"Shadow IV- At War in Love" to edit

[Gordis]

At War in Love

Chapters

Chapter 1. Prince Charming
Chapter 2. The Wild Ride
Chapter 3. An apple for the teacher!
Chapter 4. Those Stubborn Redheads!
Chapter 5. Eryndil's Home Fills
Chapter 6. The Improper Gift
Chapter 7. The Troubles of the Royals
Chapter 8. The Gift Returned
Chapter 9. Alarming Rumours
Chapter 10. The Infamous Ostler's Wife
Chapter 11. Winter Campaign Decided
Chapter 12. An Honor or a Trap?
Chapter 13. Presentation to the King
Chapter 14. Eviction from the Palace
Chapter 15. Eryndil's Inn is Full
Chapter 16. After-Dinner Talk
Chapter 17. The Grappling Hook
Chapter 18. "I want you to marry Eryndil"
Chapter 19. "Congratulations, Caelen!"
Chapter 20. The Quarrel
Chapter 21. Testing and Hardening
Chapter 22. Reconciliation

Chapter 1. Prince Charming

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In Arinya's chambers in Cameth Brin, morning of November 2, 1347
Written by Rian and Gordis
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It was a warm, pleasant morning. Caelen hadn't felt so comfortable in ages. She was sitting in the window seat, alternating between reading a book of Arinya's, looking out of the window and wondering how Callon her brother was doing on his trip, and listening to Arinya play her harp.

Arinya the Elf let her fingers glide over the harp strings, not playing anything in particular for long - just letting her fingers play snatches of old melodies, bits of newer tunes, and nothing in particular, as her mood changed with her thoughts.

It was a still, quiet morning. Like all good things lately, it wasn't destined to last, though.

An impatient-sounding knock broke the silence.

"Come in," called Arinya, as Caelen looked curiously at the door.

The door swung open, smashing loudly against the wall, and Prince Daurendil, Heir to the throne of Rhudaur, strode in. He was an impetuous young man of twenty summers, dark-haired and keen-eyed, clad in a dark-blue riding outfit and high boots; his hands played with a grand hunting horn inlaid in silver. Nonplussed by the commotion he produced, he bowed slightly to the elf.

"I wish you good morn, Lady Arinya," he said in his young voice that had only recently acquired deeper masculine notes. Then he stopped abruptly, squinting at the light in his face, and feeling his heart starting to race.

There was another lady sitting in the window-seat, outlined against the bright sun, one that he had never met before. The light streaming through the window sent her unruly strawberry blond hair aflame, forming a shining halo around her head. Daurendil loved blond hair - but his friend Odare's hair, for instance, never had such a glorious luster, never streamed like a shining river to the girl's knees. The prince stood frozen on the spot, gaping, when a slight cough from Arinya made him remember his manners. Blushing slightly, he bowed deeply to the unknown girl and said, "Hail, fair lady. Forgive my boldness - your beauty made me forget my manners. I am Daurendil, the King's Heir. May I ask your name, lady?"

The girl sprang to her feet and blushed. Her head modestly bent, she replied, almost inaudibly, "Caelen. My name is Caelen."

Daurendil raked his brain for a suitable compliment. The name was in Sindarin, but what in Arda did it mean? He wished he had paid more attention to his lessons. "Uhm... beautiful name!" was all he came up with.

There was an awkward silence broken finally by Arinya. "What brought you here, Daurendil? How can I help you?"

Daurendil grinned at the Elf. "If I said I wanted to borrow a book, you wouldn't believe me, would you? Nay, I am not like Amantir or Tarniel. I love horses, dogs and weapons. In truth, I came looking for Odare: I thought you were having a music lesson. Amantir and I are going for a hunt, and I am sure she will be thrilled to join us." Anticipating the next question, he hurried on. "Nothing dangerous, no bear, no boar... maybe foxes or hares. And there are also ducks aplenty flying overhead. We won't venture further than the plateau and we have a huge attendance. Do you know where Odare is?"

Smiling indulgently, the Elf replied, "As far as I know, she is in the garden with Tarniel and their guards."

Daurendil turned to leave, but then a new idea struck him. He made a few steps toward the window and asked: "Lady Caelen, would you care to join our company for the hunt?" He felt his heart beating wildly as he waited for the girl's reply.

Caelen's eyes shone with excitement. At the mention of "horses" she had gone into a happy reverie; at the mention of a ride out in the country, she was in paradise. And this young man was the King's heir - she'd certainly be safe with him and his entourage!

Daurendil looked into her eager eyes and shining face and started breathing a little faster.

"Ooh, I'd love to go, Your Highness!" she said eagerly, clasping her hands together.

Daurendil's heart left its accustomed place in his chest and moved up into his throat. He loosened his collar ... the room suddenly seemed a bit warm ...

Arinya put her harp down and walked quickly over to Caelen, putting her hands on the girl's shoulders to get her attention and bring her back down to earth.

"But in your condition, Caelen, that would not be wise," she said urgently, seeing that Caelen had completely forgotten about her feigned pregnancy.

Daurendil's heart fell back into his chest with a resounding crash. "The good ones are always taken!" thought Daurendil, disappointed. He started to make his farewell bow.

"Wait, wait!" pleaded Caelen, pulling away from Arinya and looking at Daurendil in desperation. "I don't have a condition!" she said, pulling back and stomping her foot in frustration.

Daurendil did not quite understand what this meant, but nevertheless, a glimmer of hope sparked in his always-optimistic heart.

"I mean ... I mean..." Caelen started, and then turned to Arinya. "Oh, it's no good, Arinya, I never could lie - I've already slipped up with you, and I know I'll just slip up again anyway! It might as well come out now!"

Daurendil took a step back, alarmed by these complicated females. He took a quick look to make sure nothing was between him and the door, in case a hasty retreat started to become an attractive option.

"You know your brother wanted you to ..." admonished Arinya in a stern voice, then stopped abruptly as she realized that she had just slipped up herself.

"Yes, I know my brother wanted only to protect me," said Caelen firmly, putting an emphasis on the word "brother". "But I feel so trapped ..." She put a trembling hand to her face and turned her head to glance out of the window, her hair sliding across her shoulder and falling in a silky mass across her bosom, heaving with the strength of her emotion.

Daurendil took a step forward, heartened by the mention of a brother. "The lady is clearly in trouble - perhaps I could help her!" he thought, his manly emotions strengthened by his discovery earlier that morning of a few more hairs on his chin.

Caelen turned her head back to look at Daurendil. Tears were shimmering in her grey eyes, wetting her dark lashes ... Impulsively, she moved quickly towards him, took his hands in hers, and knelt before him. He could feel her warm tears on his hands as she held them against her cheek. Her hair felt like silk ... soft, caressing ... He swallowed hard.

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Cameth Brin, the palace garden. Morning of November 2, 1347
Written by Serenoli, Gordis and Rian
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It was a tense pair of best friends sitting in the garden with the guards. That is to say, Tarniel was thoughtful and Odare was tense. She knew it was only a matter of time before that whole business of the lost emeralds would come out. In fact, if everyone hadn't been so preoccupied, what with the Hillmen and Nauremir, and now Tarniel's worries about this marriage Gimilbeth was arranging for her, it would have been out in the open long ago. Not that Tarniel would demand it outright, she was too good for that, but she might mention it casually, and then Odare would have to let the cat out. Tarniel wouldn't be angry - but Odare would feel honor-bound to repay her somehow, and that would mean giving up something out of her own cache of jewels. She did not think she had strength enough to do that.

Tarniel opened her mouth to speak, and Odare got up at once. "I need to see Arinya about something. I'll see you around!" she said quickly, and she sped off. It was ridiculous to be afraid every time Tarniel tried to say something. She scolded herself, but she wasn't ready to own up yet... Maybe she could ask Arinya what to do. After swearing her to secrecy, of course.

So, off she headed to Arinya's room, and opened the door to get a shock. Daurendil was standing there, looking hot under the collar and very amorous, gazing mesmerized at a woman kneeling before him, her huge stack of reddish blond hair falling all over his hand. Her first impulse was to laugh. Her second thought was, now that is what blonde hair was supposed to look like! And before she had time to register any more emotion, she opened her mouth, and let out what can only be termed as a gargle.

The magic of the scene was broken. Daurendil removed his hand, and the strange woman got to her feet gracefully, though her cheeks were tinged with red. With a tinge of annoyance, Odare saw that the woman was at least a foot taller than herself. Arinya, whom Odare had not noticed before, sat down.

"Oh, it's you!" Daurendil was the first to speak. He was talking in an unnatural hearty voice. "I was just looking for you. Amantir and I were going off to a hunt, and thought you'd like to come. I was trying to convince the Lady Caelen here to join us as well." He motioned vaguely towards Caelen.

"Oh." Odare replied. "I suppose that's why she was kissing your hand? Should Amantir and I line up to kiss you too before we can join the hunt?" - she stopped that line of thought ferociously, and said, "Pleased to meet you, Caelen. I'm Odaragariel, Princess of Mitheithel." She wished she had some more titles. She had made a long list of official titles to add to her name once, but King Tarnendur had advised her not to. She wished she hadn't listened to him. A few "Mistress of Fates" and "Lady of the Shining Waters" would have made her far more confident in the face of this big-haired, tall Dunedain.

"I'll come to the hunt, sure, I haven't seen Amantir for some time anyway." Yes, so if I kiss anyone's hand, it'll be Amantir's, not yours! - where were these weird thoughts coming from? "I'll go and see if Tarniel wants to come too."

"Oh, I don't know, she's never been interested in such things, you know." Daurendil said half-heartedly. The truth was, he had quite decided that the main object of the hunt was now Caelen, but if his sister was going to be there, he would feel awkward, that was for sure.

Looking straight at Caelen, Odare replied, "She'll be interested. Trust me." With that, Odaragariel spun around and ran out of the room.

Now, now... that sounded almost ominous... Daurendil stood gaping at the door till Odare's running footfalls died away. Why did she behave so strangely? Sure, girls always reacted oddly, but up to this moment he thought Odare to be an exception. Was he wrong? Daurendil suppressed the urge to scratch his head. He had gotten used to consider Odare one of his closest friends, always eager to share a hazardous adventure or some fun. What was wrong with her now? Could she be... what a crazy thought... jealous?

Oh, how he wished to have Ol' Naure back! Nauremir, ten years' Daurendil's senior, always had answers to difficult questions, especially those concerning women. Were he here, he could have told him how to placate Odare and what to do with this wondrous creature with the hair the color of sunrise! Daurendil craved to hold her in his arms and to wipe away the tears from her rosy cheeks, to feel again the silkiness of her tresses ...But how to approach her now? And why had she been crying anyway? What was all that about "not being good at lying"?

Utterly at a loss, he turned to the Elf. "I... I am sorry, Arinya, could you please tell me what this all was about?"

"I'm not quite sure what's going on myself," answered Arinya with a rueful little smile at Daurendil, followed by a warning look at Caelen.

But Caelen had the bit firmly between her teeth and was not about to lose the chance at horses and freedom to ride. Everyone would understand, anyway ...

"No, Arinya, Prince Daurendil has the right to know the truth," she said firmly. Arinya, who was unsure of the right course to take, anyway, let Caelen go ahead - it was her life, after all.

Caelen looked up at Daurendil and put on the expression that she had discovered usually worked wonders with her father and brother and other men.

"My lord, my family has lived for many years in the green valleys of Sir Methed in the west of your kingdom. We loved the land and our horses," - she likes horses! thought Daurendil happily - "and lived in harmony together under the blue skies of our creator. But the times changed in this last year, and evil has grown and has not been checked, and our ancestral home was burned to the ground in what we think was an intentional attack on us. Of our family, only my brother and myself escaped from the ruins." Caelen had begun her story with a bit of artifice to win her point, but her grief at this point was sincere.

"Go on," encouraged Daurendil, with visions of himself and Caelen riding off into the sunset in the back of his head.

"There was a man who wanted to marry me - a terrible, uncouth, unlearned brute of a man! - and we found out just in time that he was planning to take me by force, and we fled."

Daurendil shook his head sympathetically, visions of Broggha in his head.

"On the road, we were attacked by some vagabond ruffians, and they ... they ... we were vastly outnumbered, and they shot my brother's horse out from under him. My brother valiantly tried to hold them off and give me a chance to ride away, but they were hurting him, and I just couldn't leave ..."

She bit her lip and blinked back some tears that had sprung into her eyes. Daurendil watched her, fascinated.

"I tried to ride them down, but they caught me, and ... and mistreated me," she said quietly, blushing, unsure of how to describe what had happened to her to this prince, and now not so sure that telling him her story was the best move, horses or not!

"The villains!" exclaimed Daurendil, taking her hands and leading her over to the window seat and making her sit down, retaining her hands in his. "Come, take some fresh air for a moment - this must be very distressing for you!" he said. It seemed so easy and natural to help her.

Caelen took a deep breath and continued - too late to turn back now. She finished with a description of how Eryndil and his men had saved them, and how they had decided to come to Cameth Brin, and her brother's last-second decision to pass her off as his expectant wife in order to protect her. Daurendil listened in amazement - here he came to Arinya's chambers for a simple ride, and now he was landed in yet another complicated situation! But this one was so different ...

Caelen finished up with how she had met Arinya and had accidentally betrayed her secret. "And that's what Arinya meant when she told me not to ride because of my "condition" - she was just trying to keep up the secret. But I thought you should know, my lord," she finished artlessly, looking at him with trustful eyes. This man seemed nice, like her brother, and she was used to men looking after her.

The room grew silent as Caelen and Arinya waited for his response.

Ahh those eyes... Daurendil felt like he was drowning in their clear, gray depths...So innocent, so trusting. Well, he was not a man to betray such trust! He mastered the deepest masculine voice he was capable of and said, "Oh, fair lady, your secret is safe with me! I swear by Eru - I will not reveal it to anyone that lives." With that he brought Caelen's fingers to his mouth and kissed them - with much more fervor than custom permitted. But Caelen was likely unfamiliar with courtly manners, as she did not seem offended.

Emboldened by her compliance, he looked into her face and grinned. "And now, Caelen (for may I call you Caelen?), let us be off for this hunt. Do you have suitable clothes?"

At her enthusiastic nod he sprang to his feet and pulled her to the door. "Then go and put them on. We shall be waiting for you in the court." He bowed to Arinya and made his way out of the Palace whistling in excitement.

"Good-bye, Arinya, I'll see you later," said Caelen too politely and too hastily, quickly bowing her head in a respectful farewell gesture and moving towards the door. But Caelen's golden tresses and soulful eyes, however well they worked on men, were wasted on the current inhabitant of the room.

"Caelen," said Arinya, softly but firmly. Caelen stopped and bit her lip, reminded suddenly of her mother.

Arinya waited in silence until Caelen turned her head and looked at her, her eyes large and pleading. Arinya tried to remain straight-faced but couldn't; Caelen reminded her of a young pup who has stolen a goodie off of the table and was trying to escape with it.

Arinya sighed. "Come, Caelen, you know I'm your friend," she began. Caelen nodded her head hesitantly, tracing a line on the floor with her toe. "I just want you to slow down a bit and see more than your side of this," Arinya said persuasively, crossing over to Caelen and brushing back a stray strand of hair from her friend's face in an affectionate gesture.

Caelen looked out of the window with a little sigh, then looked back at Arinya, this time with a more reasonable expression on her face. She waited for Arinya to continue.

"I didn't stop you from telling Daurendil, because he is the prince, and I know it will get out eventually, and he'll be a good person to have on your side," said Arinya slowly. "Yet I don't think you should just tell everyone now. As I said, you should think about more than just yourself - and your brother has sacrificed a lot for you, Caelen. I don't think you should so thoughtlessly abandon what he did for your protection without his knowledge and consent."

Caelen's face assumed a puzzled look; these were new thoughts for her. She was used to people taking care of her, and as the much loved and petted youngest child of the family, she hadn't been taught to consider others as much as perhaps she should have been. She looked back on the last month with new eyes and suddenly saw the things that she had taken for granted as they truly were - sacrifices on Callon's part out of love for her. She remembered him putting his body between her and the robbers on the road; him telling her to flee as that terrible man held a knife to his throat; him looking with longing eyes at the circle of Eryndil's men talking and laughing quietly around the fire as he settled down next to her with an extra cloak in case she got cold.

"You're right, Arinya," she whispered, her head lowered. "I'm just terribly selfish, I know..."

"And this last thing he did - it may not have been the wisest thing, but it was done out of love and concern for you. And he is of the age where he might want to start looking for a wife for himself - or at least enjoy the company of young women - and what he did for you kills all possibility of that."

Arinya was right. Caelen remembered that new expression she had seen on her brother's face just a few months ago, when his best friend's sister passed by ... how he had stopped in mid-sentence, his eyes lingering on her, his mouth softening ... and yet he chose to leave their home to protect Caelen.

"You're right, Arinya - I'll go tell the prince that I cannot go riding with him," said Caelen sadly.

"I don't think you need to do that - I think you can go, and I think you should have fun - I know you love to ride, and I think it will be good for you! All I was trying to do was to get you back, because the person pushing their way past me out of the door was not the person I knew and liked."

Caelen smiled sweetly at Arinya, and then wrapped her arms around her in a warm embrace, ending in a friendly kiss.

"If you can take more advice ..." began Arinya.

"Yes, please!" answered Caelen humbly.

"I think perhaps you might want to casually mention that you were mistaken about the pregnancy, as opposed to feigning a miscarriage, because otherwise people will say that your riding caused the miscarriage, and that might be unpleasant for you."

"My mother rode all the time when she was pregnant with us, but I see what you mean," said Caelen thoughtfully. "Thank you - I'll mention that. It's been hard enough pretending to be married when I'm not, but the pregnant thing ... ugh!" she shuddered. "I just ... that was just too strange!"

Arinya smiled. "Well, you had to get "unpregnant" very soon, anyway, or people would be wondering why you're keeping your nice figure for so long, so I think it might as well be now. But please, keep up the "marriage", at least until your brother gets back and you two can discuss it."

"I will," said Caelen seriously. "And thank you, Arinya!"

"And remember, too, that means acting as if you are "unavailable". I must say that the prince looked at you rather favorably, but you must respond to him - and the other men - as a happily married woman would respond, not as an unmarried young girl would. You don't want to bring censure on your brother for his immodest wife!"

Caelen smiled and put her hands on either side of Arinya's face, looking straight into her eyes. "I will be prim and proper and respectful, I promise," she said firmly. "And I will make my brother proud of me!"

And I will RIDE again!!!! she thought joyfully to herself as she ran lightly down the hall to her quarters to change.

[Gordis]

Chapter 2. The Wild Ride

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Near the Palace Stables and on the plateau outside the gates of Cameth Brin. November 2, 1347
Written by Serenoli, Elfhild, and Rian
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Amantir and Tarniel exchanged bemused glances. They were not the only ones. Odare's bodyguards had stared openly; Sarador, passing by, had given a double-take; the entire hunting party were either staring or laughing quietly. Odare ignored them all, and concentrated on stroking her horse.

In an act of defiance that even she could not explain, she had not worn a single jewel. She had dug through her closet, and flung out numerous velvet and silken dresses, before finding a simple blue dress embroidered in black. She suspected one of her maid's dresses had been accidentally misplaced in her closet - she wore it anyway. Her hair was in a tight bun. Without her customary ornaments, she looked almost indecently naked - one felt she should put on at least a ring on her hand; but she had been thorough - she had even stripped off the ribbons on her shoes.

If her objective had been to get Daurendil's attention, she certainly got it. The prince was escorting Caelen out of the palace, being very attentive to her, right up to the moment he reached them. He did not recognize her at first.

"Amantir, where's Odare? I don't want us to delay too long," he asked, slightly impatient. "It's only a hunting trip, she needn't spend so much time fussing over jewels..." he muttered.

"You're the one who delayed," she glared at him, and mounted her horse. Others followed suit. Daurendil gaped.

"What have you done to your face?" he asked, awed.

She ignored him, and turned instead to Amantir and Tarniel, saying "Race you to the old fort! Whoever reaches last is an orc!"

With a cry of encouragement to her horse, she was off. Her two friends did not delay either - and seeing them set off, the rest followed. Shaking his head and muttering, Daurendil mounted his horse as well. He took a moment to look for his fair Caelen, but she had not waited for him.

In fact, she was near the front, fast catching up to the trio at the front. After all her impatience to ride, it was hard to resist the invitation to race. They broke through the crowd near the market - Odare upset a wheelbarrow of apples on her flight - it was enough to catch Amantir off-guard and his horse skidded to the side; Tarniel slowed her horse down and picked her way safely through but Caelen took her horse on a graceful leap that cleared the wheelbarrow, its annoyed owner and the apples all in one. Odare spared one look behind her, grinning, and Caelen smiled back, urging her horse on. A horrified look replaced the grin; suddenly she really wanted to win the race.

The fort was coming in view now, and she had the lead, but they were almost neck to neck. In a sudden burst of speed, Caelen crossed her, her beautiful hair fanning out behind her. A strand smacked Odare right across the eyes. Blinded, and in sudden pain, she lost control for a few precious moments; enough for Caelen to gallop the last few yards and reach the fort. She drew her horse in, flushing with success, and Odare, reaching her a split-second later, was already devising ways to have Caelen's hair chopped off strand by strand. It was just not fair that hair alone should determine one's success in life - or in a race. Or that Caelen should turn out to be a horsewoman. She fought the desire to pout.

"That was a good race," said Caelen, still slightly out of breath.

Odare grudgingly conceded the point, and then the two of them in silence waited for the others. The real race was over, though; and it was clear that, whatever the outcome, Daurendil would be the one who ended up as the orc.

Laughing, Tarniel caught up with Odaragariel and Caelen, Amantir and Daurendil following close behind. "Congratulations, Caelen!" Tarniel exclaimed, looking up into the flushed face of the young woman. Then, considering Odaragariel, who felt perpetually inferior, she added tactfully, "It was a close match!"

The sight of Odaragariel dressed so austerely and without any jewelry at all was quite disconcerting, and Tarniel tried not to gawk. She had not even dressed so plainly at Nauremir's funeral! Tarniel wondered about the cause of this strange transformation. There was something going on, brooding under the surface. Whatever it was would surely come out soon. She noticed the way that Odaragariel glowered at Caelen and the way she ignored Daurendil, as though he were some lowly peasant. Before the hunt, Odare had told her about the mysterious newcomer to Cameth Brin, although Odare knew relatively little about the woman except that she caught her kneeling before the prince and kissing his hand. Since then, Odare's mood had been quite...mercurial.

"The gesture was probably innocent," Tarniel assured herself. After all, Caelen was a married woman. Royalty was always to be treated with respect, and that was what the hand kissing incident was all about. But why did Daurendil keep staring at Caelen, a peculiar emotion in his eyes - was it desire? Somehow Tarniel knew that ere the day was over, the tongues of the gossipmongers would be wagging.

The second hunt (the race was the first) was nothing special - it was "been there, done that" for most of them, but to Caelen, it was wonderful. It was so intoxicating to be out on a horse again, free and safe. Her mare had rested a long time in the stables and was "feeling her oats," but Caelen, having grown up with horses, was more than up to the challenge. More than one eye followed her with admiration as she rode the spirited mare around the grounds, laughing with delight.

But all things come to an end, and soon enough, the party had to turn for home. Daurendil had been very attentive to Caelen, but Caelen had been too wrapped up in her own enjoyment of riding to notice. But eventually, Daurendil's attentions got through even to her, and she sobered up as they got closer to home. She even became aware of the other people in her party as things other than riding companions, and noticed a marked lack of gaiety. What was wrong? What were the looks for? Daurendil seemed to be the only one having a good time. She wondered if she had been wise, after all, to confide in this young man.

Daurendil leaned in a little closer than Caelen liked and made a comment about her beautiful mare and what a pair they made. Caelen, a little late in the day ("but better than never!" she thought), remembered Arinya's advice to act as a modest married lady, and decided that now would be a good time to bring her "husband" into the conversation.

"Yes, she's lovely, isn't she?" she said in what she thought was a modest married woman's voice. "This is my husband's favorite mare!"

More than one jaw dropped at the mention of Caelen's "husband", and Caelen, looking furtively around the group, felt ashamed at her selfish lack of consideration towards her brother and his efforts to protect her.

She had hoped to cool off Daurendil's manner towards her, and it did in a way, but it also had the opposite effect - Daurendil looked upon it as a shared secret that increased their intimacy. In a manner that he hoped was convincing, but was actually a bit theatrical, he replied, "Your husband has excellent taste!"

And Odare caught the wink that was meant for Caelen's eyes only.


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Near the Palace Stables, November 2, 1347
Written by Valandil
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Eryndil was waiting for them when they got back - just out of sight, and he waited a little more while they dismounted and turned over their horses to the stable hands, amid tittering laughter and witty remarks.

Then, when she was just enough apart from the rest to not draw attention, and near enough to hear him, he said her name in a voice that was low but strong.

"Caelen."

She halted in mid-laugh and turned toward his voice, her face suddenly serious, wondering. But then her countenance turned joyful once again, but with a different kind of joy - no longer the exultation from a high moment, but the joy that comes from the warmth of a steady friendship.

"Eryndil!" she replied, smiling at him happily.

"Come here, please... Caelen," he said, calling her aside. She came and they stood just a bit beyond her friends, so that it was plain to see that they only spoke with one another, and yet a clear view, or any sound, were obscured by stables, posts, barrels and whatnot.

Eryndil swung Caelen past him and turned his back on her friends to face her, that they wouldn't hear his words.

"Caelen - I saw what you did today. And that was rather thoughtless and callous of you."

"Huh? What do you mean?" replied Caelen, looking perplexed.

"Oh - your idea of a race through town. I saw it! I was watching from the walls - over there!" he gestured. Her look was still blank.

"Caelen, look... that man, the one with the cart of apples. You could have KILLED him!"

A look of shock - or dread came over Caelen's face, and she lowered her head.

"Now," he continued, "maybe your new friends make you too good to care about the commoners, but in a Thane's house, we watch out for them."

"I'm... I'm sorry."

"Caelen - did you know that man is a widower? He brings his wares up the King's Road from Tanoth Brin - pushing that cart up those steep hills, every day - to try to sell for a little bit more, and take care of his four children, his ailing mother-in-law, and a sister besides!"

"I... I didn't know. And it all happened... so fast. It just seemed like, the best thing to do... didn't it?"

"No Caelen! Turning off would have been the best thing to do - like even those new friends of yours had good sense to do. But you wanted to win that race, didn't you? No matter what?"

"Well I..." she tried.

"No matter," continued Eryndil. "I made it up to him. I gave him your brooch."

"My brooch!" she gasped, wide-eyed.

"Yes... and it was awful troublesome to have to buy it right back. Now THAT'S what cost me," he added with a triumphant smile, as he pulled it forth, displayed it to her, then returned it to his pouch.

"Now Caelen," he said - and at last his stern visage had softened into a gentle smile of his own. "Where is your... where is Callon? I have desired to speak with him for some days now."

"Oh," she began, "he is gone as wagon-driver, to take the body of an unfortunate young nobleman back to his parents. He should be back in a few days."

"I see," said Eryndil, looking all at once reflective. "Well, for your part, please try to exhibit better judgement - and greater self-control, for the rest of his absence. And now... good day, Miss Caelen."

And he bowed stiffly to her, then walked out of the stables, bowing to the various princes and princesses who still stood waiting for Caelen at the stable entrance.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Near the Palace Stables, afternoon of November 2, 1347
Written by Rian, Serenoli, and Elfhild.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Caelen walked back to the group, her cheeks still hot from Eryndil's well-deserved reprimand. She had indeed cared only about winning, and the man with the apple cart had only been an obstacle to that goal, instead of a person with a life and loved ones. But she had only wanted to ride ... it wasn't fair! She bit her lower lip in frustration. Why can't a girl just have fun?

Odaragariel’s head swam. Why had Daurendil winked at the mention of Caelen's husband? Given how freely he had showered her with attentions all day - to the point where Odare had married them in her head - he ought to be feeling very shocked right about now. And here he was, treating it like a joke, like a secret joke between the two of them. Maybe... maybe Daurendil was secretly married to Caelen! Or... Caelen was married to someone else, and she and Daurendil were planning to do away with the poor bloke! Or maybe... and her mind flew off in different directions, each speculation worse and wilder than the one before.

She watched intently as a nobleman talked to Caelen - maybe he was the husband? He certainly seemed to be scolding her... maybe for the way she and the prince had carried on... and Odare could hardly blame him. Why, she herself felt an increasing desire to tell off Daurendil, or maybe just stomp on his feet and pull his ears. Caelen rejoined their group and Eryndil passed them by, giving them a nod as he went. Maybe it was the stern look that accompanied his nod, but suddenly Odare found herself feeling faint vestiges of guilt.

"Who was that?" Odare asked Caelen, who was petulantly biting her lower lip.

"Oh, that's Eryndil of Nandemar - my father's asked him to join his new council - jolly good fellow," answered Daurendil, eager to show that he was on the "inside" group now that he was a man.

Daurendil's casual reply only confirmed Odare's view that she was being rather malicious. After all, it was hardly fair for her to be obsessing so much over other people's private affairs. She had known for a long time that she and Daurendil would get married someday, to bring the lands of Imlad Mitheithel as her dowry to the Crown. She didn't mind becoming Daurendil's wife and the future Queen - but she had also known long ago that the two of them could be nothing closer than friends.

"So, Odare, trying out something new, I see." Tarniel had obviously been struggling not to comment all day.

"I lost the key to my jewellery box, that's all," Odare replied, blushing slightly at the lie. "Let's go back... I'm tired, and it's making me act strangely."

"Would you please excuse me?" asked Caelen hastily. "I'm feeling a little unwell..." Turning to Daurendil, she added, "Thank you so much for your invitation to join in the ride, your Highness - it was very kind of you to include me."

And amid the polite remarks from Daurendil and the group, Caelen headed back to her room, trying desperately to reach its sanctuary before the tears came. But tears have their own timetable, and came earlier than the room did - right as Caelen turned the corner and ran into two of the young wives that had been so kind to her since her arrival.

"Caelen! Are you well? Were you out ... riding? Is that wise right now?" they asked, concerned about "one of us".

"I was wrong about ... my condition," said Caelen, the tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Oh, you poor thing," they comforted, embracing her. "Come with us and let us make you more comfortable!"

"No, please - thank you very much, you're so kind - but I just want to be alone in my room right now," answered Caelen, sincerely thankful for their kindness and hating to deceive them.

It took awhile, but she finally convinced them that being alone in her room would be the best thing for her right now, and she practically ran down the rest of the hall to her room, where she locked the door and threw herself on her bed, sobbing in her pillow.

"Oh mother, father, I miss you so much!" she cried in agony. "I need your help - I just can't master myself - I'm like a horse with the bit between its teeth - oh, I miss you ... please help me ... please help me ..."

And she fell asleep with those words on her lips ...

[Gordis]

Chapter 3. An apple for the teacher!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Cameth Brin, servants quarters, afternoon of November 2, 1347
Written by Rian
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In Caelen’s dream, she was walking around a pasture in her riding clothes, but she had no horse. “Where is my mare?” she wondered. “I must go to the stable and get her!” She found the little path that went to the stable and followed it, and as she came over the top of the ridge and the familiar building came into sight, there were her mother and father standing just inside the stable doors. They looked up and saw her and smiled. “There you are!” they said warmly, holding their arms out to her. “We were waiting for you!”

"Mother! Father!" she cried, running to their warm embraces. After a few blessed minutes of reunion, they pulled back and looked at her with the firm but loving expression that she knew so well, and Caelen’s heart skipped a beat.

"Come now, Caelie - you left the tack room a mess again, and you need to clean it up," said her father.

"I'm sorry, I'll go do it right now," she answered penitently, and they headed towards the tack room, which was indeed a mess.

Her father picked up a slender hackamore, made with soft, supple rope. "Put this in its place, sweetheart - but tell me what it is, first."

Caelen was a bit surprised, but obediently answered. "It's the hackamore we use on the young horses when we first train them to the saddle.”

Caelen’s father nodded, and Caelen hung up the hackamore on its peg.

Her mother picked up the next bit of tack. “And this?” she queried, as Caelen took it.

“It’s what we use next – the bridle with the soft, “broken” snaffle bit,” answered Caelen, and hung it on its peg.

“Go on, now,” said her father, and Caelen picked up the D-ring snaffle next, saying, “This is what we use if they fight the broken snaffle,” and she hung it up. As her parents watched silently, Caelen picked up the short curb bit next and hung it up. As she picked up the harsh, long-shanked curb bit, she realized what they were trying to tell her, and turned around to ask for their forgiveness, for they had had this talk before. But her parents were gone, and now the floor was covered with long-shanked curb bits, the harshest bit used for the most disobedient, foolish, headstrong horses. “I must clean up the tack room, I must!" she thought desperately, and picked up a handful of bridles, starting to hang them up on the pegs. But as soon as she hung one up, it went up in flames. She worked faster and faster, but the pile got bigger and bigger, and the flames spread, and then she realized that she had been hearing a voice calling her name for quite some time now – the voice of her brother Callon.

“We have to go now, Caelie, we have to go,” came his well-loved voice, tinged with sorrow. Caelen turned around with bridles in both hands, saying, “But I have to hang these up!” and stopped short when she saw only a beautiful red-bay stallion. But it was the stallion talking to her, in her brother’s voice. It looked at her sadly, saying, “Put them down, Caelen, it’s too late now. We have to go.” And Caelen knew they had to go. She put her hand on the stallion’s strong neck, and he walked her safely through the flaming tack room wall and back out to the pasture.

They walked many a long mile, although Caelen didn’t know where they were going. She just knew they had to go. As the sun set, she was so weary that she started stumbling. “Ride on me, Caelen – I’ll carry you now,” said the stallion, and she climbed onto his back, burying her hands in his rich mane and laying her head on his strong neck …

When she woke up, they were approaching a dark forest, filled with strange, twisted pines.

“Stop! I don’t want to go in there!” she cried in dismay.

“I don’t want to go there, either, but that’s where the road goes, Caelen. We must go on – there is no road back,” replied the stallion sorrowfully.

“No, no, let’s just turn around and go back!” she implored, but when she turned around to look, there was indeed no road behind them, and then she knew that the stallion was right.

Their journey through the dark, twisted forest seemed to last forever. The trees were harsh and cruel, their branches and needles dry and sharp. They reached out for Caelen and the stallion, slashing at them and raising cruel welts and bleeding wounds. The stallion tried his best to avoid the waving branches and to try to keep them away from Caelen, but it was no use. Caelen cried out in pain and bent low over the stallion’s neck, holding on tight and closing her eyes, but the slashing went on and on …

Suddenly Caelen realized that it was quiet now, and there were no more tree branches hurting her. She slowly straightened up and opened her eyes, and saw that they were in a small clearing with a giant oak in the middle, waving its branches as though there was a storm going on, but there was no storm. Then Caelen realized that the oak was keeping off the cruel pine trees, and she jumped down from the stallion to thank the oak tree.

“Oh, thank you so much!” she said gratefully, and the oak swept a branch gently by her face. She turned back to speak to the stallion, but to her horror, he was already far off in the distance, stamping and fighting as he was being pulled off by a giant lady who had a rope around his proud neck.

“Stay with the oak tree, Caelie!” the stallion cried, his voice faint from the distance. “Stay with the oak tree!” – and he was gone.

Caelen started to run to where he had disappeared, but as she neared the first pine tree, it slashed at her neck, and she ran back to the oak and flung her arms around its trunk. As night fell, the menacing pine trees moved in closer and closer, and Caelen kept moving around the trunk of the oak tree, trying to get away from them. But they were closing in on all sides, and would reach her soon.

“You must leap now,” said a voice, and a branch of the oak tree bent down towards her. But Caelen had always been afraid of climbing trees, and she shrank back in fear. “I can’t; I’m afraid of trees,” she said in a small, frightened voice.

“Leap!” cried the voice, more urgent this time. “You must leap, Caelen, for I can bend down no further,” and looking at the menacing pine trees approaching, Caelen finally chose the lesser of her fears and leapt up into the oak tree, catching the branch and swinging up into the tree.

It was quiet in the heart of the tree, and the bark and leaves were soft and warm to her touch. Caelen climbed up higher and nestled in a comfortable nook, leaning her head back and slowly relaxing. She looked at her arms ruefully; they were bloody and dirty and covered with scratches and welts. She raised a hand to her face and neck; it came back marred with blood and dirt.

Then she saw a branch of the oak tree moving slowly towards her. She drew in a sharp breath, and her heart leaped in fear, for she was afraid that the branch would slash at her as the pine branches had, and she cowered back against the trunk. But the branch kept coming, and it finally touched her arm. She stiffened, afraid of more welts and cuts. But the branch merely swept its soft leaves across her arm and then drew back. Caelen was surprised; the branch had very soft leaves, and it felt soft and warm on her arm. She looked down at her arm and stared in astonishment; the blood and dirt were gone; the welts and bruises healed. She looked at the drooping branch and saw that some of the leaves were crushed and torn, and her blood was staining them red.

“You were trying to help me, weren’t you? I should have known!” she said in wonder. “But oh! you’re hurt now!” she added sorrowfully. But when she looked again, the leaves were whole and clean.

Another branch reached out towards her and then stopped, its leaves waving gently.

Caelen slowly reached out her other arm towards the branch until the leaves were touching it, and the branch swept gently over her arm, leaving it whole as it did the other arm. Caelen held her breath, looking anxiously at the branch’s crushed and stained leaves, and then laughed out loud as the leaves were slowly restored again.

She stood up cautiously, hugging the tree trunk tightly and closing her eyes, and then held her face up as the topmost branches bent down towards her, letting their leaves play over her face and neck. When she opened her eyes again, she saw to her surprise that her arms were turning into slender branches, covered with tiny green budding leaves.

“Look!” she said, holding tighter to the tree. “We’re growing together!” Caelen held up her hands towards the sun, and the tree held up its branches, and they rejoiced together in the warmth and strength that flowed to them from the sun …

and Caelen slowly opened her eyes, blinking in the bright afternoon light that was falling across her tear-streaked face, and she was back in her room at Cameth Brin.

***

Caelen watched the late afternoon sun sink lower and lower. She had a lot to think on, and a lot of it wasn't pleasant. Suddenly she turned from the window with a little smile on her face. She looked anxiously out of the window again. "I don't think it's too late," she thought, and she grabbed her hooded cloak and some money and slipped out of the room.

Many of the merchants had closed their stalls, but some were still out. Caelen walked swiftly through the marketplace, her eyes searching back and forth, until she found who she was looking for.

"Excuse me, sir," came a soft voice, and the apple seller looked around to see a tall, slender, grey-eyed noblewoman, with wisps of reddish-gold hair curling around her face.

"Evening, miss," he replied, touching his hat in respect. "May I be helpin' you with something?"

"I see you have some apples left - may I buy them, please?"

"Certainly, miss - how many would you like?" asked the man, pulling out a small bag.

"Um, all of them, please," said Caelen. She held out some money. "Is this enough?"

The apple seller's eyes opened wide. What a day this had been! It had gone from normal, to disastrous, to wonderful! What a blessing this extra money would be to his family!

"'Tis more than enough, miss," he replied gratefully. "Here, this is all they're worth," he said and took the appropriate amount.

"But there's too many for me to carry," said Caelen. "Would you just please take the whole amount and then deliver them for me?"

The apple seller objected at first, as it was quite a bit over what he would have normally charged, but Caelen was insistant, and he finally accepted it, shaking his head a bit at "the whims of those noblemen..."

Caelen told him the address, and then added, handing him a note, "And if you would be so kind as to have this delivered to the master of the house, please."

The seller took the note and put it away carefully in his vest, and then picking up his wheelbarrow, turned around and headed in the direction that Caelen had indicated.

As Eryndil headed home for a brief check-up on how things were progressing at his house, he was surprised to see the apple merchant slowly pushing his wares down his street.

"Good evening, my good man," Eryndil greeted him kindly. "You're working late tonight!"

"I was jes' heading home to a right good meal, thanks to your kindness, sir," and he bowed to Eryndil in gratitude, "when a young lady stopped me, and would you believe it, she bought all the rest of my apples!" he said in wonder, shaking his head at the strange day he had gone through. "I'm supposed to deliver them to the house of a lord ... Eryndil," he concluded, checking Caelen's note again.

"Well, I am he, and the house is right there!" said Eryndil, intrigued.

"Well, then, this note is for you, sir," said the apple merchant, handing Caelen's note to Eryndil.

As the servants came out to unload the apples into the house, they stopped in surprise as they heard Eryndil's hearty laughter, for the note read :

"An apple for the teacher!"

[Gordis]

Chapter 4. Those Stubborn Redheads!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Cameth Brin, November 3, 1347.
Written by Rian
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Caelen's eyes opened slowly at first, and then popped wide open as a big smile spread across her face. Eryndil's lecture had not been in vain - today she was going to be really good and think of others!

Caelen's family had always hated these days. There were always tears, and often blood, to be wiped up by the end of these days.

Caelen hurriedly washed her face and attacked her unruly hair. For once, it didn't put up much of a fight, and Caelen took that as a good sign.

Now, where should she start?

"Probably with my room," she thought guiltily, looking at the clothes strewn about. That wasn't right - her mother had tried for years to get her to keep her room clean, and now she would finally take that to heart. She hastily went around the room and put things in their proper places, finishing up by neatly folding Callon's shirt that she placed on her pillow every night since he had left so that she could feel near to him. She closed her eyes and held it to her face, inhaling the familiar scent - horses and brother - and then with a little kiss placed it neatly on the pillow.

Now what next?

Her brow furrowed in concentration as she looked at the shirt as if it had the answer. Callon ... what would make Callon happy? Oh yes, to act like she was married! She had been avoiding the young married women, despite their friendly overtures to her, partly because it felt so awkward to be with them when she knew she was deceiving them, and partly because they were just in entirely another world than the one she was in.

That was it - she would find them and act like one of them. That would make Callon happy,and hopefully make up a little for yesterday ("what would he say when he found out that Daurendil knew their secret?" she wondered guiltily).

She ran out of her room with a rosy blush on her fresh, young face, and then stopped and forced herself to walk, thinking that walking was more matronly. She rounded a corner and found the young married girls enjoying some breakfast together. They greeted her kindly and waved her over to join them. Caelen heaped up a huge plateful of food (being virtuous made one so hungry!) and joined them.

The conversation centered around the one young lady whose time, it was very obvious, was coming any minute now, and of course, labor and delivery horror stories were the order of conversation. The young lady listened with ever-widening eyes as the ladies related their stories with relish. "And I still can't sit down right!" finished one triumphantly, then added to the now visibly pale pregnant lady, "But I'm sure that won't happen to you!"

Caelen reached out and took the young girl's hand, giving it a little squeeze. "My mother always said she had an easy time of it, and you look like you have her build - I bet you'll deliver as quickly as she did!"

The young girl smiled gratefully at Caelen, and Caelen smiled back. Maybe they weren't all so bad after all.

From labor and delivery, the talk turned to actually getting into the state where labor and delivery were necessary. Caelen's fair complexion grew more and more pink as the ladies shared stories and laughter and "Oh, I know what you mean!"'s. She had grown up in a family that bred horses and knew the "how"'s, but she had matured slowly, and the "why's" were still a bit beyond her. She bit her lower lip in embarassment, and after a particularly detailed story, fled the room as quickly as was politely possible.

"Well, I tried, and I'm sure it did some good," she thought, grateful to have finished with the conversation about "all of that stuff" and convinced that she portrayed a married woman to perfection. "But I am NEVER getting married!"

Her cheeks were still hot, and she decided she needed a walk to cool down. Oh wait, she was being good and thinking of others today ... hmmm ... oh! She would walk into town and buy Callon a little present to surprise him when he got back! She smiled happily and ran on light feet towards town, forgetting that matrons weren't supposed to run.

***

Caelen hadn't had such a wonderful day in a long, long time. On the way to town, she had done as many virtuous acts as she could, whether the people had wanted them or not. Oh, it was so good to be good!

Caelen reached town and started looking around for something that her brother would like. She ended up at the stall of a jewelry merchant, attracted by the beautiful hair pins on display, before she remembered she was getting something for Callon. Shaking her head at this slight lapse of virtue, she carefully scrutinized some pieces for men, finally picking up a lovely dagger inlaid with irridescent abalone, which she had never seen before.

Eryndil had decided to stroll through town and become acquainted with its general layout that morning. He was standing on a corner, inspecting some winter gloves, when he noticed out of the corner of his eye that the men passing by him were not walking like normal men. He looked away from the gloves in order to investigate this strange phenomenon further, and discovered that the men were all walking past him with their heads turned backwards instead of forward. They were clearly gazing at something very interesting behind them.

Eryndil turned his head to see what was causing the commotion, and saw, nicely outlined against the midmorning sun, the very pleasing figure of a lovely girl holding something up to the sun to see it better. He moved forward just a bit to get the sun out of his eyes, and as his gaze swept a little higher, he noticed reddish-colored hair ... could it be ... oh, it was Caelen! She had always been a pretty girl, but today, she looked luminous; her reddish-gold hair framed her fair skin and delicate features like a halo, and the way she was holding up that - what was it, a dagger?! - to the light as she examined it showed off her figure to full advantage. He smiled to himself. "They ARE walking like normal men!" he thought humorously. "They're admiring a pretty girl!"

He watched her for another minute, then put the gloves down, thanked the man selling the gloves and said he might be back a bit later. Then, deftly avoiding another backwards-glancing man, he crossed the street and started walking over to where Caelen was standing, now with an enchanting pout on her face as the seller told her the price of the dagger.

Eryndil had thought that Caelen couldn't possibly get any prettier than she was then, but he was wrong - when she saw him approaching, her face lit up even brighter, and with a joyous cry of "Eryndil! I was hoping I'd see you!" she ran towards him with outstretched hands and a smile on her face that made one admiring onlooker run into the apple seller's cart and knock some of the apples out. But Eryndil didn't notice that - he only had eyes for Caelen now ...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Cameth Brin, afternoon of November 3, 1347.
Written by Valandil
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Eryndil! You’re just the one I wanted to see!” called Caelen, her face lit up so brightly. Eryndil had to think back quickly. He had been in town for nearly two weeks, and this was only the second time he had seen Caelen here – the first being yesterday’s little disaster. Since coming to town, Eryndil and his men had noticed… well, that there were a lot more pretty girls in town than in the woods! But at this moment he thought Caelen outshone them all. He hadn’t remembered thinking her quite THIS pretty before.

“Good morning Caelen” he began with a slight bow as he came before her. “And thank you very much for…” his voice trailed off before he could add, ‘…the gift of all those apples,’ for she had extended her hands to him, her very eyes smiling at him. He took her hands in his and drew them close against his bosom. The mere thought of the apples recalled to his mind the events of the day before – seeing her wild ride, the harsh words he had for her upon her return, and the second incident with the apples, in which she had so completely redeemed herself. She had clearly taken his words to heart, he thought with a further smile.

She had continued looking at him, her eyes first resting upon him briefly, and then looking long into his own. He felt an awkward silence developing and thought to break it. He lowered her hands in his and slowly released them.

“So tell me now, what brings you out here, Caelen?”

“I’m buying something for someone VERY special…” she said, turning her attention at that back to the wares on the carts before her.

“Oh?” said Eryndil. After the apples, surely anything further wasn’t necessary. But still, he was quite flattered. “And before I completely forget, thank…”

“So – why are YOU here?” she interrupted, turning her smile upon him once more and placing a hand upon his forearm. My, she was beautiful! How had he not noticed it before, during their long march after he rescued her and Callon (he REALLY needed to speak with Callon), staying at his parents home, the subsequent trip toward Cameth Brin. Had he just been preoccupied?

“The King has not yet called me to my duties – and I now have enough time and money to purchase the items needed for my new station in life.” ‘A new station that I would gladly share – with a special person.’ But he couldn’t say that to her. Not now… not yet.

There was silence for awhile as Caelen returned to the carts, and he wondered if she had read his thoughts – heard his words not spoken, for a look of contemplation sat upon her brow. Half in expectation, he joined her in sifting through the objects on the cart before them.

Together they sorted through different items. Once or twice, Eryndil would pick something up and look at it, just to see. Sure enough, each time he did, Caelen turned her attention right to it and asked him what he thought of it, or if he liked it.

Finally, she picked up once more the dagger she was looking at when he first saw her there. “Do you think Callon would like this?” she asked excitedly.

“Callon…?” asked Eryndil quizzically.

“Why yes – of course. He’s the one I’m buying something for!” and she turned back to a closer examination of the dagger.

“But I thought…” began Eryndil, and then his perplexity turned to embarrassment. Did she think him silly? Surely she would if she had known what he was thinking. Maybe she DID know, and was dismissing those thoughts.

Eryndil stiffened, his embarrassment now giving way to just a little anger.

“I don’t know… why do we need so many daggers anyway?” he asked.

Caelen looked a little stung, but said nothing. So Eryndil continued, his temperature rising.

“After all, you should not be out here by yourself anyway. It’s just not… proper! Or safe!”

“But I was only…” the joy once in her face had turned to doubt

“It doesn’t matter…” but Eryndil caught himself. This wasn’t going well, but maybe he could salvage it with a little humor. “After all, I wouldn’t want to have to save you again,” he added with a slim smile and a low chuckle.

“Save me again?” yelled Caelen, not at all amused, for her doubt had passed and now quickly gave way to a growing rage. “Is that it? Now that you’ve saved my life I am indebted to you?” She bowed in mock obeisance, “Oh great lord and master, tell me exactly what I must do, now and henceforth…” Then she rose and her voice rose with her, “And from whom now will you save me … HER?” she shouted, pointing at a servant girl carrying two pails of water – the girl stopped dead in her tracks, her eyes wide open in surprise. “Or… must you save me from that peddler there?” Caelen asked, pointing at a man pushing another cart down the street – this fellow just pretended not to hear and continued on his way, minding his own business.

“Now look, Caelen, I just meant that with Callon away…”

“You leave Callon OUT of this! He’s twice the man YOU are. Why HE could have saved me that day, if he had twenty men along with him like you did.”

“Twelve.”

“Huh?”

“I had twelve men, Caelen.”

“WhatEVER! Well… who do you think you are, to tell me what I can or cannot do, where I can or cannot go? I don’t need any more saving… not here! Not ever again!”

She held the dagger forth to the merchant and said to him, with great calm and politeness, “I’ll take this one.” And then more sharply, and sideways, “but don’t bother to wrap it. I’ll just carry it, in case I NEED it! After all, the King’s Men can’t keep this place safe now, can they?”

That last ended with a glaring look at Eryndil, and then a final, “And you… didn’t even bother to thank me for those apples!” Turning in triumph at that, head held high, Caelen stormed off.

‘Caelen! Wait! Stop!’ But he hadn’t said it out loud… only in his head. He watched her go. Would she turn back? He kept watching until she was gone from view. She had never turned back. The merchant she bought the knife from, just shrugged and smirked, “Redheads!” Eryndil gave him an icy stare and walked away.

She was so frustrating! And stubborn! Why wouldn’t she listen to him, when all he cared about was her… safety!? And to think he had once considered her “sensible” – what a laugh!

Eryndil returned to the stall with the gloves. He saw a nice looking pair and picked it up. He looked it over, half-considering it, but his thoughts didn’t stay on the gloves. Suddenly, he threw them back down and stormed off toward home. Any further shopping would have to wait until tomorrow. This other merchant stood watching with his mouth open, not sure what had just happened.

[Gordis]

Chapter 5. Eryndil's Home Fills

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Cameth Brin, late afternoon of November 4, 1347.
Written by Earniel
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wilwarin quietly left her small quarters and the palace. She suppressed a little yawn. By now her body had pretty much adapted to the unnatural rhythm of watching at night, sleeping in the morning and rising again only in the late afternoon. But while her body had adapted, her mind had not quite caught up yet. It still felt strange waking up when the rest of the world had already gone through half a day. Sometimes she woke up with a start, thinking she had overslept and would be late for her duties, only to remember her duties weren’t quite the same anymore.

Wearing a dress felt nearly unnatural as well, having been used by now to the riding clothes she wore on guard-duty and during the exercises. For while Wilwarin no longer had other tasks than to watch over the princesses at night, she was now required to maintain her skill with the blade through exercise, which often took up a good portion of her day-time hours. But not so today.

She hastened her step. She had written her parents to inform them about her new duty and she had calculated a reply should now be waiting for her at the courier’s office. While she had been in Cameth Brin alone for more than a year, she had written often. Sometimes even weekly, if she could find a traveler going there.

She reached the office where the travelers and trade caravans usually dropped off the letters they carried with them. Her calculations turned out correct and she emerged a little later with the long expected letter. She had been fortunate to get it, as it had arrived with the last caravan of the year. They would depart again tomorrow and not return until spring. Her reply would have to be quick as well.

She went back to the palace grounds and looked the letter over. In the left upper-corner of the envelope stood a dwarfish rune, like a stylised butterfly, a symbol only her family would use. When she unfolded the letter, there were two sheets. One from her father and one from her mother, both easily distinguishable by the different handwriting. Her father wrote like he did his accounting: neat and meticulous and seemingly having to account for every deviation. Her mother’s handwriting was rounder and more fluent, and she indulged herself an elegant curl now and then.

Your news caused quite some commotion here! Your brother has boasted that he can probably still beat you with the blade, as he’s the one that taught you how to use it in the first place. Your younger sister is quite jealous. And in exchange she commands you to describe in your next letter in full how your two royal charges look. She’s in particular interested in what princess Odaragariel’s usually wears, for word has it she knows how to appreciate expensive clothes and jewellery. Your sister expects full descriptions, she insist I add, or she won’t like you anymore.

Next followed a short description of the news of her home town. Her sister Finareth would marry in April next year. The last trade caravan had been successful, although the attacks from highway robbers were becoming more frequent. Her father would probably need to hire more guards for the next journey. Wilwarin also had a new cousin who had been born three weeks go.

Her father’s letter ending with a warning.

We’re proud of you, Wilwarin, for what you have achieved. But be ever wary. Do not get embroiled in politics, for the intrigues at the royal court are no doubt the most fickle and the deadliest. I’d rather try to sell an axe to a dwarf then meddle in politics.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tanoth Brin, evening of November 4, 1347.
Written by Valandil
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Another day was drawing to a close at “The Market Street Inn”. Brithoren, the innkeeper smiled with satisfaction as he wiped down out a tankard and thought about all the money he was making. The music had just ended and several of the patrons had just departed for their homes for the night. Around him, the last few customers joked and laughed with the serving girls, and in one corner, several of his servants had gathered for their evening meal.

His eyes lit upon two of them; Harma and Harda, they had called themselves, cousins they said – off a little to one side of the rest. They seemed a bit out of place among his other servants, but he was glad to have them. And to think he had almost turned them away – when they’d come around late the one night, almost two weeks back. He took them in though, and they quickly proved themselves. Harma, the small one, did most of the talking, and was dependable enough to send on errands or to take charge of difficult tasks. Yet when the two drew aside together, Harma seemed always deferential toward Harda. Harda, worked the forge out back, and while slow at first, he was quickly gaining in strength and deftness of hand. He seemed slow of foot, and wasn’t fit for moving about all day – but he could stand at a task and put his mind to it for hours on end. He wasn’t much for words, but on about their third day here, there was trouble of some kind among the other servants – Brithoren still wasn’t sure just what – but he heard that Harda had taken care of it. Besides, old men that they were, they ate but little, and took up very little space – and were no trouble at all.

Meanwhile, Harma and “Harda” were having a discrete conversation of their own.

“Tell me again Harma… what you saw. What she looked like.”

“Only as I’ve said before, master. She and her friends went all a’riding by, and made trouble for an apple peddler. Dressed all plain she was, notably so amongst a proud company, and I wonder at it – for she must be the highest born of them all – save only one of the other young women.”

Harda sat back and sighed. “Oh, I wish I had been there to see her though. You must know how it aches me, Harma.”

“Yes master, but say no more of it now. The proper time for that will come, surely. But first we must know what risk there is. And who it is that would harm you. We certainly want no harm coming to HER.”

The two returned then to the bowls before them and to their prior silence, stealing glances around to make sure they had not been overheard.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Royal Palace of Cameth Brin, mid-morning of November 5, 1347.
Written by Valandil
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rondaran and Lastorion had arrived early to the Winter Garden Gallery this morning, where for the previous three days, along with their two colleagues, they had waited in vain to be drawn into the King’s Small Council Room to begin the duties for which they had been brought together. This morning, the two sat near the windows with the door ajar that they would know if someone drew near, and spoke together in hushed whispers over the remnants of their breakfast.

“The King won’t call us today either, I’ll wager,” began Rondaran. “The Council doesn’t like us being here, and he doesn’t want to stir up trouble.”

“Patience Rondar,” replied Lastorion. “We don’t have a bad life, as it is.” He continued after a pause, “As for our own plans, and our two compatriots, what do you think? Eryndil has the greater ability, does he not?”

“Yes – he does. But I don’t think he would approve of our ideas… or our methods.”

“Nonetheless, I aim to explore it a bit. Without revealing ourselves, for sure.”

“You take good care, Lastorion,” Rondaran replied gravely. “Our lives could be at stake. As for me, I have greater hopes that Naurlith will be sympathetic to our designs.”

“He is quiet and hard to gage, but I think you’re right. Eryndil, though, would be the greater help. Hush now… here comes one.”

At that, Eryndil strode through the door.

“Good morning friends,” he began. “Still at breakfast? I had that ere the crack of dawn, then took to the ordering of my house for the day.”

“Had to get up and milk the cows, eh farm boy?” answered Rondaran with a smirk.

Lastorion laughed as he rose in greeting and said, “Don’t mind my grumpy companion here, Eryndil. He had his hard duty last night, keeping up the spirits of the young ladies here in the upper city. Your presence then was missed indeed. Won’t you join us tonight?”

Eryndil smiled at the friendly offer. It sounded inviting, and things were not going well at all with the particular young lady he couldn’t completely get off his mind. “Sure, why not? But… I half-expect my family in town any day. If they should arrive…”

“Of course, of course. But first we’ll see what His Majesty requires of us today.”

So the three sat for a while until Naurlith likewise joined them, and then the four waited further. Rondaran and Lastorion had both lived in the city for all their lives. Lastorion was a nephew of Orefim, and Rondaran a protege of his mentor, Nimruzir. Naurlith’s history was more like that of Eryndil’s – younger son of a Thane and a soldier in the King’s service, he was recommended to the King by Huramir of Dol Aglardin. Eryndil had received no particular nomination, but was added chiefly by his reputation alone – though Merendil knew him and added his good opinion when it was solicited. Eryndil was a good deal younger than the rest, but the oldest was not more than 70.

Eventually, a messenger came to the door. All turned, expectant at whether they should be at last summoned, or once again dismissed.

“Sir Eryndil, a company has arrived at the outer gate of Cameth Brin, claiming to be your family. They were taken to the city square to await you.”

Eryndil rose quickly, bowed slightly to his companions and began to make his departure. “A company?” he thought. Before he reached the door, Rondaran had spoken.

“What of us, messenger?”

“Oh… His Majesty the King says for you to return again tomorrow.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
City Square of Cameth Brin, mid-morning of November 5, 1347.
Written by Valandil
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Eryndil reached the city square of Cameth Brin, he realized that there was indeed a company. Not only had his father and mother and his sister Hendegil come, but also his brother Vilyandur and sister Gildurien, and Dornendur’s two younger children, Eryndil’ niece Glambeth and nephew Paurblung – as well as a few servants and Eryndil’s four men who had escorted them all.

First there were warm greetings all around, and then a flood of questions, but soon the talk drifted to the trip from Ostinand to Cameth Brin. The frustration began to show in Camglas’ face.

“We made good time – only started on the first, as I didn’t care to be out traveling on Duvudu. But we made Penmorva the first day, the Crossroads the next and camped out the night after. Oh – and did we have a hard, cold rain then! Fearful that snow was just behind it, I pushed hard the day after, yesterday that is, and bypassed River Crossings, hoping to make Cameth Brin. But when we got to the gate of Tanoth Brin, it was after dark and no amount of pleadings or threats would get those guards to open their fool gate! So we had to turn around and go back to the Four Furlongs. Oh – the prices there! What’s more, a wheel on my supply wagon started to give me trouble. Well, this morning we come along and all, and the wagon wheel just breaks apart right in the middle of town – Tanoth Brin that is! So we had to load our things in the coach, and pack up the horses and some had to walk besides.”

“Oh – and that walk. Bad enough the climb, but the men along the way, between the cities now – were just the lewdest, crudest…”

“Yes father, I know. Those are Broggha’s men.”

“Broggha’s men!” exclaimed Camglas, seeming surprised. “Well, that doesn’t surprise me!”

“So did you just leave your wagon where it fell?” asked Eryndil, curious and somewhat amused. His father rarely got very talkative, but he was flowing like a waterfall now.

“More or less. Dropped it at the Market Street Inn down there. Innkeeper says he’s got a man he thinks can fix it. I can’t imagine what he’s going to charge me though.”

On the lookout for a break, Eryndil noticed the messenger only now turning about and heading back toward the palace grounds, and realized that he had been standing by Hendegil. “Hendegil, what did you have for the messenger?”

“Oh – he just waited for me,” Hendegil said happily, “while I wrote a note to Caelen, inviting her and her brother over to your house!”

Eryndil tried to keep the smile pasted to his face, but inwardly groaned.

“What is it, Eryndil?” asked his mother.

“Oh – it’s just that Callon is away.”

“A-WAY?” his mother asked sharply.

“Yes, but under orders. He’s part of the royal stablemaster’s men, and his duties have taken him out of town for a few days.”

“Then all the more reason for us to have Caelen over,” his mother said frostily. Then turning about, she added, “It’s chilly up here, even at mid-day. Won’t you take us to your home?”

“If her brother is away, maybe Caelen should stay with US!” offered Hendegil.

Eryndil only just managed to turn his wince into a smile as his sister looked expectantly into his eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Eryndil's home in Cameth Brin, midday of November 5, 1347.
Written by Valandil
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The group was soon at Eryndil’s house, travel-weary, but excited to be at a new place, and to see if it was all as wonderful as it sounded in Eryndil’s letter and from the descriptions of his men. Before long, all were pretty well satisfied that it was every bit as pleasant as described – and even pointed out to Eryndil all the great things he had failed to mention to them.

Eryndil delighted in the presence of his family once more. After a short while though, when the initial excitement had died down, he noticed that Soromo had withheld himself from contact with the new arrivals as much as possible. But now that things had calmed down a bit, he approached Eryndil’s father, stood directly before him, drew himself up and addressed him rather pointedly.

“You are Camglas, son of Borlost, Thane of Nandemar?”

Camglas was taken aback a bit at first and only replied after pausing and briefly studying the man before him, “Yes, I am he.”

Soromo bowed and continued, “Then I have an office to fulfill. The King, Tarnendur has taken this house and bequeathed it to your third son, Eryndil, but for my part I return it to you, for it has been in the keeping of my fathers and me these eleven score years.”

Camglas, his eyebrows knitting together, looked even more curiously at Soromo. “Well, I’ll not gainsay my King, but you… then you are…”

“Yes, your third cousin - Soromo by name. When your great-grandfather departed from this house and this city, never to return, he left the property in the care of his brother, my great-grandfather. We share the same great-great-grandfather, who was the 14th Thane of Nandemar.”

“Wonder of wonders!” exclaimed Camglas, then placed his hands on Soromo’s arms, his face lit up with joy. “And you’ve kept the place for us all these years?”

Soromo did not return the embrace but smiled slightly.

“Yes,” continued Camglas. “Now, my great-grandfather was the 15th Thane, but the 16th was my great-uncle. It was my father who became the 17th when my great uncle died along with his family… most of them.”

“I know the family history well,” answered Soromo. “Odd chance is it not? Your grandfather was the second son of a first son, while my grandfather was the first son of a second son. Little difference, it might seem – but you are a Thane, and I… a servant.”

“An honored one then, at least henceforth!” replied Camglas, smiling ever brighter. “Like the cousin that a King takes for a Steward in his palace, so you shall be both here, and at Ostinand, if ever you would join us there!”

“You are too kind.” Replied Soromo with a slight bow – and for the first time since knowing him, Eryndil felt that Soromo was truly… pleased. And maybe deeply touched besides.

At just that moment, Naneth the housekeeper interrupted to announce that refreshments of apple pies and hot apple cider had been prepared and awaited them all.

[Gordis]

Chapter 6. The Improper Gift
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Cameth Brin Tower, late morning of November 5, 1347.
Written by Gordis
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Daurendil returned from his sword practice, and took his time washing sweat and dirt from his body and making himself presentable again. “To be presentable” meant much more to the Prince than it did to most young men – it entailed being fashionably and impeccably dressed, combed and perfumed. A knock on the door surprised him when he was almost finished, so he sent a servant to open the door.

The visitor was one well known to the Prince – Ilyanon, the Royal Taylor. The tall, thin, slightly balding man bowed respectfully to his best customer. “Greetings, your Highness” he offered. “I took it upon myself to deliver your latest order as diligently as possible.”

“You have taken quite a lot of time, as it is!” was the impatient reply. “I hoped to have the dress by yestereve. Why so long?”

“It was a difficult commission, my Lord,” the tailor explained placidly. “We could take no measurements and it is not easy to make a close-fitting dress without them. I…”

“But I have described her to you, have I not?!” the Prince interrupted. “She is much like Tarniel or Odaragariel, but a bit shorter than the former and taller than the latter.”

“You would be surprised, my Prince, if I tell you that the two princesses you mentioned have an entirely different build.”

“Really?!!” gaped Daurendil, now thoroughly puzzled. To him both girls looked much the same, barring their coloring, of course.

“To be able to design the riding dress to your satisfaction, I had to track down the Lady in question and observe her from a distance with my own eyes. She is lovely indeed, my Lord. But after that little examination I understood the need to enlarge the dress in hips and breasts.”

Daurendil blushed. Thinking of Caelen’s body sent a slow fire through his own, a sensation still new to him. “A-hem, show me the dress then!” he ordered, trying to cover his embarrassment.

The tailor opened the large box he carried and proudly laid down on the bed an elegant riding outfit with a long train. The dress was made of soft sea-blue velvet, richly embroidered with golden thread. There were also a fox pelerine, long matching gloves and a small velvet hat lined with fox fur to go with it. Daurendil eyes lighted when he thought how truly bewitching Caelen would look in all this courtly finery.

Of course, a dress was not a suitable present for a lady he barely knew for a few days. But it seemed Caelen was not yet aware of the court restrictions. The day Daurendil lost the race and with it his heart, he had raked his brain for several hours to decide what fitting present he could give his new love. She was by far the loveliest of the ladies in the hunting party, he thought, but she was also the one with the poorest dress. Barring Odare or course, he remembered - what has gotten into Lady Oddie to dress like that? But Odare’s reasons worried him little now. He paid the tailor, grabbed the box and hurried out of the Tower and across the court to the Palace.

While he raced through the court and up the palace stairs, he had to realize that Princes were not supposed to be running around hauling Boxes. He got quite a few curious stares from the guards and the servants, but the worse part of it was awaiting him upstairs. His appearance in the married servants’ quarters made quite a stir. There was a small crowd assembled when he stopped to ask where he could find Lady Caelen.

“The wife of Callon, the ostler?” one old woman replied. “This way, please, my Lord. But Caelen is away – she went somewhere an hour ago”

Daurendil’s heart sank. He hadn’t counted on Caelen being away – he hoped to see again this wondrous, sunny woman. But it was not to be…

The prince was ushered into a small room with a large double bed in the corner. “I wonder where does this guy, her brother, sleep?” he thought, uneasy. Gingerly he put the present on the bed and searched for a while among the things on the table until he located an inkwell and a quill.

With a sudden inspiration, he scribbled a short humorous note:

"For the Fair Lady who won the Race - from her faithful Orc. I will wait for you in the court tomorrow morning - I beg for a riding lesson. Yours forever, D."

He put the note on the top of the box and left as fast as he could, the curious gazes of the assembled servants hot on his back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Cameth Brin Palace, servant's rooms, late morning of November 5, 1347.
Written by Rian
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After a few minutes of raised eyebrows and whispers and interesting conjectures, the crowd in the married servants' quarters finally dispersed, as less interesting but more urgent duties called. By the time Caelen returned from Arinya's room, where she had been taking her first harp lesson, no one was in the halls anymore. She hummed the tune that Arinya had been trying to teach her as she opened the door to her room, and then stopped short at the sight of a large box on her bed, with a note propped on top of it. As she was crossing the room to examine it, there came a knock on the door, and she regretfully turned away from the interesting package to open the door.

A messenger greeted her politely as she opened the door, and handed her a note as he informed her that he was instructed to wait for her answer. Her curiosity turned to real happiness as she saw that the note came from Eryndil's sister Hendegil! She opened it quickly and scanned the contents - Hendegil was in town, and wanted to see her right away!

"Just a moment, please," she told the messenger, and sat down to compose her reply. Then a thought struck her - Hendegil was at her brother's house, and she had NO wish to see him after that irritating encounter in the marketplace. Her lips pursed together, she composed her reply:

My dearest Hendegil, I would love to see you, but I'm afraid that your brother will not receive me in his house as I will have to come unescorted, through no fault of my own (my brother has been called away), and he violently disapproves of females doing this. I'm afraid I would be turned away if I called for you at his house in this unseemly manner. Perhaps you should come here instead, as I long to see you. Please send your reply as soon as possible - I will wait here for it. Yours sincerely, Caelen

She stood up and thrust the note out to the messenger. As he reached for it, she had second thoughts; why should Hendegil be punished for her brother's faults? With a "wait just a moment," she pulled the note out of the messenger's hands, crumpled it up, threw it away, and sat down to write another one.

My dearest Hendegil, I would love to see you - I'm so happy you came to town! Would you mind if we met somewhere outside of your brother's house, though?

She frowned at the note - this wasn't working, either. She crumpled it up and threw it out, and the messenger, with a sigh, leaned against the door frame and looked down the hall to see if anything interesting was happening.

Caelen started again:

My dearest Hendegil, I'm SO glad you came to town, you have NO idea! I've been so lonely here, especially since my brother's duties called him away for a week. I would LOVE to come see you, and lunch would be perfect. I will follow shortly after this message. Yours sincerely, Caelen

She recalled the messenger's attention from the hallway, and handing him the note and a coin, dismissed him and then shut the door. Quickly crossing the room, she seized the note off the top of the box and read it. What in the world? Oh well, whatever ... Anyway, WHAT was in the box?!

She tore off the lid and then drew her breath in at the sight of the exquisite riding dress. It was lovely! All that detailing with the gold thread ... oh, it was so pretty! And the hat ... and the gloves ... and and ...

She quickly took off her clothes and put on the riding outfit. It fit perfectly! And now, she could finally get rid of her old riding outfit. She had hated putting it on after what had happened to her in it, but she had nothing else to ride in, and she loved riding more than she hated what had happened to her. She grabbed up her old riding habit, holding it gingerly as if it could bite, and rushed out of the room. She would thank Daurendil later - that was so thoughtful of him! Right now, she wanted to see Hendegil more than anything she had wanted in a long time. Tossing her old riding habit in the dustbin on the way out, she ran to the stables, saddled her mare over the protests of the stablehands who tried to do it for her, and rode off happily to Eryndil's house.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Eryndil's house in Cameth Brin, noon, November 5, 1347
Written by Rian
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I believe she's in the garden, miss," said the servant who answered Caelen's impatient knock at the door as he indicated that she could enter. She followed him impatiently through a large, airy room and practically ran through the open doors into the garden. And there she was - Hendegil! With a cry of pleasure, Caelen ran to her friend, who was smiling her welcome and holding her arms out. They embraced warmly as Eryndil and his father and mother looked on at the pleasant sight.

"And of course you remember my mother and father, and my brother," prompted Hendegil gently, reminding Caelen of her manners.

"Of course I do!" replied Caelen, blushing and curtsying politely to the thane and his wife, and a bit more reservedly to Eryndil. "I'm so sorry, I was just so happy to see your daughter!" she explained, turning back to Hendegil's parents.

"No offense taken," said Camglas graciously. "We are both very glad to see Hendegil have such a warm-hearted friend!"

"Caelen, what an exquisite riding outfit! Is it new? I don't remember you wearing it before!" said Hendegil as she examined Caelen's clothing.

"Yes, I just got it today - it was a present from the Prince Daurendil - wasn't that kind? I went on a riding party with him, and he must have noticed that my outfit was a bit worn, and I guess he had one made up for me! But now, Hendegil, tell me all about YOU!" she said, impatient to move past the topic of the new riding outfit. "Was this a surprise visit here? Oh, it doesn't matter, I'm just so glad you came!" And she took Hendegil's hands in hers and gave them a squeeze.

"Did you say Prince Daurendil gave you this?" asked Eryndil, surprised in more ways than one - and none of them pleasant.

"Yes," answered Caelen, a little impatience creeping into her voice. "And he wants me to give him a riding lesson tomorrow morning, too - although really, he rides just fine - a little rough, but I can show him some things that will help his seat."

"And you accepted this gift from him?" continued Eryndil incredulously. This girl was really too much - was she really that ignorant of what it meant? Was she just going to continue to cause embarassment and trouble for her brother and others around her?

"Eryndil," said his mother softly, as the thane watched the unfolding scene with interest.

"Why, of course - why not?" answered Caelen, trying to keep her rising temper in check. "He can afford it, can't he? Maybe it's just a thank-you in advance for my riding instruction," she finished, although a little uneasily, as she remembered Daurendil's note and started to face what she had tried to ignore in it.

Eryndil sighed. "Well, I suppose it might be all right," he said, trying hard to make allowances for the situation. "After all, he thinks you're married."

Caelen's guilty expression made Eryndil do a double take.

"Married?!" exclaimed Hendegil and her parents in unison.

"Caelen, he DOES think you're married, doesn't he?" pressed Eryndil.

"Well ... " and Caelen's face assumed the expression of a dog who has been caught stealing food from the dinner table.

Eryndil groaned.

"I couldn't help it!" cried Caelen, irritated and ashamed and angry with herself as well as Eryndil. "I told him everything - he asked me if I wanted to go riding, and I wanted to, SO much, and I couldn't if everyone thought I was pregnant ..."

"PREGNANT?!?!" exclaimed Hendegil and her parents, aghast.

"Callon was just trying to protect me!" said Caelen imploringly. "He told people that we were married and that I was with child, because he was afraid for me there - there were so many rough men ... after what had happened once ... and then he ... he had to leave me, and ... and I was all alone, and I wanted to ride so much but I couldn't ... and I was with Arinya and the Prince came in and then asked me to go riding with them! ... so I told him what Callon had done so ... so I could go riding," finished Caelen in a small voice. "And I thought that it would be wrong to deceive a prince," she added lamely, as an afterthought.

Then a new thought occurred to her - Callon had said that Eryndil had agreed to support the ruse. She turned back to Eryndil and added, in a half accusing tone, "Callon told me that you had agreed to support the ruse - why didn't you tell your family?"

Eryndil's eyes opened wide in disbelief ... and a bit of anger. This is just too much!" he thought. "Like I did something wrong?"

"I told your brother that although I disagreed with what he had done, that I would not reveal your true connection, so of course I was going to tell my family! I just hadn't gotten around to it yet - they just arrived here a few hours ago! I had more important things to discuss with them first," he concluded a bit angrily, thinking that she needed to learn (for her own good, of course) that she - and her concerns - were not at the center of everything. He immediately regretted his words, however, as he saw Caelen's expression. He hadn't meant them to sound that harsh ... he was just trying to teach her something ...

Looking at Caelen's white face and trembling mouth, Eryndil's mother broke in. "I think perhaps we better sit down somewhere," she said, as she put a protective arm around the young orphan and led her to a nearby garden bench.

"Now, dear, you just sit quietly here a moment, while my son explains what he knows of this," said Rildorien to Caelen as she guided her to the bench and sat down with her. Hendegil sat down on Caelen's other side and took her other hand, patting it protectively.

"Let the games begin!" thought the thane with a smile that he tried, fairly successfully, to hide. He had never seen his son flustered by a woman before, and suspected that there was something behind it - and he was liking this little red-headed spitfire so far. "Eryndil needs a challenge!" he thought. "He's always been able to control things, and that's not good for him! And this little lady looks like she doesn't take to controlling very well!"

Eryndil took a deep breath and started talking. He didn't like how his mother and sister were looking at him - like he was some species of large, uncouth animal that had hurt this poor little orphan girl with its fumbling movements. Why, he had SAVED this girl! It wasn't FAIR! He was sorely tempted to enlarge on the story, focusing on Caelen's faults, but his good nature and sense of justice overruled this desire, and he gave a calm, clear, accurate account of what he knew had happened since they had left Ostinand.

"Is that right, dear?" his mother asked Caelen. "As if I would lie?" thought Eryndil, his temper rising again.

"Yes," said Caelen, and looked up at Eryndil with her clear grey eyes calm again. "I'm glad you explained it so well," she said to him gratefully. "I never seem to explain things well - especially when I'm upset," she finished, looking down at the ground again.

Camglas cleared his throat. "Well, my dear, I must say that I agree with my son - deceiving is never right - but I think that for now, at least, we will do as he has agreed to do, and not give away your secret. And I will instruct the rest of my family to do the same."

Caelen looked up at him gratefully and smiled her thanks.

"And son," continued the thane, "you need to tell your men that, too."

"I have already done so," answered Eryndil. The thane nodded his approval of his son's behavior.

There was a moment of silence, and then Caelen, looking up at Rildorien, asked plaintively, "Lady Rildorien, could you please tell me what I should do about the riding habit? My mother and father are gone, and I ... I just don't know what I should do now!" Eryndil saw Caelen fall back into her nervous habit of biting her lip and suppressed the urge to tell her to stop doing that, but this time, his heart was a lot softer towards her. She had been through a lot, after all - maybe he had been too hard on her.

Rildorien had Caelen tell what had happened, and then questioned her carefully to fill in the missing parts of Caelen's rather disjoined account. She sighed. It was abundantly clear that Caelen would have to return the outfit.

"My dear child," she said, "I'm afraid that you simply cannot accept this outfit. I know that you are unaware of court customs, and what is proper for a lady to receive from a gentleman who knows that she is unmarried, but there is ..."

"Wait," said Caelen. Rildorien looked at her in surprise. "I must tell you more, " Caelen said simply. "You have been so kind to me - you've been like a mother to me today - I need to tell you more." She sighed heavily and bit her lip just slightly again (unknowingly making Eryndil half-irritated, half-aroused - he was starting to get very interested in Caelen's lips - "What did they feel like? What did they ... taste like?" he found himself wondering, and then shook his head at himself in disbelief - what was he thinking?)

Rildorien looked at her questioningly, and Caelen took a deep breath and looked back at her with flushed cheeks and a little fear in her eyes. She didn't want to tell Rildorien this, or have the others hear it, either, but she felt she had to be completely frank with these good people who were being so kind and supportive of her.

"I ... I didn't tell you everything ... it's true that I wasn't sure what the note meant, but what I didn't tell you is that I thought I knew what it might mean ... and I did know that I shouldn't receive the gift. I don't want you to think badly of my mother. She told me that ladies don't receive gifts from gentlemen, except flowers, until they are engaged. But I tried to rationalize it because I wanted it so bad. I told myself that royalty can act differently and that it would be wrong to refuse a gift from royalty and things like that, and then I told myself that I had to hurry to come see Hendegil and I would think about it later."

Eryndil forgot about Caelen's mouth. Of all Caelen's faults, he had never thought of her as deceptive, and he was severely disappointed in her.

Perhaps Caelen sensed a movement from Eryndil - perhaps she sensed the movement in his heart - for she suddenly turned from Rildorien to Eryndil. Seeing the disapproval in the eyes of one she had always respected, the tears sprang to her own eyes.

"Don't you see," she started in a tremulous voice, then started again in a stronger one. "Don't you see, I had to have a riding outfit! Riding is in my blood - it's life to me - it's a tie to my family. And when I ride, I sometimes think that maybe, just maybe, I'll round a corner somewhere and see my house again, and my parents standing at the gates, holding them open wide ..." Caelen's eyes moved from Eryndil to a spot somewhere in the distance, and her whole face showed her longing and love for the family that was gone.

Eryndil was cut to the heart, and could not answer. But Caelen was not done. She looked at him again for a moment, and then suddenly looked down and covered her face with her hands.

"And every time I put on my old riding habit, I felt the brigands' hands on me again," she moaned, and then bent double, hugging her knees and rocking slowly back and forth, her hair falling around her like a curtain trying to protect her from the harsh, cruel world.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Eryndil's house in Cameth Brin, afternoon, November 5, 1347
Written by Valandil
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Not wishing to see her daughter’s friend further embarrassed before the servants in the main parts of the house, Rildorien suggested that they help Caelen up to Hendegil’s room. She was surprised though when Eryndil reached down and, instead of just assisting Caelen to her feet, lifted her up in his arms and made straight for the main stairway. Her face echoing her friend’s distress, Hendegil looked quickly back at her mother, then followed behind Eryndil.

Rildorien lingered behind for just a moment as the sounds of her son’s exertions passed up along with him. Then, turning to her husband, she said, “Wipe that smirk off your face, Thane Camglas!”

Camglas broke out into a soft chuckle, which made Rildorien even more cross as she turned and went up the stairs herself.

As he labored up the thirty or so steps, Eryndil tried to act as though he carried Caelen without effort. He had considered himself fairly strong, but had to admit he was no Beren or Turin – and this was hard work! But from the moment he lifted her, she had buried her head against his shoulder, her eyes shut tightly to block out the tears, and thrown her arms about his neck. As they passed up the stairs, her arms tightened about him (“Not TOO tight,” he had thought. “I still have to BREATHE!”), but when they reached the top he was able to pause for a moment, allowing Hendegil to go before him as pretext for recovering himself, and disguising his heavy breaths by drawing them slowly. Caelen’s arms loosened somewhat once the stairs were finished. She kept her eyes closed, but looking down, he saw that her face was visibly more relaxed, and though she shifted her head, turning it upward, it still lay upon him.

When he reached Hendegil’s room, Eryndil carried her across to the bed and laid her down slowly, carefully – almost regretfully. Then he stood to his full height looking down upon her briefly, feeling a tangle of emotions return now that the focus required by his former efforts was no longer needed. But this was interrupted by his mother’s arrival and a small flurry of activity. Eryndil sought to help; opening the window for fresh air, then shutting it at his mother’s command, stoking the fire to activity and drawing out another blanket after Hendegil had already pulled one up over Caelen. At last, at Rildorien’s suggestion, Hendegil asked Eryndil to fetch them some fresh water and helped him find his way out of the room with a hand in his back. Just outside the door he turned to face Hendegil, who was smiling up at him as she held the door wide open, and then slowly closed it after repeating, “water.”

Roused from their nap by the commotion, Vilyandur and Gildurien stood outside with him. They had been sorely disappointed to find on arriving, that the Princess Gimilbeth was away from Cameth Brin the very winter they had come to stay there. For their main objective in coming (and giving up their own October 30th Duvediu celebrations back home), had been in hopes of meeting her – to see for themselves if the rumors were indeed true, and now the whole trip was becoming a colossal waste of time! They hoped that whatever incident was going on now might be of some interest. But Eryndil urged them downstairs with him to where their father still sat, and Camglas bade them sit and talk with him awhile.

Eryndil gathered not only a pitcher of water and three vessels for drinking, but also a basket with bread, cheese and apples. His servants were a bit bemused as he insisted on taking them himself. As he started up the stairs once more, his father remarked with a wink, "Less load this time, and less pleasure in it, eh?" He smiled awkwardly, as Vilyandur and Gildurien looked puzzled. Returning to Hendegil’s room, Eryndil was about to knock when he heard from within the sounds of laughter, broken now and again by sniffling. Then he heard first Hendegil’s voice.

“And Caelen, I didn’t bring much in the way of riding clothes, but I have several dresses with me, fit for a winter at court! And you shall choose two or three from among them. Here – look at these… But you must stay here tonight!”

“Oh – sniff, sniff – I really should not. I don’t want… I would rather sleep in my own bed.”

“Well – then you’ll at least stay on for supper. After all, lunch didn’t quite work out, did it?”

A little more laughter and then Caelen’s voice once more, “But it will be late by then, and even in Cameth Brin it isn’t safe for a lady to be out alone after dark.”

At that Eryndil drew a breath and knocked, “Water,” he said.

When he opened the door, he saw Caelen sitting up on the bed, but pulling the cover over herself, as his mother and sister contrived to stand between them. Seeing part of her new outfit on the floor by the bed, he swallowed and continued, eyes downcast “Caelen... I could not help but overhear that last. I will escort you home after dinner, if you would stay.”

Caelen seemed to be thinking it over, and Hendegil joined in, “And I will accompany you both, for it is not fit that a single man escort a married woman home while her husband is away!”

And they both laughed a bit more, though with Caelen still seeming embarrassed (and feeling likewise himself), Eryndil set down basket, pitcher and glasses and retreated, hearing behind him as he shut the door, “Oh and look – lunch is taken care of anyway!” and more broken laughter still.

Then he walked slowly down the stairs, regretting that it was too late in the year for there to be any flowers left in the garden.

[Gordis]

Chapter 7. The Troubles of the Royals

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Cameth Brin Palace. November 5, 1347, at dusk.
Written by Gordis
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The early darkness was gathering outside the high arched windows of the Palace dining room. King Tarnendur and Queen Eilinel were having an early supper - the queen maintained that that it was unhealthy to eat right before going to bed, so they had the evening meal earlier than the Princes, earlier than everyone else in the Palace.

There were just the two of them, as Eilinel sent the servants away once they had brought the dishes. She cherished these moments of privacy, and liked to fill the King's plate and pour his wine herself, without servants getting in the way. To Eilinel, it felt more like a normal family supper and, as an additional advantage, allowed her to control the King's appetite. Tarnendur tended to eat too much for his own good, more than it was prudent in his advanced age, she thought, pushing the plate with assorted cheeses further away from the King.

She had already won another hard battle - sent away the Gondorian chef Tarnendur brought with him and hired a local Rhudaurian cook who served plain healthy ware, instead of fancy meals of the south, those horrible alien dishes seasoned with hot spices to the point of making a person unused to them choke to death.

Today the King seemed preoccupied and munched silently, without appetite, a frown on his brow. He drank unreasonably much though, Eilinel noticed and congratulated herself for her cleverness: she ordered the servants to dilute the King's wine by half, so it couldn't do any real harm. But then her heart sank and she twitched uneasily - she remembered the difficult question she had to discuss.

She cleared her throat twice, before the king's gaze finally alighted on her.

"My Lord," she started in a small voice.

"Why so formal, my dearest?" the King smiled encouragingly. "Forgive my silence, Eilinel. Those affairs of State... I try to leave them behind when I am with you, but they keep crawling back into my mind."

"I understand, Tarnendur, and I don't blame you. But there is something I heard that worries me greatly, to the point that I can't keep it to myself. I think you should know it, my love. The Palace is astir with gossip."

The King sat back in his chair and groaned loudly. "As if it is not enough to have Broggha on my back, and all those conniving Councilors, and untrustworthy troops, and the winter approaching with cold and famine and what's not - no, I should also be bothered with the Palace gossip!" he complained.

Eilinel's eyes filled with tears, which instantly made the King ashamed of his words. He took her hand in his and squeezed it reassuringly. " Forgive me Eilinel, my darling! What is it about?"

Eilinel sniffed and wiped her tears. "I heard it from my own maid this afternoon, but then I questioned other maids as well - and got the same story. There is a new ostler at the Stables - he came here a couple of weeks ago with a beautiful redhead wife. Soon this fellow went away on the trip to Brochenridge - leaving the young wife behind. She was pregnant, he said, so he asked not to give her any work. Then with her husband scarcely away, the woman set out to ensnare our Daurendil - can you believe it?!"

The King looked appropriately shocked at this revelation, so Eilinel hurried to continue. "She made him invite her for a hunt - an ostler's wife riding among the Princes and Princesses! Everyone noticed that Daurendil was quite smitten - to the point to make Odaragariel quite upset - poor thing! And then, this very morning, Daurendil appeared in the servants quarters, where this vixen dwells, carrying a big box - a present for her! The servants were most curious what it contained, so quite a few watched in stealth how the woman left the room. She was dressed like a queen they say - meaning not like me, of course, as I have little interest in fancy dresses, but like a queen from a fairy-tale - all in furs, velvets and golden embroidery. They say she rode all through Cameth Brin to visit her friends and to flaunt her dress across the city."

"Wait, wait..." the King rose a warning hand. "Not so fast. Let me get this straight. So, Daurendil presented her with a DRESS and she has ACCEPTED it?"

"Quite so, my Lord, there can't be any doubt about it. It is absolutely shocking. But there is more. They say the conniving woman is so set on becoming the Prince's mistress that she has got rid of the unborn baby in her womb - the very day she met Daurendil!!!" The queen's voice lowered to a hoarse whisper "And some say she wants to get rid of her husband as well - that is why she managed to send him away! And with him dead she plans to become not Daurendil's mistress, but his WIFE"

Tarnendur snorted and shook his head "It is absolutely crazy - there is no way for a groom's widow to become a future queen! I have to talk with Daurendil, however - the boy was foolish enough to court a married woman in the first place, and he is far too young for romantic pursuits!"

"Oh, please, don't do it, I beg you, my Lord!' Eilinel cried. "I know my Daurendil - he is obstinate, he wouldn't be deterred by mere words, even those of his Father or myself. Instead, seeing the challenge, his foolish attachment to this awful woman will only increase... I don't know what to do, my Lord, for our son is in grave danger!"

"Nonsense, Eilinel", replied the King with a reassuring smile. "Don't fret too much. What danger could there be for Daurendil? - Only some unpleasantness and embarrassment. I will consider the matter and most likely will send someone to this groom, when he returns, to order him to restrain his wife."

Tarnendur rose to his feet and nodded to the Queen. "Now I will leave you for awhile, my love, as I still have things to attend to, but I will be back with you shortly and we will share a pleasant evening."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Cameth Brin Palace. November 5, 1347, evening.
Written by Valandil
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

King Tarnendur sat impatiently watching Eilinel’s ladies-in-waiting finish the elaborate arrangements of her braids of hair – an activity she ever insisted upon before she would retire for the evening. He took another sip from the goblet of spiced wine before him as he reclined in a great chair, his feet propped up before him. He turned his head and appraised the form of his wife. Not the sort to set every young man’s fancy aflutter – but Tarnendur was no longer a young man. The night was young though, and he had not lingered in his chambers, as he did late into most evenings. Eilinel would know why.

He wondered if she felt trapped in her marriage to an older man, young as she was. Gimilbeth had raged violently at the news that he would marry her those years ago – alternating with taunts about her age. But no girl liked to have her mother replaced by another woman – and to have a “new mother” young enough to be your daughter must have been particularly galling.

Ah – but there had been purpose in it; alliance, the production of an heir, unity and a chance for stability in the realm. Bah – if Eilinel felt trapped, what did it matter. She was but a woman, and would do him her wifely duty.

It had been long though. 'How long…?' he thought, as his eyes idly looked her up and down. Despite his age, he was still quite vigorous when they had first married – oh how they had frolicked! Of course, that was mostly on the times Gimilbeth had been away on her trip to Gondor. Yes – Eilinel was so much more relaxed when she was gone – apart from her alarm at this evening’s dinner, but that had nothing to do with Gimilbeth, at least. Tarnendur started to realize that he was more relaxed too. Well… this trip she had taken for the winter might do him a lot of good, he thought to himself with a low chuckle. Maybe he ought to send Gimilbeth away more often… make her his ambassador to Arthedain… or Gondor!

His eyes wandered up to three views of Eilinel's face. Three mirrors sat before her at her table. One of those was blocked from his view, so he saw her reflection at different angles in the other two, and her own face in profile slightly from behind. A noble face it was – and gentle too. An old man like himself could hardly forget the wife of his own youth, but Eilinel was fair – in her own way.

Just then she caught his eye in one of her mirrors. “That is enough. You may leave me,” she said to the four ladies hovering behind her. When they had gone, she sat still for a while, then rose and turned toward him.

“You are not often with me when I go to bed, my husband. Are you well? Has the day been long?” she asked with a slight smile.

“Yes, I mean no… I am well, the day has not been so very long. But Eilinel, I have neglected you,” he said, moving toward her.

“A King… must have many duties. His wife understands this,” yet she drew near to him herself. His arms slowly encircled her, and she leaned into his body.

Suddenly Tarnendur laughed and leaned back, gently gripping Eilinel’s arms. Her hands came up to hold his wrists, and she stood looking at his face with a smile, waiting to here the source of his sudden amusement.

“Eilinel – I see so much reason to have hope these days. And the short days of winter draw near. How long has it been since we’ve had a proper Yule Festival here at Cameth Brin? Well, I swear to you now that we shall have one this year – and it shall be in your honor – in the honor of Queen Eilinel!”

Eilinel was charmed and joined him in his laughter, telling him what a splendid idea it was, while her mind was already at work on arrangements to be made, what kind of dress should be fashioned for her, and the kinds of food they should serve.

But Tarnendur placed his arms about her more firmly now, and he was no longer laughing. He drew her to himself and kissed her powerfully. His hands began to caress her and she surrendered herself to his embrace as they made their way half onto the bed.

Then came a great pounding on the door.

With a look of frustration, Tarnendur called out, “Oh… what is it?!?”

“Important message for the King. From Merendil, Your Highness.”

As Tarnendur’s frustration mounted, Eilinel gave way to resignation. “It’s alright dear. There will be other nights.” Then rallying herself with a small smile, added with a wink, “More than fifty ere the Yule!"

Tarnendur had arranged himself to depart and waited for Eilinel to compose herself before drawing open the door and setting off down the hall for where the messenger awaited him.

The message was short and to the point:
_____________________________________________
November 4, 1347

King Tarnendur,

While returning to Cameth Brin, have discovered that a band of Orcs, perhaps 300 or more, have infiltrated the land and had observed our earlier passage, and have since set off in a direction which might intercept Princess Gimilbeth’s party before they reach the Last Bridge. Had already assigned her 40 men – may not be sufficient. Am giving chase with all available men, in hopes of reaching her in time.

I know not from whence these have come, or how they breached our borders, nor if others are about as well. Having no time to ponder these things which you must, I turn only to the attempted rescue of your eldest child.

Regards,

Captain Merendil
_______________________________________________

Tarnendur read the message first in haste, then again in alarm. At last, after several more re-readings, he pondered long on its words. Then he questioned the man who had delivered the message and released him to take his rest.

But Tarnendur sprang into action. The Council of Rhudaur must meet tomorrow – so messengers were sent to all council members, summoning them to a special meeting to begin two hours before noontide. His young advisors… they would have to wait. Word was sent for them to meet with him tomorrow evening.

Then long he sat up that evening, turning over in his mind what all this meant and how he must respond to this new crisis.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Cameth Brin Palace. November 5, 1347, evening.
Written by Valandil
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He had THOUGHT about kissing her hand, but decided on a less intimate gesture of a bow while holding her hand… in such a way that it COULD have been kissed. But too quickly, it seemed, he had lowered his hand, loosened his hold, and her own hand had been withdrawn. The final good-byes were said, her door closed before them, and Eryndil and Hendegil turned to make their way back to his home.

As they descended the stairs to the next level down, they came right into the middle of a great commotion. One of the head servants was dashing about, shouting, “Where is the King? Where is the King? Important message for the King from Merendil!” Behind him stood a soldier, who wore signs of long days upon the road and who kept on hand on a small pouch that hung over his shoulder.

“Come on Hendegil – let me get you home quickly,” said Eryndil.

“Why? What could this mean, Eryndil?”

“I don’t know, but it might be trouble. And Callon was with Merendil.”

“I know…” said Hendegil.

They hurried on down the stairs as servants shouted behind them, “He’s not in his Throne Room.” “Not in his Study!” “Not in his Council Chamber – or his private Bed Chamber.” “This guard says he’s… in the Royal Bed Chamber…”

Eryndil walked Hendegil back through the busy palace grounds, the bustling main streets of Cameth Brin, then the quiet, darker streets that led toward his home. When they arrived, he did not stay long, but simply bade his sister get on up to bed - or to join the family - if they still sat up, gave her a hug good-night, and went back out the front door – back toward the palace.

When Erydnil reached the palace, there was not quite the same commotion as when he left, but still more bustle than usual. Eryndil asked to see the King and was led straightaway to his Study, announced, and ushered in. The King was standing before him and Eryndil bowed and said, “My Lord,” and waited for Tarnendur to speak.

“Eryndil? Did your message come so soon? I sent word for you to come tomorrow evening, not this evening. In the morning I must meet with the Council – so I can meet with you advisors only later, if at all.”

“I received no message – yet, my Lord. I was visiting here with my sister when word came of a messenger from Merendil. I returned her to my home and came back to hear what news.”

The King motioned for Eryndil to draw closer, so he complied. Then the King held out the message for Eryndil to read.

“This… this is grim news, my King.”

“Yes…” said the King, distantly. Then, after a long silence, “You say that your sister is in town, Eryndil?”

“Yes, my King,” answered Eryndil hesitantly, wondering at first why this question. Then, remembering his protocol, he continued, “My father the Thane has come as well. He has not yet presented himself before you for he only came today. And… had a bit of trouble on the road. And now, with the matter of Merendil’s message to deal with…” Any noble coming to town unsummoned was to present himself before the King at the earliest possible time.

“Nonsense,” replied Tarnendur. “He shall come tomorrow late afternoon – when I am finished with the Council. I have not seen your father in years now. How is he?”

“Well, my King.”

“You linger still. Is there something more?”

“Yes your Highness,” replied Eryndil. He had been unsure whether to ask. “The messenger who brought this – might I speak with him? I wish to hear more about the situation… directly from him, if I might?”

“Of course, of course…” replied the King, taking a seat and stroking his beard with one hand. “I have dismissed him. I suppose you’ll find him in the men’s quarters. Good night.”

“Good night, your Highness,” said Eryndil, departing. He hoped that the man might be able to tell him anything at all about Callon. Caelen would surely wish to know…

[Gordis]

Chapter 8. The Gift Returned

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Caelen's room in Cameth Brin Palace. November 5, 1347, late evening.
Written by Rian
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Caelen curled up under the covers, Callon's shirt lodged securely in its usual place under her head so that she could feel it against her face and breathe in its familiar scent. Tomorrow! He'd be home tomorrow! She smiled happily into the dark for a minute, before more uncomfortable thoughts pushed their way in.

She had been foolish to wear the riding outfit that Daurendil had sent her. She admitted that to herself now - she had just been deceiving herself, and she had known it at the time, too - and she had paid the price today. She had made a scene at Eryndil's house when she broke down in tears, and she would probably have to face Daurendil tomorrow, too - but she was going to do her best to avoid that. Hopefully, Rildorien's note would make things easier. That had been kind of her to offer to write on her behalf, as an older friend of the family, even though they had only known each other a few weeks. And Callon would be home tomorrow afternoon or evening, and then everything would be a lot easier. Callon would take care of things again. She hoped that he would decide to drop the marriage ruse, though - it was really unpleasant to try to act like something she wasn't.

Her mind went back to Rildorien, and from there, to the events of the day at Eryndil's house. She hadn't wanted to stay to dinner - she just wanted to get home after that embarassing episode - but Hendegil had wisely stopped pressing the point and instead just started talking with her, and all of a sudden, it was dinnertime. They had laughed over Hendegil's artiface and were smiling as they walked into the dining room together, but the smiles soon left their faces as they were met with the bad moods of Vilyandur and Gildurien.

Vilyandur inquired pointedly after Caelen's "husband", showing that he was willing to keep Caelen's secret, but somehow managing to signal his disapproval of both her and the whole affair. And when the talk had turned to the doings that had taken place on October 30th and Caelen had spoken her disapproval of Duvediu celebrations that had taken place in Cameth Brin, Gildurien let a small, patient sigh escape her before commenting about how unfortunate it was that so many rustics ("not that Caelen was a rustic, of course!") were so intolerant of things that they didn't understand, such as colorful customs from other lands. Caelen's eyes narrowed and her chin lifted up in a gesture that would have earned her a warning kick under the table from the more diplomatic Callon, had he been there, and she commented that in her experience, although the rustics were often rough around the edges, they usually had the most important things right; perhaps people with their noses in the air just missed the obvious truths right in front of them ("not that Gildurien had her nose in the air, of course!")

After this exchange, Rildorien cleared her throat and looked expressively at Camglas, who tactfully and firmly changed the subject.

Finally, it was time to go home. Since Caelen had changed out of her riding habit, and the night was fine, they decided to walk (Caelen leading her mare). They didn't talk very much, but the silences were companionable ones, and they were all surprised at how soon they arrived back at the palace.

As they walked Caelen to her room (Rildorien had given explicit instructions to do this, in case the impetuous Daurendil was waiting for Caelen somewhere along the way), Hendegil asked her if she would come over again tomorrow, but Caelen regretfully declined - Callon was coming home, and she wanted to stay around the palace grounds all day so she wouldn't miss anything. But the day after that, perhaps? Hendegil agreed, and the two friends parted with a kiss. Then Caelen held out her hand to Eryndil, and said sincerely, "And thank you for ALL of your help - you've been so kind to me." Eryndil murmured a polite response and bowed over her hand, and then he and his sister left, and Caelen was in bed, exhausted, before they had left the palace grounds.

Caelen slept peacefully for several hours, then the nightmare came again. But this time it was different - usually she woke up right at the worst part, and Callon would be bending over her, shaking her awake and soothing her down. But this time, the rescue came BEFORE she woke up - in her dream, Callon came and carried her off. She relaxed, secure in his strong arms, as he took her away from the danger. But as the dream moon rose in the sky, she saw by its light that it wasn't Callon that was carrying her; it was Eryndil. She woke up with a start, annoyed at Eryndil for getting into her dream, and rearranged her pillow and Callon's shirt, trying to get back to sleep. But when sleep came and the dream resumed, she was still in Eryndil's arms, and this time she didn't fight it, for she felt so safe and comfortable ...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Cameth Brin Tower. November 5, 1347, evening.
Written by Gordis and Valandil
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This evening Daurendil came home singing “O Lady Fair” – not at the top of his lungs, but loud enough to let at least three levels of the Tower appreciate his rich baritone voice.

“Your hair the color of sunrise…” he sang, noting to himself that it sounded much better than the original “the color of midnight” ever did.

The prince and his friends had spent the afternoon at “The Cock and the Piglet” – a jolly inn near the Market place that served excellent ale and decent Gondorian wine. The Inn was aptly named, as is served roasted piglets and harbored the best fighting cocks in Cameth Brin. This evening Daurendil had placed several quite successful bets, which proved, by the way, that contrary to the popular saying, one could easily be lucky both in love and in gambling.

Daurendil could hold his wine better than any of his friends, proving that the blood of Dauremir ran true in him: as the legend hold, nobody was ever able to out-drink the founder of Rhudaur. The prince was mightily pleased with himself –after such an eventful evening, he managed not only to ride all the way home on his own, but he had fished from under the table and shipped back to the castle his less lucky companions.

‘Never leave your fallen comrades, be it on the battlefield or in a tavern!” Captain Merendil taught him and Daurendil learned his lesson well. Now his drunken friends were sprawled on pallets on the floor of the Great Hall downstairs, their feet facing the fireplace for additional warmth.

“Your arms like wings of a seagull…” Singing, Daurendil negotiated the steep stair to his level and turned right, deftly avoiding knocking down AGAIN the complete set of armor dating back to early Arnor that was exposed on the landing.

At this point he was met by one of his pages, who opened the door and stepped aside to let the Prince pass. “My Lord,” the page ventured, “there is a message waiting for you.”

“Whatever.” Daurendil waved the page aside and continued “Your ruby lips like sweetest wine…” With that he found his bed and fell on it sighing in contentment.

The page knelt at his side and started to remove his boots. “Your Highness”, the page tried again, "there was also a big box delivered with the message. It is there on the table,” he pointed.

Daurendil moaned in mock irritation and turned his head to look at the box. The sight of it made the wine fumes leave his inebriated brain. Sobering instantly, he sat up bolt upright. There was no mistake - Caelen had returned his gift.

“You said there was a letter to go with it?” he asked grimly.

‘Here it is, my Lord”. The page offered him a silver platter with the letter. Daurendil inspected the seal – it was unfamiliar to him, though he suspected it might belong to one of Northern Thanes. Somehow he didn’t think that Caelen’s family could have a coat of arms of their own – but it looked she was of nobler birth than he expected.

But the letter was not from Caelen as he soon found out. It read:

________________________________________

From: Rildorien; wife of Camglas, the son of Borlost, Thane of Nandemar

To: His Highness Daurendil; son of King Tarnendur and the Heir to Rhudaur

It has come to my attention that a family friend, one Caelen of good Dunedain lineage, has received from your Highness the favor of a gift of fine clothing, made especially for her.

She has acquainted us with the unfortunate ruse devised by her brother Callon in hopes of protecting her, and of your familiarity with her true station of life. But, being an orphan, and of excellent, but only common birth, she had at first failed to fully understand the implications that might arise from her reception of such a gift from a young man, notwithstanding that this one came from such a superior young man as yourself.

On being made aware of this, and being the modest and proper young lady that she is, she instantly agreed to return your most gracious gift. Her being somewhat shy and modest, and also to spare you both the awkwardness and embarrassment of a subsequent encounter, I take the liberty, as a friend of the family, to write you this note of explanation. Also, of course, she will be unable to consider giving you a riding lesson - for the continuation of which, a royal groomsman would no doubt be more suitable.

We do thank you for your kind consideration of, and attentions to, the young orphan Caelen, which attentions would no doubt please her parents, were that still possible.

Respectfully,

Rildorien of Nandemar
______________________________________________

A wave of misery washed over the Prince leaving tears of self-pity on his eyelashes. “How little does it take to plunge a man from the heights of bliss to the deepest pits of sorrow!” he thought. “Very little, indeed – just a meddling old relative, a mother-hen on the prowl.” He crushed his fist on the dressing table.

But he knew he was being unfair. Well, he DID know full well that it was not a suitable present for a young lady, he conceded. He had just hoped She would be unaware if it…

He contemplated the box sadly. The World was stupid. Because of some outdated notions of what was proper and what was not – notions dating back to the drowned Numenor, he would bet – he was now left with a lady’s dress and Caelen was left without the riding outfit and without any prize for her victory in the race…That was unfair, and he had to think of something.

Oh, how he wished to ask Ol' Naure what to do! But "the late Nauremir" as his friend was now referred to was far away... gone, gone perhaps forever, as good as dead...

“Bring me some more wine, will you?” he asked the page.

[Gordis]

Chapter 9. Alarming Rumours

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Eryndil's house in Cameth Brin. Morning of November 6th
Written by Rian
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Caelen walked swiftly through town, arriving at Eryndil's door a little out of breath. “He MUST know something; he MUST!” she thought, desperately hoping that Eryndil was home and could tell her something to dispel the awful rumors that she had heard about Gimilbeth’s entourage. She took a minute to catch her breath and smooth her hair, and then knocked firmly on the door.

The door was answered by Eryndil's housemaid, who eyed the slightly disheveled Caelen with surprise, but pleasure – her day had been quite dull so far, and perhaps some more interesting things would happen now that the red-haired young lady was here again.

"Is Er ... er, Hendegil home, please?" inquired Caelen in as calm a voice as she could muster, realizing just in time that it would probably be better to ask for Hendegil instead of Eryndil.

"He ... er, she is, miss - come right this way, please," answered the housekeeper, ushering Caelen through the hallway and into a room where Hendegil and - oh, joy! - Eryndil were seated; Eryndil at a writing table, and Hendegil on a pretty little chair next to him. They both stood quickly to greet her, having a good idea why she had shown up there with such a pale face and distressed expression, as Eryndil had just finished filling his sister in on the dispatch that had been received from Captain Merendil.

"Hendegil," said Caelen, taking her friend's hands, and then suddenly finding that she could say no more. But her eyes quickly moved from Hendegil to Hendegil's brother with an imploring look, for surely he would know more about Callon ...

Hendegil gave Caelen's hands a reassuring squeeze and made her sit down on the chair, while she pulled up another one and sat down next to her friend. Eryndil turned his chair so that it was facing Caelen and sat down, saying with a bright smile which was meant to reassure her, "From the expression on your face, I'm guessing that you must have heard some wild palace gossip!"

"They said everyone was killed," she said in a anguished whisper, wringing her hands in her distress, her large grey eyes looking at him for an instant, then moving nervously all around the room like a wounded animal looking for a way out of a trap.

Eryndil sighed and shook his head. Those trouble-making gossips!

"Caelen, that's just not true," he started in a firm voice, but she didn't seem to hear him; she just kept wringing her hands and looking around the room, unable to focus on anything. Finally, he leaned over and took her hands firmly in his, trying to still their nervous motion as he had seen her brother do. Sure enough, it worked - Caelen calmed down noticeably after a few moments and looked at him as though she had just seen him for the first time that day.

"That's just not true, Caelen," he repeated firmly, giving her hands a slight shake for emphasis, as he had seen her brother do. "I know - I saw the official dispatch myself in a meeting last night with the King. And it certainly did NOT say that they were all killed!"

He waited a moment for this to sink in, and was pleased to see that she was listening now, for she stopped her nervous glancing around the room and looked back at him steadily, with some measure of comprehension in her eyes.

"What the dispatch said was that Captain Merendil was returning to Cameth Brin when he saw some signs of orc activity, so being the good soldier that he is, he decided to go and check things out." Actually, it was worded much stronger than that, but she didn't need to know that now.

Caelen bit her lip and nodded, but still couldn't speak. Her grip tightened on his hands, and she seemed to be drawing strength and calmness from him.

"Callon definitely knew how to calm her down," he thought, trying to concentrate on projecting confidence and security to Caelen through his hands, instead of noticing how soft and warm and delicate they were ... and how nice they felt in his … He gave himself a little mental shake, regaining his train of thought which the feel of Caelen’s soft hands in his had temporarily derailed. Oh yes, there WAS some bad news that he had to tell her ...

"However, I do have to tell you some news that will be ... disappointing to you," he continued, choosing his words carefully. Caelen looked up at him quickly, but was reassured by his calm expression and the word "disappointing". It must be something pretty minor - and after hearing that the group hadn't been slaughtered wholesale, she could take anything now!

"After speaking with the King, I proceeded to find the messenger and speak with him myself," Eryndil continued. "Caelen... I'm afraid that Callon was taken along for the rest of the trip to Amon Sul. At best, that keeps him away until spring; at worst ... well, the Orcs appeared headed toward Gimilbeth's party ... but the King's men are well-trained and well-armed - I think he'll be fine."

"I just was at my desk, writing you to inform you that Callon would be a little later than we expected, when you came in. I figured you'd probably be hearing some wild, crazy rumors and be frightened - and I was right, wasn't I?" he finished with a smile, trying to show her how silly he thought those rumors were, and hoping devoutly that they wouldn't prove to be true.

This won a slight smile from Caelen, and her hands relaxed a little in his. "Do I still hold her hands now, or is now the time to let go?" wondered Eryndil uncertainly, and then thought that he probably better stay on the safe side and keep holding them; it really seemed to calm her down, after all ...

"You must think I'm terribly silly," she said ruefully, looking down, and realizing for the first time that Eryndil was holding her hands. "Oh!" she thought, a little confused. "I musn't act like I LIKE that he's holding my hands – not that I do, or anything! He's just trying to reassure me about Callon." She kept her face down, for she could feel a warm blush rising on her cheeks, and as they were right in front of her eyes, she looked at Eryndil’s hands. "Such nice, strong hands," she mused, looking at their sturdy masculine shape and noticing a few little scars here and there and wondering how he got them. She looked at the scattered dark hairs on his hands - she thought really hairy hands were ugly, and his were quite nice – just right, really - and then blushed deeper – what was she thinking?!

"No, I don’t think you’re silly at all!" said Eryndil, a softer note in his voice now. "I just think it shows that you have a warm and loving heart."

"Oh, that's too much," he thought suddenly with an inward groan. "She'll think I'm being too forward!" Thinking quickly, he added, "... towards your brother, and Callon and I are lucky to have sisters like you and Hendegil!" Caelen's hands now felt very warm indeed in his. He hoped his hands weren’t sweating too much and wanted to release her hands, but he wasn't sure how to let go of her hands without seeming to be disapproving of her.

Hendegil got up unobtrusively and busied herself looking over her knitting supplies, which were on a little table nearby.

"Oh, no, he must think that I'm being terribly forward by letting him hold my hands so long!" thought Caelen wildly, but she wasn't sure how to extricate her hands from his without seeming to disapprove of him.

The hand situation was now reaching a crisis point, with neither one of them knowing what to do, when suddenly there was a welcome interruption. Caelen's hair, which had been slowly moving across her shoulders as she looked down, suddenly tumbled down and fell across their joined hands.

"Oh, this HAIR!" exclaimed Caelen, withdrawing her hands with what she hoped was an ever-so-casual movement – an “oh, you were just holding my hands as a friend does in hard times, and it didn’t mean anything to either of us” casual movement - and pushing her hair back over her shoulder. "One of these days, I'm going to just cut it all off!"

There was a slight pause, and then ... "Don't," said Eryndil in a voice that made Caelen look at him quickly and then down again just as quickly. "It's beautiful," he said softly, watching her intently. She seemed shy and embarrassed, but not displeased ...

Another unruly lock of hair slipped down over her shoulder and hung there, shiny and beautiful ...

And Eryndil reached out his hand and slowly, gently, put it back over her shoulder, again watching her intently. Although she kept her face down, he could see that her lips had parted slightly and she was breathing rather quickly. As he withdrew his hand, he let it brush ever so lightly against her neck and saw with mounting excitement that she drew a quick breath and moved slightly towards him.

And then it was over - but he had learned volumes from her silence.

She pulled away from him and sat up straighter, avoiding his eyes while giving her hair a firm twist that put it in its place. They both cleared their throats and then did the little upper-lip scratching thing to show that things were all fine and casual - and then they both stopped unexpectedly and took a second breath as they smelled the scent of the other still lingering on their hands. And into both of their minds shot the memory of Eryndil carrying Caelen up to Hendegil's bedroom - Caelen remembering the scent of Eryndil's neck - a masculine scent, like her brother’s, but somehow different, unique … and … and nice - and how it grew stronger as he broke out into a slight sweat from his efforts; Eryndil remembering the scent of Caelen's hair as it caressed his face, silky and smooth, as she pressed her head close into his neck, and the feel of her soft skin against his as she clung to him ... His imagination suddenly seized the reins and started moving from the things that had happened, to the things that he would like to happen ...

Things were getting out of control.

Eryndil got up and went over to the window for some cooler air, making some comment about how nice the weather was, as the November wind howled and battered at the window. Hendegil, smiling broadly now, decided, out of pity for Caelen (who really HAD been through quite a lot recently) to not make the “a bit warm for you, brother?” comment that she was just dying to say, and instead added a few innocuous weather comments of her own, trying to make things more comfortable for everyone.

Eryndil was furious with himself for losing control like that, yet elated at Caelen's response to him. He had just been trying to see if Caelen had any feelings at all towards him, and then suddenly things had escalated far beyond what he had planned. He had always prided himself on being able to quickly and accurately assess any situation that he had found himself in, and cooly decide the best course of action to take, and carry things out efficiently and dispassionately. But this slip of a girl, with the large grey eyes and the warm, golden-red hair, was giving him more trouble than all of the orcs and outlaws that he had ever dealt with, combined! Frustrated, he watched the water in the fountain as it was blown about in the stiff November winds, and then got an idea.

“Hendegil, we have been remiss!” he said to his sister. “We have never offered our guest any refreshment! Let me just step out and tell the housekeeper,” he said as he moved quickly to the door – and for the first time in his life, Eryndil fled a battlefield.

[Gordis]

Chapter 10. The Infamous Ostler's Wife

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Cameth Brin Tower. Morning of November 6, 1347.
Written by Gordis
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Daurendil awoke well after sunrise with a splitting headache. He sat up cradling his head in his hands and groaned remembering yesterday’s disappointment. What a marvelous morning it could have been! He had so looked forward to this ride with Caelen…and now it was not to be. Instead, there had to be this blasted Council…

“Ohh, sweet Valar, have mercy on me!” he moaned.

One of Daurendil’s pages, quite experienced in treatment of morning hangovers, brought the Prince a cup of chamomile tea laced with kingsfoil. Daurendil sipped it slowly, trying not to scald his palate, and, upon finishing it, he felt marginally human again. While the page attended to his toilet, the prince set his mind on finding the way out of the mess he had put himself into.

The page was already putting the final touches to the Prince’s hair, when Daurendil jumped up with a whoop, narrowly missing the hot circling-irons the page was holding. He had it – the perfect solution to Caelen problem! Daurendil was quite pleased with himself – didn’t his tutor tell him again and again “You have a bright mind, Daurendil…”? To tell the truth, the old man never failed to add “… but you are awfully lazy, headstrong and inattentive.” Daurendil never took the last part to heart, preferring to relish the first part.

A glance at the water-clock in the corner told him that he had at least an hour left before the council. The prince grabbed Rildorien’s letter, ordered the page to take the box with Caelen’s dress, and sped to the palace, the page with the box in tow.

"I hope Tarniel agrees to cooperate..." he mused. Suddenly he realized that he had no idea as to his sister's possible reaction. The thought was so new to him that he stumbled and almost ran into one of the palace servants. But indeed, what did he know about Tarniel? For him she was just something underfoot - first a tiny squalling baby that his mother birthed instead of a big older brother he had asked for, then a plump toddler, then a thin awkward girl - but hardly a person. And now he had a boon to ask of her... But he was determined to try.

In a matter of minutes he was at the door to Tarniel’s sitting room. Inside, everything was quiet and the Prince sighed with relief. Least of all he wanted to run into Odare - he had unconsciously taken to avoiding his old friend ever since the fateful hunt. Daurendil ordered the page to wait in the corridor and tapped on the door.

"Come in" came Tarniel's voice.

Daurendil pushed the door and greeted his sister. "Morning, Tarniel. I see you are alone..."

"Not really", Tarniel replied petulantly, indicating two guards stationed near the door. "I am never alone now, Daurendil. But if you are looking for Odare, she is in the garden. She..."

"No, in fact I was looking for you" Daurendil replied somewhat awkwardly. "I hope you won't mind if I send your guards out - I will guard you myself for a while. I wish to talk with you alone."

Tarniel nodded, genuinely surprised. She couldn't remember having a serious conversation with Daurendil before - ever. She waited for the guards to leave the room, then shyly offered her brother some refreshments.

"No, thank you" Daurendil shook his head absently. He approached and sat on the window seat facing Tarniel. For some time he silently frowned, then looked into Tarniel's eyes and smiled broadly.

"Remember this race, sis?" Tarniel nodded. Daurendil continued in a rush "Well, this Caelen - she has won the race, didn't she? And if she has won the race, than she deserves a prize. It is only fair if I, who has lost the race, provide it for her. I was thinking along those lines, nothing personal, you know, so I have commissioned a riding outfit for her - as the prize for the race. You must have noticed - her dress was so-o old and tattered..." "Anyway, I have sent her the dress with a note about all this - but it seems my intentions have been misunderstood. And not by Caelen, mind you, but by an old meddling relative - her aunt or something. Look what a letter she has sent me! As if I were courting a married woman...."

Daurendil dropped the crumpled letter on Tarniel's knees and she took it, but her brother gave her no time to read it. He rushed on.

"Now - that's what I thought: could you, please, write to this lady yourself, telling her that it was our common present - a gift from you and me and Amantir and Odare - from all of us, those who were beaten in the race? Then it will be quite proper for Caelen to accept it, especially if you send it back to her with one of your own maids, or, better still, if you go upstairs yourself to present it!"

Tarniel listened open mouthed, too bewildered to reply. Taking advantage of her confusion, Daurendil rose, pecked his sister on the cheek and said cheerfully "Thank you, dearest sister. I knew I could trust you. I have to hurry to the Council meeting now. Just don't tell anyone, especially Mother. Do it quietly and do it fast." He brought his lips close to Tarniel's ear and added in a whisper "And I swear by the Valar that I will order a ball dress for you, even better than Caelen's! It will be my Yule gift to my little sister, and nobody will think THAT improper!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Cameth Brin Palace, Tarniel's rooms. Morning of November 6, 1347.
Written by Elfhild and Rian
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Tarniel felt like a whirlwind had just slammed into her, sucked her up into its center, and carried her away. Just what had that been about? Or perhaps she knew what it was about, but could barely believe it herself. Certainly, her brother could not be so scheming as to use both Odaragariel and her to win the favor of the woman he desired! But it certainly seemed like that was what he was attempting to do, to use his little sister and his friend (whom he would most likely marry) to find some socially acceptable way to court this woman. And to make matters even worse, this woman was married!

The more Tarniel thought about it, the more she got angry, until she was furious. Daurendil was acting like some corrupt Cardolani noble, lusting for every pretty lady of the court! She would have no part in this! Sneaking around her mother's back and making the gifting of the riding habit seem like an official gesture to assuage Caelen's rightly worried relatives – what audacity did Daurendil have to ask such things!

Outraged, Tarniel stormed over to the door and opened it, surprising the guards outside. Ohh, she would tell her dear brother a thing or two about his little scheme! She was of a mind to tell the king and queen just what the darling prince was doing, but reconsidered when she thought about how explosive the scandal might be. They were well aware of the rumors which were flying, and perhaps they were considering ways to deal with the embarrassing situation.

Lost in her thoughts, she was taken unawares by Arinya, who was coming her way down the corridor.

"Tarniel, you certainly look upset," Arinya exclaimed when she saw the incensed expression on her face, the way her brow was furrowed and her lips were set in a pout. "What is the matter?"

Tarniel worried her lower lip for a moment, considering what to say. "Ohh, it is just all these horrid rumors which seem to have sprung up lately like weeds," she said, displeased at the way she had understated the situation. She tried so hard to be the epitome of dignity and grace, honoring the king and queen and her country. There were times though, especially times like this when her brother was doing all he could to shame the ruling family, that it was difficult not to just scream and break down into a royal, howling tantrum.

"Which rumors?" Arinya hedged politely, attempting not to aggravate an awkward situation. "There will always be rumors... but it is not wise to pay heed to all of them."

"Do you not know?" Tarniel asked, emotion filling her voice. "The rumors about my brother and that – that infamous woman!"

"Ah, those rumors!" said Arinya with a rueful little smile.

"Well, you might think they're funny, but I do NOT, and ... " started Tarniel angrily, but Arinya put a hand on her shoulder and stopped her.

"Let us go to my room to discuss this," she said, looking significantly at the people passing by. Tarniel swallowed the rest of the angry words that were clamoring to come out and agreed, and they silently made their way to Arinya's room.

"There are many reasons why a woman might go down on her knees before a prince," said Arinya quietly, looking thoughtfully at the spot where Caelen and Daurendil had been only a few short days ago. "And you must remember, Tarniel, that your brother is not only a man - he is also a prince of this land."

Tarniel paused - Arinya had a point; perhaps Caelen was bringing a matter before Daurendil ... and after all, they hadn't been alone - Arinya had been right there with them. Tarniel had seen many people on their knees before her father - but her brother? And then she remembered her brother's attentions to Caelen during the ride ... but to be fair, Caelen didn't seem to be returning them ... She shook her head in frustration.

"But our minds tend to choose the reason that will upset us the most, do they not?" continued Arinya, smiling at Tarniel, who had to give a grudging acknowledgement to this common affliction of mankind.

"You do not ask me what I think you should do, and I would not tell you, anyway; the elves do not willingly give advice to the Secondborn. But I will give you some information - all is not as it seems with Caelen."

"It seems that the elves do not give information willingly, either!" complained Tarniel. "You have told me nothing!"

"Ah, but that is not so," replied Arinya. "If a captain is looking at what seems to be a peaceful countryside, and a scout tells him that all is not as it seems, do you think that that is no information to the captain? Do you not think that he will immediately send out more scouts to find out more information?"

"If I were that captain, I would ask the scout to tell me himself - and torture him until he did!" said Tarniel rogueishly.

Arinya smiled. "I would tell you if I could, Tarniel, but I cannot - the secret is not mine to tell. But I will give you this advice - wait and watch and listen. I think it will come out soon. And people will find that they have scorned Caelen for the wrong reason. I do not say no reason; merely the wrong one. Her real error is only slight compared to what she has been wrongly accused of, and it can be easily excused by reason of her youth, her desire to obey one she loves, and the grief of her loss of her parents and home."

Tarniel frowned. The trouble with talking with Arinya was that things never got easier. On the contrary, they usually got more complicated!

"Well, I suppose that I better take your advice, since it is such a novelty for you to give it to me!" she teased. "I'll just tell Daurendil that I'm still thinking about what is best to do, and hope that this mysterious information will come out soon."

"I think talking to Daurendil is a good idea," said Arinya firmly. She turned towards the window. "Think of him as a scout ..."

Tarniel's expression changed. Was Arinya saying that her brother was in on this secret?

Arinya turned back to Tarniel. "And as for the other rumors..."

"Which ones?" asked Tarniel, feeling rather overwhelmed.

"I do not know which you have heard, but I think that if you have not talked to the King and Queen today, that now would be a good time ..."

Tarniel got up hastily, all thoughts of Caelen and Daurendil now forgotten, and left the room quickly.

Arinya looked after her thoughtfully as she walked rapidly down the corridor. "I do not know whether to tell you 'fear not' or 'congratulations'," she mused wryly, knowing something of Tarniel's feelings towards her older sister, as well as her own feelings towards Gimilbeth...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Cameth Brin Palace, Servants’ Common Hall. Late afternoon of November 6, 1347.
Written by Earniel
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After she had risen, Wilwarin dressed and went to the common hall to look for some breakfast. There was always some left for her, one of the cooks made sure of it. The hall was not empty, Sirien, one of the palace servants was cleaning. Wilwarin bade her good afternoon.

“Good afternoon, Wilwarin, or should I say ‘good morning’?” Sirien asked.

Wilwarin chuckled. “It does feel like morning to me, yes,” she admitted.

“With sleeping in so long you missed quite some excitement!” Sirien’s eyes lit up. “have you heard of what happened to Princess Gimilbeth’s caravan? They got attacked by orcs. Hundreds of them! They say no one survived!”

“Really?” Wilwarin raised her eyebrows questioningly. She had heard a few snippets of news from the guards earlier. “Then how do they know there were hundreds of orcs if no one survived to tell the tale?”

Sirien’s brow wrinkled for a moment when considering this conundrum. “Pfft,” she said and waved the feather duster dismissively at the other woman. “Why do you always have ruin a nice juicy story with your merchant-logic?”

“I’m not,” countered Wilwarin with a smile as she opened a cupboard and withdrew a plate with bread. “I’m just pointing out the holes in your stories so you can fill them up and spread your improved fanciful tales.” She found a jug with still fresh milk and sat down.

“I reckon the news of the attack was good news for Caelen,” Sirien mused out loud. “her husband was with the caravan.”

“Caelen, that latest newcomer to Cameth Brin? Why should that news please her?”

“You haven’t heard? Really, Wilwarin, the entire staff is talking about it!” Sirien lowered her voice conspiratorially. “They say even Queen Eilinel came down to ask maids about her.”

“The Queen herself? Why would she concern herself with an ostler’s wife?”

Sirien leaned on the table next to Wilwarin and spoke quietly. Gossip was one of Sirien’s favourite topics, but while gossip was worth telling, it was worth telling it without eavesdroppers that could get her into trouble later.

“Because her oldest son is more than concerning himself with the ostler’s wife, of course! He invited her to a horse race by the princesses and princes just like that, and she accepted! She seems to be held in quite high favour.”

“Yes, I assume she would be.” Wilwarin said, cutting off a chunk of bread.

Sirien paused and looked at Wilwarin. “Is that a smidge of jealousy I hear?”

Wilwarin chewed in silence for a moment, considering. “Perhaps,” she conceded finally.

“Understandably. There are quite a few maids wishing to be in her shoes right now, I can tell you that! Who wouldn’t? I mean, look at that gorgeous hair and that pretty face. I’m betting that and that cute, innocent demeanour of hers is what send men over the cliff of bleary-eyed devotion. She must be quite pleased now that her husband is out of the way so she’d have the Prince all to herself.”

“Prince Daurendil? My dear Sirien, there’s another hole in your rumours. The prince doesn’t have a chance with Caelen unless he grows himself some manes and hooves.” Wilwarin said while chewing on a mouthful of bread. She swallowed before continuing. “The stable master’s wife said there’s little space in Caelen’s head that isn’t taken up by horses. I think she’s not far of the mark. Even that handsome thane-son will probably have more luck than our unfortunate prince.”

“What handsome thane-son?” Sirien asked suddenly, eyes shining at the prospect of more stories.

Wilwarin winced. “Ack, I should have learned by now to watch my tongue around you.”

“Oh come one,” whittled Sirien. “You know you’ll have to tell me now, or you know I will just fill the holes in myself with fanciful fabrications. I know you hate that.”

Wilwarin held up her hands. “All I will tell you is this: He recently arrived to Cameth Brin, I don’t know his name. I saw Caelen return yesterday evening, accompanied by him and a noblewoman I do not know. For all I know they are acquaintances from her home lands. But if looks are anything to go by, he’s a tad disappointed her husband met Caelen before he ever did.”

Sirien eyes lit up. “Three men, my! I could have known a beautiful woman like Caelen wouldn’t settle for just one man.”

“Sirien!” Wilwarin protested.

“Oh, don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone I got this from you. I have to go now, before Thillas finds me loitering. She’d let me feel the end of her broom if she did.”

“Sirien!” Wilwarin hissed urgently, “don’t you dare…”

But Sirien had flittered out the hall, leaving Wilwarin to curse her own rash tongue. She pinched the bridge of her nose and put her face in her hands. “Never fear for me meddling in politics, father; it looks like palace gossip will gladly be the end of me first.” She muttered to the empty room.