the other Elf's eyes. Closing his own, Fae then buried his face in his hands as his grief overcame him. And as it did, he again felt Súlfalas' hand on his shoulder. So lost in his mourning was he, that Fae never heard Ivor quietly enter the room.


[Edited on 15/11/2003 by gwendeth]
"Tolo si, a tiro i cherth Eru" "Come now, and see the works of God"
Nifredil
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Post RE: Dartho Annin An-uir: Be With Me Always
on: November 15, 2003 05:10
Ohtar stared in the crystal-blue eyes of the elf. Only in the battlefield he had seen such eyes, and they usually belonged to enemies.

As the elf turned away and kneeled beside his friend, Ohtar felt shame flowing over him. He had never been silenced just like that, with a glance! A sparkle of amusement he caught in Isildur's eyes, and Ohtar found his hand grabbing the hold of his sword, unconscioysly. No one was going to laugh about him!

Then he took a deep breath. He reminded himself that they were not at home, and that elf seemed an opponent eaqual to himself now. Were the others like this one? Were they really good in the battle? Were they good at guessing the enemies strategy?

The blond elf looked back at them again, and Ohtar feeled forced to look away. He didn't feel at ease, seeing a man crying. It was a shame, a Numenorian never had to wipe his eyes, and, if he really had to, he went to his chamber, so that nobody would see, nobody would know. Crying meant weakness, and if you were to lead men into a battle, you couldn't afford to appear weak in their eyes, not even in their thoughts. Only then would they trust you and follow you, even in the very hands of Death itself.

"Come on, let's go inside. Let's leave the women do their part now. We've got a war to plan," Ohtar felt Isildur's elbow a his ribs. The Prince turned, an ironic smile on his lips. Ohtar didn't join him, he stood and watched as the dark elf helped the other one up. Was an open expression of feelings really so accepted in the society of the elves?

Ohtar turned to follow his Prince. He shaked his head disbelievingly. That elf should never have expressed his despair and pain in front of strangers. Ohtar could understand that losing ones wife was hard, but still... It was not... Right. Yes, that was the word.

Isildur was right, they had the war to think about. They had to prevent from repeating the destruction of cities and towns, and villages. Sauron had to be stopped.

Ohtar sat down beside Isildur. This time he listened very attentively to what the others had to say. Only one thing was on his mind.

War.
We still remember, we who dwell In this far land, beneath the trees The starlight on the Western seas...
In the Realm of Ulmo
Rudhwethiel
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Post RE: Dartho Annin An-uir: Be With Me Always
on: November 15, 2003 05:36
Súlfalas stood near the ellon, his heart aching.

"I know how you feel, Faevathor."

Whirling to meet Súlfalas' eyes, he glared as rage flared up within him. His eyes blazing, Fae angrily spat out, "How can you?" Súlfalas met the grieving warrior's eyes steadily. His voice still quiet, Súlfalas said, "Because I do."


Súlfalas stood with his hand on Fae's shoulder as the other ellon gave himself up to the torrent of grief. Súlfalas' face remained stoic and composed, but a sorrow that was fresh, in spite of the many years it was removed, lingered hauntingly in his eyes. He had known the abyss Faevathor was floundering in at this hour, and for many to come. He had known the days and nights of keen-edged despair that were yet before his newfound friend. To be witness to such agony was to relive his own.

And for all that he had known, he had no words of comfort to give to Fae. He remembered what someone, he never knew who, had said to him after his own loss- "Take up your sword. Fight against every unjust act and every evil power in this world. Do not let your sorrow cause you to fade and fall away into shadow. Let it make you strong, and temper you as fire tempers steel."

Small comfort were they, but at least Súlfalas had found in the words a purpose. His entire life after that day was consumed with battle and violence. He did not wish such upon his new-found friend. And so he stood in silence.


************************************************


The edhel that Saida, Caun, and Iavaisil encountered was not Ivor, much to Saida's relief. He would no doubt be little pleased with her intentions to gain information from palace insiders behind his back. Her brow darkened in remembrance of the unspoken edict that no elleth were admitted into the counsels of the king.

The newcomer was an elleth, but dressed oddly in the tunic and breeches of an ellon. Saida was growing uncomfortable in the close proximity of the two strangers, and Caun's stony silence did nothing to help. Almost angrily she demanded, "Who are you?”

The elleth whirled in surprise, taking in the dark-haired elleth with the slightly demented glare; the silent, handsome ellon; and the other small elleth who seemed as bewlidered as she.
Cirya was instantly on her guard. "I might ask of you the same thing."

Saida started to form a biting response, but suddenly she froze. A cry of anguish had pierced her senses; she knew not from whom or whence it came. Her hands began to shake. It was upon them, then, this soon. Without a word she turned and fled to the palace, leaving Caun to make any explanations. However, as words were not Caun's greatest interest in life, he merely jerked his head in the direction of the palace. "Let's go," he said, without looking at the ellith.

Once in the palace Saida fought her way towards the king's chambers, desperate to find Ivorcheneb and learn of what had happend. The place was in an uproar, and by no amount of pleading or threatening could she make anyone lead her to Ivor. In anger she turned to go to the only place that was left- the chambers of the Istari.

She pounded on the wooden door, making sure that he and everyone else dwelling in the same corridor heard her. Pallando opened the door suddenly, and she would have fallen into the room if not for his restraining hand. Angrily she pushed him away. Gelladar wailed in his cradle, awakened by the clamor she had created. She picked him up and calmed him with a practiced touch, her eyes never leaving the dark istari. "You must tell me what has happened. I can get no intelligent word from anyone here." Pallando seated himself in an enormous, throne-like chair near the cold fireplace, resting his head against his strong, heavily ringed hand. "I did not attend the council of the king. I have little desire left for such things. You knew that when you came to me." "Yes, I know. But I also know that you do not need to be witness to events to know of their passing." Pallando raised his head, a strange gleam in his dark eyes.

"Like nights of blue fire, mir nin? Cries of a village swept forever from this land, and the scent of their blood left on the hands of the one who is guilty?"

Saida backed away in horror. Did he in truth know what he spoke of? The thought was too much. "I would kill you were it not for the sake of your son," she hissed, any kindness or tenderness in her dissolved. Pallando just smiled that terrible smile. "Kill me, like you killed Alatar?" He leaned forward threateningly, resting his elbows on his knees. "There is a price on your head in certain parts of this land. Perhaps the king would not be pleased to learn that he was harboring a muderess and a madwoman in his good graces."


Saida turned her back on Pallando and carefully placed the soothed Gelladar back in his ornate cradle. When at last she turned back to Pallando, any emotions she may have felt were masked beneath cool layers of indifference. "We are all so changed," she whispered, and turned and left to find- no one, she whispered to herself as she exited the wizard's chambers.
Faenauliel
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Post RE: Dartho Annin An-uir: Be With Me Always
on: November 15, 2003 09:49
Ivorcheneb entered the chamber quietly and heard Súlfalas tell Fae of his own understanding of the grief that Faevathor now felt. Ivor went to his friend and placed his arm about Fae's shoulders and thought about his own lost family. "How?..." Faevathor asked him. "How have you endured these past Ages--almost your entire life--feeling a loss such as this?"

Ivor had no words...It was only because of the love and guidance of Círdan and Gil-galad that Ivor had not succumed to the grief as a child. And he thought that it must be different, somehow. For--Ivorcheneb knew--that if he were ever fortunate enough to earn Saida's love...He would never be able to endure losing her.

He led Faevathor to his bed and sat him down upon it. Ivor sat beside him. "Perhaps...perhaps you should stay here... To defend the city! Sauron has attacked these borders befo-.." "No!" Faevathor adamantly shook his head. "I will not turn from my duties, Ivor....And I will not rest untill all of Sauron's minions are rotting in their graves!"

Faevathor's words seemed to sting Súlfalas, and the dark ellon closed his eyes and sat upon a chair in the corner. They sat there for a while--the two who were so accustomed to living with the grief and who had each found his own way of enduring it , and the one who had only begun that long journey.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Sometime later, as Ivor left Fae to try and rest, he wandered the beautiful corridor again. He stopped briefly outside Saida's door, then sighed and walked away. Quickly, he made his way to the stables and led his favorite steed out into the night. As he readied the horse a small stable boy approached, yawning and rubbing his eyes. "Le suilannon, Hîr Ivorcheneb...Anírach i dulu nín? (1)" Ivor laughed lightly, "Ú-moe... Ad-bado a phost lîn.(2)" Ivor mounted his horse and the small boy looked up at him. "Are you going to your thinking place?" Ivorcheneb couldn't help but laugh out loud. This same stable-boy had taken to following him about in the past year--had even begun to wear his hair in a short immitation of the ellon's. "Yes I am... I shall return in 2 days time... Can you do an important job for me?" The small one nodded. "Tell the one called Súlfalas when I will return. I trust that all my warriors are already prepared to go, anyway." "I shall do that, my Lord!"

The little one rushed off and Ivor turned his horse toward the gate. He needed some time to get his thoughts together.

********************************
(1)[do] you want my help?
(2)It is not necessary.... Go again (return) to your rest.

[Edited on 16/11/2003 by Faenauliel]
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Post RE: Dartho Annin An-uir: Be With Me Always
on: November 15, 2003 10:57
Faevathor lay on his bed, but he knew rest would not come - not for many long days and nights. If he slept at all, it would be only because sheer exhaustion took control.

For now, though, all he felt was numbness; a white-hot anger born of indescribable grief; and a determination not to shirk his duties. He would fight - and those responsible would pay. He only regretted that he would never know by whose hand his wife had been slain. If he had - he would not have remained in the palace for one second further, and join the battle after he had taken his revenge. As it was...he would follow Ivor and the King. If he died in the fighting, so much the better, but many of the enemy would precede him first.

Súlfalas was still sitting in the corner, watching him. The Elf got up then, his eyes reflecting both the grief and burning rage within him. Reaching for his sword, he unsheathed it, running one hand carefully along the gleaming blade. As he did so, he asked quietly, "When do we leave?"

Just then, a soft knock was heard at the door. The stableboy delivered his message to Súlfalas, and Fae's eyes gleamed. They couldn't leave too soon for him.


[Edited on 15/11/2003 by gwendeth]

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[Edited on 16/11/2003 by CarolP]
"Tolo si, a tiro i cherth Eru" "Come now, and see the works of God"
Faenauliel
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Post RE: Dartho Annin An-uir: Be With Me Always
on: November 16, 2003 10:30
Ivorcheneb rode swiftly throughout the night. The moon shone upon the Gulf of Lhûn to his left, turning the water to molten mithril, and the Ered Luin loomed darkly to the north. It felt good to be riding again beneath the star-strewn sky. The brilliance of Varda’s talents is truly evident this night he thought.

But the stars were missing in the east. Just above Mithlond, dark and ominous clouds had gathered and continued to the south. There will be rain there this night, he thought. He nudged Celeg to go a bit faster.

Celeg seemed to be in good spirits…It had been months since Ivor had allowed him to go at a full gallop upon the familiar road. Ivor knew that the stallion had sensed the growing excitement within the walls of the palace. It would do them both good to see Forlond again.

Ivor rode on, the moon hiding below the horizon and the stars fading one by one as dawn neared. He paused for only a short while to watch as the sun rose above the eastern horizon, the storm seeming to have cleared. He watched and laughed as the sandpipers ran about in the foam, avoiding the waves. Then, he continued on to the small town which sat upon the northern rim of the Gulf.

The sun sat directly above when he reached the outskirts of the small community of Forlond. It was a much smaller settlement than Mithlond; those that dwelled here were mostly fishermen and sailors who sought to escape the bustling city with its many inhabitants. Here the docks were the center of life, with a few small dwellings, a small market-place, and a few taverns set along the shore. Ivor stopped at the edge of the town and looked to the north where a small, dense wood sat upon a large hill overlooking the village below. Ivor climbed down from the saddle and held the reigns loosely as he looked about. The ellon drew in a deep breath of the salty air and smiled. He could already feel the jumbled knot within his stomach beginning to relax a bit.

Celeg pulled at the reigns and began a slow saunter down the road toward the docks where there was always an elleth or two waiting with a juicy apple! “Ah…not so fast, Celeg,” Ivor chuckled. “We shall go for apples later! C’mon!” Ivorcheneb guided the horse up the narrow path to the side of the road, and—quite reluctantly—the tall stallion went, sighing to make his annoyance evident.

They made their way up to the top of the hill where the trees thinned, giving way to a beautiful pasture. There he allowed Celeg to roam as he sat beneath a nearby Oak, and thought.

It was here that Círdan would bring him long ago when he was but a child. This wooded hill and the lovely pasture overlooking the sea. It had been his favorite place—a respite from the lively Mithlond and never-ending lessons and study which Círdan had insisted that he endure. And he remembered the day when he had told his adoptive father of his love for the place. Círdan had smiled, delighted to see the child so joyful—as it was a rare thing for Ivor to smile in those early days…after the destruction of his homeland, Balar...

********

“I see!…Well, since it is so, then this hill shall be yours,” the old ship-wright had said happily, his silver hair shining brightly in the summer sun. “Truly, Nowë?” Ivor has asked in awe, staring up at the bearded one who had taken him in as a son. “Truly, Ivor!…And when you are come of age you may build your home here, within the place that is so dear to your heart.” Ivorcheneb had beamed. “I shall learn from you the building of ships…And I shall make my shop upon the docks…just there!” the small boy said, pointing to the town below. “Yes,” Círdan agreed. It made his heart glad to see an expression of hope from the child.

“And will you dwell with me, here? In the house I shall build?” Ivor asked. Teasingly, Círdan answered, “A, Ivor!… When you are of that age, you shall have met a beautiful elleth…You shall take her for your wife, and she shall dwell with you there!” Ivorcheneb had wrinkled his small nose, his brow furrowing seriously. “I shall not!…I do not desire a wife!” “No?” Círdan taunted happily. “No!” Ivorcheneb exclaimed determinedly. “For ellith… they are troublesome things!” This had cause the old ship-wright to double over with laughter. Then Ivor had joined in, giggling with delight. And it was, in this way, that he had learned to stave off the darkness with laughter…

************

Smiling, Ivor opened his eyes and looked up into the trees, chuckling. Images of Saida floated through his mind—her raven hair flowing in the wind…her eyes a raging storm. The softness of her features when she had held her sister’s son haunted him. The look of delight in her grey eyes when she had beheld the mithril dragon he had gifted to her made his spirit soar. Never before had he held such love for anyone. True…but where is she now? the cruel voice within whispered. And he saw her, once again, in the arms of the wizard.

“Ai! Troublesome things, indeed!” he said aloud as a tear ran down his fair cheek. He whispered to the hill which had been such a friend, “It is better that I should ride into battle—in defense of these lands—than to face all the coming ages without her.”

Ivorcheneb sighed deeply. He knew that he must not tarry here for long and whistled for Celeg, who came eagerly…Then Ivor stood and looked about. The grasses were tall and swayed with the gentle winds as butterflies danced about them. He gazed long at the beautiful trees, their leaves full of innumerable shades of green. He burned within his mind an image of the hill as it stood before him then, knowing it could prove to be the last time he would be here. Then, slowly, he turned down the narrow path again, receiving a gentle nudge from Celeg. “Alright! Alright!” he smiled at the silly horse. “We shall go for your apples…Then we must hurry back to Mithlond. There is much, still, to prepare.”

[Edited on 18/11/2003 by Faenauliel]
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Post RE: Dartho Annin An-uir: Be With Me Always
on: November 17, 2003 01:35
The first ray of the Sun barely touched Ohtar's eyelids, when he was already up. The man stirred and jumped out of his improvized bed on the floor. The wooden bed stood in the corner of his chamber, intact. Ohtar had tried to sleep in it, but it had proved to be too soft for him. So after several hours of insomnia he had taken his blanket and wrapped himself in it on the floor, and had fallen asleep almost instantly.

Ohtar quickly put the blanket back on the bed and arranged it properly. Then he started to look for his clothes, but couldn't find them.

"Blast!" he felt anger rising in his chest. What the...

The he remebered. The King Gil-Galad had ordered his guests' clothes to be cleaned, and he had given them to one of the maids. He sat down on the bed, confused. What was he to do? He had no spare with him, the fight had ben so sudden, and he hadn't taken the old clothes off for several weeks... Was he to call the maid? But he didn't know her name. Or was he to run around the palace in his underwear?

A gentle knock disturbed him. His sword in his hand, he sprang instantly up. A second later, he was at the door, opening it... Always act fast, surprise the enemy! that's the only way to survive. And always tend to do what he least expects you to do, were the words of his mentor. Swinging the door wide open, he stood in the doorway, his shining sword up, not attacking, but ready to counter any attack...

Out there stood a young elf-maiden with his garment carefully washed and ironed. She gasped with surprise, finding the point of Ohtar's sword at her throat and nearly droped her package.

"Oh... I'm sorry, m'lady," he took away his sword from her, and smiled. "Didn't mean to startle you. But when you're at war... You just get suspicious."

Their gazes met, little lights dancing in Ohtar's chocolate eyes. The clothes fell out of the girl's trembling hands.

"Oh..!" she suddenly found her voice, as she kneeled down, trying to collect his garment from the floor. He got down, too, as if to help her.

"No, don't worry about that, beautiful lady," his hand covered her's, and he felt her tremble. A grin flashed over his face when he continued,"Even my clothes know how to be humble in the presence of such beauty, one thing I should learn from them..." he paused meaningfully, as his gaze slid over the girl's delicate features. Those she-elves were exceptional indeed...

The elleth stood up and handed him the garment, avoiding to look into his eyes. Her cheeks were burning as if touched by frost.

"Thank you, my lady, you are too kind," he lowered his voice to almost a whisper, his eyes laughing and the corners of his lips dreading to slip up.

"You're welcome, hîr nin..." she whispered, glancing quickly at the man and then hurrying away down the corridor. Ohtar laughed silently at himself, closing the door.

"Beautiful creatures, aren't they?" another voice rang.

Ohtar stood straight and bent his head in a greeting.

"My Prince."

Isildur slowly walked closer.

"Beautiful and intelligent they are. Too bad they are elves."

Ohtar shrugged.

"Why? I find nothing wrong with it."

"Your choice. I would never risk falling in love with an elleth, if I were you. Just imagine - she'll definitely outlive you, and that means a lot... Anyway, I'm about to have my breakfast. You are welcome to join me, if you like," the Numenorian Prince turned to walk away. "Oh, and be so kind to get dressed, I wouldn't like to watch the girls starting to drop my breakfast down at your appearance," a playful wink followed Isildur's words.

Ohtar laughed and shaked his head. The memories of the days of their early youth came to his head. They had been a crazy duo, both of them. Isildur's brother was always more serious, so he usually remained at home, when Isildur and Ohtar "went out". And that meant pubs, drinks, fights... and girls. Ohtar was the most attractive, but Isildur was the Prince... So their success was equal. But Ohtar had a gift of charm, and he could confuse a girl so that she wouldn't understand what she wants, if he desired so. Isildur used to joke about it, and to use Ohtar's powers if he found them handy. And he knew quite well that Ohtar wasn't a timid one.

Then they grew up. Isldur got married, but somehow Ohtar had the feeling that he was the grow-up one, for Isildur continued to search for adventures, reckless as usually. That confused Ohtar a little, the Prince had a wife, and a family, after all...

Whatever, who was Ohtar to question the actions of his Prince? Although his esquire and the closest friend, he remained his underling.

Ohtar finished dressing by fastening his belt. He reached for a sword, then changed his mind. It didn't feel right, somehow, to walk around this palace fully armed. He stuffed his dagger behind his belt. Not that he felt weak without a weapon, he could knock down any enemy empty-handed, but...

Fully dressed now, he headed for the dining room.

[Edited on 19/11/2003 by Nifredil]
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Post RE: Dartho Annin An-uir: Be With Me Always
on: November 17, 2003 03:37
Faevathor jerked awake and sat up. Slept? He had slept? How could he have done so? There was war coming...and there were plans he didn't yet know about. And then - he rememered. His chest heaved as the grief pierced his heart like the sharpest knife-point. The emptiness felt like fire within his soul as he grieved. But...his mind finally broke through his torment, and he rose. There was too much to be done, and he began readying himself for the day's work. He did so, however, only as a long-ingrained habit. Standing in front of the mirror, he re-wove the warrior braids that kept his dark hair back from his face. As he did so, a memory came unbidden into his mind, and he thought of how many times his wife's hands had loosened them when...and the grief threatened to overwhelm him again. Struggling to contain his emotions, he turned away and left his room - and went searching for Súlfalas. When his new friend had left, Fae didn't know, but with Ivor gone for two days, the Warrior was the best one to find.

No one spoke to him as he walked swiftly through the palace halls. Entering the dining room, he was assaulted by the noises of clattering dishes and conversations filling the air. His face looking like it was set in stone, Fae keenly looked around the room. Spotting Súlfalas he stode purposefully over to where the ellon was sitting. His friend had chosen a table in the corner, away from the morning sun's light. So much the better, he thought. The sun was dimmer to him anyway, now that the light of his life was gone.

As he walked, Fae was aware of the sympathy from his fellow-warriors. Meeting the eyes of a few of them, he nodded, but didn't speak. He also noticed the edain sitting in another area of the room, the Prince, Isildur and another man in particular. Why his gaze had been drawn to them, he wasn't sure, though.

Súlfalas nodded when Fae arrived and sat down. They sat in silence for a time, and then Fae said quietly, "Tell me what plans have been made." Ivor wasn't there, but he and Súlfalas would make sure the warriors were ready when his friend returned.

[Edited on 17/11/2003 by gwendeth]
"Tolo si, a tiro i cherth Eru" "Come now, and see the works of God"
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Post RE: Dartho Annin An-uir: Be With Me Always
on: November 17, 2003 05:11
Entering the large beautifully carved doors of the dining room, Ohtar stopped for a moment to look for the Prince. There he was, in the very middle of the room, at the largest table.

"As usual," Ohtar muttered and made his way through the tables to his Captain.

The whole room was full with elves, and there stood a smell in the air...
Ohtar suddenly realized that he was dying from hunger. Isildur waved his hand in the air to attract a serving-maid's attention. As Ohtar sat down, the Prince commented:

"I hope they cook as well as they look."

Ohtar smiled.

"You know, I don't think that these girls are the same here and in the kitchen. Maybe they have some fat he-elves there..."

Isildur cast an ironic glance at his underlig.

"Right!"

"Yes? How can I assist you, good sirs?" an elleth stood by their table. Her cheeks were pink, and her breasts were rising and falling fast, as if she had been running. What she probably has been doing for the past hour. Still, she was beautiful. Ohtar narrowed his eyes.

"You could bring us some food, girl. Some good food, if you don't mind. One that could fit for two big and strong men," Isildur ordered.

The elleth looked confused.

"Just get us something that you'd really suggest for today, would you, lady?" Ohtar winked at the elleth and gave her one of his most charming smiles. The girl smiled in return and hurried away.

Ohtar stretched his neck trying to figure out what the others at other tables were having. What do elves usually have for breakfast? he wondered. He suddenly noticed the two elves the had seen last night, at the table in the corner. One of them was looking straight at him. Ohtar didn't know what to do. Should he nod in a greeting? But they were never introduced. Maybe he would take it as an offence to be marked due to a shameful scene? The man decided not to show that he had recognized the elf. Adding a shame to the already full cup of suffering for him would be too much. The elf looked pale and lifeless, his face expressed no emotions. He was controlling himself better now, and that Ohtar could appreciate.

"There you go!" two bowls of steaming poridge appeared on the table.

Isildur wrinkled his nose.

"Couldn't you really get something more..."

"Thank you, fair lady!" Ohtar flashed another grin and received a similar one in return. Then he turned to his Prince:

"I suggest you try it first, sir. If we please, we can have a special meal," Isildur started to laugh at his esquire's mischievous smile.

"Oh, right, I got it! Now that girl will bring you anything you please! And how you manage to do it?" the Prince took a bit of the poridge. Then his face cleared.

"She already did, my Lord. This is the best we can have for today. Not so bad, is it?" Ohtar ate a mouthfull of the poridge.

Still, he felt his sight strangely attracted by the elf in the corner. He ate little, almost nothing. But he should have, at least to keep himself strong to face the enemy, to revenge the death of his wife.

Ohtar decided to call the elleth again. The food was too good and he was too big a man to have eaten his fill with only one bowl.

[Edited on 17/11/2003 by Nifredil]

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[Edited on 18/11/2003 by CarolP]

[Edited on 19/11/2003 by Nifredil]
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Rudhwethiel
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Post RE: Dartho Annin An-uir: Be With Me Always
on: November 17, 2003 06:12
If I tell you
Will you listen?
Will you stay?
Will you be here forever?
Never go away?
Never thought things would change, hold me tight
Please don't say again that you have to go

A bitter thought
I had it all
But I just let it go
Hold your silence
It's so violent since you're gone

All my thoughts are with you forever
'Till the day we'll be back together
I will be waiting for you

If I had told you
You would've listened
You had stayed
You would be here forever
Never went away

It would never have been all the same
All our time would have been in vain
Cause you had to go

The sweetest thought
Had it all
Cause I did let you go
All our moments keep me warm
When you're gone

All my thoughts are with you forever
'Till the day we'll be back together
I will be waiting for you
*

Silver rain fell in a musical rhythm, running down the windowpane and blurring the world outside. Faevathor slept . . . Súlfalas was glad of that. It was but a brief respite, but respite nonetheless. Súlfalas sat near the window, his stance relaxed but a strange light in his eyes. His gaze was focused somewhere beyond the present world. He was seeing shadows of a life, hearing far away, strange songs, and searching in some dark void for other days. "If I had told you . . . would you have stayed?" he whispered.

Hours passed, and the rain slowed. With the sun's first feeble light Súlfalas woke from his reverie. Standing, he rubbed the back of his neck and walked over to the bed to check on Fae. Faevathor still slept, his dark hair coming loose from his braids and the silver stain of tears still upon the cheek that bore lines of sorrow that had not been there before. Súlfalas closed his eyes and said a brief prayer of blessing and protection for his friend, then turned and silently left the room.

He had not eaten for nearly two days, and in spite of his mental unrest he was a healthy, still-young ellon, and the thought of food was not unappealing. So it was that he found himself in the lavish dining hall, already crowded with warriors, royals, and advisors from all parts of the kingdom. He sought out a shadowed corner table, and seated himself without bidding or ceremony. An elleth soon brought him a steaming bowl of food. He caught her peeking curiously at the silver rings in his ears. "They only bled for five days each . . . the infection wore off after the first month or so . . . and I was lucky. Sometimes they DON'T heal, and the whole ear just rots clean off." The elleth was openly staring at him now, wide-eyed, and slightly green. Slowly she backed away, and then turned and rushed off. He laughed quietly to himself . . . oh, the simple pleasures of life.

Just then he saw Faevathor enter the room, and the slight smile vanished from his face as he watched his friend make his way through the crowded room, exchanging glances with those he passed and trying to hold his head up. Faevathor made his way to the table where Súlfalas sat and pulled out the chair opposite him. Another elleth brought breakfast for Fae, but he just stared at it for a while and pushed it away. Súl noticed him staring strangely at the arrogant numenorean who sat with Isildur at a table across the room. Finally Faevathor spoke.

"Tell me what plans have been made."

Súlfalas instantly shifted into battle mode; eyes focused in a blank space somewhere over Fae's left shoulder, the gears in his mind turning almost visibly. "Ivorcheneb has gone to Forlond, he will be back by nightfall tomorrow. Meanwhile we are to do general maintenance on our warriors; make sure everyone knows where they will be going and what they will be doing. And tomorrow night there is to be a gala . . . a sort of last taste of normalcy to boost morale."

Súlfalas's eyes met Fae's as he spoke the last words, the irony escaping neither of them.

All that day and the next the two worked side by side, sorting out battallions and supplies and seeing that all was in order by the time Ivor returned. When at last the sun began to sink lower in the sky on the second day, their task was completed and the time for the gala was drawing nigh. The two passed the great bonfire that was being prepared, and the silk tents and cushions that were spread about. "I know we would all like for you to be there . . . but it is your choice, mellon nin," Súlfalas spoke up suddenly as they passed the site. Faevathor just nodded, his eyes fixed on the ground.



*Bittersweet by Within Temptation



[Edited on 18/11/2003 by Rudhwethiel]
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Post RE: Dartho Annin An-uir: Be With Me Always
on: November 17, 2003 10:45

Ivorcheneb had wandered aimlessly about the small marketplace near the docks of Forlond for a few hours. Sure enough...two beautiful ellith—clearly sisters—approached Celeg, each with a ripe, red apple. The horse ate the treats slowly, gently taking each one in turn from an elleth's hand with his fuzzy lips. His eye glanced at Ivor, and the ellon was almost convinced he saw a gloating look in that eye.

The older of the sisters smiled shyly up at Ivor, her cheeks turning to the shade of the pink roses that grew outside the shrine of Vána in Mithlond. He greeted them both politely, making small talk of the how their father had fared in his last catch—for Ivor was well known to the sailors of the small community...and thier families.

When the greedy stallion had finished his treat, Ivor explained that he must make his way back to Mithlond and bade the ellith give his regards to their father. They hurried off, giggling and whispering to each other as they went. Ivorcheneb sighed as he turned and made his way in the opposite direction along the narrow road. “Ai… troublesome things,” he said under his breath. Celeg whinned in response—clearly he had been hoping for more apples…perhaps a whole bushel! Ivor raised one beautifully arched brow and looked at his companion. “Yes… almost as bad as horses!” he said with a sly smile. When he turned to look up the path, Celeg took Ivor’s long braid in his teeth and yanked hard. “AI!” Ivor hissed, glaring at the steed in mock annoyance.

Just then they neared one of the taverns. Two Elves stood outside discussing the rumors of the happenings in the east. One of them glanced his way, “A! Ivorcheneb! … What news do you bring us from Mithlond, Híren?” The smile the sailor wore did not touch his eyes. Ivor knew not how to answer. Nae, they know that war approaches… the ellon thought, the tight feeling in his chest growing once more. “We march in two days time,” he said simply. They only nodded in response, not willing to meet Ivor’s gaze.

An awkward silence hung thickly in the air for a moment, then Ivor smiled. “And so… I must be on my way. I am needed in Mithlond, for there is much to see to before we go forth.” He bowed his head politely, saying, “Na-den ad govadem {until next we meet}.” Then he took Celeg’s reigns and started away. “Ivor!” one of them called after him and he half-turned, looking over his shoulder at them. “Galu Valar am le {the blessings of the Valar [be] upon you},” the sailor said quietly. Ivorcheneb smiled wanly, “Hannon le, Mellynen {thank you, my friends}.”

He led Celeg to the edge of town and climbed into the saddle. Pausing for a moment, then, Ivor took a last look around. He watched as a beautiful ship launched into the Gulf of Lhûn at full sail. Her rich golden wood in sharp contrast to the deep blue of the waters; and her gleaming white sails drawn taught in the wind. Then he set his gaze to the east, and Mithlond, and nudged Celeg into a full gallop.

His eyes were blind to the landscape as the night fell, his mind turning inward and to the far off Barad-dûr. And still he raced on, pushing Celeg who, to his delight, seemed an endless spring of speed and endurance. The stallion was in top condition, and would serve him well. Guiding the horse with subtle movements of his legs and shifting of his weight, the ellon had no need for the reigns which he held slack in one hand. They were one, the horse and the rider, as--swiftly--they raced toward the rising sun.

They reached the River of Lhûn just after mid-day, looking forward to their last night in Mithlond. As Ivor led the large horse off the ferry and led him up the bustling main street toward the palace, it was evident that all the city had been prepared for a celebration. Bright tapestries hung down the sides of the taller dwellings and the streets were lined with beautiful flowers and ribbons. “Hîr Ivor!” he heard a melodious voice from above. As he looked up, an elleth upon her balcony above the street dropped down her silken handkerchief upon his head. She smiled sweetly down at him and he tried to return a convincing smile, placing the small cloth in his saddlebag. He sighed deeply, for he knew that the celebration—while thrown for those who would fight—would really be more for those who would stay… sweet memories for those who’s loved ones would not return.

As he lead Celeg through the high gates surrounding the palace, he came face to face with a fierce storm who’s beautiful raven tresses hung down her back in lovely curls. “Where have you been?” she hissed. Ivorcheneb’s shoulders dropped and he raised one hand to massage his temple. “I needed to think…” he began. But her fury would not be quelled. “Think?!… We are leaving tomorrow at mid-day!!” “Yes!” Ivorcheneb said wearily as he lifted his eyes to meet her gaze. “Tomorrow we go to war Saida!…And that means that I may not return!… None of us may.” He tried to put it as gently as possible… but was compelled to make her understand exactly where she had insisted upon following him.

The gale within her eyes softened then, and she stepped close to him. Reaching up, she gently removed a stray leaf from his haggard braid. “Saida…” he whispered…unsure of what words would follow.

Then a disturbance at the gate turned both their heads. Ivor drew his sword and ran toward the shouting guards. Two of the guards struggled to control an intruder—a clearly travel-worn ellon. From the manner of his dress, Ivor could see he was of Greenwood. “What is the meaning of this?” Ivor demanded of the interloper. When the Elf faced him, Ivor recognized him as the Captain of the Guard for Oropher’s court. Ivor sheathed his sword…but his hand remained upon the hilt. “What buisness have you at the palace of King Gil-galad?” he asked in an even tone.


[Edited on 18/11/2003 by Faenauliel]

[Edited on 18/11/2003 by Faenauliel]
gwendeth
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Post RE: Dartho Annin An-uir: Be With Me Always
on: November 18, 2003 02:42
"And tomorrow night there is to be a gala . . . a sort of last taste of normalcy to boost morale."

As Faevathor met Súlfalas' eyes, the irony of those words struck Fae as they never would have - even two days ago. "Normalcy" was now a thing of the past, and not only because of the coming war.

Working along side the Warrior over the next two days, Fae was glad of both the opportunity to learn more about him...and...it took his mind off of other things. Mostly. But the now ever-present grief would, at times, threaten to break out of the tenuous hold he kept on it.

"I know we would all like for you to be there . . . but it is your choice, mellon nin,"

Fae couldn't meet his friends eyes as they passed the bonfire. The 'gala' was not for him. Not now...not for...Eru knew how long. He did appreciate Súlfalas' overture, but, no. His fellow-warriors would miss his presence there, he knew - and - he probably should make an appearance, if only for their sake, but he couldn't. He also knew his fellows wouldn't fault him for it. Not this time. Not today.

As he and Súlfalas parted, he for his room, Súl for whatever his plans were, Fae looked the Warrior directly in the eye. New-born grief to lingering grief Fae bowed his head slightly, and said quietly, "Le hannon, mellon nín. Geveditham ne minuial.*" Turning then, Faevathor headed for his room.

Upon reaching it, his pent-up emotions once again overwhelmed him. When the torrent had, for the moment, spent itself, Fae could hear the music, even through the thick palace walls. He twisted his lips ironically, and spat out one word, "Normal."

Eyes blazing, he reached for his sword and began whirling it around him. The blade flashed in the moonlight streaming in from the window. The speed Faevathor achieved as he spun was remarkable, even for an Elf, as he exercised his muscles and tested his skill against himself. He would be ready when it was time to leave.

However, in mid-whirl, Fae suddenly hurled the sword across the room with a despairing cry. The blade bit deeply into the wooden door and the hilt wavered a few times. In the meantime, the dark-haired warrior flung himself face-downwards on the bed, and cried again.


(*Thank you my friend. We will meet in the morning.)



[Edited on 18/11/2003 by gwendeth]

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[Edited on 18/11/2003 by Beleg_Strongbow]
"Tolo si, a tiro i cherth Eru" "Come now, and see the works of God"
maeghin
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Post RE: Dartho Annin An-uir: Be With Me Always
on: November 18, 2003 12:53
(Okay, backtracking a bit so that my character makes more sense. This is right after Ivor left his council with Oropher)

“I shall never pledge my allegiance to that false King, Gil-Galad. The Elves of Greenwood can hold their own, we don’t need their assistance.” Oropher spat out the word Gil-Galad with much disdain.

Faramond sighed as he listened to his liege. “Do you think it is wise to shun them, my lord? A War is at hand, one I fear shall be long and costly. Sauron is no simple foe. I think we should ally and fight together lest…” Faramond stopped short as Oropher had abruptly stopped and stared at the Captain of the Guard.

“You are the Captain of the Guard. You are not here to think, but to serve and protect. Leave the thinking to those that are best suited.” Oropher replied indignantly.

Faramond turned his gaze to the ground and bit his lower lip to keep the flow of angry words from spilling forth. The advisers who walked with Oropher laughed haughtily.

“My Lord, why do you suffer such insolence?” one of them asked with a menacing look directed in Faramond’s direction.

“Hold your tongue!” Faramond retorted. “Just because I am skilled with the sword and gifted in the knowledge of combat, does not mean that I have to intelligence beyond that. If we rush off to face Sauron alone, it would be as leading our warriors to the slaughter! I would not lead my men to such a fate!” Faramond gasped. What had he just done? He let his emotions take over.

Oropher turned an angry face toward Faramond. “Would you Ally with that false King? Would you betray your people?” Oropher yelled out. “Very well then, go serve whom you wish, you are hereby relieved of all duties and allegiances to Greenwood! Leave my lands and never return.”

Faramond stared wide-eyed, hardly able to believe his own ears. Had some sort of madness taken over Oropher’s mind? “Get out of my sight traitor!” Oropher stormed.

Faramond said nothing; the shock was so great that words could not express his mixture of pain sorrow, sorrow and anger. He turned his back to Oropher and walked away as quickly as he could. A few whispers were heard from behind him.

“Do you think that was wise? Banishing your champion just before time of War?”

“He is no Champion of Greenwood. Let him serve what dogs he will.”

Faramond tried to quell the flow of anger and also of immense sorrow from forcing its way to the surface. He raced quickly to reach his room. Gathering a few belongings, he looked around to study his surroundings. It was probably the last time he would ever see them again. He would leave forever.

A knock was heard at the door as it slowly opened. A fair young maiden peered her pale face and raven hair through the opening. She entered, and then closed the door securely behind her.

“Is it true what they say? Are you leaving Greenwood?” She asked with both pain and fear evident in her voice.

Faramond strode to her and took her hands. “Yes, Oropher has lost his mind. He would have our people face Sauron alone. I will not lead our men to certain death.” He reached up to gently touch her face. “Will you join me?”

The fair maiden looked him in the eyes, tears welling within them. She shook her head in disbelief. “Come, let us speak with Oropher, surely you can return. Please, do not do this.” She pleaded.

Faramond began to realize what it was she loved about him. “Would you not love me if I were not the Captain of the Guard? Answer me!” He tried to keep his voice steady, but wavered against his will. The look of fear in Marissa’s eyes answered his question without words.

“Then I leave alone.” Faramond said as he turned from her.

Marissa grasped his wrist from behind. “No, do not leave, it is not too late, Oropher shall take you back, I know he will. Then we shall…” Faramond raised his hand to her lips as he shook his head.

“I have decided to leave, if you ever loved me, you will come with me.” He whispered pleadingly to her. Marissa backed away and loosed her grip on his wrist, her pleading smile fading. “I cannot go with you.” She simply stated then turned and rushed through the heavy wooden door, slamming it roughly behind her. Her sobbing cries could be heard still as she ran away from her love, her mind a mess of confused thoughts.

The sound of the door slamming was as a dagger in Faramond’s heart. Anger replaced the void where love once dwelt. He knelt to his bed and pulled forth a large wooden box. Slowly, he opened the lid and unfolded the silken cloth that lay therein to reveal a glimmering sword. It was his father’s sword. Faramond sheathed it and removed the sword gifted to him by Oropher from his waist, placing the blade on his bed in a last act of defiance. He strapped his father’s sword around his waist and stormed through the door, never to return again.

Faramond made his way to the stables, ignoring the whispers that followed him along his way. He reached his stead and saddled and bridled her, then led her forth from her stall. As he walked through Greenwood, he kept his gaze straight forward, his head held high. His men still respected him, he knew this, and he would show them their Captain remained strong still for they would need their courage in the battle to come, even though Faramond would not be leading them.

Passing by one of the houses of the noble, he glanced up to see Marissa standing in the balcony. He studied her briefly. She was not as beautiful as he had remembered her only a very short time ago. Her soft glow and grace had disappeared to be replaced by an ugliness that had been there all along. An ugliness that Faramond could not see before, so blinded he was by his love for her. A love that was now forever gone, a love left to rot in the remote places of his heart.

He turned his gaze back toward his destiny, the road which led from Greenwood. Mounting Belerand, he grasped the reigns tightly in his hands as he gave his decision one last thought. His mind was set; he would ride to Mithlond and join Gil-Galad.

Leaving everything he had behind him, he whispered to Belerand who carried him from his home for the last time.

********************************************************************

When Faramond arrived in Mithlond after a long, perilous journey, he did not receive the welcome he had expected. The guards at the gates raised their weapons to him out of mistrust.

“What are you doing here? Wait, you’re the Captain of Greenwood, aren’t you?” His former name rolled cruelly from the lips of the man who guarded the gate. “Your kin are not welcome here. Get back on your horse and crawl back into that festering swamp of a forest you call home!”

Faramond caught his breath in his chest as it felt as though it would explode in anger. He had left everything he had, and for what? To be treated with distrust and hatred? He could not return home, never could he go back there to face the repercussions of what he had done. No, his life there was at an end. Steadying his breath he stated calmly to the man, “My business is with those in charge, not you.”

The man glared back at Faramond. “If you wish to get past us, then you had best draw that sword of yours and prove how a Champion of Greenwood fights!”

Faramond knew his reputation with the sword preceded him. These men were just looking for an excuse to prove themselves against him. Well, if it was a fight they wanted… A fight would be inevitable, or so it seemed. Faramond reached for his sword, his fingers outlining the intricate carvings on the hilt. He was about to draw it when a man approached Faramond from behind.

“What is the meaning of this? What business have you at the palace of King Gil-Galad?”

Faramond recognized that voice. He had heard it once before. He was now outnumbered and surrounded. Raising his hands from his weapons, to show he meant no disrespect, Faramond addressed the man, who he recognized to by the Ambassador from Mithlond.

“I am Faramond, former Captain of the Guard of Greenwood. I come to pledge my allegiance to the true King.”

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[Edited on 19/11/2003 by CarolP]
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Post RE: Dartho Annin An-uir: Be With Me Always
on: November 19, 2003 04:06
How long Faevathor lay in his misery, he didn't know. But, suddenly, he was tired of his room. It was too close, and he felt...he felt trapped, pent in. He needed a change of scenery.

Rising, he saw his sword sticking out of the wooden door. Lips again twisted ironically, he pulled it out and inspected it for damage. No, no damage. It was a good elven-sword, given to him many years before by his wife's father. That memory nearly overwhelmed him again, but taking a grip on himself, he re-sheathed the sword and left his room.

He briefly thought about going to Mithfaer's stall, but then rejected it. He would have to pass too close to the gala, and he was in no mood to do so. Fae began wandering the palace halls. He had no destination, no purpose for doing so, but still he did.

Lost in thought, he rounded a corner and nearly ran into someone hurrying the other way, obviously heading for the gala. Only Fae's elven reflexes kept him from knocking the other down. Startled, he looked intently at the person in front of him. It was the Numenorean he had seen with Prince Isildur the other morning. Fae started to nod in apology and continue on, but then something occurred to him. The Numenoreans were their allies. They and the Elves would be fighting together, side-by-side, and soon.

His head high, Fae solemnly regarded the man. Slowly, he extended his hand, and said, "I am Faevathor, of Ivorcheneb's Company." The Numenorean was silent for a few moments and then extened his own. "Ohtar," was the answer. Fae nodded and then said quietly, "Enjoy the gala, Ohtar." At that, Fae brushed past the man and continued down the hall, heading everywhere and nowhere, and again trying to contain his grief.
"Tolo si, a tiro i cherth Eru" "Come now, and see the works of God"
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Post RE: Dartho Annin An-uir: Be With Me Always
on: November 19, 2003 07:03
***the previous day***

Ohtar was running at all the speed he could make. His anger drove him forward stronger than anything else.

The man was running through the forrest that lay nearby Gil-Galad's palace. Jumping over a fallen tree, a sharp branch left a bloody mark on his cheek, but he didn't even wink. He just rushed forward.

The reason for this was the meeting Elendil had called after the nice and easy breakfast he and Isildur were having together. The King had commanded Ohtar to lead a small company of men as scouts to Mordor. Ohtar had been exalted. Finally! Finally he would have the opportunity to face the Enemy's servants, that had destroyed a city he had loved so much! But then he got to know that he was to go together with a company of elves. This news had been like a bucket of cold water to him. He had just stood there, feeling like a complete idiot, his mouth open.

"What?" he managed to get out of himself.

"As we, that is - King Gil-Galad, master Elrond and I, agreed to form the Alliance of Men and Elves, we are going to this war together. And we are doing all we can, together. This is why the elven King is sending a company of his best men as scouts to prepare the way for the rest of the Army, and I agreed to send a company of my best men with them. And, as Isildur and Anarion are staying here until the Big War Tactics are planned adequately, you will be the one leading our men."

Ohtar couldn't believe his ears! He was being pushed out of the planning process?!

But the worst was still to follow, as Isildur kindly informed:

"As far as I understood, the elves have the route and the goals already planned. The fact that our men would join them became clear only this morning."

Now, that was something...

"With all my respect, am I to follow them like a deer without any idea about the route or our assignment? Like as if I and my men were just some additional forces to the company of elves?" Ohtar's eyes were burning with fire, his whole body shivery with emotions barely under control. If he were a dragon, there would be flames and smoke emerging his trembling nostrils. Now he knew why Isildur had chosen tto remain back here, waiting for the big fight. If not for this little fact of the elves' guidance, the Prince would have been the first one to call out to lead the company. And so would Ohtar, too. But this was just too much!!!

"You got it right, Captain. Now, you are free to make a list of men, seven alltogether, who will follow you. The company will be leaving tomorrow morning. The Captain Ivorcheneb is expected to return tonight, and you will be introduced tonight at the gala."

Ohtar still couldn't accept it.

"Sir, I don't see the necessity of sending us all together. I am always ready to lead my men to face the Enemy, but we could choose another destination..."

"You will do as it is decided!" Elendil roared. "That's an order! Free!" the King turned his back to Ohtar.

The Numenorian's jaw muscles were to tightly pressed together, that he found it difficult to open his mouth to answer:

"Yes, sir!" Then he left the room. But he didn't return to his own chamber. He went out and started running. He hadn't had a good excercise while at the palace, and he needed it badly. Moreover, he needed to pour out his anger to be able to control himself at the gala. Ivorcheneb... So that was the name of the elf he was to follow, like a sheep! And his men, what were to think, how were they to feel, being led by elves and by a captain who didn't have a slightest idea where they were going? That was Ohtar's greatest concern. He would survive this humiliation, but would the men be able to fight their best in this situation? Wouldn't they be forced to deal with a certain enemity among the group? Ohtar was really mad himself, and he would need every bit of his will not to let out the hate that lived within him now, towards an elf he didn't even know!

Hours were passing by, and still ge was running, swimming, climbing rocks, until he sat down, exhausted. He looked at the Sun already touching the tops of the trees. He would do his best to get this mission accomplished, to make it a success. Whatever the cost to himself.

The night he spent in the branches of a large oak. For reasons unclear to himself, Ohtar especially loved oaks. Most part of the next day he spent on different excercises, before returning to the palace. He entered the big gate already at dusk. The two guards were just about stopping him when they recognized the Numenorian that had arrived with Prince Anarion.

***That night***

The lights in the Main Hall were alredy on, and a sweet music was flowing through the open windows. Ohtar had no wish whatever to go there, knowing what lay ahead. If it weren't for that, he would have loved a party, all those ellith in beautiful garbs, exquisite cuisine... and so on, and so on. Ohtar quickly washed himself and was about to put on his old clothes again, when he found a fine tunic, dark green with silver, left on his bed. With a smirk, he threw it away, then changed his mind. Yes, he would put it on. The anger dreaded to take hold of him again, as he hurried to the Main Hall.

So deep was he in his thoughts that he didn't notice an elf coming his way. If the elf hadn't stopped, they would have crashed one into another. Shame for his own gaucherie burnt his face.

"I am Faevathor, of Ivorcheneb's Company," the elf said, extending a hand. And suddenly Ohtar recognized the elf. It was the one whose wife had been killed. He would have felt sympathy, if not for the last words, that he was from Ivorcheneb's company. But an elementary courtesy was not to be neglected.

"Ohtar," he said, extending his own hand. As he hurried on, his thoughts rushed back to the conversation he had had wit King Elendil.

So, they were to travel together.
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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Post RE: Dartho Annin An-uir: Be With Me Always
on: November 19, 2003 10:22
Cirya woke to the brilliant sunshine in her face, it's golden rays casting light hearted shadows about the room. She realized she had woken late, and glanced around her surroundings, already remembering that she would leave in almost a day or two's time. Sitting up sleepily and stretching herself out of bed, she walked to the window and looked out, facing the front of the castle. She thought about yesterday, and her encounter with the elleth and ellon accompanied by a younger woman. The younger elleth with the flute had seemed familiar to her; maybe she had seen her around the house, which was odd, but unavoidable sometimes. She sighed sleepily, and took in the scene outside.

Her wandering eyes fell on the gate, and what she saw there captured her attention. She could clearly see the two young guards at the gate, provoking the older, ragged looking elleth. Upon closer inspection, she realized that the man was from Mirkwood for his style of clothing could only belong to those rustic elves.

Handsome, but he needs a change of clothes. She thought, wrinkling her nose at what he must smell like after being on the road for so long. She was a great advocate of cleanliness*, not particularily organized and certainly not obsessive, but she was clean. She noticed someone walking up the drive and pulling their sword and trying to ward off the stranger. Cirya hoped tht they wouldn't send the man away, he looked like he needed a nice long bath. If only they could give him that! Cirya radiated hospitality, and found many of the inhabitants of the castle rude. Just because she was a bit of a recluse did not mean that she wouldn't help someone she saw he needed little help, unlike some of the others she saw here. Even strangers where worthy, she thought, especially of Elven blood. She had never understood the rift between her race who lived in different palces. Of course, it was all political with everyone vying for their own kingdoms among the Eldar. Yet, she still did not see why that would cause such hostile intentions to rise up between those once brothers.

She scowled to herself, deciding that she would make a difference. She dressed quickly but inm one of her better dresses so that if she was countered in her wishes, the rich look of the dress would imply her status and she would not be disputed. Catching a servant girl who happened to know her on her way out, she bid the young elleth to accompany her to the gate.

((*Cleanliness is next to Eru! LoL. Sorry, it's been a tiring week, my Opa died and things have been hectic. I hope you'll forgive me for my lack of posting Rudhwethiel!))

[Edited on 2/03/2000 by moonletters]

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[Edited on 19/11/2003 by CarolP]
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Post RE: Dartho Annin An-uir: Be With Me Always
on: November 19, 2003 08:45
After Saida left Pallando's rooms, she returned to her own. Caun was there, minus the two ellith from the garden. He lounged in one of the fine chairs, his eyes closed and his head leaned against the chair's back. He cracked one eye open when she entered, then closed it back.

"Where are they?" Saida asked. Caun shrugged lazily. "I lost them when we got back here. Pity . . . they weren't bad looking. One could get used to such." Saida just rolled her eyes and took a seat near him, searching his face almost hungrily. "Where did you go, Caun? Why did you not stay?"

He moved restlessly in his chair. "I had no reason to stay. Gelladar was with you again, the dragon was dead, and you had another to look out for you.

"Speaking of whom," Caun continued without giving her time to respond, "I hear he has disappeared, to return in two day's time. I hope you haven't grown too very fond of him. I would hate to see you the wreck you were but a short time ago as a result of giving your heart to someone. We aren't fitted to love, Saida."

Saida's temper flared at his words, but she could not deny there was an underlying sting in them. "You do not know what you speak of, Caun. You would do well to keep your imaginings to yourself instead of parading them in the open."

Caun opened his eyes and smiled a slow, sardonic smile. "And you, dear cousin, would do well to heed your own advice. His eyes trailed down her throat to where the mithril dragon pendant lay. She knew instantly what he meant, and her face flushed. "You know nothing!"

The next two days dragged by unbearably slow. Everytime Saida grew restless she felt Caun's eyes upon her and resolved to conceal her agitation. Since she and Ivor had first traveled together on their first journey in the North, they had not been parted for this long. She would rather be tortured than to admit it, but she felt his absence keenly. He was the one good and stable thing left in a world that seemed to be going mad.

Finally, late in the afternoon on the second day, she could bear it no longer. The palace walls had become a prison; Caun, an unsympathetic companion. She grabbed her cloak and left the palace, determined not to search for Ivor. Regardless of her intentions, however, she soon found herself approaching the gates. This made her angry- she had never actually chased an ellon before!

Furious with herself and blushing from shame, she turned to go before anyone saw her. But then she heard the sound of a horse's hooves against the hard ground, a dancing gait that was unmistakeable. She turned back, to see Ivor leading Celeg through the gates. As she ran to meet him her relief channeled itself into the only outlet she seemed capable of: anger.

“Where have you been?” she hissed. Ivorcheneb’s shoulders dropped and he raised one hand to massage his temple. “I needed to think…” he began. But her fury would not be quelled. “Think?!… We are leaving tomorrow at mid-day!!” “Yes!” Ivorcheneb said wearily as he lifted his eyes to meet her gaze. “Tomorrow we go to war Saida!…And that means that I may not return!… None of us may.”


The fire in her breast suddenly died, gone as swiftly as it came. His words struck her like a blow. She searched his face, noting how very weary he looked. All she could think of was how very much she longed to give him a place to rest for a while; to hold him and let the cares that weighed so heavily upon his strong and beautiful brow be borne away swiftly and silently on the wings of the night.

His hair was wind-blown from the long ride, and a stray leaf had attatched itself to one of his braids. Gently she removed it, standing on her toes to reach. He whispered her name as the busy street faded away; each lost to the nearness of the other. What words would have followed neither ever knew, for at that moment there was a disturbance at the gate. Ivor immediately moved away from Saida and ran in the direction of the tumult, drawing his sword as he ran.

Saida and Celeg stared at one anther in surprise for a moment, then she smiled sadly and stroked the horse's face. He rubbed his head against her, and shook himself mightily. This brought even a small laugh to Saida's lips, but it was silenced almost immediately. For when the horse shook himself, the unsecured saddle bag flew open and a small object fell to the ground. With a pounding heart she picked it up, knowing what it was before she even touched it. An elleth's silk handkerchief, certainly not hers- the kind given as tokens to loved ones riding into battle.

For long moments she stood there and stared at it. "Saida, you are a fool," she whispered to herself, biting her bottom lip to hold back tears. Roughly she stuffed the piece of cloth back into the saddlebag and disappeared into the crowd. Celeg looked around in bewilderment as he found himself abandoned once again.

***********************************

"Le hannon, mellon nín. Geveditham ne minuial.*" Turning then, Faevathor headed for his room.


Súlfalas left Fae and went to his own chambers. Knowing he would not get much sleep that night due to the celebration, he lay down on his bed and slept for a few hours. He slept as he always did, on his left side with his head resting on his bent left arm and his right arm outstretched to cradle a form that had not lain under its protection for many years. It was a habit born out of love rather than repetition, and for that reason it was slow to fade from his consciousness.

As any trained warrior can, he awoke himself at the precise time he had planned and rose to dress for the gala. From his limited store of clothing he chose his finest tunic and breeches; both of jet-black cloth. They fit the countours of his powerful body to perfection; the agile muscles of his upper body and legs rippling under the cloth as he moved. Carefully he braided the sides of his hair, wincing when the comb snagged one of his earrings. He left the gleaming length of his hair in the back to flow freely down.

Finally he buckled on his sword-belt. The hematite set into the belt and the sword's hilt stood put against the silver metal of the weapon. It was time to go- Ivor would have returned by now and would be wanting a report of the progress that had been made in his absence. And Súlfalas was resolved to pay one more visit to Fae that evening, to check on his comrade and see if there was anything that he needed before Súl gave himself up to the wine and song of the gala.




((That is QUITE all right, Moonie dear! Take care of yourself first, we'll be here! PM if you need anything at any time!))


Faenauliel
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Post RE: Dartho Annin An-uir: Be With Me Always
on: November 20, 2003 12:38
Ivorcheneb watched as the ellon held his hands out to his sides, level with the shoulders. Seeing no threat, Ivor removed his hand from the hilt of his sword and waited to hear the answer to his question.

“I am Faramond, former Captain of the Guard of Greenwood. I come to pledge my allegiance to the true King.”


Former Captain? thought Ivor. He knew that the warrior standing before him was an honorable one. Something serious must have happened to make this Captain turn away from his King...and—more importantly—his own men. Knowing that King Oropher was impetuous and easily angered, Ivor could guess what had happened. The Elves of Greenwood were ill equipped for such a campaign as they all now faced, and Ivorcheneb feared for them. Try as he might, he could not convince Oropher that his troops would fare far better if allied with their western brethren…Faramond must have challenged his King’s decision…though, surely, he must have known that it would destroy his own standing within King Oropher’s court.

Ivorcheneb looked at each of the palace guards in turn. “Stand down. He is our friend and ally…and shall be welcomed here.” The guards reluctantly lowered their weapons and bowed their heads in respect. “As you wish, Gon Ivorcheneb,” one said as the two turned and went back to their post. I am never going to grow accustomed to being addressed so, he thought.

Turning to Faramond, he smiled. “Your knowledge and experience will serve us well,” Ivor said. “But, let me say that I am sorry that we must gain your aid at such a cost to yourself, Mellon—for I know you are not one to have chosen to leave your troops. No matter how bleak their chances may appear.”

Faramond smiled wanly. “Le hannon, Ivorcheneb,” he stated simply. His voice and eyes held a weariness which was born of more than the distance he had traveled. “Come… I shall help find you a room so you may get cleaned up and rest. Then I shall take you to inform the King that you have come to join us.”

Ivor walked back to Celeg and looked about…Saida had disappeared again. He sighed, but a soft smile touched the corners of his lips. In his mind, he saw her as she reached up to pluck the stray leaf from his braid. At that moment he had seen an open tenderness in her eyes that she had never shown before. Her gaze had held a warmth that he had only previously seen when she had held Gelladar. And it gave him hope anew.

“Hîr nín?” Faramond’s voice startled Ivor out of his reverie. “A!…Forgive me… Let me just take Celeg to the stable and we shall get you to your rest.” As they proceeded further into the palace courtyard, Ivor saw the bright decorations and wood stacked high for a bon-fire. “It looks as if there is to be a celebration,” Faramond stated, clearly amused at the very irony of the whole situation. Ivor and Faramond looked at one another for a moment. Then they both smiled, shaking their heads. “Well…Then I suppose we should both get cleaned up!” Ivor laughed.

As they entered the garden, they were met by an elleth and her servant. Ivor had seen the elleth about the palace on occasion and believed her to be called Cirya. “Le suilannon, Hiril nín,” he addressed her. “Le suilannon,” she answered. “From my window, I saw a disturbance at the gate,” she continued hesitantly. “Is… everything alright?” Ivor nodded. “Indeed it is. This,” he said motioning to Faramond, “is Gon Faramond of Greenwood. He is to be a guest here tonight, and shall go forth with us tomorrow.” Ivor turned to the maiden’s attendant. “Would you be so kind as to show our guest to a room?” she bowed and nodded. “Yes, my Lord.” Faramond thanked Ivor for his help. “I shall make my self presentable, then I will seek you out again so that I may speak with the King.”

Ivor watched as Faramond was led off through the garden and into the palace beyond. He turned back to Cirya. “Forgive me, my Lady. I must away also, as I look very unpresentable myself.” Cirya giggled and he turned to go. “A!” Ivor called to her over his shoulder. “If you see Lady Saida about…Would you please tell her that I wish to speak further with her this night?” “Yes, my Lord,” she answered. Then he continued on toward the stable.

Celeg was reluctant to enter the stable. He danced to each side and turned his head, pulling his reigns free from Ivor’s strong hands. He had tasted, once again, the thrill of racing along the open road; and was reluctant to be trammeled up again. “Celeg!” Ivor hissed. The stalion shook his large head and stomped in frustration. The ellon could not hold back his laughter. “Have you ever seen such impudence?” he playfully asked the stable-boy, who giggled in delight. “No, my Lord… Never!” he answered. Ivor faced the steed. “Do not despair, my friend. For in a few days time you will have had your fill of travel.” Celeg blew a haughty breath through his nostrils to express his disgust at such a thought, then reluctantly let himself be led into his stall.

******
Ivor returned to his quarters and washed away the dust from his travels. He dressed nicely for the coming gala, then set about rewinding his long braid. By the time he had finished, he could hear a soft music from the Great Hall downstairs. A soft knock sounded upon his door. “Enter!” he called, and Faramond let himself in. “A! You are here…Good,” Ivor greeted him. “It sounds as if the party has begun!…Let us go down, as I am sure we will see the King there.”

They entered the Great Hall to see that a large crowd had already gathered. Ivor’s eyes wandered through the large room in hopes of seeing Saida and was instead met with Súlfalas’ sardonic smile as he came to join them. “My Captain returns!” he laughed. “And I report that all preparations are made and the troops are set to leave by mid-day tomorrow.” Ivorcheneb introduce his companions to one another. Then he turned appologetically to Súlfalas, “Forgive my absence, Súlfalas…I needed to clear my mind.” “Say no more,” Súlfalas replied seriously. “I understand.” Then, with a mischievous wolf-like grin, he added. “But remember…You owe me in abundance!”

Ivor smiled, then the music took a lively turn. All three turned their heads toward the band and listened for a moment. Then Ivor leaned a bit closer to Súl. Lowering his voice, Ivor asked, “How is Faevathor?” Súl only shrugged, his eyes indicating that they both knew there were no words to describe their friends state of mind. Ivorcheneb’s brow furrowed and he nodded his understanding.
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Post RE: Dartho Annin An-uir: Be With Me Always
on: November 20, 2003 02:40
How long he had aimlessly wandered the palace halls, Faevathor didn't know. He saw both everything and nothing as he did so, and the ever-present music from the gala was a discordant melody to the ache in his heart.

At length, though, he grew tired of even the palace halls, and sought the serenity of one of the gardens. The music was louder, being outside, but the gentle sounds of water falling in a nearby fountain did help mask it some.

Finding a bench, Fae sat, leaned his head back, and closed his eyes. He remembered another garden, far away, many years before.

"Nathach hervess nín*?" The elleth's blue eyes had shone with tears, even as she had answered his question. He - they - had been happy then, and had stayed among the fragrant blossoms for hours - walking, talking, letting the world around them pass them by.

"Ai, Elvainiel!" he whispered, and felt the tears again stinging his eyelids. Faevathor tried to rid his mind of such memories, and knew that it was of no use.

Opening his eyes again, he sat, staring into nothingness and waiting for the dawn of another endless day. The day he would go to war - and he was glad.


* Will you be my wife?



[Edited on 20/11/2003 by gwendeth]
"Tolo si, a tiro i cherth Eru" "Come now, and see the works of God"
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Post RE: Dartho Annin An-uir: Be With Me Always
on: November 20, 2003 05:20
As soon as Ohtar entered the brightly lit room, he felt as if being surrounded by laughter and smiles, and music. He got confused, at first, with so many beautiful ellith around him. He went to the large table for a drink, when his eye caught a lovely couple: two ellith with grey eyes and dark hair, obviously sisters. Both of them were clad in shining grey that mached their mysterious eyes, and made it impossible to tell them apart.
Ohtar took an exquisite crystal glass filled with a deep red liquid. It smelled like wine. And it was wine, the best he had ever tried. He looked around for Isildur or anybody else from Men, but his sight was brought back to the ellith. One of them had disappeared, but the other one didn't lower her eyes when meeting Ohtar's. He arched his eyebrow, questioningly, and she smiled.

"Will you dance with me?" he turned to see the other sister standing in front of him.

"But of course, fair lady!" he answered a little bewildered. He wasn't used to be the one invited for a dance.

"My apologies. I should have asked you first. But I'm afraid I have forgotten how to dance..."

The elleth just laughed. And Ohtar found that his memory was better than he had thought. The dace lessons from his childhood came back to him, and there were only a few parts when he had the steps mixed. When the dance was over, he brought her to her sister and extended his palm to her:

"May I ask you for the next dance, My Lady?"

Now, that was far more easy and pleasant than he had thought before. After half an hour or more he noticed Elendil staring darkly at him, and the real purpose of his coming to the gala came back to him. He excused himself from the sisters and their equally beautiful friends that had been keeping him company and strode over the whole large Hall to stand before his King. Now he saw clearly that not only joy was present in the ball. Sorrow and dark expectations were almost palpable, barely hidden behind smiles and music.

"My Lord," he saluted.

"While you've been having fun here," Elendil spoke seriously, "we here have been thinking about war. Come, you have to meet Captain Ivorcheneb. And later King Gil-Galad will be wanting to talk to you both, but only after the ball," King Elendil turned knowing that Ohtar would follow. Ohtar couldn't figure out whether the King had indeed meant to insult him. Was anything wrong with his ability to have fun? He had no intention to be grim all the time just because there was a war close at hand. Or maybe it was because of the ellith? Isildur joined them.

"Care for another glass of wine?" he asked Ohtar.

"No, thanks," he answered. "I'm in no mood for that."

"Oh, but you were just a minute ago, what has changed?"

"A lot," Ohtar growled. "You know, if I compare the company of your father and that of several beautiful ellith..." he paused meaningfully, throwing a quick glance at the King in front of him.

Isildur boomed a laughter and received an angry look from his father, but it didn't bother him at all.

"So, where are you two heading, so friendly?"

They were approaching a group of three tall elves. One of them, the dark one, Ohtar had noted before, then there were two blond ellyn. One he definitely hadn't met before, but the other... Ohtar's eyes narrowed as he noted his long braid. Could it be the one he had met the first day when he arrived...?

Before he could answer to Isildur's question, Elendil stopped at the group. Ohtar frowned. One of them? His eyes fell on the elf he didn't know.

"Captain Ivorcheneb?" Elendil spoke.

To Ohtar's surprise and great anticipation the ellon with the long braid swung around to face the King:

"Yes, Hîr nin?" he answered with deepest respect in his voice.

"I'd like to introduce you to the Captain Ohtar who will be commanding the group of Numenorian warriors accompanying you on your quest. Ohtar? This is Captain Ivorcheneb."

The man and the elf exchanged icy glances. Ohtar didn't even try to hide his dislike. The further the better, he thought, feeling his blood rising to his face. In the elf's crystal blue eyes he read the recognition and disrespect, and he wandered, if this indeed was the best man Gil-Galad had. With delay he remembered that hands were to be shaken, and this fact also didn't slip unnoticed by those strange blue eyes.

"Captain Ohtar is informed that you will be leaving tomorrow early, only the exact timing is to be agreed..." Elendil spoke on, not even noticing that this was offending Ohtar greatly. Informed that you will be leaving! As if he were a mere servant who has to prepare for the maters' departure! Ohtar squeezed the elf's hand stronger than he should have, before he realized what he was doing.

"We will leave at dawn," Ivorcheneb stated, his face completely emotionless.

"Captain Ohtar, I believe you have informed your men about the mission?" Elendil asked. Ohtar stared at him in disbelief. Couldn't he really see that he was humiliating Ohtar in the eyes of the elf?! The King was treating him like a first-year soldier who had no idea at all bout his duties and obligations!

"Yes, sir. Of course I have," Ohtar slowly said, his dark eyes dangerously ablaze. If the King won't stop...

"Well then, it is settled. Have a nice evening, sirs!" he went away, and Isildur followed, smirking.

Ohtar turned his gaze towards Ivorcheneb.

"I believe the King Gil-Galad wished to speak to us both at the end of the ball. I shall meet you then. Until that time, enjoy the ball," he said as politely as he could. He needed to get out, he felt like choking, he needed fresh air... And certainly nobody around!

Ohtar hurried out of the hall into the garden.

As soon as the bustle of the party was left behind, Ohtar felt he could breathe more free. But he was still too close, so he walked further and deeper in the garden. The tender darknes surrounded him, and he plunged into thought.

He hated when King Elendil did things like this last one, but the King just seemed not to notice. He was always like that. He was a very wize person and indeed learned in lore and such... But he was so unbearably blind when it came to peopleš feelings! He started running. The look in that elf's eyes, it made him want to hit somebody, to...

There was a sound of falling water nearby. Ohtar turned there. He reached a small meadow beside a little pool, and in the middle of the pool there was a fountain, representing a young woman surrounded by a circle of fish spewing water. Ohtar sped up and dived in the pool with a great splash, delighted to feel the fresh cool liquid wrapping him...

Suddenly his head hit something hard. The pool had been too shallow. Blue lights dashed in front of his eyes, the world was spinning around, he twitched, not sure where the "upside" was, water filled his mouth, he started choking...

Two strong arms grabbed him and pulled him out. It turned out that the water was exactly as deep to reach a man's throat when he was sitting in it. Ohtar sat down, coughing, then looked up. In front of him stood an elf that seemed slightly shaky. Then he suddenly slipped and fell in the water just across Ohtar. Both of them sat there for a while, looking at each other. Ohtar recognized him, it was... Faevathor... or something like that...

Suddenly Ohtar became aware of the absurdity of the situation. Here they both were, sitting up to their necks in a fountain, and a squirt of water falling on their heads. Unwillingly his lips twitched, the corners of his mouth slipped up, and then he burst out in an uncontrollable laughter. He was laughing as he imagined himself running and diving beautifully, and then butting against the bottom of the fountain, and almost drowning in a kiddie-pool... He rolled with laughter, and saw the elf giving him a puzzled look. Ohtar tried to tell him that it was not him he was laughing about, but just wasn't able to. Then Fae's face lost its uptight expression and softened, then a faint smile appeared. Ohtar extended his hand to help the elf up, but both of them slipped and fell back in the water again. Ohtar's roaring laughter was joined by Fae's softer one, letting out all the tension that had been laying hard on each of them, until they finally fell silent, exhausted.

Ohtar extended his hand again.

"No, we'll fall in again," Fae said, still giggling.

"I promise," Ohtar said with an accent, "that I won't let you fall, the corners of his lips twitching. Carefully, holding together, they stood up.

"O-ops!" Ohtar grabbed the elf, as his feet dreaded to choose each it's own direction.

"The floor here is slippery," Fae announced as if discovering a new land.

"Yeah, I noticed."

Inch by inch, holding each other in a tight embrace, they finally reaced the dry land and stepped out of the water. Ohtar shaked his head. Now this was an adventure least expected by him this night!

[Edited on 20/11/2003 by Nifredil]

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[Edited on 20/11/2003 by CarolP]
We still remember, we who dwell In this far land, beneath the trees The starlight on the Western seas...
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Post RE: Dartho Annin An-uir: Be With Me Always
on: November 20, 2003 07:19
(Backtracking only slightly )

Faramond was relieved at the reception he received from Ivor. He was not looking forward to a fight. Ivor had been astute in his judgment of events that had Faramond to Mithlond. He wondered if had been that obvious. Pushing these thoughts aside to await a later time, he followed Ivor as he led him to where his horse stood. Faramond noticed that Ivor appeared to have been taken into some sort of trance and wondered if there were something wrong.

“Hîr nín?” Faramond ventured to ask, his voice harsh and low as he was weary from his days of travel and wished more than anything to have council with the King. Faramond was unsure of how the King would react to his presence or if he would even believe Faramond’s story for he himself scarcely believed it. Hopefully, he would be as gracious and understanding as Ivor had been.

As they entered the gardens, they were met by two lovely elleths. Ivor made introductions and soon Faramond was lead to a room. The rooms in the palace were light and airy, not like his room back in Greenwood. Faramond waited for the woman to return with fresh garbs for him. Faramond thanked her and graciously took them. Once the elleth had left, Faramond held the tunic up so he could see it better. It was in the style of Gil-Galad’s people. Faramond closed his eyes and looked away. It was happening now, and there was nothing he could do about it. Faramond had betrayed his people, but he did so out of love for them. He wondered if any would understand. He washed, dressed, then braided a small amount of his hair in two small braids in the front which he pulled back and tied firmly. He stood before the full-length mirror and surveyed himself.

Great sorrow filled his heart as he looked back to the garment which lay crumpled on the floor. Never again would he be able to wear the garments of his house for he knew that he had already been named a traitor upon his people’s lips. He could never go back, and if Gil-Galad did not welcome him, then he had no place to go. A knock at the door brought his attention back to the present. The young girl returned to take his filthy garments. Faramond bent and picked them up off the floor. Sighing deeply, he handed them gently to the woman and took her hand softly.

“Please, do not return these. Thrown them out for I shall no longer be in need of them.” He asked in a gentle, whispering voice. The elleth nodded to him, slightly confused. Faramond donned his sword and decided it was time to find Ivor. As the girl was about to leave, Faramond stopped her.

“Would you be so as to do me one more service?” He politely asked of her. The girl nodded and awaited his request. “Could you take me to Ivorcheneb? I am supposed to meet with him but I have no idea as to where I might find him.”

The girl nodded. “Follow me then.” She said in a quiet voice. Faramond followed her through the many passages until finally they reached a room with its door slightly opened.

“Here are his chambers, you should find inside.” The elleth bowed gracefully. Faramond nodded his thanks and turned to knock on the large wooden door. A call came from within.

“Enter!” he called, and Faramond let himself in. “A! You are here…Good,” Ivor greeted him. “It sounds as if the party has begun!…Let us go down, as I am sure we will see the King there.”

Together, they made their way to a large room near the center of the structure. Many people were already gathered there, some dancing merrily, some drinking of ales and wines, and others just talking. Faramond was in no mood for any of that. He had put on a strong, proud exterior when in fact he was slightly nervous inside as he anticipated his meeting with the King. A man with dark hair (I hope that’s right) approached them; Súlfalas was his name, as Faramond would later learn.

“My Captain returns!” he laughed. “And I report that all preparations are made and the troops are set to leave by mid-day tomorrow.” Ivorcheneb introduce his companions to one another. Then he turned apologetically to Súlfalas, “Forgive my absence, Súlfalas…I needed to clear my mind.” “Say no more,” Súlfalas replied seriously. “I understand.” Then, with a mischievous wolf-like grin, he added. “But remember…You owe me in abundance!”

My captain returns… Faramond would miss such enthusiasm from his own men. Indeed, he missed it already. This Súlfalas appeared to be Ivor’s second in command from the sounds of things. Introductions were barely made when three men approached them. Faramond regarded them through slightly curious eyes. The realization that the Elves were to fight side-by-side with men only now came to bear fruit in his mind. It was not a rumor to him anymore, but the truth. Faramond narrowed his eyes slightly at the one introduced as Ohtar. There was something about him, a look of disdain or otherwise, that gave Faramond a bad taste in his mouth.

"I believe the King Gil-Galad wished to speak to us both at the end of the ball. I shall meet you then. Until that time, enjoy the ball," he said as politely as he could before he took his leave.

Faramond had remained silent through the whole scene. “So, it is true then. The Alliance has been forged.” He whispered silently as things began to sink in. Faramond then noticed three young elleths smiling and staring at them. He closed his eyes and pictured Marissa, so fresh those wounds still were. He had time to ponder their relationship during his journey to Mithlond. Though Faramond still loved her, she had made her decision; she chose to let him go freely. The elleths made their way over to the trio. Faramond thought he recognized one of them from earlier, a lovely maiden with blushing cheeks, but he was not sure.

“Aren’t you going to ask us to dance?” She asked of Faramond with a shy smile as she twirled her dress sheepishly about her ankles. The other elleths smiled at Ivor and Súlfalas. Faramond just stared at them then lowered his gaze. He loved to dance, and he was quite skilled at it for he practiced dancing dutifully, since the balance and flexibility it developed helped his sword play immensely. But he had never danced with any save Marissa and only a few others. Ivor gave Faramond a wink and a quick nudge as though to tell him to go for it.

“Perhaps not ladies, you see our friend here is from Greenwood, and everyone knows that they cannot dance there.” Ivor playfully chided. Faramond knew what Ivor was up to and decided to play along. Besides, he decided it would at least take his mind off matters if only for a few minutes. Bowing his tall frame gracefully, he offered his hand. “Might I have this dance?”

Faramond smiled mischievously over to Ivor as he offered the maiden his hand. He felt as though a friendship could, and perhaps had already begun to, be forged between himself and the Captain of Gil-Galad’s forces. The elleth took his hand quickly and firmly. To his surprise, she rather rushed him eagerly out onto the floor, almost catching him off his feet. She was an excellent dancer and together, the two of them glided gracefully and effortlessly across the floor. Faramond failed to notice whether the others had followed or not for the gently motion of the dance eased his mind and he focused on nothing more.
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Post RE: Dartho Annin An-uir: Be With Me Always
on: November 20, 2003 11:22
Faevathor was startled out of his reverie when someone ran into the garden. Before Fae could identify who it was, they dove into the shallow fountain. Immediately he jumped up, leapt in himself, and started to pull them up. The bottom of the fountain, however, was covered with slime - enough so that it defied even his elven balance.

Finally standing on dry land, their clothes dripping from their immersion, Fae's mouth still quivered with amusement. And then, a stunning thought entered his mind: he had laughed! That he could still do so was a revelation. Perhaps...perhaps it was an omen that he would survive the depths of his despair. After all, Ivor and Súl had done so.

He silently regarded the man in front of him, for it was Ohtar who had nearly been drowned, and then he smiled ruefully. "Next time, you might want to make sure the water is deep enough before you decide to swim."

Ohtar laughed at that, and Fae smiled more widely. Shaking his head, the Elf said, "I think a glass of wine might be in order. After I get into something that is not soaking wet." He looked at Ohtar speculatively. "Will you join me?"

Ohtar, a smile still playing on his lips, nodded. Bowing slightly then, Fae indicated he would follow the Numenorian and turned back toward the door. Then, the Elf and the Man headed back into the palace, their shoes squishing water and their clothes dripping water onto the floor as they went.


[Edited on 21/11/2003 by gwendeth]
"Tolo si, a tiro i cherth Eru" "Come now, and see the works of God"
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Post RE: Dartho Annin An-uir: Be With Me Always
on: November 20, 2003 06:28
Ivorcheneb and Súlfalas laughed out loud as they watched Faramond dance about to the lively music. Feeling eyes upon him, Ivor turned and found himself looking down into the hopeful faces of the other two ellith. He laughed nervously. “Shall we,” one of them asked him sweetly. She had woven her arm around his own. Ivor’s crystal-blue eyes grew wide and he faced Súlfalas, giving his friend a look which clearly stated ‘save me’.

“Nae, Hiril nín!” Súl’s voice was full of feigned disappointment. “But Gil-galad has called us to a meeting…Perhaps some other time?” The ellith sighed as Ivor motioned to Faramond that they must be going. Fara thanked the maiden for the dance and joined Súl and Ivor as they walked away. As soon as they left the Hall, making their way to the banquet in the courtyard beyond, Súlfalas burst into laughter.

“Ai, my friend…I have never before seen an ellon so frightened!" Ivorcheneb looked at him, narrowing his eyes in mock annoyance. “So,” Súl continued. “What is her name?” Ivor rolled his eyes, “Who?” “The one who has such a hold on your heart as to make you terrified to have that elleth upon your arm,” Súl replied knowingly. Ivor smiled, trying hard not to let the nervous laughter take hold of him again. “A! There is Gil-galad now!” Ivor stated, then he quickened his pace and approached the King.

“My Lord,” he said, bowing his head low. “A! Ivor… How fare you this evening?” Ivor spoke briefly with Gil-galad, then turned to his new friend. “My Lord… this is Faramond…He has much experience and wishes to join-“ Gil-galad’s brow furrowed and he interrupted quickly. “Faramond?…Yes… I know the name. Experience indeed. Are you not Captain of the Guard under Oropher of Greenwood?” Faramond faced Gil-galad respectfully, but his gaze did not falter. “Indeed I was, my Liege…but no more.” Fara’s voice did not betray the fear that Ivor knew he must feel.

Gil-galad raised his chin a bit and regarded Faramond solemnly. “I am listening…” he said. Faramond did not hesitate. “I encouraged King Oropher to reconsider joining his forces with your own… I betrayed my King and my people. But did so because I could not lead my men into certain slaughter when there was another choice.”

Ivor looked from the King to Faramond nervously. The King’s face grew hard. “Then you understand that I can not put my own people at risk. How am I to know that you would be loyal to me?” His eyes were uncompromising. “I shall vouch for him, my Lord!” Both the King and Faramond faced Ivor with surprise upon their faces. Gil-galad raised his eyebrows questioningly at Ivorcheneb. “If he should prove to be a spy…then my life would be forfeit.” “Very well,” the King replied. He faced Faramond. “Gon Ivorcheneb trusts you with his life…And that is good enough for me. You shall join Ivor’s company.”

Then Gil-galad turned to Ivor. “There is to be a meeting with the Númenoreans after the gala…It shall be in the Councilroom. Now…go on and have a good time.” Ivor turned to go, but looked back as the King called after him. “Ivor!…Give my regards to Saida,” he added with a wink. Ivor nodded politely then turned and walked away…his two companions close behind. “Saida, eh?” Súlfalas teased. “Hmmmm… and I was thinking of asking her to dance.” Ivor glared at him playfully and said, “Not another word.”
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Post RE: Dartho Annin An-uir: Be With Me Always
on: November 20, 2003 08:35
Back in her chamber, Saida debated going to the gala at all. Perhaps Ivor would not even notice if she failed to attend. And if the owner of the token was there . . . she ground her teeth together at the thought. She would NOT be a slave to her own idiocy! Her eyes darkened to orbs of obsidan.

An hour later she emerged from her room, arrayed in a breathtaking gown of silver. The dress was far more daring than those she had worn before at the palace, with a tightly fitting bodice and a shape that clung prevocatively to the curves of her slender, lithe body. Her masses of black hair were piled on top of her head, a few stray tendrils falling about her face. A stargazer lily was tucked among the curls at the crown of her head. A dangerous gleam was in her eyes. Aye, battle was coming . . .

Caun met her in the hall, and raised an eyebrow at her appearance. "Good to see that you have finally come to your senses. Although I suppose I shall have to spend the evening defending your honor." Saida smiled humorlessly. "Not much left to defend, dear cousin. Now run along and play like a good boy." Caun bowed gracefully and departed, leaving her to enter the great hall alone.

The sounds of music met her ears as she reached the open doors. A flute played by the small elleth from the garden, strings, and beautiful voices mingled in exsquisite harmony.
She stood for a moment in the open door, fully aware of the effect of her appearance was having on those near her.

As if in a dream she drifted into the hall, feeling almost lightheaded. And I haven't had a single glass of wine yet . . . Ivor stood on the other side of the room, a beautiful elleth at his side with her arm entertwined with his. Saida watched them, and felt . . . nothing.

Some nameless, faceless ellon was at her side, asking for a dance. Like a wraith she allowed herself to be led out onto the floor, not knowing when the dance began or ended, or what she had said or done. It was all a dream . . . until she came face-to-face with Pallando. All the colors and sounds of the world came back to her with jarring speed.

Smoothly he took her in his arms and led her into an intricate dance, one requiring such concentration that talk was out of the question. As a hunter wields a bow, so he drew her and coaxed the rhythm of the dance from her body. His eyes held hers in an unbreakable gaze, and for once she did not flinch. They made a spectacular couple, the powerful Istari and the dark elleth of the North.

Finally, after what seemed like years, the music faded and the dance ended. Without a word she left him, and he let her go. She saw Ivor again through the crowd, the other elleth nowhere in sight. This was her time, the answers or the ending to all the thoughts she had kept buried deep in her heart. There were two others with him . . . all the better. She took a deep breath, held her head up, and began the forever long walk across the hall.

A path opened for her, many casting wondering glances in her direction as she passed, before returning to their own activities. On she walked . . . he had seen her now. All faded but the light in his eyes.







[Edited on 26/11/2003 by Rudhwethiel]
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Post RE: Dartho Annin An-uir: Be With Me Always
on: November 21, 2003 06:09
The Elf said, "I think a glass of wine might be in order. After I get into something that is not soaking wet." He looked at Ohtar speculatively. "Will you join me?"

Ohtar, a smile still playing on his lips, nodded. Bowing slightly then, Fae indicated he would follow the Numenorian and turned back toward the door.


Walking back to the palace, water in the boots of both of them, Ohtar took a side-look at the elf that seemed deep in his thoughts again. But now he had a differen expression on his face. Now he looked like a man ready for a good battle. And somehow Ohtar feeled glad for it. It accured to him that they would need to fight side by side, and the sense of having a good fighter to cover ones back was very important. It might prove to save ones life...

Ohtar stopped, struck by this thought. Fae stopped, too, looking questioningly at the man: "Is anything wrong?"

Ohtar shaked his head, then extended his hand:

"You saved my life there. If not for you, I would have died in the most stupid way, and for that I owe you gratitude," the men shaked their hands. "I hope I'll have the opportunity to return you this favor, any way. But for now... I owe you, and I owe you greatly."

Fae accepted Ohtar's gratefulness with a quiet dignity. The Numenorian eyed the elf. Then a smile reappeared on his lips.

"Would you mind if we went to the kitchen for that glass of wine? I am in no mood of entering the party again."

Fae didn't smile in return, but he agreed, eagerly, as it seemed to Ohtar. Was the elf avoiding people? It was more than likely.
They agreed to meet at the side entrance to the garden, and Ohtar hurried to his chamber. He found that Elendil (or Isildur, he wasn't really sure about that) had taken a good care of his wardrobe. He had three different outtfits to chose from, all alike. Ohtar raised his eyebrow ironically.

"What a difficult choice! What should I wear, I wonder? Oh well, at least there is something clean and whole to put on," he sighed and changed quickly. He didn't bother to dry his hair, though. Then he thought about sending his men a reminder (he had sent them all an order to be prepared for the next morning as soon as he had returned to the castle). He was sure that the men would be there, but just to be sure... He wasn't ready for another humiliation waiting in the middle of a bunch of elves for his men that are still peacefully sleeping! He ran to the room where Vanrick, the second in his team, lived and qiuckly instructed him to visit the rest of the group. Vanrick, a serious man with snow already in his hair, nodded. He never spent unnecessary words. Ohtar sighed with relief as he hurried back to the garden.

Fae was already there. He was clad in the usual elvish way, something modest.

"Shall we?" Ohtar said inviting him to follow, then stopped, a confused look on his face.

"I must confess I don't have a slightest idea where to look for a kitchen," his smile was a little guilty.

Fae's lips twitched. "Right here, follow me then."

As they entered the busy kitchen, Fae asked one of the maids for two glasses of wine. The girl stared at them in amazement, then brought them two crystal glasses filled with a golden liquid. Ohtar smelled it, and a light smile appeared on his face.

"I am sure that the wines here are far better than they were in Numenor, and to say that is to say much, indeed." He raised his glass. "For the lucky swim, then!" The feeling of home thet the smells of the kitchen gave him, lit soft and warm light in his eyes. One that hadn't been there for... he couldn't even remember how long.
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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Post RE: Dartho Annin An-uir: Be With Me Always
on: November 21, 2003 07:57
"For the lucky swim, then!" Fae raised his own glass and then took an appreciative sip of wine. He was glad that Ohtar hadn't been injured when he dove into the pool. Every fighter would be needed - and soon. The Elf didn't feel like the man 'owed' him anything - he would have done the same for anyone. It was just 'lucky' that Fae had, in fact, been nearby. Somehow, though, he didn't think it was necessary...or wise...to communicate this to Ohtar. The Elf didn't know him well enough - yet.

A glint of amusement appeared in Faevathor's eyes at Ohtar's comment about the wine. His voice was grave though when he said, "Elves do have a talent for wine-making. Perhaps it is the 'aging' process. The wines age while we do not."

Ohtar choked a little as he was indeed taking his first sip of the Elvish wine, and looked at Fae, startled. The twinkle in the Elf's eyes remained as he met the man's glance. Perhaps, Fae thought, the Numenoreon hadn't realized that Elves did have a sense of humor. Or, perhaps, it was that he hadn't realized that Fae would have one - and - Fae was a little surprised at himself. It was the second joke he had made that night. An interesting occurance, considering his recent grief. The thought of his wife's death drove the amusement out of Fae then, and his expression changed as he grappled to control his sadness.

Ohtar saw the return of Faevathor's inner disquiet. Taking another sip of the wine, he hesitated for a moment, and then said, "I am sorry for your loss." Fae looked at Ohtar in surprise. He hadn't known that the Edain had been aware of what had happened. The ellon ruefully shook his head at himself. It just showed how involved in his own thoughts he had been. But, meeting Ohtar's eyes, Fae said quietly, "Le hannon." Ohtar's brow furrowed, not understanding the Elf's words as just then a loud crash occurred behind them.

Startled, the two looked back to see several elleths starting to pick up the broken shards of some dishes that had been accidentally dropped. As they turned around, a brief twinkle appeared along with the sorrow in Faevathor's eyes. "Apologies. I said 'thank you'."

As they enjoyed their drink, Ohtar and Fae continued to chat about various things. The one thing they did not discuss was the coming war. There was time enough for that to come.

At length, though, the two finished their drinks. Fae then made the only comment of the night about the coming hostilities. The ellon held out his hand to Ohtar and said, "I think I will retire now. I will see you in the morning." Ohtar grasped Fae's outstretched hand. "You will indeed," was the man's reply. Nodding then, Fae turned and headed for his room.

As he did so, Fae thought about Ohtar. Nodding to himself, the Elf was pleased that this man would be alongside the elves. He had keenly sensed from Ohtar's muscles and bearing that the Numenoreon was a skilled, solid fighter. Fae had never spent much time with any Edain before, and was surprised to find an odd liking for Ohtar within himself. Was it possible the two could become friends? An intresting idea to ponder. Stretching himself out on his bed for the few hours that remained until daylight, Faevathor tried to focus his mind on that - instead of other things that lay not so hidden within him.


[Edited on 21/11/2003 by gwendeth]
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[Edited on 11/21/2003 by Tasar_Took_Nualda]

[Edited on 21/11/2003 by gwendeth]
"Tolo si, a tiro i cherth Eru" "Come now, and see the works of God"
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Post RE: Dartho Annin An-uir: Be With Me Always
on: November 22, 2003 09:04
Ivor looked up as the crowd parted and saw the keeper of his heart approach. All else faded from his vision, save Saida. She wore a beautiful silver dress which made her grey eyes shine. Within her dark hair, resided a singly Star-gazer Lily. As she came and stood close to Ivor, he could smell the wild sweetness of the flower. The scent fit Saida so well.

He stood in silence, staring down at her, and such was his overwhelming love that he barely drew in a breath. “Dû vaer, Hiril nín!” Sulfalas’ smooth voice came from out of the void and a sharp elbow nudged Ivor’s ribs. Ivor started from his thoughts and remember that others were all about them. “Ai!….Y-yes…Dû vaer….I had so hoped to see you here this night,” he said through soft, nervous laughter.

She smiled up at him and he leaned closer to her. Each moment seemed to last an Age and yet was all too fleeting for Ivor. Ask her to dance, you fool! his mind and heart screamed in unison. He opened his mouth to do so, but no words would come. He seemed to have lost dominion over his rebellious tongue whenever Saida was so near. Ivor swallowed hard, finding his throat a barren desert, and took a deep breath. “Saida,” he finally began, “…Would you like to—“

Suddenly, Pallando was by her side, laughing at some recently ended conversation. He wrapped his left arm familiarly about Saida’s waist. With his right hand he took Saida’s and kissed it tenderly, glancing at Ivorcheneb with defiance in his eyes. “Come, Muinen! Let us dance again!” he said to her, emphasizing the last word. Saida turned into his embrace and gazed up at him, a tender smile upon her full lips. “I would love to!” she replied. She looked at Ivor and smiled, all too sweetly. “Please, excuse me, my Lord. It was nice to see you here.” Then she let the curunír lead her out into the dance.

Ivor felt as if his heart had been pierced by a great sword. Yet again he had allowed himself to think that—perhaps—there was a chance to win her love. And, yet again, she had crushed that hope with sweet cruelty. Yet, also, you know it is impossible for you to give up hope his inner voice whispered. For she is all your heart will ever desire! His blood boiled as he saw the wizard draw Saida close to him.

“Come, Mellon…” Súlfalas threw an arm about Ivor’s shoulders and led him away, Faramond at their side. They made their way to the ale tent in the courtyard and Faramond handed Ivor a pint. There was a great sympathy in Fara’s eyes. “Here, Mellon nín!” Ivor took the drink and drained it in an instant, then he laughed heartily—trying hard to push away the darkness. “Ai! Ellith are troublesome things,” he said through chuckles. But the pain was still evident in his trembling voice. “Ai!” Súl said, laughing in turn. “Indeed they are!” He handed Ivor another pint and all three ellyn raised their cups in a toast. “To brotherhood.” Súlfalas said. “To brotherhood,” they all echoed.
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[Edited on 11/22/2003 by Tasar_Took_Nualda]
moonletters
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Post RE: Dartho Annin An-uir: Be With Me Always
on: November 22, 2003 12:13
Cirya found herself at the ball, steeling herself mentally and trying not to abandon the man who had suddenly asked her to dance, leaving her no room for argument. She had a sneaking suspicsion that King Gil-Galad, who had become a surrogate, if distant, father to her, had put the charming young man up to it. Not that he wasn't nice, but she really felt as if she'd like to be elsewhere.
Someplace where this dratted dress wasn't constricting her movements. No matter how pretty she had thought it to be on her, clinging to and defining her curves while the light blue at the top of the dress faded to a midnight blue down at the hem; she wanted rip it off and stomp on it. It was nothing like her usual attire of leggings and a robe like top that served to look like a dress, but let her move freely and with ease. And those damned pins! The girl who had helped her to put it up was nice, but clearly did not have much skill as a hair dresser and had poked her poor head with more pins than was really necessary.
But everything had been picked out for her, so she really couldn't argue. And besides, she thought, it got her out and about with the people she would be with for quite awhile. Turning her eyes away from her partner, she saw a few that she recognized, although she was sure they would never know who she was if they met her. The man she had met at the gate was standing comfortably with Ivorcheneb and a few others, but when the woman from the garden approached him, his demeanor changed to one starstricken and in love. Oh yes, it wasn't that hard to figure out, for the look on his face clearly gave it away. She didn't know why the ellith had walked off with the sorcerer, though. Maybe she just didn't get it. Oh well, she thought, shrugging out of the young man's arms after the song ended. Bowing, she took her leave of him to catch the king while he was still in the room, so that she might be able to leave soon.

"My Lord!" she cried from behind the king.
"Ah, Calacirya! I see you have come, just as we agreed." replied the king happily. Inside, Cirya scowled at the 'we' statement in his remark, but kept a sweet smile on her face.
"I trust you are enjoying you dancing partner?" he said, eyes flickering to the young man and back to her face. "He is a fine lad, you should speak more to him later."
Cirya increased her smile sharply, scowling evermore to herself. She could read between the lines as well as anybody and to her he just said, "Go aquaint yourself with that young man, so that when he asks you to marry him (which of course he will because he happens to be the son of one of my advisors) you'll say yes!" She knew of his plans for her to be married off, but she also knew that she didn't want to be carted off to live with a stranger. She wanted to find someone for herself, someone she was comfortable around and would accept her oddities. Maybe that was why she was going off to the war, to avoid this very thing. Musing to herself, she replied tiredly, "Yes, of course."
"Come then," he motioned to his entourage, the leader of which looked at her sympathetically, understanding the subtle hints in the king's statements. "I bid leave of you now, Calacirya, my dear." And with that he bowed and walked briskly out of the room.
Sighing, she made her way back to the young man that had been picked out for her, and prepared herself for the rest of the night with him.
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[Edited on 11/22/2003 by Tasar_Took_Nualda]
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Post RE: Dartho Annin An-uir: Be With Me Always
on: November 23, 2003 10:03
Faevathor sat up and sighed. It was no use. The thoughts and memories that swirled in his head would not die down, and such rest as he needed, edluded him. He rubbed his hands over his face then, rose, and changed into his warrior clothes. He might as well, he thought as he checked himself over. Looking in the mirror, he nodded as he made sure his braids were still intact, the rest of his dark hair falling down his back.

Fae again checked his gear - even though he had checked it more than enough times over the last two days. Slinging his bow and quiver over his shoulder, he picked up his gear and his sword. However, he didn't buckle it on. There was no need for that - yet. Before he left his room, he surveyed it keenly. No...he had forgotten nothing. As he exited and closed the door behind him, he noticed that the music had stopped. The gala must be over, or nearly so, he thought.

The Elf then headed down the hallways with silent steps. Passing by the Councilroom, he heard voices inside, but didn't stop. Farther down the corridor, though, he did stop when he saw Ivor and Súl heading his way. "Fae?" Ivor looked at him in surprise. "Where are you going? It isn't time yet." There was a look of empty despair in Fae's eyes, as he replied quietly, "I will be in Mithfaer's stall. That is as good a place to wait as any." "You should be resting." Faevathor looked at Súl and shook his head as he replied to his friend, "I cannot rest mellon nín. I will meet you both at Dawn."

As he hurried past his friends, Faevathor knew they were only wanting to help...to make sure he was 'all right'. He would be - eventually - but for now, he knew what he needed.

Reaching the grey stallion's stall, Fae was greeted by a soft neigh. Putting his gear down, the ellon wrapped his arms around Mithfaer's neck, burying his head in the silky mane. "At least you are still with me, old friend," he whispered. His horse had taken him into many a battle; knowing Mithfaer was carrying him again gave him a little comfort...not much...but some...that and the knowledge that his friends cared. Fae then sat down again on the up-turned bucket, closed his eyes and waited for the Dawn of War.

[Edited on 23/11/2003 by gwendeth]

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[Edited on 24/11/2003 by Gilraen]
"Tolo si, a tiro i cherth Eru" "Come now, and see the works of God"
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Post RE: Dartho Annin An-uir: Be With Me Always
on: November 24, 2003 02:19
As Fae departed leaving Ohtar alone, the man went back to the garden. It was an interesting evening, indeed. He hadn't talked in private to an elf before, although there had been a few near King Elendil all the time. This Fae... had an interesting way of thinking. He saw things in a different light, from another point of view. Ohtar couldn't say he understood perfectly what the elf meant, or that he would accept his way of thinking, no. But it was refreshing to have somebody around with a different opinion (moreover: one he didn't have to obey!).

After a short walk Ohtar decided to return to the ball. He wasn't used to contemplation all alone for several hours when there was a party nearby! Ohtar decided to think about the meeting with the King Gil-Galad ad the elves later, when the time comes. Until then he was going to enjoy himself.
As he entered the hall, he eyed the crowd suspiciously, but Ivrcheneb and his company was nowhere to be found. Whether he was glad about it or didn't care, he couldn't answer even to himself. He headed to the bar for a glass of wine. That was one thing he had to admit: those elves were excellent at making wines.

"Ohtar! Where have you been?! I've been searching for you several hours!"

He turned to face Prince Isildur.

"I was outside... Thinking," he added. He didn't feel like opening his heart to Isildur. Not now. The Prince wouldn't understand. To speak frankly, Ohtar didn't understand himself. But he would later, at least he hoped so.

"Thinking! When you have a chance to spend your time in a company of beautiful girls, you choose to wander alone and think! No, I can't believe that. This is the last gala you have the opportunity to attend, after only war will come, no dance, no music, no wine, no girls..."

Ohtar looked at the Prince suspiciously.

"Haven't you been drinking too much of the wine? It's not as strong as ours, but still, it is wine."

"The last ball, Ohtar, think about it! And don't bother your mind with worries, there will be plenty of them later!"

The Prince was right, Ohtar had to admit it. Both Numenorians clinked their glasses and entered the well-dressed crowd.

It was some time later when he first noticed her. An elleth, not as stunningly beautiful as others, perhaps, but she was no doubt lovely. She looked like the gala was the last place she would wish to be. She wore a beautiful silk dress, clear blue at the top that turned dark at the hem, but she moved as if it were a thing invened for torture, and that made him smile. And her struggle to remain polite with a young elf that obviously had been assigned to accompany her, there was something so charming about it! He couldn't help turning his gaze towards her again and again, and the two of them always brought a wide grin to his face. At last even Isildur noticed. They were seated by a small table, the two of them and Anarion, talking about nonesence, such as women, swords, horses...

As the gala was slowly approaching it's end, the girl got that desperate look in her eyes, that reflected even in her smile turning it distracted and tense. Ohtar felt really sorry for her and decided to do something about it. After all, this was the last ball he was going to attend for months, perhaps years, why shouldn't he spend some part of it dancing?

He excused himself and got up, feeling slightly dizzy. That wine... Eh, nothing, it'll pass soon. As he walked closer, he saw more clearly that the girl had the looks of a hunted roe.

"Excuse me, sir! May I, my Lady...?" he extended his arm towards the girl. He almost burst out laughting, so eagerly she grabbed his hand, turning her back to the confused young man: "But of course!"

As he led her out into the dance, he saw her confusion, as she took a closer look at him. Hadn't she seen he's not an elf when he asked her for a dance? Then, maybe not. He winked at her, palyfully.

"I thought you needed to escape for a minute."

She stared at him, her eyes wide with amazement, then smiled: "Thank you." This time her smile was unfabled.

"I must warn you, dear Lady, that I haven't been dancing for years, and might mix something..."

"Oh, that's nothing! It happens to me time after time. I'm not a skilled dancer myself," she added shyly, bowing low as the dance begun.

"Well, that makes me feel a lot better," Ohtar said taking her hand and leading her forward. For some time they danced without dropping a word, she deep in her thoughts, he watching her with a smile playing on his lips. Then he decided to break the silence. As she turned left and right under his arm, he said quietly:

"Are you angry at me, fair lady?"

She almost failed to take his right hand as she had to switch the sides.

"Why? No. Not at all. Why do you assume I am, Hîr nin?"

He had to wait with an answer until she danced another tour with the elf in front of him.

"Well, I rushed in, interferring your conversation, grabbed you and took you to dance not even asking you if you wanted to dance at all, and the young man you were talking to must feel quite offended..." he turned around and walked three steps away from her, as she did the same, then both of them returned and too each other's hands. "I thought I saw you wanting to escape his protective hands at least only for a while. My apologies if I have been mistaken. So, I decided to ask you for a dance. I was being a little selfish, I must confess, wanting to improve my skills as a dancer..." Ohtar kept talking with the most serious expression he could manage on his face, while the girl's smile grew wider. She turned her back to him, their right hands joined and his left around her thin waist. "I want to assure you - I'm not going to propose you, although I might, if that helped you escaping unwanted attention..." he sighed, mischievous lights playing in his eyes.

The girl laughed turning her face to him again.

"I doubt that!" she shaked her head.

"You do?" Ohtar knitted his brows. "You know, I doubt that, too!" he grinned. "But it is not impossible. Only a very reason for that would be needed."

She laughed again, making him smile warmly. With a bow, the dance was over.

"Well, I suppose I have reached my goal, now that I see you laughing." He leaned closer to her. "If you wish to escape him further, too, just tell me, and I will escort you to the table. There you could spend some time choosing a special delicacy, or I could ask you to another dance. I'm at your service, my Lady," he bowed gracefuly.

"I believe I will go for the second option, Hîr nin," she answered. "After all, this is the last time in many weeks I will get the chance to dance."

Why would she say that? Ohtar wandered as he led her to another dance. I'm sure she'll have enough balls here, when we are away on our scout-mission. But he never said it out loud.
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[Edited on 11/24/2003 by Tasar_Took_Nualda]
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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