"Shadow IV- At War in Love" to edit

[Gordis]

Chapter 11. Winter Campaign Decided

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Cameth Brin. November 6, 1347, mid-morning.
Written by Valandil
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Tarnendur was interrupted in his anxious pacing by a knock at the door. He stopped and drew himself up as Orefim entered. Orefim bowed and spoke.

“Your Highness…”

“Yes?”

“Broggha has just arrived. The Council is all assembled.”

Tarnendur’s face showed a somewhat contorted smile – his lower lip pushed upward as if to force a frown, but the corners of his mouth turned up in an attempt to smile.

“Very well then. We shall go at once. Is Daurendil ready at last?”

“Yes, Your Highness. He has been found and made ready. He awaits you outside this very chamber.”

“Then let us go.”

The King came forth from his chamber and walked briskly down the hall and the stairs and on out into the November morning. His son and Heir stepped in just behind him, with various attendants falling into place as they passed. He strode proudly across the royal grounds and on to the Tower of Cameth Brin. He held his head high and kept his face forward, but his eyes darted around to survey all about and before him. Those in the courtyard stopped at their tasks and bowed as he passed them. Two attendants rushed ahead to clear the way for his coming and the guards stood aside and drew open the doors to the tower. On they passed toward the Council Chambers, where at last they arrived just as the announcement, “The King!” faded from before them.

As Tarnendur entered the chambers he saw that all present were standing, except Broggha, who only now slowly stood to his feet, as if grudgingly. Tarnendur pretended not to notice, nodded his head in acknowledgement to all and took his own seat as signal that they may now do accordingly. He then began the session without delay.

“No doubt you have heard already some form of what I am about to lay before you. Yestereve, I received a message from Captain Merendil – who was to escort the Lady Gimilbeth on the first part of… a trip she has taken, … as far as Brochenridge, and whose return might indeed have been expected yesterday.”

“Orefim – have the message read.”

Orefim signaled to a scribe who carried a small scroll. The young man opened it and read in a loud, clear voice:

“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”

The scribe rolled up the scroll, laid it beside the King and stepped back. There was silence as the various council members compared this account with the versions they had previously heard. Next, the man who had delivered the message from Merendil was called forward, that any of the Council might ask him further questions. When these had been addressed, the King signaled Orefim to lead the messenger out. At this point, several of the attendants who had followed the King to the chamber were dismissed, leaving only the Council, Orefim, two recording scribes and the guards.

“Council members,” began the King, “You have heard the message from Merendil. My daughter’s fate we must leave in his hands, for she is now five days out from Cameth Brin. But what of these Orcs? What is their number, and what was their purpose? Has their purpose now become to attack my … daughter?” The King’s composure showed signs of breaking, but he mastered himself and regained it. He continued, “Are there others about? Where did they come from? Where did they enter into our lands? What harm have they already done?”

He then stood in his chair, still composed, raised his voice further and proclaimed, “This charge I now lay upon you, Council of Rhudaur – to take up this matter with me. The Kingdom of Rhudaur needs all your strength, … all your devotion, … all your wisdom! What say you to this? What are we… to… do?”

His voice beginning to break at the end, the King lowered himself slowly to his seat. He placed his hands on his lap, below the table, for he could no longer contain their shaking. He lowered his head gravely as he waited for someone to speak.

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Cameth Brin Tower. November 6, 1347, mid-morning.
Written by Angmar and Elfhild
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After King Tarendur resumed his seat, the council members were in shock at the alarming news. When the full realization of the gravity of the situation dawned upon them, the men murmured angrily among themselves. Faces turned expectantly towards General Nimruzir of Fennas Drunin, the Head of the Army of Rhudaur.

A dour expression upon his face, the general rose to his feet and looked over the assembled members. "Your Majesty, honorable lords and dignitaries, fellow council members," he began in voice strong despite his many years. "We have all heard the contents of the letter from Captain Merendil, and know the great peril which now faces our beloved Princess Gimilbeth." He gave the king a sympathetic look. "You ask how this thing has happened and what is being done? I am just as shocked as the rest of you, but I promise you that our princess will be returned! Everything possible is being done to see to her speedy rescue. Dispatches have been sent to our posts in the area, ordering all available troops to be dispatched and sent to her aid. But there are few troops to be spared," his voice rose, "for our forces are spread woefully thin!"

Lord Belzagar leaned towards Lord Elured, who sat beside him, and whispered in his ear. "He has said nothing of any substance, but what does he ever say? The old general is in his dotage. He should have been retired long ago. A younger man should be found to replace him before the old man's growing mental deterioration and ineptitude compromise our security."

Elured nodded gravely and muttered, "Unfortunately, I must agree with you. He has been saying the same thing for years. He should be removed and a better found to take his place."

The general looked over the crowd before continuing. "But as I have maintained for years, it is not great numbers of men in the army that win the battles - it is the resolve in the men's spirits and minds that tell the tale! And the heart has gone out of our army!" He slammed his fist on the table, causing goblets and drinking vessels to rattle. The assembly muttered at his words, some agreeing, some disputing.

Belzagar murmured low under his breath to Elured, "When there is nothing to be offered but excuses, the old sycophants always resort to histrionics." Elured nodded.

Nimruzir went on, his voice growing louder as his face grew redder. "And why you might ask has the heart gone out of our army? It is not for want of leadership, for there are no finer officers than ours in all of the North. It is not for lack of devotion upon the part of our soldiers. Nay, they are all good and brave men who journey over the long, lonely marches." General Nimruzir sipped from his goblet of water and then resumed.

"I could cite the fact that none of the officers or men have had a pay increase in the past five years as an explanation. I could say that many of our people are more interested in making profits than supporting the military. I could tell about the young men who shun military duty in favor of a life of parties and high living at court." He riveted Prince Daurendil with a piercing stare.

"I could say many things." The old man's eyes blazed with fury. "While all these play a part, this is not the explanation. We have faced just as bad in the past." He turned his gaze on Broggha and stared coldly at him. "We have forgotten who we are, the descendants of the Numenoreans, a once proud people. Our ancestors forged a great empire from the South to the North! But in the years that have elapsed since then, we have faltered and become prey to fear. In our weakness, we have taken counsel with those who do not share our vision."

A muscle twitched in his cheek as he clenched the table with one hand. "We have allowed ourselves to be influenced by lesser men! We, the sons of Numenor, must reclaim a sense of who we are and forge our own destiny without the influence of outsiders! Only then will we return to greatness!" The general bowed his head. "My prayer is that the princess will be returned safely to us and that the Valar will give us guidance. I have nothing more to say. Thank you for listening to me." The old general sat down amidst an angry mutter of voices.

A faint smile spread across Belzagar's face as he looked from General Nimruzir to the pale face of the king and then to Broggha. "The old fool challenges the great Broggha. He has just signed his death warrant."

Lord Curugil waited for calm to return before standing to his feet. An obesely large man, he had to scoot his chair back slightly so that his ponderous girth would not bump against the table when he rose. Clearing his throat, he scratched his stomach and gave his doublet a sharp tug forward so that the buttons would not gape so widely. The man's fat face was ruddy, and his breath reeked of wine and garlic.

"Your Majesty, esteemed lords, members of the council," he looked around, blinking when his vision blurred and doubled, "this is indeed a dark day in our history. Never before have the orcs made an attack upon a... a member of the royal family! My heart goes out to the.... king and the queen and their children!" His words were slightly slurred, as he had arrived at the meeting mildly intoxicated, and intensified his inebriated state with each subsequent goblet he had consumed at the meeting...

"How did we allow such a thing to happen? Orcs within our own borders? An impossibility! But yet it is true! We have failed! Our vigilance has faltered, and these bestial creatures have come into our country to terror.... terrorize our citizenry. This is only another - hiccup - woe to... add to a long line of woes! They have crossed the... where was it again?" He looked down to Huramir from Dol Aglardin, who was sitting beside him. "Ah, yes! The mountains!" In a low voice, he thanked Huramir and slapped him on the shoulders, causing him to pitch forward. "Then Dol Hithaer was taken by the enemy, a terrible thing..."

Weaving on his feet, he took another sip from his goblet to shore up his balance. "My friends, this is the hour of crisis! We must arise to the occasion and drive these rogues from our borders!" He raised his wine goblet in the air and shook it for emphasis, some of the crimson liquid sloshing out and hitting Huarmir in the face. "We must never let this happen again! We must be more willing to support our army in every way possible! My friends, before I take my seat, I leave you with this humble suggestion. Ahh... ahhh...." Pausing, his besotted mind tried to remember what he was going to say. "Ahh, yes! The levy of taxes must be increased!"

Belching loudly, Curugil sat down with a great thud and looked around, beaming drunkenly. A few members of the audience clapped, more for politeness than anything else.

The assembly turned expectantly to Jarl Broggha, Count of Pennmorva, who was just rising from his seat. As bulky as a great bear, his broad shoulders covered with a fox cloak, the redhaired giant inclined his head to the king before looking around the table at each man. "Your Majesty, honorable lords, distinguished colleagues, how I am saddened to learn that the beloved Princess is in peril, and perhaps faces grave danger at the moment we speak." He paused for emphasis.

"I am equally saddened to hear the words of General Nimruzir, who seems to have woefully misjudged those who would only be friends and offer succor in a time of need. I have done everything in my power to bring our two peoples together and foster a spirit of felicity and harmony between them." He glanced towards General Nimruzir, who sat stiffly in his seat, his spine like a battering ram as he glared at Broggha.

"I am a forgiving man and not easily offended. In my desire for cooperation between our peoples, I will allow this slight to go overlooked." A smile played over Broggha's full lips, but his blue eyes were like glittering ice. "My lords, I will not take much of your time, for I know there are many other important matters to be discussed at this meeting. I will not bring you endless words this day, promises that mean nothing! I bring you more than hope, for hope is fleeting. I offer you far more than that. What say you to the offer of two hundred trained and well-armed men to aid in overcoming this crisis? Perhaps General Nimurzir would object to the fact that they are led by my own officers. Hillmen, aye, and perhaps what the general would call lesser men, but each one has a sharp eye, a steady hand and swords of the sharpest steel. Your Majesty, my lords, I await only your word."

As Broggha bowed his head in false humility, all eyes in the chamber turned to the king.

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Cameth Brin Tower. November 6, 1347, mid-morning.
Written by Serenoli and Gordis
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The king stood up.

In a terse voice - he seemed to be holding in much anger - he said, "I thank you, those who have tried to address the crisis we are facing. I called this Council in a state of much fear and anxiety... knowing full well that any action we take now may be too late to help the Princess, but determined all the same that swift actions have to be taken, firstly, to aid Captain Merendil in any way in rescuing her... and secondly in driving out these orcs and taking precautions that they never come back.

"I did not call this Council to ask for an explanation from anyone, though General Nimruzir felt compelled to give one anyway. And the explanation amounts to this - he wishes for a pay rise for his army and he resents the fact that there are those present at this Council who are not descended from Numenor. Lord Curugil on the other hand, has proposed we increase taxes. And Lord Broggha has offered me two hundred trained men.

"I have thought hard about this," he could not resist being a little bit sarcastic "and I have decided that - while there are obvious attractions to paying an army for letting a horde of orcs come into the country and attack their princess, and while I can entirely see why the orcs, frightened, perhaps at the thought of paying more taxes, might chose to leave the country of their own volition - despite all that, I have decided we can do no better than accept Lord Broggha's offer of armed men to help us."

Tarnendur turned to Broggha and addressed him directly, his old grey eyes meeting the Hillmen`s blue ones levelly. “Aye, I accept your offer, Lord Broggha. But I say to you, the Kingdom is in peril and utmost sacrifice is required of everyone. It is time to prove your worth, Broggha of the Hillmen!”

“You offered me two hundred fighters. It is not enough. You can do better. Take five hundred Hillmen and lead them yourself under the King`s banner with my blessing. If in three months you bring me the keys of Dol Hithaer, a rich reward will await you. Every one of your men will be counted in the Army of Rhudaur with full pay and subsistence that only Dunedain guards now have. But make haste, as winter gales are at hand.”

“Help you will have. Once in the lands of Imlad Mitheithel, make sure to contact Lord Dinen, Seneschal of this land. He will rally his men and send at least a hundred with you, maybe more.”

“Lord Belzagar here...”- the King`s heavy gaze fell on the young councilor, who rose to his feet - ”Your lands of Duniath are close to Imlad Mitheithel and also threatened by the orcs of Gundabad, so it is only fair if you send a hundred men to help Lord Broggha to reclaim Dol Hithaer, unless you choose to go there in person. As for me, I will send Captain Merendil north with some reinforcements, once he is back.”

“What say you to that, my Lords?”

[Gordis]

Chapter 12. An Honor or a Trap?

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Cameth Brin Tower. November 6, 1347, late morning.
Written by Angmar and Serenoli
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November 6, 1347, mid-morning - The Tower of Cameth Brin

Broggha's cold blue eyes were expressionless as he faced the king, but inside the hillman chieftain seethed. "What does he think I am? A fool!" he thought to himself. "He seeks to be rid of my men and me for the duration of the winter by sending us into the mountains of Angmar! More likely, he prays that we will meet our deaths in the swirling snows of the mountain pass, or at the hands of the orcs! Never would I have thought that the old dottard had retained enough keenness of judgment to devise such a stratagem. Perhaps his daughter, the clever Princess Gimilbeth, would have such acumen but never her elderly sire! The old man would dare play a game of wits with Broggha! He will find that the stakes are far higher than he believes. Still, I will give the old man what he desires - the keys to Dol Hithlaer. Then in the spring when my men and I return with the praises of the king and his people in my ears, I shall take his whole kingdom as my price and his daughter, Tarniel, as my bride!"

Noticing that Belzagar, Lord of Dol Duniath, had risen to his feet, Broggha gave him a quick glance before directing his attention to the king. "What is Taurendur's motive for requesting this nobleman's presence in the north?" Broggha's devious mind wondered. "Perhaps for some reason he wishes to be rid of him, too. However, this is no time to consider the king's reasoning at the present." Broggha would ponder that matter at another time. The hillman chieftain was not aware that Belzagar was also in the employ of the King of Angmar. The slippery Belzagar had been the Northern King's spy master in Rhudaur for years, but because of the danger of his work and the fear that he would be discovered, only one other man - Authon - knew of his activities.

When Broggha spoke, there was no trace of anger in his voice, only a flickering spark of hostility deep in his eyes. "Your Majesty, this is a day which will be recorded as one when history was made. Today, when the darkest peril faces the land of Rhudaur - perhaps the darkest in all of its history - hope is rekindled! Our people have united together to fight a common enemy! A people divided and separated by thought and motive is doomed to extinction, but a people united can never be forced to their knees. We are forging a strong and powerful alliance which will guarantee that in the future, Rhudaur will be victorious against all of its enemies!" At these words, a murmur of approval rose through the council chamber. No words of praise were upon General Nimruzir's downturned lips, though. His brow furrowed, the old general's expression was one of great disapproval.

Broggha waited until the crowd had quieted. "My heart is moved with the greatest feelings of friendship and felicity towards the people of this country." As a show of his feigned emotion, he put his right hand over his chest. "The feelings of my people are the same. They yearn for peace and cooperation between our two peoples. They will look upon this day with joy in their hearts!" Boggha paused, and another cry of approval rose up from the hall.

After taking a sip of wine from his goblet, Broggha went on. "Though some have misjudged us," he let his glance skim over General Nimruzir's scowling face, "you will find that the hillmen and their chief do not make idle promises. Under the King's Banner, I will lead my 500 of my most experienced warriors to Dol Hithlaer. With our blood and steel, we will purchase Dol Hithlaer for the king of Rhudaur!" Broggha paused again and then smiled benevolently. "What do I ask in return? Your Majesty, you do not need to promise me a rich reward. Your friendship will be honor enough for me."

A look of relief upon his face, the king smiled gratefully at Broggha. Broggha nodded to him and then resumed speaking. "An expedition of this size involves planning and cooperation, and many men and animals. Therefore, I will rely upon Lord Belzagar for 100 men, and the lord's leadership, too, if he would be so kind as to provide that." Belzagar looked to Belzagar, who nodded in agreement. "It is well that I have a good man at my back," Broggha, an inscrutable expression upon his face, affirmed. "And Lord Dinen, Seneschal of Imlad Mitheithel, I will call upon him for 100." Broggha smiled graciously.

"Now, my liege, Hillmen are used to traveling light and surviving under harsh conditions. We require little and can endure much. We will travel light, taking our provisions with us on pack horses, thus avoiding the encumbrance of baggage wagons." Broggha paused and then looked up in the king's eyes. "I am a man of few words and am almost finished speaking. Only this do I have to say. Truly I am honored by Your Majesty's trust and confidence. I will not let you down, sire." His face an expression of total deference and gratitude, Broggha resumed his seat to the ovation of the council members.

"How I look forward to cutting out the old fool's heart and offering it upon the dark altar as a tribute to the Lord of Darkness, the One Who Rules In the Place of His Majesty Melkor the Potent," Broggha thought gleefully.

"I take your promise, Lord Broggha, and I will hold you to it." Tarnendur replied sternly. Then, softening his tone, he continued, "If you succeed in your task, you will have my friendship and that of my people, as you ask. And Lord Belzagar, I hope to hear well of your conduct in this as well. You will not find me ungrateful." After a short pause, he said, "Well, if that's all settled, I think we can call an end to this meeting." He had a feeling that perhaps he should thank Broggha again, but deciding against it as too grovelling, he rose and left the room. Behind him he heard the scuffling of feet and chairs as everyone else emulated him.

He found himself being followed by General Nimruzir. His face still had a sullen look that had settled there during Tarnendur's speech, and he now said, "With all due respect, your Majesty, I beg you to reconsider your decision to trust the Hillman," he practically spat out the last word. "He will turn this to his advantage, he will do something to sabotage it, depend upon it."

"General, if you feel that strongly about it, why don't you go with him, and keep an eye on him? I would appreciate it myself, seeing as I can hardly go myself. But I leave it entirely to you. I'm sure Lord Broggha will have no problem."

Nimruzir didn't bother him again that day, though when he was walking away, he murmured something that sounded suspiciously like, "I just might take you up on that offer."

Later, Tarnendur had one more conversation about the Council. Happening to see his son, he asked him, half-seriously, why had he not protested, like last time, at everything Broggha? Daurendil said, rather quietly, "Well, though you do seem to trust him over-much - I can not protest against anything that sends him away from here. Besides, I doubt even he likes orcs or consorts with them. We might as well let the Hillmen die against orc blades since they are of no other use."

Slowly, reluctantly, it seemed, the tide was turning for Broggha at Cameth Brin. It would be a long time, perhaps, before anyone trusted him entirely. But, in the meantime, people were starting to tolerate him, accept him as a necessary evil - and that was all he needed.

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Cameth Brin Tower. November 6, 1347, early afternoon.
Written by Angmar
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While the meeting of the king's council had been in session, Authon, Lord Belzagar's secretary, spent the time waiting in the corridor outside the hall. The meeting had seemed inordinately long to him, and a number of times he had heard strident voices inside. He considered the loud voices normal, simply part of the usual pompous speech making of which men in the public eye were so fond, and nothing about which to be alarmed. When the meeting at last ended, he watched from the other side of the corridor as the council members filed out. He bowed and smiled when appropriate, or gave a brief nod when a bow was not necessary. Courtiers knew their place.

When Lord Belzagar left the chamber, Authon saw a look of agitation under his master's usual bland public smile. The lord could hide his moods from everyone except Authon, who knew him so well. "My lord, overhearing some of the comments, I take it that the meeting was a rather tumultuous one."

"We will discuss it later, Authon," Lord Belzagar put him off as he gave a pleasant, though patronizing, smile to General Nimruzir, who was glaring at all. Nodding and giving the usual expected replies to the other lords who still congregated in the corridor, Lord Belzagar led Authon outside to the stables. The stable boys soon had their mounts waiting for them, and the two men mounted their horses and rode down the steep hillside to the city below.

"My lord, where are we going, if I might ask?" Authon asked as he trotted his horse beside the dark bay stallion of his master.

"The Hare and Thistle, Authon. I could do with a tankard of ale."

Later, seated at their favorite table with tankards of foaming ale before them, the two men acknowledged the greetings from the other patrons. Lord Belzagar was a well known and popular man around Cameth Brin. As Aradiel, one of the barmaids who was in their employ, passed by, Authon raised his chin slightly in greeting. Looking at wenches was an appealing way to idle the time while he waited for Belzagar to tell him about the meeting. He had already gathered that it had not gone well, and he secretly gloated.

"Authon, while I had planned to remain at court until spring, as is my custom, now it appears that I must leave the city, possibly for a few months. For the first time in my life, it seems that I must take up my sword in the king's service and lead into battle a hundred of my kinsmen who serve under my banner. I can take some satisfaction in knowing that they will be incovenienced when they learn that they must leave the pleasures of my warm hall and take to the field in winter. Curse this whole thing," he muttered an oath.

"Our entire operation will be dependent upon you while I am gone. I have trained you well enough so that I am confident that you can take care of matters without my direct supervision." Belzagar blew the froth from the top of the liquid and then put the rim of the tankard to his mouth.

"My lord, I heard some things, but I could scarce believe my own ears. I take it that Broggha has proposed a northern expedition. Unbelievable to think of such a thing in the middle of November! Has he gone mad?"

"Not Broggha. Never Broggha! The man is far too clever for anything like that. It was King Tarnendur himself who came up with this harebrained proposal to retake the Hithaer Pass! When he presented it to Broggha, the scoundrel accepted his challenge, and in doing so, he condemned me! Yes, Authon, I was forced to accept, and now I have committed not only a hundred men, but myself! There was nothing else I could do and keep the trust of the king and preserve my own reputation," Belzagar's words were an angry whisper as he leaned towards Authon.

"My lord, I knew that the old king was in his dotage, but still I had not realized that his faculties had declined so far." Authon's expression was incredulous.

"Authon, keep your voice down! There are ears everywhere! It seems the king is far more clever than you and I gave him credit for being. All of this was nothing more than a ploy to send Broggha to the north, where Tarnendur hopes he will die beneath the blizzards of winter. But why me?" he hissed. "Why does the king wish to be rid of me, along with Broggha? I thought that I held the old man's confidence."

"My lord, perhaps the king suspects something. Possibly before she left on her trip, Princess Gimilbeth had told him about that incriminating message which she found when her falcon brought down one of our mail pigeons. Perhaps the king has only been looking for a opportunity to remove you quietly without risking the scandal which would be involved if he publicly accused you." Aware of the chilling effect that the suggestion would have on his master, Authon looked at him sheepishly. "At least I am safe enough here," he thought. "There would be no possible reason for my name to be connected in any way with the matters contained in the damaging letter."

"Why did he not just take the direct approach and have me murdered? That is what I would have done." Belzagar was astonished at this revelation of his underlings' suspicions. Never before had he intimated that his life could be in danger. "Damn him!" Belzagar thought. "Perhaps he, too, wants me out of the way!"

"I would suppose that His Majesty would consider such an act too far beneath him." Authon looked away. "The old man holds the concept of 'honor' highly."

"So he sends me to the north to exile me, with the hopes that I perish in the winter. How kind and noble of him," Belzagar hissed bitterly.

"Do you wish me to go with you?" Authon asked dutifully, knowing that his employer would decline his offer. Besides Belzager, he was the only one who knew enough to handle the extensive network of spies which Belzagar had built up over the years. Authon had always hoped that some fortuitous event might occur and leave him in control of the spymaster's power. Now perhaps his opportunity had arrived.

"Of course not. You are needed here." Belzagar spat out the words and then looked dourly at his drink.

"My lord, you know that I would be perfectly willing to go, and suffer the same risks and deprivations which you must face," Authon replied with just the right amount of humility in his voice to sound convincing.

"Of course you would, Authon, of course you would!" Belzagar laughed sarcastically. Fraught with malice, his eyes bored into those of the other man. "You are so loyal to me, so very incredibly loyal and steadfast unto death! Now when you have finished your drink, we will return to my home. I must send a courier to my hold in Dol Duniath ordering 100 of my men to be in readiness for my arrival." Belzagar tossed the remainder of his ale down and rose to his feet.

[Gordis]

Chapter 13. Presentation to the King

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Cameth Brin Palace. November 6, 1347, late afternoon.
Written by Valandil
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It was been the first time Eryndil had seen a noble formally presented to the King. There really had not been much to it – just a bit of to-do with protocol and ceremony, followed by a stand-up reception only slightly less formal, with refreshments and conversation. The only part of this that really caught Eryndil’s attention was when King Tarnendur casually asked the Thane if he or any in his family had been involved in the Incident of 1249*. But Camglas, a young man at the time, and his father Borlost had remained free of stain from that time, and so had managed to retain their holdings when Tarondacil the Treacherous was overthrown just five years later.

“Remarkable,” mused the King curiously, “That your family has held Nandemar for all these many long years unbroken – even through the reigns of both Histendil, and his son Tarondacil, and the great purges that followed after each.”

“An advantage of being small enough, and remote enough to be of little note, Your Highness,” replied Camglas. “For ever in those tumultuous times did we remain loyal to our own land, and yet hold out hope that the throne would return once more to a rightful heir, as it has since.” Camglas followed this with a slight bow.

Witnessing his father’s conduct before the King was a new experience for Eryndil. Camglas no longer seemed the country rustic. His father had known though, that this audience would come, and had packed suitably for it. He wore an elegant tunic with the family crest, not the latest fashion, but respectable as a classic look, which was set well against his new, dark cloak. His hair and beard were neatly trimmed and his manner impeccable. He only took one sample from each plate of food brought before him, as they stood together. And though Camglas and Tarnendur were of an age, and spoke with an intimacy into which few younger men could enter with either, once Tarnendur had finished his glass of wine without calling for another, Camglas knew this as a sign that the interview was at an end, and departed with the appropriate well-wishing.

His father maintained a formal, dignified air as they were led forth from the Reception Hall and on toward the stairs. But there they heard feminine voices, for sure enough, a group of four or five female servants, having quite forgotten themselves in returning from their duties, were taking the main stairs up from the Ground Level before continuing on the servants’ stairs to their evening meal and their quarters, chatting indiscreetly along their way.

Eryndil looked among them, and there she was… Caelen! And she… oh my! His mind went racing back to that morning. As they had sat opposite one another, leaning toward each other and he holding her hands to calm her… he had fixed his eyes upon their hands, or her eyes, and tried as he might not to notice the advantageous view afforded by her posture and the cut of her dress. But glances he had stolen at the soft roundness of her upper form, until the falling of her golden red tresses had recalled him to himself.

And now, as she ascended the stairs toward him, he held the same advantage once more – and owned it a lovely sight. Just then their eyes met – her lovely eyes, set off by that wondrous hair, and her face brightened. But he saw that those next to her looked at her sharply, and she stifled her intended greeting and lowered her head to avoid looking into his eyes. Now conscious of herself, she placed her hand over the top of her gown and climbed the last few stairs, then swept past Eryndil and Camglas without a look or a word, along with the other married servant women, now rushing along in silence at their discovery on the main stair.

Caelen had slowed and trailed them, and now glanced back with a slight smile. But just as she neared the corridor which turned into the servants’ stair, she walked right into a servant. He dropped the load he carried, and was quite exasperated at first, but stopped complaining as he beheld her. Caelen, quite embarrassed, bent down to help him pick up his things – and Eryndil’s mind raced, seeing her now in THIS posture.

“Well…” said his father. “Shall we stand here all night? This dose of courtly ways will do me for a week or two, I suppose. Come on now, son. The way is down the stairs, I suppose?”

Eryndil came to himself and realized that he had been staring. But Caelen was gone now. Eryndil looked toward his father, who gave him a wink, and down the stairs they went without speaking, through the Hall and out the doors into the fading daylight.

When they had gone a little distance, his father began to speak to him. “Will you go down the hill with me tomorrow to fetch my wagon?” Camglas had meant to do so on this day, until summoned for his audience. So he had sent a servant with word that he should come the day after.

“I don’t suppose Vilyandur could help?” asked Eryndil, hoping to give his brother something to do, partly to take some load off himself.

“Hmph!” replied Camglas. “Your brother Vilyandur is pretty useless! Didn’t even make his first appearance today until just before we left. I just don’t know about that one…”

“Strange,” answered Eryndil. “I saw him this morning when I got up – some time before dawn… though I didn’t see him again myself until we left.”

“Yes, well if he was up when you got up, then he was STILL up!” said the Thane. “And Gildurien is as bad as he. I’ve tried on occasion to set her up with a good marriage – or at least a marriage of some kind. But she won’t have it! Not any of those I can find. Now she’s fifty-five, and I’ll be lucky to marry her to a more-or-less respectable innkeeper - or miller. Maybe Hendegil’s prospects will be brighter. But I had hoped to see Gildurien married before I died, so she wouldn’t be a burden to your brother Dornendur.”

Eryndil was silent as he digested all this. But at last, returning to the question at hand he said, “I’ll go with you father. Of course, the King may keep me late tonight, but then I think would not require my companions and me tomorrow.”

“Good then,” his father said, and then continued, “of course, you’ll be off the hook if your ‘married’ friend comes by. After all, she may be in need of guidance, so as not to go stumbling about in hallways and such.”

“Father…” began Eryndil. His father turned to look at him closely. “She is a rather silly girl after all, isn’t she? Not very sensible, I think.”

Camglas returned his gaze to the path before them, sighed and then at last said, “Maybe not so sensible in some ways… the ways that sense grows into. But in the important things, the things that really matter, she’s the most sensible young lady I’ve met in many a year.” Then adding with a smile, after a short pause, “only excepting my Hendegil, of course!”

Eryndil smiled himself, first at the pride his father took in his sister, and then at his father’s approval of Caelen.

His father went on, "so... when we first came yesterday, you two didn't seem to be getting along so well."

"Yes," admitted Eryndil. "We had quarreled a couple times in the few days before."

"Oh, I see..." and Camglas nodded expertly. "That happens at times."

"I think maybe she's not angry any longer," volunteered Eryndil.

“And of course,” his father’s eyes twinkled once more, “she views well from above, doesn’t she?”

Eryndil blushed brightly and turned his face half away, hoping the growing shadows would hide the color - and hoping even more that this line of conversation was about over.

_________________________________

Notes:
* 1249 - the date of an incident that stained the royal family of Rhudaur and many noble families as well. As recorded in the Annals of Rhudaur:

He (King Tarondacil - editor) thus wrested control of Amon Sul from them (Cardolan - editor) once more, but within 3 years (1248 - editor), Celebrindor of Arthedain had gathered his own forces and dislodged them. Neither Rhudaur nor Cardolan could contest with Arthedain alone, and indeed, in their years of warfare they had been mostly well-matched, sometimes Rhudaur winning the field, and other times Cardolan – and thus they had shared the Palantir. Therefore, Tarondacil called a council with Cardolan (1249 - editor) under the pretext of joining together in opposition to Arthedain, and Menelcar came with many men, for he did not trust Tarondacil. There, Tarondacil put on a great display, with pomp and ceremony. A servant was provided for each guest from Menelcar’s delegation, but on a signal, each drew a weapon and struck his guest, for the servants were in fact warriors of Rhudaur. None of Menelcar’s delegation survived, all were struck down.

And in the Annals of Cardolan:

XVI Menelcar Born 1113, Crowned 1247 (134), Reigned 2 years, Slain 1249 (136) Treacherously slain by King Tarondacil of Rhudaur. For he and all his leading nobles were invited to a parley with Rhudaur, where they might decide how to join together and drive Arthedain away from Amon Sul. They were presented with a lavish feast, even for the men-at-arms who accompanied them, but on a signal, each man’s servant (actually warriors in disguise) as well as their other hosts, drew a weapon and slew the entire delegation of Cardolan. Last of all, that he was able to see the destruction of his men, Menelcar was slain by Tarondacil as two men held his arms. And Tarondacil laughed with merriment, delighted at his deception made under pretext of truce.
It was 5 years later that Tarondacil was overthrown. Few of his nobles would rally to his aid, and by then, even most of the Hillmen distrusted him.

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Callon & Caelen's room in the servants' quarters of the Palace. Night of November 6, 1347.
Written by Rian
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Caelen lay in her bed, a slight smile playing across her lips and a dreamy expression in her eyes. "Those girls weren't so silly after all!" she thought, the smile widening into a rueful little grin as she reflected back on the last few days.

She felt Eryndil's touch on her skin again and sighed, closing her eyes. He had such nice, warm hands ... Callon, the horse trainer, had more muscular legs, but Eryndil had broader shoulders ... She rubbed her cheek against the pillow, remembering yet again being held tight against those shoulders, and sighed. Then she thought of Eryndil standing at the window, his back to her, and how those broad shoulders tapered down so nicely to such attractive, um ... "hindquarters" ... She giggled, still not used to the idea that she was actually looking at him that way.

She wondered what Eryndil looked like without his shirt on. She remembered the day when Callon had stripped down for a swim with their friends, like they had been doing for years and years when they were all children together, and the girls had suddenly stopped and taken a second, furtive look at him. Caelen, startled, looked at Callon and noticed with surprise that the being that she had thought of as merely her brother was also now a strong, attractive man. It gave her a queer feeling; it was irritating that this new dimension had entered into things that had been so simple and pleasant. Girls that had never been very friendly with her suddenly started coming over to talk with her, especially when she was with her brother. She had hated the hypocrisy and despised the girls.

And then girls that she had once merrily climbed trees with had suddenly decided that they would rather not do such childish things anymore, and she had spent many hours alone in the tops of trees, climbing as high as she could and feeling the fresh wind on her face.

And now, suddenly, she understood what those girls were feeling (although she still didn't like the hypocritical ones).

She turned over and wrapped her arms around her pillow, and suddenly she was in the forest with a shirtless Eryndil holding her tight against his chest with one hand, a bloodied sword in his other hand as a gigantic wolf lay dead at his feet. "My darling," he whispered into her hair in his strong, deep voice. He raised her face to his and kissed her gently, and the scene faded gracefully into the mists before anything more ... well, intense ... happened. What might happen after a kiss was firmly forbidden to enter her mind, for it brought with it the memories of the terrifying, groping hands on the road ...

She turned over, and suddenly she was in a corner of the castle grounds, crying over the mean things that the servants had said about her, and Eryndil suddenly appeared (with a shirt on this time, since she couldn't think of a good reason for him NOT to have a shirt on - wait, maybe something had spilled on it ... and Eryndil suddenly was bare-chested, carrying his soiled shirt in his hand). "Oh, sweetheart, what's wrong?" he said, dropping his shirt and sweeping her into his arms. She told him all her troubles while he stroked her hair and held her close, and then again he raised her face to his and gently kissed her - but this time, Caelen experimented with letting the dream Eryndil go a little farther - he kissed her again, and again, the kisses growing stronger and more passionate, before Caelen brought the curtain quickly down over the scene again.

She took a deep breath. That last scene had started to get just a little uncomfortable for her ... half of her really liked it, while the other half was getting more and more frightened. She decided that keeping it to just one kiss was more pleasant to dream about, and returned (in her mind) to the forest scene.

Eryndil was safe to think about - she knew he didn't like her in any special way, for he was always correcting her. Even tonight on the stairs, she had tried to give him a friendly look, and he had just looked at her with a strange expression on his handsome face, and then seemed to glance at her bodice and quickly look up again with a clenched jaw and pained look in his eyes. Caelen sighed - the top button had come off of her bodice, and she hadn't sewn it back on yet - he probably thought she was being immodest again, and would lecture her at great length the next time he saw her.

Yes, Eryndil was safe to fantasize about - attractive, manly, and noble - but safe. He would certainly never give her any unwanted attentions.

[Gordis]

Chapter 14. Eviction from the Palace

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Callon & Caelen's room in the servants' quarters of the Palace. Morning of November 7, 1347.
Written by Rian
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Caelen put the finishing touches on the little room that she shared with her brother. She looked around and smiled; everything looked neat and clean, ready for Hendegil's visit, and the fresh greenery in the little bottle added some much-needed softness. She touched the leaves gently; they reminded her of her mother, and all the little touches that she used to add around the house that added beauty and softness. Caelen decided that she would keep fresh greenery in the room every day from now on.

A crisp knock on the door made Caelen break out into a smile that made the room much more pleasant than any amount of greenery, and she eagerly stepped over to the door and opened it. But it was not Hendegil; it was Thillas, the head housekeeper - the one that kept both the palace and its servants in ship-shape.

"May I come in?" she asked curtly after a few seconds, as Caelen stood there blinking at her in confusion, forgetting to ask her in. Caelen had been expecting Hendegil's friendly face, and this was a bit of a shock.

"Of course, Thillas! I'm so sorry; I was expecting someone else and you surprised me!" said Caelen apologetically, ushering the housekeeper into the room and indicating the one chair that was available, as she sat on the bed.

Thillas pursed her lips together and cleared her throat. This was not going to be pleasant, but she was never one to avoid unpleasantness. Good housekeepers never avoided messes; they tackled them head-on. She raised her left eyebrow slightly in the way that made the lower housemaids panic as they remembered the obscure corners that they hadn't dusted.

"I've always prided myself on running things here in the palace efficiently and ... properly," she started off, putting stress on the last word and raising both eyebrows for emphasis. "But something has come to my attention recently that I am VERY displeased about."

"Yes, Ma'am?" said Caelen a trifle guiltily, hoping she wasn't blushing. Had she heard some of those dreadful rumors about her that had been flying around?

"We at the palace took on you and your ... husband ... in good faith," she continued, noticing how Caelen's large eyes grew larger at the meaningful pause. "I have not heard of any complaints about him - his work AND his behavior has been exemplery - but I'm sorry to say that I can't say the same about you."

Caelen bit her lip nervously. Thillas' eyebrows lowered ominously, and her eyes narrowed.

"I have been hearing the most shocking rumors about you ever since your ... husband left, and if even one of them is true, I would be seriously displeased - SERIOUSLY displeased!" She leaned in towards Caelen to emphasize her point, making Caelen pull back despite her effort to remain calm.

"What exactly have you heard, Ma'am?" asked Caelen in a small voice, pulling Callon's shirt from under its daytime resting place under her pillow and nervously playing with the hem. It never even occurred to her to try to bluff it out; she had faults, but dishonesty wasn't one of them, and maintaining her brother's ruse had been extremely difficult for her.

"I have heard," said Thillas regally, sitting up straight again and crossing her hands across her ample breast, "that you schemed to get your husband to go on this trip so that you would have a free hand to try to better your position in life; that you feigned your pregnancy to play on your husband's and our good will so that you wouldn't have to work so you could chase after other men; or that if you WERE pregnant, that you took steps to end it so that you would be free to pursue your own schemes; that you played on the generous heart of our prince Daurendil, extorting an invitation to ride with the young royals, which was ENTIRELY inappropriate for a person in your position; that you encouraged the Prince Daurendil in ways that no modest lady in your position would even consider, such that he, in his innocence, was moved to give you a gift of riding clothes, which you TOOK! most inappropriate! and then FLAUNTED around town in the most brazen manner; that you are currently chasing after one of the King's new young advisors in case your schemes with the Prince come to naught - need I say more?" She turned her head slightly to the right, and her left eyebrow reached new heights as she fixed Caelen with an inquiring look - a look that clearly expected to hear no good ...

"No," said Caelen softly, her face white. She sighed and looked down at Callon's shirt, and then held it up to her face, closing her eyes at its touch. "I'm sorry, brother, I cannot keep this up anymore," she said, then took a deep breath and put the shirt back in her lap, although she kept a tight grip on it. She looked at Thillas steadily. The housekeeper was surprised; she had expected furious denials or bribing tears. Perhaps she HAD misjudged the girl ...

"Callon is my brother, not my husband," she said simply. Thillas' right eyebrow joined its sister near the top of the housekeeper's hairline.

"We were orphaned in a terrible fire, and I was cruelly harassed by a brute of a man that wanted to marry me and was going to force me into it. My brother and I had to flee our home. On the way, we were waylaid on the road and almost killed." She paused, a blush coming into her cheeks at the memory of what she was going to say next. "I wish I HAD been killed, though, Ma'am," she said. "It would have been better than what those men did to me."

Thillas furrowed her brows, bringing them closer for a hirusitic conference. Was this a ruse to gain her sympathy, or was this true? Her eyebrows suspended judgement for the moment and waited to hear more.

"But we were rescued by some of the King's men, lead by one Eryndil of Ostinand - who I think is the man you referred to in one of those rumors that you heard."

Thillas nodded curtly. The eyebrows increased their vigilence ever so slightly.

"We spent several weeks at Ostinand with Eryndil and his family, and I came to love his sister as the sister that I never had - and by the way, it was his sister that I went to visit yesterday - he merely walked me home out of courtesy. Then when we came to Cameth Brin, to our horror, we found that some of the very men that attacked us on the road were in the group of Hillmen camping around the Road. My brother was naturally very concerned for me. And when we got to the stables, there were some rough men around that ... that looked at me in ways that alarmed him, and so in his concern, he grasped at the only thing that he could think of to give me some protection - he said that I was his wife, and that I was with child."

The housekeeper's eyes were now almost as large as Caelen's. The story was wild ... WILD! ... but yet ... she gave names of people and places that could be checked. And she spoke plainly and with a certain simple pride that, in Thillas' extensive experience, spoke of an honest heart. The eyebrows relented slightly.

"I know it sounds ... " Caelen paused and shook her head, at a loss for words to describe the recent tumultous events of her life - "crazy, but it's true - and when my brother returns, he will confirm what I say. Oh, and Eryndil can confirm it, too - my brother wrote him asking him to support the ruse, since he knew that we were NOT husband and wife. Oh, and Arinya knows, and the Prince Daurendil - oh, and you are right, I should NOT have accepted the riding outfit - but I love riding so much! - but I was terribly wrong, and I have returned it - where was I? Oh yes, Arinya and the Prince know, and Eryndil, and his sister and family. They can confirm it, too. And I'm so, so terribly sorry for all of the trouble I've caused - I was trying so hard to honor my brother's wishes and his attempt to protect me, but it was so hard - I HATE lying!" she closed vehemently.

Thillas sat back in the chair, absolutely speechless. Of all the messes she had been called to deal with, this one took the cake. Her eyebrows sagged; there was simply no expression that they could conceive of that was appropriate to this situation. But wait - one thing was clear: this was the married servants' quarters, and this young lady was NOT married. Her eyebrows rallied; THIS they could handle.

***

As Hendegil reached out to knock on the door of the room pointed out to her as Callon and Caelen's room, the door was suddenly opened, and a stern-looking lady walked out in a huff. Hendegil peered into the room, and her curiosity turned into concern as she saw her friend's face.

"What is it, Caelen? What happened?" she asked urgently.

Caelen looked at her friend. "I have to leave," she said in a dreamlike voice.

"Leave? Where? Why?"

Caelen took a deep breath. "Remember those awful rumors about me that I told you about? Well, that was the head of the palace servants, and she came to ask me about them."

"Oh, no," said Hendegil, a worried expression on her face as she took the chair that Caelen indicated. Caelen sat down wearily on the bed and took up her brother's shirt again, mindlessly playing with the hem, which was now starting to fray under her nervous fingers.

"It's a long story, but I ended up telling her the truth about Callon and me," continued Caelen. "I just couldn't keep it in anymore! And then since we weren't 'married servants' anymore, we can't stay in the married servants' quarters." She shrugged her shoulders - she was used to the world being difficult now. "So I have to leave and find somewhere else to stay, although Callon can stay in the men's quarters. I can't even stay here and work because she says there's no openings - although I think that she just doesn't want me around. I guess I've upset things around here too much."

She turned to Hendegil. "Do you know which inn is ... would be safest for me to stay in? I don't know much about these things ..." she finished in an uncertain voice.

Hendegil assumed a stern expression that rivalled Thillis'. "I know of an EXCELLENT place for you to stay," she said firmly. "Eryndil's inn!"

Caelen looked at her, a confused expression on her face. "How odd - there's an inn in town with your brother's name on it?" she asked, incredulous. "Callon always said that I never notice anything, but ..." she shook her head.

Hendegil looked at her friend and shook her head. Caelen was a warm-hearted, generous, honest, loving person - but not always too quick on the uptake. But she had been though a lot lately, Hendegil reflected, trying not to think of what it had been like for Caelen on the road ... and now her brother, her only remaining family, was gone, and she had just been evicted from the small room that was her only home, merely because she told the truth.

"No, silly!" she said, taking Caelen's face between her hands and shaking her head at her with a smile on her face. "You're staying with me, at my brother's house!" And she laughed with pleasure as she watched Caelen's expression change from confusion and sorrow to elation and relief.

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On the King’s Road from Cameth Brin to Tanoth Brin. Mid-morning of November 7, 1347.
Written by Valandil
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As he walked down the switchbacks and steep inclines, Eryndil’s mind turned over the discussion from last night’s meeting. The King had actually met with them, which was rare – and the meeting had gone rather late. Each detail of the day’s earlier Council Meeting was gone over time after time, but most often, the talk had come back to Broggha.

Lastorion and Rondaran had commended the King on his wisdom – for he should certainly be rid either of the Orcs at Dol Hithaer or else of Broggha, or at the least, Broggha’s reputation would be diminished. Naurlith had mostly been silent. Only Eryndil had suggested that Broggha might be up to something. When pressed, he couldn’t come up with a plausible theory – even he dismissed after brief consideration whether Broggha might be in league with the Orcs (although it was not without precedent – for King Valandur of old Arnor was slain in an engagement in this very land, against a force of Hillmen supplemented by Orcs, and even a Troll or two – but that was 700 years ago!).

At last they had ended, and with Eryndil’s request to accompany his father to Tanoth Brin the next day, the King had told them all he would next summon them the day after Broggha left town. Lastorion had shown interest at Eryndil’s request, and after told him that he wouldn’t mind a visit to the lower city himself, if he might accompany them. He had met Eryndil and Camglas at the gate to the inner city this morning, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes, while they also dropped Hendegil off to go visit her friend at the palace. So the three men walked along, passing now the Loud Waterfall and the camp of the Hillmen, leading two horses to pull the wagon back up.

On they came to the bridge over the Tanoth River and through the open gates into Tanoth Brin proper. Eryndil had only come down here twice since his arrival in town, but some from the upper city never ventured down at all. They passed along Market Street and stopped at the Market Street Inn, where they hitched their horses and went in. Eryndil had never been inside the place before. It was larger and more prosperous than most of the other establishments around – kept a good reputation too. It was nicely located, just off the Tanoth Brin Market itself, on the main thoroughfare.

Lastorion engaged Eryndil in small talk while Camglas settled up with the innkeeper for the repair of his wagon. But about this time, a tall, older looking fellow in a grey cloak came from the back of the place and shuffled past them to take a seat by the fire. Camglas had watched him closely as he walked past. Eryndil made way for the man to pass between himself and Lastorion, when he noticed Lastorion’s face.

Lastorion looked as if he had seen a ghost!

His father’s voice took Eryndil’s attention away from his companion, “That man smelled of the forge. Is he the smith who wrighted my wheel?”

“Aye, the very same,” answered the innkeeper.

“Well, here’s your asking price for the fix,” replied Camglas, reaching under his cloak and drawing out a couple silver coins from the bag at his waist. “A bit high, by my reckoning, but “this is the city”, they say!”

“Don’t you even want to see it first?” asked the innkeeper.

“Not necessary – I trust you. Besides, if it isn’t fixed right, I’ll know right where to come, won’t I? Just have someone ready to lead my son here around to where he can hitch it up, awright?”

Eryndil turned back to Lastorion, who had recovered himself, but now had a look of remiss on his face, “Eryndil my friend, I cannot believe that I had forgotten this, but I had already arranged to meet with another friend at the palace before noon. I may be late as it is, but I should certainly be getting right back.”

“Well, wouldn’t you want to ride with me in the wagon?” asked Eryndil.

“Oh – certainly not. Wouldn’t want to trouble you. Besides… the time it would take to hitch it up, and the rate a wagon would have to go up that hill. No… I’d best just be leaving.” But Eryndil noticed that Lastorion gave a quick, furtive glance over toward the old man seated by the fire. Then Lastorion turned abruptly and was gone.

“What’s eating your friend?” asked Camglas, just coming up behind Eryndil’s shoulder.

“Oh – I guess he had some place to be…”

“Well, never mind that. Look, when the innkeeper sends his boy, take the horses around back, hitch them up to the wagon, and take it on back home – to your home that is. I just mean to have a drink or two with yon blacksmith… to sort of treat him for fixing up my wagon. I’ll be back presently. Get along now.”

“But father – can you get back alright?” Eryndil wasn’t thinking just of him finding the place – but wondered if the King’s Road might be unfriendly toward an older Thane traveling alone.

“I’ll be alright son – and I’ll be home long afore dark. You just get the wagon up there. Be careful how you handle those curves…” and then his father’s wry smile returned and he winked, “but keep your eyes off the serving girls around here as you go – alright now?”

Eryndil was puzzled, but watched as his father turned and made his way to the old blacksmith and began to engage him in conversation, taking a seat beside him just as the stable boy came to bring Eryndil around back.

[Gordis]

Chapter 15. Eryndil's Inn is Full

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Eryndil's house in Cameth Brin. Afternoon of November 7, 1347.
Written by Rian
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Eryndil's house in Cameth Brin, afternoon of Nov. 7

"And here's your room!" said Hendegil graciously, ushering Caelen into the nicest of the available guest rooms in the house. Hendegil was thoroughly enjoying playing "mistress of the house" with her brother's home.

The servants had already brought the baggage into the room and were working on unpacking. A maidservant had opened up the bag containing Callon's clothing and was holding up a man's shirt with a quizzical expression on her face.

"That bag has my brother's clothing in it," explained Caelen hastily, trying not to laugh at the maid's expression. "I guess you can just hang it off to one side of the wardrobe. I don't want it to sit in a bag until spring, or it will get musty."

"Yes, miss," answered the maid, nodding her head and continuing with the unpacking.

"And now I'll show you over the rest of the house," said Hendegil, again assuming the air of an experienced hostess, and glad that they had the house to themselves - Eryndil and her father were out getting their baggage wagon, her mother and the rest of the family were out shopping at the market (except for Vilyandur who was probably still sleeping), Hendegil didn't remember what they had said, just that they were going to be back shortly before dinner, along with everyone else.

It was a nice house, and Caelen looked with pleasure into the various rooms. It had all been so sudden - it was a little unreal. Just a few hours ago had been that awful interview with Thillas, and knowing that the other servants were talking behind her back and saying all sorts of terrible lies about her, and then Hendegil had come like a breath of fresh air and whisked her away from all of that. And now she was in this pleasant house, with a friend whom she loved dearly even though she had only known her a short while. It seemed just too good to be true! Now if only Eryndil wouldn't lecture her very often, things would be perfect!

They continued their tour through the house and finally came to another door, which Hendegil opened with a cheery "And this is Eryndil's room - isn't it nice? Large and airy, and a very nice view!" Caelen hesitated just a second - perhaps they shouldn't go in ... but then her curiosity got the better of her. And Hendegil had said that Eryndil and his father would be gone all day. And it wasn't like she was going into his room on her own - Hendegil wanted to show her the room, along with the rest of the house.

They walked over to the window (Caelen surreptitously letting her fingertips graze over the furniture as she went) and gazed out.

"Yes, it's very nice," said Caelen, and turned back to look over the rest of the room, which was far more interesting to her. It was a nice-sized room, and Eryndil kept it reasonably clean - Caelen blushed as she thought of her own messy tendencies.

Suddenly Caelen remembered some things in her baggage that she preferred to not have the maids handle.

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "I need to run back to my room for a moment - I have some things that I'd rather unpack myself ... "

"Oh, ok - I'll meet you back in the drawing room, then; all right?"

"All right," answered Caelen, and she turned around and walked rapidly towards the door.

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Eryndil's house in Cameth Brin. Afternoon of November 7, 1347.
Written by Valandil
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eryndil wished his father had not been so quick to reward the smith. The wheel barely held together on the trip back up the hill, and that with the wagon unloaded! There was no sign of Lastorion, so he must have made it quicker after all. But Eryndil even had to stop and support the back left corner around a few turns, while the horses pulled the wagon forward. His cloak was too bulky for that work and got in the way, so he had to take it off, despite the cold winds. And now – his tunic was torn – probably ruined.

He dropped the wagon off with his own servants at the coachhouse out back, telling them to mind the bad wheel and strode quickly toward his house, his cloak back on over the tattered remnants of the tunic. He passed the maid, who informed him that the cook was in the kitchen below, and that the housekeeper had taken his mother and the others to the market – the Cameth Brin Market, that would be, thought Eryndil to himself. Declining the maid’s offer to take his cloak – but asking her to prepare him a hot bath, he made his way to the stairs, feeling exhausted.

Up the empty stairs he went, pausing briefly at about every other landing. When he reached the Second Floor, he paused for a bit longer, looking down the deserted halls. He removed his cloak and hung it on a peg. Half of what remained of his tunic went with it, so he shed the rest in frustration. That was his favorite tunic! Well, he’d get another from his room, then go see about that bath.

He walked on down the hall to his room. Odd - the door was open - they were usually kept closed once the weather started to get cold. His mind on the doings of the morning and the strange behavior of his friend Lastorion, he walked into his room.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Eryndil's house in Cameth Brin. Afternoon of November 7, 1347.
Written by Rian
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Caelen turned around and walked quickly towards the door, and straight into the chest of a shirtless Eryndil, who was walking briskly into his room.

"Oh!" cried Caelen, startled, grabbing at Eryndil and trying not to fall, and then suddenly pulling her arms back in horror and embarrassment as she realized she was touching his bare chest.

"OH!" exclaimed Caelen, mortified, as Eryndil grabbed her and pulled her to him, trying to keep her (and himself) from falling. Legs and arms tangled in rather interesting and embarrassing ways ...

"Ooooohhhhh!" breathed Caelen slowly as she regained her balance and Eryndil released her, and she was able to see Eryndil's nicely-muscled upper body at close range.

"OH!" exclaimed Caelen in embarrassment, blushing furiously as she realized he must have seen her staring at him. She stamped her foot in anger and addressed the grinning Eryndil with flashing eyes. "You STARTLED me! What are you DOING coming in here like that?!"

"And YOU startled ME!" replied Eryndil. "And as this is MY room, I was just coming up to get a new tunic - the one I was wearing suffered an unfortunate accident on my way home. I didn't expect to see you ... two ... here," he added, finally realizing that Hendegil was there also.

"Hendegil was just showing me around the house, and she wanted to show me your room, too," said Caelen defensively, biting her lip nervously in that mannerism that was now very familiar (and starting to become very appealing) to Eryndil. "She told me the view was ... was ... very nice ..." she added, her voice trailing off and her eyes dropping down to admire his muscular frame again, almost against her will.

"I hope you like it," said Eryndil slyly, torn between the desire to laugh and a more intense desire that was starting to spread throughout his body. There was a noise that sounded suspiciously like suppressed giggles coming from Hendegil's part of the room, and Caelen looked up again, flustered.

"It's nice, but I've seen better!" she said, her chin raised high and her eyes studiously avoiding looking below his eyes.

"And so have I," thought Eryndil, glancing down for a moment at Caelen's bodice, which was still missing the button. He looked back up at her, his eyes twinkling, thoroughly enjoying the discomfiture of the one who had been making him feel so flustered himself lately. Perhaps Caelen read his thought in his eyes, for she suddenly felt an urgent desire to get away from him as quickly as possible. She remembered her errand and gratefully seized upon it as an excuse to leave

"I have to go to my room - that's why I was rushing out - I have to talk to the maid about some unpacking!" she said, trying to figure out how to get past him in the doorway without touching him, as he didn't seem to be moving out of the way.

"Your room?" he inquired, puzzled.

"Oh ... talk to your sister about it!" she cried, trying again to edge past him but seeing that there wasn't enough room. Finally, in desperation, she stomped her foot again, shouted out "MOVE!", slapped his arm as she would slap an unruly horse, and heedless of everything else, pushed past him and ran off down the hall.

"I believe she thinks I'm a horse!" said Eryndil incredulously to his sister, who joined him at the doorway as he watched Caelen gallop down the hall.

Hendegil smiled, and then turned back to look at her brother, who was watching Caelen as she disappeared down the stairs. Her smile grew broader.

"You'll need to wash up before dinner, brother - I'll have some water sent up. Hot ... or cold?" And with a laugh, she ran off down the hall.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Eryndil's house in Cameth Brin. November 7, 1347, early evening.
Written by Valandil
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Now what in Middle-earth could be keeping your father?” asked Rildorien, pacing back-and-forth across the floor of the Great Hall.

Eryndil made no answer. He had already told his mother all he could tell her. His father was headstrong and independent, but it wasn’t like him to be out THIS long, and alone in a strange place. Eryndil knew what he must do.

“Mother, I’ll take some men and go find him. You and everyone else, go ahead and sit down to dinner. Don’t hold it any longer.” Then, catching Narwaith’s eye, he called out to him, “Narwaith, you will come with me. Pick five other men, make sure Norumar is one of them, and let’s bring two of our Tanoth Brin boys. Round them up as quick as you can, then arm yourselves and meet me back here. Soromo – send someone up for my cloak and sword!”

Activity sprang to life all about them, one servant running upstairs, the others bringing forth dinner. Narwaith went first to the basement guard station, then back through to the guard-room in front and quickly had the necessary men assembled and the rest reapportioned to follow suit. Eryndil was strapping on his sword, his cloak held ready for when he finished, but his mother had not ceased speaking to him since the last word of command had died from his lips.

“No Eryndil, how could we eat without you? And your father? But shouldn’t Vilyandur come? He could help you. Besides – it’s his father too! But why so many men,… and your sword? Do you think there will be trouble? Oh but do be careful…”

“Mother,” and Eryndil paused to collect himself before continuing, holding up a hand to signal the servant with his cloak to wait. “Trouble is what I plan to avoid – and I’ll avoid it best by being ready for it. Now,” and he signaled for the cloak, which was immediately draped over his shoulders and clasped at his breast, “please stand aside and let us pass. See – I am all ready and the men are assembled. The sooner we leave, the sooner I’ll have your husband… my father, back here to you, and all the rest of us.”

But just as Eryndil turned to leave, there was a commotion at the front of the house. Before any sense could be made of the confusion, Camglas himself came through the outer vestibule, where he had engaged the guards, and burst into the house proper. With him were two other men, one tall, cloaked in grey, the other not so tall, and cloaked in brown. Camglas’ spirits were high, and his voice was loud and boisterous, but his guests were subdued.

“Ah Eryndil, my son… there you are! I have found a right good blacksmith for you, and another good man besides. As your father, I took it upon myself to hire them for you – took them right away from that ole innkeeper at Market Street, I did!”

Eryndil stood with his mouth agape. He wasn’t sure what stunned him more; his father’s timely appearance, or the sudden announcement about his new employees. By the time his father had finished ranging the hall, greeting everyone upon his return, reacting joyfully to the news of Caelen’s new living situation and placating Rildorien through some of her harsher redresses, the excitement had all died down, the men-at-arms had faded back to their posts to return their arms and dinner was set. Eryndil found just the moment he needed to take Camglas aside as the men and other servants returned to take their places at the lower tables.

“Father,” he asked, “what is this? I have no need for a blacksmith.”

“Oh, trust me on this one,” answered his father with full assurance, “this one is a true prince of a man!”

“But father, he isn’t even much of a blacksmith. Why, the wheel he was supposed to fix…”

Camglas’ face looked more sober at once and he looked steadily into the eyes of his son and lowered his voice so that no others could hear, “Yes, he told me it was his first wheel. But son, trust me that this is the right thing to do… to bring these men into your household. For a short time at least.” Then he paused and added, “You have my solemn word upon it.” And then, after beginning to turn he said further, “Oh – and no need to make any mention of it. Certainly not to any neighbors or any in the palace grounds up yonder.”

Camglas then turned toward his appointed place at the table leaving Eryndil behind to wonder who ELSE might invite someone or other to live with them, here in his house. The place was like a village already. He saw that Hendegil and Caelen were talking among themselves and looking up at him – how their eyes sparkled. But Eryndil wasn’t sure what he felt any longer. Certainly very confused – and as if things all about him were starting to take on a life of their own.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
An apartment in Cameth Brin. Late afternoon of November 8, 1347.
Written by Valandil
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I tell you Rondaran, it was HIM!” said Lastorion, exasperated.

“But how could that be? How did he escape? Why weren’t we told about it?” replied the other.

“I don’t know! And I don’t know… and I don’t Know!” stammered Lastorion, as the possibilities began to creep across his mind. “Maybe they think… we were in on it! Or… maybe they want us to take the fall for the whole thing. But it’s not like it was our idea! We just… helped!”

“It wasn’t our idea – but YOU thought it was a good one anyway! I knew we shouldn’t have gotten involved,” commented Rondaran.

“Where have you been anyway? It was yesterday morning that I saw him, and you haven’t been around since. Where have you been?”

“Bored… mostly.”

“Well… in town at least, it’s only us who know about it. At least I think that’s all. And we’ll both keep quiet, right?”

Rondaran was quiet.

“Naurlith? No… you didn’t tell Naurlith, did you?” wailed Lastorion.

“Well… we agreed that we would. He seemed more inclined to fall in with us than Eryndil, that’s for sure. But anyway, where did you say that you saw the old man?”

“At the Market Street Inn – down in Tanoth Brin,” answered Lastorion, looking crestfallen. “He was working there… as a… blacksmith.”

“Well then, let’s go pay us a visit to that inn, unless you think we’re best served in just staying clear of things?”

“Doesn’t matter,” replied Lastorion. “I went back down there today. He’s gone.”

“Oh Eru…” muttered Rondaran.

- - - - - - - -

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
At Eryndil’s home. Late afternoon of November 8, 1347.
Written by Valandil
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Naneth, where are you going?” asked Eryndil, looking up from his seat at the fireside. Naneth was dressed to go out, and her son, the maid and the maid’s children were all set to go with her.

“Why, to market, sir,” answered Naneth. “What with your family here, we’ve got lots of stocking up to do. 'Nothing but the best for the master’s family', isn’t that right now?”

“Well… yes, I suppose so. But my family… are not they already gone shopping?”

“Oh pshaw! Shopping for clothes and treats and trinkets and things – the like of which they see here in town and cain’t get in the country. We’ve got to shop for things to keep on the board before ‘em at dinner time. By your leave, sir…”

“Are none left in the house then? Besides me?” asked Eryndil.

“Well now… the cook is in the kitchen, using up most of what’s left on hand for this evening’s dinner. The scullery maid is there with her. Soromo is probably ordering someone about, which’ud must likely be Borngol, who’d be here too. Then there’s your soldier-men, I s’ppose.”

“Alright, alright… but be careful. We’ve only got so much to go around,” cautioned Eryndil.

“But of course, sir. I’m always careful with the master’s money. Still though… for family, nothing but the best. G’day to you now, sir. Come along the rest o’ ye.”

[Gordis]

Chapter 16. After-Dinner Talk

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Eryndil's house in Cameth Brin. Evening of November 8, 1347.
Written by Rian
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As she looked over the dinner on the table, Rildorien's brow was deeply furrowed. She was very worried - but not about the dinner, or even the strange way that her husband had unexpectedly brought home those new servants the night before. Well, she was worried a little about that, though the excitement around it had died down in the past day. But that worry was dwarfed by another one.

She thought back to when Caelen had shown up in the riding outfit just a few days ago. Her heart had gone out to the poor, young thing - orphaned and alone - and she had tried her best to help her. And then Caelen had burst into tears, and Rildorien had seen Eryndil's face - he had always hated when women cried, and would do anything he could to help. Then Eryndil had carried Caelen upstairs, and didn't just leave - he was attentive - very attentive - and had to finally be shooed away.

Rildorien was very glad when Caelen had gone home.

And now Caelen's home was Eryndil's home, too, thanks to Hendegil's precipitous invitation to her to come live with them.

It's one thing to comfort a poor, unfortunate orphan girl in need, but another to have this poor, unfortunate orphan girl be of marriageable age and extremely good-looking (Rildorien couldn't deny it) and have her established in your home until spring with an unmarried son who appeared to be showing signs of interest in her ... a man who was very strong but also very tender-hearted and hated to see women cry ... a man whose heart could be played upon and won by a scheming adventuress ... a man who would then be stuck for life with an unsuitable wife when he could have married so much better ...

Well... it was actually Eryndil's home, she conceded to herself... but that only made it worse!

Although Rildorien was a very kind-hearted woman, still, she was a mother - and a mother whose older son's marriage had brought her sorrow, and whose next son seemed unlikely to marry at all, or marry worse. Rildorien had always had a special place in her heart for her youngest son, and she thought that Eryndil should aim a little higher than a young lady who was little more than a stablegirl. She would have to nip this in the bud. Eryndil would thank her for this later ...

Rildorien prepared for battle.

Her eyes quickly scanned the room as she assessed the field - Hendegil was on Caelen's side, and her husband seemed to be leaning that way, too, but she thought she would probably have allies in her other son and daughter. It wasn't going to be pleasant, but she had better start tonight, before things got too entrenched.

As they all sat down to dinner, Caelen gave a little sigh and a pensive smile.

"Penny for your thoughts, Caelen," said Camglas with an encouraging look as he passed the potatoes.

"Oh, nothing much - it's just that it's so good to see a family together like this. It made me think of my family and all the wonderful times we had together. I'm trying to remember those good times instead of remembering the loss."

"The little schemer!" thought Rildorien angrily. "She knows how to play on the hearts of good men! I will NOT let my son be caught by her!"

"That is wise," answered Camglas. "Although both are true, the good things are the more important truth."

Caelen smiled radiantly at Camglas. "Thank you - I like how you put that. I shall always remember it!"

Rildorien looked at the smiling faces of her husband and youngest son and tried to quell her rising panic. She cast about to find some way of putting Caelen in a more negative light while not seeming to do so. She can't have been educated very well - that was it! Although Eryndil's skills in the wild wouldn't have led one to believe that he was a very cultured man, he was, both by inclination and instruction. She cast about for a way to bring up the subject, but Hendegil unexpectedly gave her the opening she needed.

"Oh Father, we'll have to read some poetry after dinner - I was looking through the boxes you brought from home and found some of our favorite books!"

Turning to Caelen, she asked, "Do you like poetry, Caelen?"

Rildorien started to say something, but Gildurien, who disliked Caelen for reasons of her own, beat her to it.

With a light little laugh, Gildurien casually remarked, "Oh, Hendegil, growing up with all those horses, she probably didn't get many chances to read!" Turning to Caelen, she inquired sweetly, "Did your mother teach you, dear?"

Caelen bit her lip and took a deep breath, then she pushed back her chair sharply, stood up, and declaimed in a clear, strong voice:

"There standing lone, while endless fortresses of stone engulfed the thin, clear ringing keen of silver horn on baldric green, his hopeless challenge dauntless cried Fingolfin there: 'Come, open wide, dark king, your ghastly brazen doors! Come forth, whom earth and heaven abhors! Come forth, O monstrous craven lord, and fight with thine own hand and sword, thou wielder of hosts of banded thralls, thou tyrant leaguered with strong walls, thou foe of Gods and elvish race! I wait thee here. Come! Show thy face!' "

She sat down, and then added quietly, "Or would you like it in Sindarin?"

Gildurien, shaken but not beaten, fought back. "But that's not the end of the story, is it? I believe the noble elven king met his doom there - and a rather unpleasant one at that."

"But that's not the end of the story, either," answered Caelen. "It hasn't been written yet. And even if it were the end, still, as your father said, the good things are the greater truth."

There was quiet for a moment, for Gildurien didn't want to speak against her father, and then Caelen's voice came again, softly and musically, through the quiet in the room:

"Though all to ruin fell the world and were dissolved and backward hurled unmade into the old abyss, yet were its making good, for this - the dusk, the dawn, the earth, the sea - that Luthien for a time should be."

Again, there was silence. Rildorien glanced at Eryndil and was alarmed at the expression on his face. He was smitten - absolutely smitten with this girl!

"Well, Hendegil, I don't think we need our books to enjoy poetry tonight, do we?" said Camglas, with a warm smile at Caelen.

"That was beautiful, Caelen," said Eryndil earnestly. "Would you favor us with some more after dinner?"

"A little, if you would like," she answered shyly. "But I would like to hear from everyone else, too."

As they finished dinner and moved into the drawing room, Hendegil pulled Caelen aside and took her hands. "Well done, Caelen! That showed Gildurien! She can be a little snobbish sometimes!"

Caelen gave her a shaky smile. "I hope I didn't make her too angry at me!"

"Oh, don't worry about her!" replied Hendegil. "She always seems to be angry nowdays! But seriously, Caelen, do you know Sindarin?"

"Well, just a little," answered Caelen. "My parents loved to study, and spoke with the elves that would pass by on occasion whenever they could." She leaned in closer and whispered, "But I was devoutly hoping that she wouldn't take me up on my offer, because I don't really remember more than a line or two of that bit in Sindarin!"

Hendegil laughed, and the two girls walked hand-in-hand into the drawing room to join the others.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Eryndil's house in Cameth Brin. Evening of November 8, 1347.
Written by Valandil
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They filed into the drawing room for their after-dinner conversation; Hendegil and Caelen first, then Eryndil, followed by his parents; Camglas and Rildorien. Glambeth followed tentatively, for her grandmother wished for her to get as much refinement as possible while away from her mother – but Paurblung was excused, for he was only 10. Gildurien and Vilyandur came last of all, reluctant by inclination to join the rest, but bored by the alternative – and still hoping to slip out for the night again a bit later.

The room was decent-sized for its placement in a narrow city-home like this one, but it was a bit cozy for eight. The seating had been modified since the arrival of Eryndil’s family though, so it was comfortable enough. Once they had all taken their places, Camglas turned the conversation to one of his favorite topics – life at Ostinand.

“Well Eryndil,” he began, “your secret has been found out!”

Eryndil waited curiously for his father to continue, while everyone else looked at Camglas expectantly. Even Vilyandur and Gildurien perked up and paid attention.

Camglas, having gotten the attention he wanted, continued with a slight wink, “Yes Eryndil, I’ve heard all about the long visit you had with your girl, Emelbeth.”

At the implication, Eryndil blushed slightly despite himself, but it was Caelen who spoke up, “His girl!” and then to Eryndil, “Who is this Emelbeth?”

But Hendegil came to her brother’s rescue. “Emelbeth,” she began, “ is an elderly widow who lives all alone on what’s left of her family’s holdings. Her house had fallen into disrepair of late, but none had been able to help her get set up for winter. Father had a mind to, but kept getting turned aside from it. But… while he was staying in our home, Eryndil took a few of his men over and did the job up right.” Then Hendegil turned toward her brother and smiled. “He tried to do it on the sly too, only father found him out anyway.”

Caelen seemed reassured, and Camglas added. “We didn’t used to have much of that – a household being left with no claimants. But now I have three or four standing empty, besides Emelbeth’s, which will likely be empty at her passing. Used to be that SOME distant nephew or cousin would take it up. These days, there’s even less of THOSE around.”

“So,” Rildorien asked Eryndil, “did you see anyone else while you were home? In town perhaps?”

Caelen wondered right away if Rildorien was hinting at something or other, but Eryndil met her question right away, “No… not really. Well… I did see one of those odd ‘nephews’ father just mentioned. Father,” and he turned back to Camglas, “I ran into young Inost one afternoon and sat with him for awhile. Really all the time he could spare. He seems to have really got his hands on things now.”

“Yes, indeed!” answered Camglas, beaming.

“Who is Inost?” asked Caelen, not feeling quite so threatened this time around.

“Inost is a young man who grew up right down in Tanoth Brin – second son of a tradesman here, but his great-uncle had a modest household, just 80 acres, but on some choice land. Inost’s grandfather left some years back to make his own way, but the great uncle died without any sons. What was that… Eryndil, wasn’t it just over five years back? When you were home for the summer?” Eryndil nodded.

“Anyway, his brothers wanted to stay in their father’s trade here in town, but Inost thought it would be a good opportunity for him to take the place, so he did. Problem was, he didn’t know the first thing about farming, or running a household – or even how decent folk behave in our part of the kingdom.”

“The auspicious beginning to his arrival,” said Hendegil, who paused and then went on, “was the turning out of his great-aunt, the wife of his great-uncle. But father and Eryndil straightened him out on that one – Eryndil especially, I believe.”

“Well, no matter,” Replied Eryndil. “By the time I left, he was all set up for the winter, but I always wondered whether he’d last through the next.”

“He did son,” said Camglas. “Oh, there was still much to teach him; proper care of his livestock, when to sow and when to harvest, rotating his crops, making what he had last through the long months to come – doing upkeep on his buildings. But the boy has really taken to it, and shows a lot of promise. He has a fine household going there, and is a great asset to my thansh’r.”

“Besides,” Gildurien added, winking toward Hendegil, “he’s about the most appealing eligible young man on your thansh’r, father.”

Rildorien looked a bit scandalized, but Camglas only chuckled and continued. “Sorry girls, not for much longer, if what I hear from the birds and the goats is so. Inost’s old great-aunt – the one he once tried to turn out – has thrown a cousin’s grand-daughter his way," and here he looked significantly Eryndil's way, "Sweet Glimwen, the miller’s daughter! I don’t know if they’ll make it official at Mid-year – or else move it up to Sowing, or even Yule…”

A bit of a scowl crossed Rildorien’s face and she glanced quickly at Eryndil, looking for a reaction.

“Anyway,” Rildorien spoke up, “we need not bore our guest with talk of things back home. Surely she knows so little of such things.”

“Oh, not at all!” exclaimed Caelen. “This is just the sort of talk I grew up with – at my… father’s household.” She looked deep in thought for a moment, and then smiled. “Really, this makes me feel right at home.”

“What sort of household did your father run, Caelen?” asked Camglas.

“We had 200 acres. My great-grandfather had grown the family holdings to 800, but had four sons, and the Thane bade them divide it evenly. My grandfather was the eldest, but he was glad to share with his brothers, keeping them close, instead of having them re-settle in other parts far and wide. But my father had only sisters, so Callon stood to get the whole 200 one day.”

“Well, 200 acres is good, but 800 acres is a lot, and in most parts even Elderman Householders are capped at 400. But what of your great-uncles and their shares? Why were you and Callon not able to find refuge among them?” asked Camglas.

“Over the years, one thing and another happened. Some of those had to be divided further, but one disaster or another overtook all my father’s family. By the time I was a little girl, we alone still held our land of all the relatives, and my grandfather passed early, leaving his land in my father’s hands. Strangers held the rest of it, mostly hillmen, but some Dunedain as well – or some mixed, I don’t know. But then of course, disaster overtook my father as well.”

“Were there tenants?” asked Camglas.

“Six families at first. Later eight – then ten or twelve, I’m not really sure, as my father’s cousin’s lost their holdings – for a few of their tenant families came, asking to live among us.”

“What of your father’s sisters, Caelen?” asked Hendegil, instinctively reaching out with a hand on her shoulder. “How many were there?”

“There were three. The eldest moved to Tanoth Brin, before even we were born. The youngest married a householder somewhere away south – but has kept to herself, and we wouldn’t know where to find her. The middle sister… she still lived with us, and was with my parents when, when…”

Rildorien saw the looks of sympathy universally bestowed upon Caelen, and could hardly help from feeling likewise herself. But, noting where the most sympathetic looks originated, she thought it might be wise to break this train of thinking.

“Where are those servants with our desserts? And, can we have them bring my harp? And Hendegil’s flute? Caelen, do you sing?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Answered Caelen, glad at the thought of what was coming.

Rildorien looked just a bit crestfallen, but just then the servants arrived with a tray of pastries and mugs of a hot, steaming liquid.

“Apple pie and hot apple cider!” exclaimed Hendegil. “My, they sure do serve a lot of apples here in this house!”

Eryndil and Caelen glanced discreetly at one another, and smiled.

[Gordis]

Chapter 17. The Grappling Hook

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Near Eryndil's house in Cameth Brin. Late evening of November 8, 1347.
Written by Gordis
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“A little higher, Rhaglas, and more to the left!”

The young courtier swung the grappling hook again and let it fly towards the small balcony. The hook hit the wall and landed with a muffled thud on the street pavement below. The old siege hook was swathed in several layers of cloth, so it made little sound - at least no one inside the house seemed to notice. There was a large company assembled in one of the rooms of the second floor and the sound of many voices and an occasional song floated out into the quiet street.

It proved a difficult task to find exactly what room had been assigned to Caelen – but a little bribery works marvels even on the most trustworthy maids. To Daurendil’s delight they had found out that the room had a balcony overlooking the city battlements. Now the prince and two of his best friends were making an attempt to climb the wall to the balcony.

Rhaglas made another try, this time with even less success, as the hook flew wide and narrowly missed one of the dark windows of the first floor. Daurendil hissed in frustration. “Can’t you aim better?” he asked. “Once you hit a window we are undone…"

“Try yourself then, my Prince”, his friend replied with not a little ire in his voice.

“I can’t reach the second floor” Daurendil shook his head angrily. “Please, try again!”

“Let me have a go at it!” offered Celemir, who stood slightly behind in the shadows of the city wall. Rhaglas passed him the hook. Celemir took his time swinging the hook in circles over his head, and then with a sharp movement of his hand he let it fly towards the house. This time the hook flew straight and dropped onto the balcony floor. The three friends let out their breaths.

“Now pull the rope, very gently, lest the hook misses the railing” the prince whispered. Inch by inch the hook scraped over the balcony floor and soon became solidly stuck in the intricate metalwork of the railing. The friends gave the rope a few pulls to be sure that it was safe to climb.

“Now go, Daurendil”. Rhaglas gave the prince’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Good luck for your talk with the Lady. And may your tongue be more useful that your hands”.

Daurendil was a good climber. In a matter of moments his strong lithe figure reached the balcony of the second floor. He pulled the rope up after him and concealed himself in the shadows by the side wall of Caelen’s balcony.

***

After a very pleasant evening with much poetry and even a few songs that they had sang together with Hendigil, Caelen finally retired to her room. Stretching lazily, she went to the window and looked out. The night was very quiet – and the bright full moon looked right into her window. Wishing to take a breath of fresh air before going to bed, Caelen draped a woolen shawl over her shoulders and opened the balcony door. She stepped outside marveling how warm the night seemed – so unusual for November. The small balcony had a breathtaking view over the highest wall of the battlements and onto the winding King’s road that descended from the plateau towards Tanoth Brin. But Caelen paid little heed to the landscape, as, fascinated, she watched the Moon. She thought of her brother traveling somewhere far away. Perhaps at this very moment he was also looking at the silver fruit of Telperion, remembering her?

Her musings were interrupted by a slight cough. Caelen almost cried out in fright. Startled, she looked to her right. There was a man standing on the balcony, smiling at her. He turned his head slightly and the full moon lit his face – Ohh! it was the Prince Daurendil himself!

“Good evening, Caelen” he whispered. “Do not be afraid, I only come here to apologize. I know you were booted out of the Palace because of me… I almost strangled this old toad, the housekeeper! And Mother… oh, I better won’t speak of it…”

He approached and took Caelen’s hands in his. “Now, tell me that you bear me no grudge, so we can continue to be good friends!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Second Floor of Eryndil’s home, Cameth Brin. Late evening of November 8, 1347.
Written by Rian
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Caelen's heart was still beating like a hammer in her chest - to find a man on one's balcony in such an unexpected manner was unnerving, to say the least!

She had kind of known, although she tried to ignore it, that the Prince giving her a riding habit was not something that was "done". But this - him appearing on her balcony at night - was DEFINITELY not "done"! She already had a bad reputation from the riding habit incident; THIS incident would ... she couldn't even THINK of what it would do to her reputation! She had to get rid of him - and fast!

"Of course I bear you no grudge, Your Highness," she said in an urgent whisper. "I know that you meant no ill, and I will be glad to remain your friend. But my reputation suffered because of ill-natured gossips - and this (although I'm sure you meant no harm) will only be WORSE! Please - you must leave - and NOW!"

She managed to pull her hands free, despite his protests, and with a final whispered "GO!", fled into her room, shutting the doors (which unfortunately had no lock).

Daurendil sighed. All this work, and not even a kiss! Ah, well - at least she wanted to remain friends. He would visit her properly tomorrow - he'd come in state to visit her and show up this Eryndil, too. He blew her a kiss through the window, where Caelen was peering out at him with wide eyes, and got ready to descend ...

... and found that he had a problem - the eternal problem of people that climb up or down with ropes - how would he get the dratted rope off of her balcony after he got down?

"Caelen! Caelen!" he mouthed at her, motioning frantically for her to come back out on the balcony. But his Caelen wouldn't budge - she stood there shaking her head and frantically motioning for him to leave.

So he did the only logical thing - he opened the balcony door and walked into her bedroom to ask her to please throw down the rope after he climbed down.

Caelen fled out the other door like a deer before the hounds.

Eryndil was walking down the hall, "just checking things out before I close down the house for the night," he told himself - but actually to have an excuse to walk by Caelen's room. He remembered his encounter with Caelen in his bedroom yesterday, and his mind started to wander a bit, wondering what he would find if he walked into her bedroom like she had walked into his ...

... and he was nearly bowled over by a frantic Caelen who came flying out of her room like an arrow shot from a Lorien bow.

Her eyes were huge, and she was gasping so that she could hardly talk.

"What's wrong, Caelen?" he demanded, holding her by the shoulders. She made a few incoherent noises and then looked towards her room, and then back at him with her eyes even bigger than before, breathing hard and looking like a frightened rabbit.

"Robbers? HERE?!" thought Eryndil in amazement. He put Caelen behind him and strode into her room, ready to face anything - anything but what he DID face - the Prince Daurendil, holding a ... what in the WORLD was THAT?!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Second Floor of Eryndil’s home, Cameth Brin. Late evening of November 8, 1347.
Written by Valandil
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Your… highness?” said Eryndil, with only a slight nod of his head, rather than a bow. He stood at full height then, shoulders apart, waiting, intending that every aspect of his demeanor said, ‘you are a son of my King, but what are you doing HERE?’

“Ah… er…” began Daurendil, then finally recovering himself somewhat, bowed and continued, “At your service, Sir Eryndil.”

After a short pause, another nod from Eryndil followed, “At yours, your Highness.”

“So… so this is YOUR house? This is where you live?”

“Yes.”

“Odd that. You know… for some time, and not so long ago, it was hardly occupied, and I took to practicing… that is to say…”

“Yes?” Even as the exchange continued, Eryndil felt himself relax on the inside, but tried not to show any change to his expression or posture. This boob of a Prince had put himself in a rather tight corner – and Eryndil had no desire to make getting out of it any easier for him. And… if he tried anything, he was clearly alone, and Eryndil didn’t doubt he would have the better of him – perish the thought that he would have to grapple with a future King over the sanctity of his own home though.

“Well… having had a few too many drinks, I suppose, I took a fancy to the idea of trying to make a little climb… with this!” He held forth his grappling hook. “Upon reaching the balcony, it was clear that the place was occupied, and I realized someone was coming. So… I tried to hide in the draperies, hoping that the person might only come in and out, and that I could then easily slip away.”

“Now…” and here the Prince showed a look of great surprise – and Eryndil noticed his increased use of hand motions, “you can just imagine my surprise when I saw that the person who had come into the room was none other than… Caelen!” He paused for effect.

Eryndil nodded once more, his face still hard, “Small world,” he offered. From the corner of his eye he could see that Hendegil had been drawn out of her room by the commotion and was standing behind him, by Caelen. Hearing other footsteps in the stairway, he signaled his sister to shut the door. “Go on,” he said in a low voice.

Prince Daurendil lowered his voice, but increased the wildness of his gestures. “Then… still feeling quite badly that I might have previously offended this honorably young lady,” he bowed in Caelen’s general direction, “I revealed myself and attempted to apologize to her for my earlier indiscretion… and well, I suppose this was a greater!” and he looked quite crest-fallen.

“Is this when you chased her from the room?” asked Eryndil.

“Oh no, no! Not at all!” and the Prince looked genuinely distressed. “You see, she had most graciously accepted my apology, and I had turned to leave… when I realized I needed someone to throw down my rope, after I had climbed back to the street!”

So THAT was it! Eryndil couldn’t suppress a smile, and Hendegil made a sound indicative of a stifled laugh. Caelen still looked rather in shock, but Hendegil had the advantage of coming in after Eryndil was there, instead of first meeting Daurendil alone, in the dark, on her balcony.

“And… who is THIS young lady?” continued Daurnedil, smiling and bowing toward Eryndil’s sister.

At that Hendegil pulled her robe closer about herself – she had almost been in bed when she had heard the voices from Caelen’s room.

Eryndil stepped forward. “This would be a rather inopportune time for introductions, your Highness. Here, I will throw down your rope.”

Daurnedil’s climb back down to the street was a bit more difficult than the climb up, for there was a small, enclosed courtyard in front of the house, and the rope went outward at a fairly great angle. His two friends in the street held it taut though. When at last he reached the ground he signaled for Eryndil to throw him the rope.

Eryndil paused for a moment, looking at the grappling hook fixed to his balcony. He was about to detach it and toss it down when another idea struck him. Drawing his dagger, he cut the rope from the hook, and tossed the free end of rope down to the men in the street.

“Here’s your rope, your Highness,” he said in a suppressed voice. “I will return the hook to you tomorrow… so that you do not try any more climbs this evening. Good night!” and then he drew shut the doors, moving to lock them. He grimaced when he saw there was no lock… what kind of a place had Soromo and Naneth been running here, before he moved in? But then he took the hook and looked it over. In the morning he would see if Harda could make one like it for himself. Meanwhile, he would send Borngol around tomorrow as well, to get a lock on these doors and to check all the other balcony doors around the place.

“Good night Caelen… Hendegil,” he said. “Come on Hendy, let’s go.” He opened the door and there stood his father, his mother, his niece Glambeth and a couple servants. Good thing Hendegil had come in, or the ensuing talk would be all the worse.

“Caelen thought she saw a… spider.” explained Eryndil, significantly tapping the grappling hook into his left hand with his right. He moved on past them all and up the stairs to his own room. With some looks quizzical, and some (notably Rildorien’s) otherwise, the group dispersed – but Caelen spent the night with Hendegil, in HER room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Just a little later. Third Floor of Eryndil’s home.
Written by Valandil
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eryndil lay in his bed looking at the ceiling, wondering what steps he might take to keep the Prince away from Caelen. At once an idea struck him. He smiled and turned over on his side. Yes – that would make her appreciably safer from him!

He realized then that Caelen lay just now directly below him! Well… almost directly. More like, just over there…

Down below, Hendegil and Caelen heard a sound like a heavy piece of furniture being dragged over a wood floor. “What in Eriador is Eryndil doing up there?” asked Hendegil. But Caelen only shrugged and the two girls lay back down. They had checked – Hendegil’s balcony doors still had their lock, and they had locked the door to the room as well.

Meanwhile, Eryndil lay back, satisfied at last, and after many pleasant thoughts, spent the rest of the night in peaceful sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The “Merry Messenger Tavern”, Cameth Brin. Night of November 8, 1347.
Written by Gordis
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Now that was a disastrous expedition!” Daurendil commented.

The three friends were already at their third bottle of strong Lebennin wine, when the Prince finally broke the heavy silence. Celemir and Rhaglas only nodded. Defeat hung in the air. The companions sat concealed in a dark corner of a small, almost empty inn by the City Gate. They knew that the worried palace servants would be searching for them by now, so they chose this inconspicuous place over their usual haunt – “the Cock and the Piglet.”

A pretty coquettish maid brought the fourth bottle, swaying her hips provocatively on the way. The girl felt elated to serve the noble lords and even the very prince-heir Daurendil himself – but nobody spared her even a glance.

“So… what do we do now?” asked the Prince irritably. “We can’t repeat our venture, as the balcony doors are now bound to be locked and Caelen will undoubtedly be well guarded”.

“Tell me,” Rhaglas inquired, “the man there – Eryndil, was it? – did he look as if he had his own plans for the Lady?”

Daurendil thought back and then slowly nodded. “I guess he did look possessive, much like a cock protecting his hens. Mayhap he is courting her himself.”

“It must be so,” Rhaglas agreed, “as I also heard something, back in the Palace.”

“What was it you heard?” The Prince frowned.

“Hmm… I think I won’t repeat it – it was nothing but palace gossip. But I must say it was rather insulting for your lady.”

“Blasted gossip mongers!” Daurendil smashed his goblet on the table. “When I am King, I will order to whip any maid who invents dirty tales about me and my friends… Villainous tardy-gaited strumpets!”

“Wait, wait,” Celemir interrupted. “It seems to me that our first objective is to eliminate this Eryndil.”

“Eliminate?” Daurendil looked at his friend incredulously, his face slowly turning red. “You mean – kill? That is what you mean, treacherous knave?” Swaying drunkenly, he rose to his feet, grabbed Celemir’s collar and shouted “I am a Prince of the House of Dauremir, a Heir of Elendil, I will NOT spill the blood of a loyal man only because he happens to court the same woman!”

“You misunderstood me,” Celemir pleaded, not a little frightened. Daurendil was the youngest of the three friends, but still he was the tallest of them and maybe the strongest. And, to top it all, he was the future King. “ Please, calm down, your Highness! I didn’t say “kill”!” With the help from Rhaglas, Celemir finally managed to free his collar.

Daurendil fell heavily back into his chair. He shook his head to clear it a bit. “Sorry, Celemir", he stammered. "What exactly did you mean, then?”

Pouting, Celemir took his time to put his rich clothes back in order. The magnificent collar of Khandian lace had been irretrievably damaged. Finally, he deigned to explain. “I meant to send this Eryndil somewhere where his loyalty could be of use to the Kingdom. What good is he here entertaining all his family and a bunch of guests in this house – a gift of your father’s – and idly spending the King’s money? Wouldn’t he be more useful somewhere where the fate of the Kingdom is decided? Sweet Eru! – there is going to be this funny winter campaign in the North – he would be most needed there, don’t you think?”

Daurendil looked down and swirled the dark red wine in his goblet. He had a nasty feeling that sending Eryndil with Broggha was just another way to kill him – to send a man to a certain death and have his own hands clean. But the plan had its appeal – without Eryndil, Caelen would probably become much more amenable to his advances. As it happens so often, his good side finally surrendered to his bad one.

“But how can I send this man anywhere, while my father had so recently summoned him to the city to be his councilor?” he finally asked.

“Why – aren’t you yourself a member of the Council of Rhudaur, my Prince? You are a Councilor, so you are entitled to offer counsels to the King. The King needs a trustworthy man to watch Broggha. I know, Nimruzir goes with them, but the General is old and close to dotage. His eyes and his brain are not as sharp as they used to be. Eryndil would be the King’s eyes in this expedition. And due to his relatively low rank in the army, he will not arise much suspicion - he will see more and learn more than Nimruzir ever would. Explain all this to the King, Daurendil, and you will make your Father agree to your proposal.”

“Hmm…I don’t know whether he would listen to me at all” the prince mused. "Somehow he never takes me seriously.”

“It is high time to change that” Celemir replied firmly. “It is time to show His Majesty that you are a child no longer!”

[Gordis]

Chapter 18. "I want you to marry Eryndil"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Eryndil's house in Cameth Brin. Morning of November 9, 1347.
Written by Rian
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eryndil walked into the morning room and paused a moment to admire the pleasant sight before him: Caelen and his sister sitting together on the couch, talking and laughing and doing needlework together, the bright morning sun glinting off their shining hair and fresh young faces. He smiled and then sighed; if only life was this simple! It wasn't safe for these young ladies to go out in certain areas anymore, or at certain times. What was the world coming to?

Hendegil and Caelen looked up from their work at the noise of the door and Eryndil's entry.

"Eryndil!" said Hendegil gaily, with a meaningful glint in her eyes as she glanced at Caelen and then back at her brother, trying to see if she could get a reaction out of him. But he wasn't biting this time.

Caelen held up her work with a satisfied smile. "Your sister is showing me a new stitch," she said. "It's really pretty!" Then her expression changed to one of determination as she added, "I've neglected my needlework terribly since my mother passed away, and I'm determined to do better."

"It's always so much easier with a friend, though, isn't it?" said Hendegil, and then added, with another sly smile at her brother, "We're SO glad you're staying here with us!"

"I'm so grateful you took me in," said Caelen seriously. "My brother and I owe so much to you ..."

"Oh, nonsense," broke in Eryndil, trying to make light of what they were doing to help Caelen. "You're doing ME a favor! You're keeping my sister entertained and out of trouble!" He gave a mock-angry stare to his sister, who made a face back at him.

"He's right, you know, you're doing us the favor," she said to Caelen, and before Caelen could object, she added firmly to Eryndil, "And now I need YOU to do me a favor - would you please keep Caelen amused while I look for some thread I left in my room?" She rose quickly and left the room, leaving the other two occupants staring blankly after her.

"Well, shall I read to you?" suggested Eryndil quickly. "My sister often asks me to read to her while she sews."

"That would be nice!" agreed Caelen. "You choose, please!"

Eryndil scanned the books on the shelf, but before he was able to make his choice, they were interrupted by a knock on the door, and a messenger was shown into the room.

"Eryndil, son of Camglas, thane of Ostenand?" asked the messenger with a bow.

"I am," replied Eryndil, and took the proffered letter. He scanned it quickly - it was a summons to meet with the King on the following day. He got out some money for the messenger's tip, but the messenger was busy digging in his bag again.

"Caelen, wife of Callon, ostler at the King's stables?" he inquired, looking at Caelen as he pulled a small pouch out of his bag.

"Yes," answered Caelen, wondering who would be sending her something.

"Then this is for you, ma'am," said the messenger, as he handed Caelen a small pouch of money with a bow. "60 silver pennies, double-counted and sealed. If you could just put your mark on this receipt, please ..."

"But what is it for?" asked Caelen as she took the money pouch from the messenger and then turned to Eryndil to see if he could shed any light on the situation. But the look that she saw on Eryndil's face made her drop the pouch in horror.

"No! NO!" she cried, her hands tearing through her hair in her distress, backing away from the pouch on the floor as if it were some deadly thing. "NO! Callon!"

Eryndil rushed over to her and grabbed her wrists, stilling her frantic movements. "No, we don't know that!" he said urgently. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have looked like that - usually an officer will come with that kind of news ..."

He turned his head around quickly to the messenger, still keeping hold of Caelen's wrists. "Isn't there some kind of message with this?" he demanded angrily. "There must be something!"

The messenger put down the receipt form and re-checked his list. "Oh, sorry - yes, there's a letter with this," he said, pulling it out of his bag and extending it to Eryndil, who quickly took it and scanned the outside.

"It's from Callon," he said to Caelen, and put it into her hand, helping her sit down on the couch again. "I'm sure it will explain the money."

"Is that ALL?" he asked the messenger with bit of irritation in his voice and more than a bit of irritation flashing in his eyes.

"Yes, sir, that's all - but I'll just double-check, sir," replied the messenger, mindful of his upcoming tip and hoping that he wasn't going to leave with nothing. "Yes, that's all, sir, and I'm sorry to have caused the lady any distress..."

"Yes, yes, just be more careful next time," replied Eryndil impatiently, listening to Caelen's little sounds as she read her brother's letter and trying to guess what they meant. At least she didn't sound too distressed ... He shooed the messenger out with a small tip, and walked quickly over to Caelen, and, after a second's hesitation, sat down on the couch with her, anxiously awaiting information.

Finally, Caelen looked up at Eryndil with a shaky smile. "It says here that the money was for his extra duty," she told him, and gave a big sigh of relief.

"Well, that's good news!" replied Eryndil, also with a smile and a sigh of relief. "Of course, that doesn't mean that he wasn't killed in the battle," he thought grimly, trying to keep his cheerful expression firmly on his face.

"Of course, that doesn't mean that he wasn't killed in the battle," said Caelen slowly. Eryndil looked at her, startled - it was like she could read his mind ... "You were thinking that, too, weren't you?" she added.

He nodded - he couldn't deny it. "It's always a possibility, but I think the chances he survived are very good."

She set her chin resolutely. "I just can't let myself worry about that, can I? I just won't worry - it won't do any good. I'm sure he's fine," she finished firmly.

"Good girl!" said Eryndil approvingly; then, trying to get her mind off of her brother's fate in the battle, he pressed her, "And what news in his letter? If there's any that you can share with me, " he added politely.

"Oh, yes," she said, opening up the letter again, then lifting up her eyes to his with a quizzical expression. "It was ... such an oddly-written letter, though - I almost didn't recognize it as his ..." She shook her head, and then applied herself to reading the letter out loud to him.

"My dearest Caelen," she read, and then suddenly stopped with an exclamation. "Oh! THAT'S why!" she said excitedly, pointing to several little swirls that were drawn after her name. "He wrote something to me in code! Those two swirls mean to take the first word in each sentence that makes sense until the ending marks - two swirls again. A single swirl means the end of a sentence. Now let's see what he wrote!" she finished eagerly, pointing to the first word.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
My dearest Caelen, ~~

I am grieved to have to write this news to you, for I miss you and love you very much. I want to be with you so much - even being away a week was hard - but something has happened on the trip and they have ordered me to stay longer. You know I would rather be home with you, but duty compels me to go with the Princess to Amon Sul. To do this grieves me, as we cannot be together for several months now, but I must obey against my desires. To marry you gave me such happiness, and to have to stay away grieves me. Eryndil and Arinya will be there to help you if you need it, thought.

If you have any problems or need help, I am sure they will be glad to come to your aid. He is a good man and one whom I would trust you with, even trust your life with. If he asks after me, please give him my greetings and tell him my message that you read in this letter. You also like Arinya, and she seems both kind and wise, and I hope you can spend time with her, too. ~

He - I'm speaking of Eryndil again - can also help you if you have any problems with housing - you should be able to stay in our current quarters, though. Is that fine with you? A bit small, but clean and safe. It's good that we got settled in before I left. The man next to me reminds me that I must get this letter off now, so farewell for now. ~~

Ah, Caelie - would that we could be home together but Eru has decreed otherwise for us, and we must meet what comes to us with courage and a good heart. I love you and miss you and look forward to our reunion. If anyone travels to Cameth Brin from here, I will write you again, but I think the winter will prevent this.

Love always, Callon

ps - I am being paid extra for this change in plans, and have sent the money (60 silver pennies) to you to spend as you think necessary. Please have a few nice dresses made up for yourself, and perhaps a few nice things for me, for I am hoping we can spend some time with friends like Eryndil and Arinya when I return. At the least, be sure to have a new riding habit made up for yourself and throw out the old one, for I know it grieves you to wear it.

I hope you see and understand everything that I've written in this letter - it's been very hard to write, I had to write in such haste.

love always, Callon

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Caelen's finger pointed to the first word in the first sentence. "See now, I start here - right after the two squiggly marks - and take the first word of each sentence after that that makes sense. "I ... then 'I' again, so check the next word - 'want' - so it's 'I want...', then 'you' ... "

But Eryndil had caught on much faster than Caelen had realized and was far ahead of her in working out the coded message, and was now smiling broadly; indeed, trying not to laugh out loud, for now his question to Callon, which he had thought could not be answered until spring, had just been answered - and in the best possible way.

Caelen continued reading Callon's letter, her finger tracing across her brother's words to the beginning of the next sentence. " 'I want you to', then 'to' again, so it must be the next word ..." and then she stopped, her mouth open in shock, for the next word was "marry" - and the one after that was "Eryndil"! She covered up the letter and looked quickly up at Eryndil with eyes open wide, hoping that he hadn't seen the message, but she saw by his expression that he had.

"Oh!" she exclaimed in horror, blushing furiously. "You must be thinking terrible things of us! You must think we're ... we're treasure seekers or ... or fortune hunters or .. or whatever it's called!" She covered her face with her hands in embarassment.

"Caelen, of course I don't think that!" said Eryndil firmly (or as firmly as he could with such a broad smile on his face). "I'm only the third son of a thane, after all - and you've turned down advances from a prince - twice! Or maybe more," he finished with a smile as he considered his most recent meeting with Daurendil in Caelen's room.

"More!" she said with a little shudder, remembering how she had worked hard avoiding the over-amorous prince. "But yes, that's true ... a treasure-seeker..."

"Fortune-hunter" corrected Eryndil, trying to look serious.

"Fortune-hunter certainly wouldn't have done that," she said thoughtfully. She furrowed her brow in concentration. "But maybe I turned down Daurendil because I knew it would impress you, and I knew that the King and Queen wouldn't let me marry him anyway, and ..."

Eryndil laughed - he just couldn't keep it in anymore - Caelen was anything BUT a fortune hunter! Caelen stopped short, looking up at him uncertainly.

"Is that what you did, Caelen?" he asked her, putting a serious expression on.

"No!" she said sincerely, shaking her head. "Really, we're not ..."

"I know you're not!" said Eryndil decisively. "Now enough of that topic!" He pointed to the letter. "Now why don't you finish your brother's message - after all, it might say, 'I want you to marry Eryndil ... if he's the last man left on earth!"

That got a shaky smile from Caelen, and she uncovered the letter and found the place where she left off. Eryndil politely turned his head away, but Caelen said, with a little laugh, "No, go ahead and look - nothing could be any more embarassing than what you've already read! And I'd like you to see what he wrote me - I'm sure it's something good, because he is good."

They smiled nervously at each other, and Caelen continued. "... if ... he ..."

"See?" said Eryndil. "If he's the last man left on earth!"

Caelen giggled nervously and then continued. "... if ... he ... asks ... you." She pointed to the swirl after the word 'you'. "And that mark means the end of the sentence. So the next one starts with "He" - "He ... is ... a ... good ... man." She pointed to another mark after "man". "And the double swirls there mean the end of the coded message."

Eryndil sat back and gazed out of the window. "I want you to marry Eryndil if he asks you. He is a good man."

"He's referring back to a conversation we had the night before he left," explained Caelen shyly. "He was just trying to do everything he could to take care of me in case ... in case he didn't return. He said that ... that travel was ... could be dangerous ..."

"THAT'S an understatement, especially after what they went through!" thought Eryndil wryly.

"... and if he didn't come back, that I should go to ... to you, because you were a good man and would help get me settled somewhere, and that ... that ..." She took a deep breath, then continued quickly. "That IF you wanted to marry me someday, for some reason, that he wanted me to accept, because ... well, he thought you were a good man. Like he said. There - now you know everything," she said, biting her lower lip nervously and twisting Callon's letter into a wrinkled mess. "And I don't blame you if you never speak to me again ... or Callon either ... but he was just trying to ..."

"Caelen," said Eryndil. He took the letter out of her hands and put it on the nearby table, and then took her hands in his. "Caelen," he repeated, and she stopped her nervous movements and sat motionless, her head bent down, too shy to meet his eyes.

"I have sisters, Caelen, and I can understand your brother's actions," he said. No response, but he could tell she was listening intently. "I would have done the same thing in his place - if I were the only family that Hendegil had, and I was setting out on a journey that I might not come back from, I would certainly do everything that Callon did for you."

He could see Caelen take a deep breath and relax slightly.

"And I am honored by your brother's approbation of me, for I think that he is a good man, and I value his praise." As he hoped, that got Caelen to look up at him with a tentative little smile on her face. He had to fight the urge to kiss her right then and there, she was so sweet and lovely ...

"I'm so glad that you didn't take his message the wrong way!" exclaimed Caelen. "And you're right - if I was a fortune hunter, I guess that I would have encouraged the prince! I never thought of that!"

"That's because you're too honest and pure-hearted to even think of fortune-hunting - and so is your brother."

Caelen relaxed even more, and her smile lit up her face. She gave Eryndil's hands, which were still holding hers, a grateful little squeeze, and then suddenly blushed and looked down again in alarm as a new expression spread over his face - one that she had dreaded to see, and yet somehow welcomed, too ...

"Caelen, do you trust your brother's judgement?" asked Eryndil.

This was dangerous ground. Caelen tried feebly to pull her hands out of Eryndil's, but he held them tighter - and then raised them to his lips and brushed them with a soft kiss, and then another.

"I ... well, usually I do, but ... but ... " It was hard to concentrate with Eryndil kissing her hands like that, but she had to give herself an excuse to not take her brother's marriage advice - she couldn't remember exactly why, for a moment, and then remembered the attack on the road and her vow to never marry. But she had never expected it to be this hard - she had never expected to actually like a man like she did this man - so strong, yet gentle, and so honorable and good ... and she felt such strange feelings around him - strange but intoxicating, and rather exciting ...

She rallied, trying to speak casually, like a man kissing her hands was an everyday occurance. "Well, you know that you didn't think that marriage ruse of his was a good idea ... so I usually trust his judgement, but sometimes he makes mistakes, so ... well, not always ..." She trailed off incoherently.

Where was her resolve when she needed it? Why did marriage - at least to Eryndil - suddenly seem not such a bad thing anymore? But then she remembered again the robber's hands on her body, and the talk of the maid at Ostenand, and knew that Eryndil, with all his gentle kisses right now, would want more than kisses when they were married ... and she suddenly pulled her hands out of his. He let them go this time - he had to be careful to not force anything on her, and he knew it.

She looked up at Eryndil, trembling but defiant. He looked back at her with such love in his eyes that it was like a physical blow to her resolve.

"Caelen, I love you," he said simply and sincerely. "I love you with all my heart." He saw the defiance waver; the resolve become doubt. She looked down, knowing that it was the love that she could see so clearly in his eyes that was shaking her resolve to not marry. But Eryndil wasn't giving up so easily. He reached out and put a hand under her chin and lifted her face up. She still wouldn't meet his gaze. He took his other hand and started gently stroking her hair and saw her relax a little, seemingly against her will.

"Caelen, look at me," he said softly, and slowly her eyes rose to meet his.

[Gordis]

Chapter 19. "Congratulations, Caelen!"

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Eryndil's house home at Cameth Brin. Late morning of November 9, 1347.
Written by Valandil
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“Caelen, I love you. I love you with all my heart.” Eryndil watched Caelen’s eyes and saw an uncertainty… about his love, or about her own feelings? But then she lowered her head and he could see her eyes no more. Each of them still clung to Callon’s letter with a hand outstretched to the side, but he took his free hand, and placed it under her chin. She let him draw her chin slowly up, but she cast her eyes down, so that he still could not see them.

“Caelen… look at me,” he said. She did. Slowly at first, she turned her eyes up toward him, glanced at him, then briefly back down, but at last she looked full into his eyes.

Eryndil swallowed. This was it. He now knew his heart, and he knew what he wanted, but did Caelen feel the same way? With all he had done for her, and them having just read together her brother’s wishes, it all seemed so easy. He might never get an opportunity quite this good – at least not for a long time. He wondered though if it would be wrong of him to press it now. Would her circumstances make her accept him, when otherwise, of her own free will, unswayed by help received, or by her brother’s will, she might refuse? But he pressed on.

“Caelen, I love you, and I want to marry you. Will you marry me and become my wife?”

He kept his eyes focused straight on hers, and watched as they passed from delight, to alarm, to doubt and at last to resolve.

“No… NO!” she replied, turning aside and putting a hand over her face. “I cannot do that.”

Eryndil was baffled. Everything made sense for her to say ‘yes’ – but she hadn’t. He unwisely followed that line of thinking in his reply.

“But Caelen, I don’t understand. I am a thane’s son, while your father was a householder. I have a position with the King, and this house to my own name, while you are dispossessed. What’s more, I have taken care of you and watched over you – both on the road, and here in town. Besides all that – even your own brother thinks it a good idea, and has already given his approval.”

She turned to him sharply. This time her eyes looked directly at his, but they were filled with anger. “What then? I owe this to you? And do you think women marry only to get a roof over their heads? If I only wanted that, I could have stayed home!” She stared at him angrily for just a moment, then at last pulled the letter from Eryndil’s hand and turned her back toward him, clutching the letter to herself with both arms across her chest.

Eryndil did not know yet, but would learn later, that he was fighting a battle with Caelen’s own fears. Some part of Caelen was hoping that he would win, but it was still up to him to carry the day.

“Caelen… no. You owe me nothing. What I have done, I have done freely, of my own will. On the road, it sprang from duty – but since then, it has sprung from my love for you. I… I thought you knew. They say that women see it in a man… almost before he knows it himself. And… and I thought you might like the idea yourself. That you would be happy to be my wife.” Thinking she relaxed a bit – or stiffened less, might be more correct, he placed his hands on her shoulders and gently prompted her to turn back toward him.

“Face me, Caelen… please,” and she slowly turned, head down once more.

“Caelen, if you keep your head down, I have no other recourse to place myself before you…” he stooped down onto one knee, looking hopefully up into her face. She smiled slightly, and a very small laugh escaped before it was stifled. Was she beginning to cry?

It came into Eryndil’s mind that her rough treatment on the road, just a month ago, might be the biggest obstacle he faced – not to mention that she was out on the road then because of another thane’s son! A new tactic jumped into his mind.

“Caelen, marry me, please! I know that other men have not recommended themselves to you well, but my heart is true and my word is good. I will do you no harm, but protect you always, because of my love for you. And… if you fear still that you would receive from me what you have from the rest, then I now promise you – that I would wait – as long as you need, before we… before… before our marriage is consummated.”

She clearly looked surprised. Inside, Eryndil had his own doubts about this offer – or even whether he should have given up after her first refusal. Should one really be talked into marrying another? There was a time to press, and a time to release. But still, his heart urged him to press.

“Caelen, I will wait… be it ten extra days, ten months… even ten YEARS! You will be my wife and I shall prove myself to you. Will you not have me? Bid me rise and we shall be wed… this very Yule! Or else go out, for I shall not rise without your bidding while we stay in this room together.”

It wasn’t long before Caelen touched Eryndil’s shoulders and gently, wordlessly, urged him to stand. The doubt and fear had been erased from her countenance, and replaced by joy and release. They quickly settled on the Yule – just over seven weeks away. Eryndil bowed and Caelen curtsied, and at last they reached out tentatively for a brief embrace. As it ended, Eryndil held her by the shoulders at arm’s length, beaming with joy.

“Caelen, I am overwhelmed with joy by your acceptance! I must rush out and inform my family. But first… to make it official… don’t you think we should seal the arrangement with a kiss?”

Caelen was hesitant at first, but it did seem the right thing to do. She pulled back her hair, smoothed out her dress, placed her arms straight against her sides with clenched fists, inclined her head, closed her eyes, and – after declaring, “You may now kiss me,” she puckered up her lips and waited.

Eryndil watched her in amusement, then tentatively leaned down and mischieviously, kissed her upon the nose. “Oh, he said, I suppose one of us at least must keep our eyes open for the process.” Then he placed his lips upon hers and held them there… and held them, and held them.

At last, Caelen opened her eyes and asked, “Are you finished?”

Eryndil rose up and laughed. “Oh Caelen, I love you! Here…” then he took her in his arms, drew her close, and kissed her a bit more properly. By the time she came up for air, she had relaxed a great deal and had started to enjoy the procedure.

“Um, Eryndil… can we try that again? Maybe just a little longer this time?”

He was more than happy to oblige. As they kissed, one hand holding her close, the other caressing her face, her neck, her hair, he could feel her body responding to his. As she placed her own hands upon him, he felt himself responding as well – more strongly than he had expected. Caelen at first she shrank back slightly, but as they kissed some more, she drew herself back to him, and her resistance passed away.

Wild thoughts raced through Eryndil’s mind. He had been a fool to promise to wait as he did. Why wait ten months – or even ten years after marriage? Why wait even now? After all, they had agreed to be wed – they were engaged! Would Caelen agree to slip up to his room this very evening? Would she go up there with him right now? He pulled away from their kiss just enough to ask her,

“Caelen… do you believe that I love you?”

“Yes…”

“Do you love me too?

She paused, “Yes… yes, I do! I really DO!” and she threw her arms around his chest and squeezed him tight. He caressed her hair, and her shoulders, as he thought about what he might next ask.

But no… it just wouldn’t be right. He had ALWAYS wanted to wait – to wait until he was really, truly married. He could wait that long now at least – and Maybe Caelen wouldn’t want to wait any longer than that herself.

Besides, he thought of all the men he knew – those in the army, or other young nobles – who would talk a girl into bed with them, promising their love, even marriage – but moving on afterwards, breaking those promises. Most had tried to convince him to follow suit, but he had stuck to what he believed was right. Besides, if he knew some men from their end of it, Caelen likely knew some girls like that from their end of it.

He looked down at her tenderly. At last she had acknowledged her own feelings for him. He had begun to feel so sure she felt that way, but started to doubt a little when she refused him. He suddenly felt the responsibility for those feelings she had. He couldn’t let her down – couldn’t even introduce the thought to her mind, that he might use her, then cast her aside, and his question went unasked. Just as his resolve to maintain his self-control established itself, Caelen looked up at him and asked with a smirk,

“So… who is Glimwen? And why would your mother prefer a miller’s daughter to that of a householder?”

Eryndil drew back a bit, regretting the interruption, but almost grateful that things took a different direction. Even if this might get a bit awkward.

“Glimwen’s father is not your typical miller. You see, her grandfather was a thane’s younger son, like me, and a veteran. Served his fifty years, and knowing the land, took his estate just outside Duinand – on the opposite side of town from our home of Ostinand. He married the daughter of a neighbor thane, then bought and re-built the old, run-down mill. He hired others to work it, and supported himself and his family somewhat modestly from the gains. He and his son, Glimwen’s father, soon built two more mills close by – one up the river and the other down it. And as the farming round about was good, they prospered. The old man is gone now, but Glimwen’s father has charge over three mills, and works grain from all about.”

“Ah – a gentleman miller then!” said Caelen with a smile. “Now,” more crossly, but feigned – or at least Eryndil hoped so, “What have you to do with his daughter?”

Eryndil looked a bit embarrassed. “Well – with their family being practically thanes themselves, they were very close in our family’s social circle, so we saw each other much. I think my mother began to harbor hopes of joining our families – through Glimwen and myself, long ago. But also… it was she who taught me to kiss like we just did.”

“She did! I mean… you DID!?”

“Yes. It was sort of a ‘good-bye’ when I first went away to join the King’s army – over fifteen years ago. I saw her again, in passing, when I was back home five years back, but we did not speak – nor do anything else! I was actually surprised she had not married another by then. But I knew my own mind better at the time, and just somehow knew she wasn’t the one for me. A sweet girl though.”

“Yes, I’m sure…” said Caelen, and Eryndil wasn’t quite sure how to read what he saw in her face. But Caelen enlightened him a bit when she added, “Taught you to kiss… Just kissing, right?" he nodded. "Well, if ever we meet, I must either thank her, or else strangle her. I don’t yet know which!”

Their next kiss was interrupted when they heard sounds from outside the room – sounds of people approaching.

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Eryndil's house home at Cameth Brin. Late morning of November 9, 1347.
Written by Rian
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Suddenly, they heard the unmistakeable sound of voices outside of the door, and the turning of a door handle. What was turning out to be a very nice kiss indeed was suddenly cut short, as they pulled apart and looked at each other in confusion, not quite sure what to do.

Eryndil's expression suddenly turned from confusion to alarm as he saw the somewhat rumpled condition of the recipient of his ardor. He reached out to try to smooth down her tousled hair, but Caelen, guessing what his expression meant, had already whirled around to the large mirror on the wall behind her to assess the damage herself. What she saw there made her gasp; her clothes were rumpled, her hair was a mess, and her lips were as red as the blush that was starting to spread rapidly across her cheeks.

"What shall I do? Where can I hide?" she whispered frantically, trying desperately to smooth down her tousled tresses and clothing while realizing that nothing could hide the condition of her mouth in time to evade the glance of whoever was coming into the room.

"Oh, no! I dropped my sewing!" came Hendegil's voice into the room, along with the sound of bouncing supplies in the hallway. "Oh - over there, under that chair! Oh, and the needles rolled under that table!"

Eryndil blessed his sister's sagacity - he had a feeling that somehow, she had known what was going on between he and Caelen, and was trying to give them a few moments to regroup. He quickly assessed the situation and the room, and came to his conclusion.

"You must hide in my arms; there is nowhere else," he said firmly as he held out his arms to her. He rather liked the idea of that, anyway, and the feeling it gave him when Caelen came rushing into his arms for protection, burying her face into his broad shoulders and covering what was still showing of her face with her hand. He embraced her waist with one arm and held her head against his shoulder with the other, with his forearm providing extra shielding. And just in time; Hendegil and her parents walked into the room and stopped dead at the sight of Eryndil with Caelen in his arms.

The sewing supplies hit the ground again.

Eryndil had decided that he must seize the offensive position while it was still up for grabs, and immediately addressed them with the commanding tone in his voice that had led men into battle and victory, and a bright smile on his face that didn't need to be feigned, as it came from the true joy in his heart.

"Rejoice with me, mother and father, and Hendegil my sister: after much persuading on my part, for she is modest and shy, Caelen has agreed to become my wife! She is still rather overcome with the idea, though," he finished in a softer tone as he looked down at her in a protective manner and stroked her hair, both to show his affection for her in front of his parents and to try to smooth out the remaining signs of his previous passion.

"Oh, Eryndil, congratulations! I am SO happy for you!" said Hendegil sincerely, and she ran across the room and reached up and gave her brother a kiss.

"Oh, Caelen, don't be shy; I'm so happy you'll be my real sister now!" She kissed the small bit of Caelen's head that was not covered up, and Caelen, responding to her sincere expression of her love, left Eryndil's arms to embrace his sister (being careful to conceal her face on the way over).

"Oh, Hendegil, I'm SO happy! I've always wanted a sister, and there's no one else I'd rather have than YOU!"

Camglas, in the meantime, had been giving his youngest son his sincere and heartfelt congratulations. Caelen had pulled away from Hendegil and was heading back to Eryndil's arms, her head down and shielded by her long hair, when she was intercepted by her beaming future father-in-law.

"I know you're shy, my dear, but can you spare just one quick embrace for your future father-in-law?" Caelen, responding to the warmth in his voice and his previous kind treatment of her, turned to him and laid her head softly on his shoulder as he gave her a brief and gentle embrace. "I'm so happy to have you join our family, my dear - just let me know if my son gives you any trouble, and I'll fix it for you!" Caelen nodded shyly, her hand covering her mouth, and paused a moment, not sure if it would be rude at this point to return to Eryndil's arms, since she had embraced both his sister and father but not his mother.

Rildorien had been giving rather cool congratulations to her son, and was not showing any signs of speaking to Caelen. Eryndil gave his mother a significant look and a nod towards Caelen, and Rildorien chose her course of action.

She reached towards Caelen and pulled her into a brief but decidedly frosty embrace. And as they pulled apart, she let fire.

"Congratulations, Caelen," she said, a dangerous glint in her eyes.

Caelen froze.

"What?" she asked in a quiet but tense voice, as though she couldn't quite believe what she had heard and was afraid to find out that she was right.

Eryndil, who had been looking at his mother, sensed that something was amiss; some long-dormant memory stirred in his mind about etiquette - there was something about "congratulations" now, wasn't there? He turned his head to look at Caelen, and was astonished at the expression he saw on her face. Something was definitely wrong, but he had no idea what it was. He quickly glanced around the room - Hendegil's face wore an expression like Caelen's, but his father looked pained and uneasy.

"I said congratulations, Caelen," repeated Rildorien, looking at Caelen calmly but defiantly. Eryndil looked back and forth between his mother and his betrothed - clearly, there was something wrong, but he had no idea what it was. What was wrong with congratulating Caelen? There was something just on the edge of his memory ... Confused, he waited to see how Caelen would answer his mother.

He didn't have to wait long.

Caelen turned white and slapped Rildorien hard across her face.

"How DARE you insult me like that! How DARE you insult my mother!" she said furiously to Rildorien, who stood immobile, with the imprint of Caelen's hand showing up red and angry on her cheek.

Eryndil's jaw dropped; he stared at Caelen, incredulous.

Camglas looked at Caelen with an expression of reproach mixed with pity for a brief instant, then turned and took his wife gently by her shoulders. "Rildorien," he said sadly, shaking his head, seeming to plead with her. But Rildorien didn't answer - her eyes were fixed on Caelen with an expression of anger and contempt.

Eryndil grabbed Caelen's shoulders and turned her around hard to face him. She wasn't white anymore; she was flushed red and breathing hard, and mixed with the anger in her eyes, there was disbelief and pain.

"Caelen! You apologize to my mother right NOW!" he commanded, angry and embarassed at the behavior of his betrothed. Caelen stared back at him, her eyes flashing. "She owes ME an apology!" she cried out, trying to pull away from his grip.

"For what? he demanded angrily, giving her a slight shake.

But Hendegil interrupted. She put her hand on her brother's arm. "Leave her alone, Eryndil - she overreacted, but ... it was understandable."

Eryndil stared at his sister in disbelief. "Understandable? WHAT is understandable? I certainly don't understand it!" he shouted, angry that he couldn't understand what was causing this disruption between two women that he loved.

Hendegil turned to Caelen. "Go wait for me in your room, Caelen," she said quietly. "We'll defend you." Caelen, after a brief moment of indecision, nodded her head and quickly left the room. Eryndil moved to go after her, but Hendegil stopped him with a hand on his arm. "She needs you here," she said firmly.

The door shut behind Caelen, and Eryndil, feeling like he was drowning in a tumultuous sea of womenly complication, said, "Hendegil! What's going on?!" He didn't want to speak to his mother, who was standing there immobile with that strange expression on her face, the slight imprint of Caelen's hand still visible on her cheek.

Hendegil sighed. "Mother congratulated Caelen," she said, as if that explained everything.

Eryndil stared at her for a moment, completely at sea. "And... ?" he said, with an exasperated hand gesture.

"Don't you remember the etiquette that your mother taught you?" said Camglas quietly. "You congratulate the MAN on an engagement; you NEVER congratulate the woman."

Eryndil, who had been staring at Hendegil with his mouth open, suddenly shut it, trying to think. He now remembered Rildorien hammering this particular point of etiquette into him, but for the life of him, he couldn't remember the reason behind it. To him, it was just one of many such rules that sometimes made sense and sometimes didn't.

Finally he broke the silence. "Why?" he asked simply.

Hendegil sighed in exasperation. "Because you congratulate someone on achieving a goal!" she almost shouted. He looked over at Rildorien, then back to Hendegil. A faint realization of what Rildorien had meant by that single word was beginning to dawn on him.

Hendegil decided to spell it out for him. "What mother was saying to Caelen was that Caelen had purposefully schemed to get you to propose marriage to her, and she had now achieved that goal."

Eryndil looked at Rildorien, shocked. Rildorien was now looking a trifle uneasy. But Hendegil had one more thing to say.

"She basically called Caelen a whore."

[Gordis]

Chapter 20. The Quarrel

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Cameth Brin Palace. Afternoon of November 9, 1347.
Written by Serenoli and Elfhild
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Odaragariel had quite recovered from her bout of jealousy - but she had been very quiet for a few days, and had spent some time thinking very seriously about her life, which rest assured, she did not often do.

The truth was that she owed a lot to Rhudaur, and more particularly the King, and all his family, for taking her in the way they had. The tacit, unspoken agreement was that one day she would marry Daurendil, and Rhuduar and Imlad Mitheithel would be united under one ruler. Not that a marriage was necessary for the King to give Daurendil the rule of Mitheithel - but it would be much neater that way, and she supposed the loyalty of the people would be won easier if she was by Daurendil's side. It would repay her debt of gratitude, and she was certainly not displeased to think of herself as the possible future queen of all Rhudaur. She did not dream of it, or hope very much for the day to come - she was content with her life of luxury, and idleness, content with her friends, and content with the thought of a safe future ahead of her.

She liked Daurendil, of course, but as a friend, as someone who was merry and thoughtless enough to be pleasant. In truth, she liked his brother Amantir more, but even Amantir was much too dull at times. If she ever thought of him as her future husband, it was more in the line of how he could be worked upon and improved. She came to the conclusion that the real reason she had been so upset to see Daurendil paying so much attention to Caelen, had been because she was about to lose her guarantee of a future. This thought, oddly enough, comforted her. She was easier in her mind accusing herself of disappointed greed then of disappointed love, and maybe she was right in her self-analysis.

One thing she had learned from her maid who carried her all the palace gossip, was that she had been guilty, certainly, of supposing Daurendil to be courting a married woman. Caelen was most decidedly not a married woman, nor was she with child, and while Odare was relieved, she still did not like her - to think she had come with her lies and deception, and made a merry fool of them all! She was glad the woman had been evicted, and was now living with some friends - she knew not who they were, and she decided she did not care much.

She was continually hearing more stories of Daurendil's foolishness over the girl, including a gripping tale of a midnight raid in which he had attemtpted to carry her off with the help of a grappling hook, of all things, which she half-believed, but still could not help ridiculing everytime Tarniel brought it up. It was just so fantastic, and she knew it was just the type of thing to appeal to the Prince. Well, he would not be happy before he made a thorough fool of himself, and Odare, at least, was ready enough to laugh at him, and tease him in as friendly a fashion as she could manage when the time came.

In the meantime, there were bigger things afoot. Amantir had been her informant for the recent Counsil meeting that had been called when the news of Gimilbeth's kidnap had come through. She was very interested in the fact that they were going to her homeland - the more so, now that she remembered just how long it had been since she had been there. She was not exactly sure how they had all managed to use Gimilbeth's kidnap to set out for war in an entirely different place, but it was of course a good thing... And surprisingly, Broggha, the uncouth hillman was to lead his men to free a fortress in her land... she wished she had had more to do with it, but the truth was, she knew next to nothing about what was going on in Mitheithel. She was determining to find out all she could, and be more interested in her people's welfare than her own, when a more unpleasant issue intruded itself upon her notice.

Tarniel, who had been reading a book, had looked up and said, "Oh, Odare, you know that necklace I gave you... oh, a month ago? That time when the bear went wild, I mean. I was meaning to ask it back for sometime past - unless you want to wear it again, in which case, of course, I don't mind in the least."

Mewlips take the girl for remembering! She was very sorry she had lost the necklace, but much, much sorrier that Tarniel was bringing this up, just as she was determining to reform. "Well, you know, when... I mean, I've been..." she looked up at Tarniel, who was looking at her, bemused, and decided to just confess, "I lost it."

For a moment, neither of them said anything - Tarniel was looking very quietly at her friend, her expression not having changed one whit.

"I must have lost it when I was, you know, attacked by the bear," Odare mumbled. She was glad she was wearing short sleeves under her cloak, for with a little manipulation, she placed her arm such as to display clearly the scar left by the attack - she needed all the sympathy she could get. "And I missed it when I woke up, but I was much too frightened and ashamed to own up, and I set some people to search for it, but it didn't turn up, and I wanted to tell you, only - well... the time never seemed right for it."

She shuffled her feet under her dress, which was an extravagant and puffed up frock in deep purple, for she had not remained long in her defiant jewellery-less state. She risked a glance at Tarniel's face, who was now starting to look horrified. At least Gimilbeth would not hear of this for many days, she could not have borne the taunts her carelessness would undoubtedly bring upon her from that source...

***

Tarniel stared in disbelief at Odaragariel. So the emerald necklace, Elessya the Green, the heirloom of the House of Dauremir, was gone!

"I wish you had told me of this when it had happened," she said at last, rather piqued at her friend.

"I was so worried that you would be angry at me," Odare confessed sheepishly, her gaze darting to the side.

Tarniel studied the scar on Odare's arm and then looked to her face. "Not really angry, just disappointed. You should have told me when it had happened, not waited all this time."

Odare winced, hearing the irritation in the princess' voice. "I did not mean for it to happen... It was not a careless mistake, like simply misplacing it somewhere."

Tarniel thought back to the chaotic night when the huge bear went wild at the feast. A dignified crowd of lords and ladies instantly became a screaming, running mob of terrified people, like a swarm of ants trying to escape from a destroyed anthill. Chairs were knocked down as their inhabitants had leapt from them and headed towards the doors. Ladies fainted and their attendants desperately tried to get them off the floor so that they would not be crushed under the press of the throng. Personal belongings could easily get lost in such madness.

"You were only lucky that you were not killed," Tarniel replied, her expression softening.

"The chain must have broken, and the necklace got kicked around by the crowd," Odare suggested, her chest tense with the sigh of relief that she did not risk letting loose just yet.

Tarniel cocked her to the side and tucked a loose stray of dark hair behind her ear. "And no one was able to find it?" she asked pensively.

Odare nodded. "I had the feasting hall searched thoroughly. It is my supposition that someone unscrupulous, like one of Broggha's scoundrels, pocketed it, and now it graces the neck of one of their women." Attempting to gain even more pity, she put on her most morose face and then stared down at the floor sadly. "Again, I am sorry, Tarniel. When I borrowed the necklace, I had no way of knowing—"

Tarniel put her hand up. "What happened is in the past and we cannot change that. But we have other problems." A wry smile touched her lips. "What do we do if my father, the king, finds out about this? I do not think he will be very pleased at either of us, especially at me, since if I had not leant you the necklace, then it never would have gotten lost."

The eyes of both girls met, each one wondering what they would do.

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Cameth Brin Palace, King Tarnendur’s study. Afternoon of November 9, 1347
Written by Gordis
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“No, Daurendil, it is out of the question!” the King replied to his Heir’s long and heated speech. “I need Eryndil here – there are many others who could be sent to the battlefield.” He frowned darkly and studied his obviously much disappointed son. Despite the Heir’s usual impeccable attire, the dark circles under the youngster’s eyes were plain to see.

“I am a bit curious,” the King continued, “what is the real reason of your sudden interest in the matters of State in general and Eryndil in particular? I have a bad feeling that you are not as disinterested as you want to appear.”

Daurendil squirmed under his father’s piercing gaze as the King had an uncanny ability to see right through all his ruses. Still he tried to wriggle out of it. “What do you mean, Father?” he asked innocently. “I simply … appreciate Lord Eryndil’s … many fine qualities and…”

“That’s why you have paid him an unexpected visit last night?” came a cutting reply. “Or was it just a visit to his house that, as I heard, harbors the famed ostler’s wife?”

Daurendil’s color abruptly changed from white to angry pink. “She is not his wife,” he almost shouted, “she is but his sister and an honorable, innocent maiden!”

“If she is innocent and honorable as you say, then why in Udun do you try to ruin her reputation?” the King hissed back. “First this bloody dress…then this grappling hook… You are a fool, Daurendil!”

“So you have set spies on me?” The Prince knew that he was threading on a dangerous ground, but his anger overcame his better judgment.

The King shook his head in disgust. “Let me put this straight, Daurendil” he said coldly. “As you didn’t return to the Palace last evening, your poor Mother has spent a sleepless night. And so have I. I deemed I had the right to know what kept you in the city so late – so I took measures to learn it. Must I say that I didn’t like what I learned?”

The Heir, his cheeks even redder than before, stood looking sullenly at his boots.

“If you have nothing to say, then you are dismissed” the King barked, suddenly out of patience. “Go and reflect on your unseemly behavior!”

Trying to hide his angry tears, Daurendil turned and fled the room - the door banged violently behind him. He stopped at the landing and cursed several times, using the vilest words in his vocabulary. It helped but little – he still felt … he felt he could kill somebody with his bare hands right then and there. Or, more precisely, he felt he was going to dissolve into childish sobs.

Everything …everyone turned against him! Father, Mother, his friends, Eryndil …even Caelen herself! His sister, the sweet little Tarniel, betrayed him also – for hadn’t he begged her to intervene, to save the day by writing a simple dratted letter? Too much to ask evidently – instead the prissy girl must have spilled it out to her dear Arinya, if not to Mother! Well – she was going to hear what he thought about it!

Daurendil gritted his teeth and stalked towards his sister’s rooms.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tarniel's sitting-room in the Palace, Cameth Brin. Afternoon of November 9, 1347.
Written by Serenoli and Elfhild
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Footsteps outside the door. Loud, angry footsteps. Odaragariel, who was feeling guilty, gave a start. Had they been found out already? Someone banged the door open, and Odare looked up slowly, prepared to find the accusing gaze of the King on her. Instead she found Daurendil, looking accusing, certainly, but not at her, at his sister. In fact, he hardly seemed to notice her presence.

"You didn't do it, did you?" he began unpleasantly. He had just had a humiliating interview with his father, and he was in the mood to quarrel. As brothers will, the one person he had found whom he could boss around right now, with some reason at least, was his younger sister. "The one, simple, small thing I ask of my sister, and she does not do it. So affectionate, so sweet as she is." He sat down heavily on the best chair in the room and glared at Tarniel balefully.

"What did you ask her to do?" Odare asked, curious, and somewhat relieved that they were safe about the necklace for now.

Tarniel answered, "He asked me to give Caelen a riding-dress. Apparently, he had already presented it to her, but she had returned it as she thought it was improper of her to accept it from him." She shot her brother an angry glance. How dare he barge in here and start haranguing her about this, especially in the presence of Odaragariel! Embarrassed, she felt heat infuse her cheeks.

"And you wanted your sister to make the gift proper, is that it?" finished Odare for her.

"Yes! I don't see that it is something unreasonably hard to do. If Tarniel and you could just say that the riding-dress was a gift from all of us who went hunting with her that day, then, why she could even come back to the Palace from that man's house where she's living. You might make her your lady-in-waiting or something like that!" Odare was looking at him, incredulously. Did he really expect her to pretend to befriend this girl so he could court her?

Daurendil meanwhile, had softened his tone somewhat, almost wheedling, clearly hoping that if he could convince Odare to help him, his sister would fall in line. "I mean, its not right, her living in an unmarried man's house. She was desperate, of course, didn't know anyone and he took her in - but if you two extended hands of friendship, she could just stay here! Besides, I don't trust that man. Some thane's useless son, and he is obviously trying to take advantage of her helpless state. I thought he could come in handy by going North - goodness knows we need loyal men on the front, there are too many Hillmen going anyway. And father just shot me down. Absolutely would not hear of it. First Caelen, then father. What do they see in this Eryndil?" he ended bitterly.

"Are you sure your wish to see him go with the army was purely due to your desire to see him useful?"

Daurendil got up, all haughty disdain. "What are you trying to insinuate, Odie?"

"Nothing much. Except that you are obviously smitten with this girl, but unless I'm wrong, she prefers Eryndil. She returns your riding-dress, but thinks nothing of living in his house. Seems to me I detect more than a hint of jealousy in the works."

"I think you're jealous yourself!" said Daurendil wildly. "You're the one that convinced Tarniel not to do what I asked her. You probably got that hag of a housekeeper to kick Caelen out in the first place!"

"Enough!" cried Tarniel. "I did not take anyone's advice in not doing what you asked, I acted on my own judgement."

"And even if she asked me, I would hardly help you to entrap that poor girl!" added Odare, though it must be added, she hardly thought of Caelen as a helpless girl, and as far as entrapping went, she thought Daurendil was in more danger.

"What have you got against Caelen? Why won't you two help me?"

Tarniel replied in a calm tone, "Well, I can't help you because it is just not right. Caelen returned the riding dress; can you not take a hint? It is obvious that the girl does not want anything to do with you, so stop meddling in her life. Think of your reputation - and hers. Caelen has a penchant for scandal, and it brings shame to the royal family for you to chase after her like a drooling buffoon!" The emotion had risen in her voice, rendering it high and shrill. Pausing, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

"As for Odare, you know that - how shall I put it? We all expect you and Odaragariel to marry someday." There, the words, unspoken all these years, were out, and hanging in the air. "In her position, she could hardly hold your rope while you climbed up this girl's balcony!" Her fists clenched at her sides, Tarniel stared at her brother with newfound defiance.

Daurendil was looking shocked, and Odare took this opportunity to add, smiling maliciously, "Oh, we heard about your little adventure. I daresay your father and mother have heard, too. No wonder the King was so reluctant to let you send your rival to his death. Very honorable scheme, Daurendil. Did you come up with it yourself? Such a neat plan. Saves you the hassle and guilt of killing him yourself, but gets him conveniently out of the way!"

"And are you all that honorable yourself? What about your schemes to get Caelen out of the Palace so that you can marry me and become the queen? Why don't you just marry Amantir? Less trouble, and you might convince father to let you rule that barren waste that you own."

Odare had said pretty much the same thing to herself in her head, but that did not make it any less painful to hear Daurendil say it. Half of her wanted to burst into tears, the rest of her too angry to let herself display any weakness.

"You can not say that to me! Do you think that... I care for you and Amantir only so I can snag you as husbands? You and I have not been friends for ten years, for you to insult me like that for a girl who you've only just met, who doesn't care for you, merely because she's beautiful! I owe your father a lot, I owe Tarniel a lot, I owe Rhudaur - but I don't owe you anything. I don't have to spend a minute listening to your filth, if I don't want to."

"But I have to listen to you accusing me of being a murderer." replied Daurendil quietly, shaking with anger.

Odare did not reply. The silence was broken by the door opening, and Amantir entered, looking moody. "I thought I heard loud voices." No one replied to this, so he went on, "Father sent me to look for you, he says he has some good news. But, oh, look, here he is himself. And my mother as well. Quite a royal procession." He smiled at his own joke, and sat down on a chair nearby, as his parents entered the room as well. Tarniel's room, normally a large airy place was looking distinctly crowded, and everyone, even the King, was looking slightly awkward.

"I was coming here to talk to Tarniel alone, but I suppose it matters not that you are all here. You will be relieved to hear that your sister Gimilbeth is safe. I have just received a letter from her." No one looked very relieved, though Tarniel murmured something about being glad. Daurendil was still glaring at Odare and she was looking at the wall, fighting against a lump in her throat.

"And," the King adopted a sterner tone and faced Tarniel, "I also wanted to tell you a strange story I heard from the messenger. Apparently a Hillman was executed by the order of your sister, for being found in possession of an emerald necklace - Elessya, in fact. I thought you had it, Tarniel. If it was stolen, why did you not tell me of it?"

"Oh, stop picking on Tarniel!" Tarnendur, shocked, and more than a little surprised turned to face the wrathful Odare. "I lost it when that bear attacked me and your Hillman must have picked it up then. I only told Tarniel of it today. It was very irresponsible of me and I am sorry. I am glad to hear the necklace is safe, however." Picking up her courage, she added, "I have also decided that I will never marry Prince Daurendil. I renounce any claims I ever had to being his wife. Better to do it formally now that you're all present."

"What are you talking about, girl?" the Queen was looking at her, bewildered.

Daurendil said, laughing, "My dear Oddie, I wouldn't marry you if my entire family went down on their knees right now and begged me to. I wouldn't want all my children to end up looking like you, see?"

Odare struggled to come up with something horrible enough to say to him, but words failed her. "Right. I'm leaving."

"Be my guest." he said, bowing her out of the room. "Shut yourself up in your room and howl - see who cares."

"No, I mean, I'm leaving Cameth Brin. I'm going back home, to that barren waste, as you call it." turning to the King, she said, and avoiding looking at Tarniel as much as she could, she went on, "I will be forever grateful to you, sir, and I will always remember that you were my friend. But - I can not stay under the same roof as your son. There is an army leaving to go there right now - Eryndil might not be going with them, but I will be."