Post by Gordis on Jun 18, 2008 18:22:29 GMT
Chapter 21. Testing and Hardening
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Eryndil's home at Cameth Brin. Noon of November 9, 1347.
Written by Valandil
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“What do you mean, ‘packing’? Start UNpacking! You’re not going anywhere.”
Caelen visibly tensed at his words. She seemed about to erupt, but as he smiled, she began to soften – seeing this as an insistence of his love, not as a rebuke for her actions. Still wavering, she said, “But I don’t need to be here… stirring things up with your… family. I have some money now… I can, I can…”
Eryndil drew closer, until he stood just inches before her and held her arms at her side. “Look Caelen, Hendegil has explained things to us a bit, and we’ve all had a good long family talk with my mother. For her part, she misunderstood some things – and I think she’s beginning to come around.”
“You mean… you mean it’s not over? Even after I… after I sla…” she couldn’t quite say what she had done.
“No Caelen, it isn’t over. And I don’t think I’ll EVER be over you.”
Eryndil thought it would just be a quick little kiss this time, but after a few moments, Caelen responded enthusiastically. Eryndil hung onto her as well, and found that his hands slid all too easily down the length of her back, to the roundness below. She stiffened and pulled back from the kiss just briefly, but only to look into his eyes. Then she resumed and relaxed herself, her own hands moving up and down Eryndil’s back, until they passed below his belt.
The sensations were driving Eryndil wild. It would be very hard to wait the next 7 weeks – and then some. And… what had he said about waiting 10 days? Or had he promised 10 years? He forced himself to break it off. It was the middle of the day, and his sister would be along soon.
“Now Caelen… I have a couple… errands I have to run today. I’ll be back though, and maybe this evening, we can… talk… a little more,” he said with a smile. “Hendegil will be here soon to stay with you. In fact, I think I hear her coming now. I have to… I really have to… go now.”
It was hard to extricate himself. He didn’t really want to, after all, but it was time. Caelen sat on her bed as Eryndil began to pull things out of her bag. This embarrassed her, especially when some particular items came up – and she stood back up and pushed him away, but they ended up laughing and teasing one another. When Hendegil knocked and entered, Eryndil composed his features and excused himself.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Around back of Eryndil's house, by the Blacksmith’s shop, early afternoon of November 9, 1347.
Written by Valandil
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Eryndil watched Harda work at the small shop they had contrived for him just behind the stables and coachhouse. The man was meticulous with his work – very slow, but very sure once he had begun. Eryndil supposed this to be attributed to his age, though most practised smiths he had watched worked much more smoothly, even well into their years.
Harma was there watching as well, staying by Harda’s side as often as his duties permitted. Camglas sat nearby at a stool – and as he often permitted Harma to stay near Harda by joining the two of them and insisting on Harma’s attending him, the trio had become a frequent threesome.
“So Harda, you say yours will be even better than the one I gave you as a sample?”
“Yes, young sir. You can fasten it to the head of a javelin, or a heavy arrow. And while the hooks at first lay tight against the shaft, when the head strikes something, they will spring out like this…”
He demonstrated the concept on his model – made from scraps of this and that, pressing the hooks against the shaft and shoving it into the side of his anvil, which released the hooks from their places.
Eryndil nodded, trying not to act too pleased with it – but really, it seemed quite remarkable. He wasn’t even sure why he had decided to ask for such a thing, but on a whim it had struck him as something that might be handy to have.
“Alright – get started on the real thing then. I’ll take your sample back to the man from whom I borrowed it.”
Eryndil pulled his cloak and hood closer about himself as he stepped away from the heat of the smithy.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Cameth Brin Palace – later that afternoon - November 9, 1347.
Written by Valandil
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The King had kept Eryndil waiting for some time – but that of course, was his prerogative. Especially when Eryndil had come without being summoned. Orefim had mentioned other interviews the King held with family members throughout the course of the day – but it was not necessary. Eryndil knew his place – and it was now his place to wait.
When at last he was summoned and beckoned in to meet with Tarnendur, Eryndil was a bit surprised to see the other family members as well. For while Tarnendur stood before him in the center of the room looking somewhat troubled, in the back and off to one side stood Daurendil, with his mother Queen Eilinel and sister Tarniel sitting before him. The only ones not present were Amantir and Gimilbeth – but she was away.
Eryndil bowed to first his King, saying “Your Majesty”, and then bowed in succession to the Queen and their two offspring. The King gestured for him to come forward and spoke next.
“Eryndil – you have requested an audience with me – for two items, I understand. What are they now? Be quick.”
Eryndil bowed and replied, “Three actually, Your Majesty, for I first must congratulate you on the successful rescue of your elder daughter, the Lady Gimilbeth.”
From the corner of his eye, Eryndil saw that the other family members shifted a bit at this, but King Tarnendur only nodded and asked, “And second?”
“Second, Your Majesty, as a man in your service, I must inform you that I am now engaged to be married.”
The King’s demeanor brightened into joy, “Really now! Well, aren’t you a bit young? But who is the lady, and of what house?”
“She is the Lady Caelen, of a good Dunedain household by Tanoth Methed.” He noted the reactions of all the family. Tarnendur raised an eyebrow and glanced significantly back to the others, Daurendil and the Queen appeared somewhat dismayed and Tarniel showed the girlish delight that young ladies are inclined toward in instances of such announcements. Eryndil smiled at her in a natural response. Was she looking at him with admiration, he wondered.
“We are to wed at the Yule, Your Majesty.”
“The Yule?” asked the King, and the Queen now seemed a bit alarmed. “Had you not heard of our plans for a Royal Ball at Yuletide?”
Eryndil had not, but it made little sense to admit it. “Then it would be my highest honor to wed at sunset on Mettare*, and then to come as newlyweds seeking a royal blessing when we arrive at the ball’s commencement.”
Eryndil had never been to a Royal Ball before – only simple balls in the country. And, he would later learn, that while it was standard practice to marry at high days in the country, those in the city learned to reserve those days for special events such as this.
“Very good then,” said the King, and then after glancing back toward his family once again and looking rather pleased he continued, “I shall be happy to bestow the royal blessing on the newlyweds.”
Eryndil bowed at the compliment and paused, uncertain how to proceed. At last the King looked a bit perplexed and said, “There is then a third? What is it?”
Eryndil glanced over at Daurnedil, now looking a bit sullen.
“You may speak,” continued Tarnendur. “My family must see at times the things that come before a King, and how he would answer them. For before too many more years have passed, my throne and my crown must pass to another.”
Eryndil was rather uncertain, but at last he found the words.
“Long yet may you reign, oh King Tarnendur, but there is truth in what you say. Your years are full, and the son who will succeed you will come to the throne young. And it is precisely of this about which I come to speak.”
Tarnendur looked puzzled, but nodded for him to go on.
“Daurendil is a fine young man, and when he has come into his own, will be without equal in this land,” of this Eryndil felt sure. Daurendil was as tall as his father, about three to four thumbs higher than Eryndil, who was himself quite tall. Daurendil’s stature was still slight, but a Dunedain man of his frame at 20 could be formidable at 40 or 50 – if the years between were spent vigorously, rather than in idleness.
“What he wants is testing… and hardening, Your Majesty. As a young man, he has already learned much of the ways of court and council. But he lacks the learning of a soldier, and a woodsman, and the strength that learning adds to body and mind. Why – I’ve taken such youngsters, yet none who could approach him, and made true men of them, even as was done for me when first I entered your service. The idleness of his life in Cameth Brin, well, it does him less good than he could have otherwise, and perhaps leaves him too much opportunity… for… misjudgments.”
Eryndil paused, and suspected he was being impudent. Even that the King might become angry and order him away, maybe even remove him from his service, for this breach of decorum, and began to doubt his own judgment. This suddenly didn’t seem like such a great idea after all.
But the King merely cleared his throat and asked, “So… what would you propose?”
“Well…” Eryndil went on uncertainly, wondering if he was getting just enough rope to hang himself, “I know that an army is to go afield this winter. The conditions will be harsh – but an expedition of this kind might be just what it takes for Daurendil to become a fit leader for men – to earn the respect he must have from such men in times to come. I ur… I suggest to you, Your Majesty, that your son Daurendil lead the Rhudaurian regulars in the expedition to take Dol Hithaer.”
At first the King displayed no signs of reaction or inclination, one way or another. But at last, looking quite amused, he declared, “Well how very interesting. This very day, I have heard from two different men, each asking that the other be assigned to this venture and sent away from me.”
But, and perhaps with mock seriousness, we went on, “But really I could not be parted from either of you. And you see, Daurendil,” turning back to acknowledge his son, “the man is about to marry. We cannot send him out now – before he weds. Nor would it be good to force his intended bride to marry him early, then separate them so soon, would it?”
Turning back toward Eryndil, the King continued, “But you have a point about Daurendil, Sir Eryndil. He lacks… direction, at times. The type perhaps that a father should rightly give, but a father who is also King, must first be father to his kingdom – to the great loss of his sons. Besides all that, the wildest… rumors pass around at times, oh, all sorts of things, don’t you know.”
The King paused for a moment, as if in thought, and then at last looked up and spoke decisively, “The solution to all this is right before us. Daurendil,” and he beckoned to his son, who came before him and stood beside Eryndil, but not very close. “Daurendil, your habits must change, and you must enter into rigorous training. Amantir will join you in this, and we shall gather other young noblemen of such years, just as was done in Arnor in days long past.” Daurendil nodded his acknowledgement.
“Eryndil,” said the King, turning now toward him, “you shall train them. This shall now become your chief duty, though I do not dismiss you as my advisor. But with Broggha away for the winter, my cares will lighten by themselves – and you may start the day after Broggha leaves. Until this time, we shall gather Daurendil’s young companions in training about him. And of course… you may lighten your own duties a bit at the Yule and just after – for you will have other hard duty come upon you at this time, of your own choosing.”
Eryndil was taken a bit aback, not even sure what part of that had struck him the most. It was all a bit much. But Tarnendur looked quite pleased with himself, Queen Eilinel seemed a bit embarrassed, Daurendil looked rather upset and barely able to keep his self-control. Tarniel had a look of mischief and delight – and only she and the King looked into Eryndil's face.
Eryndil took it that he had been dismissed. But first he turned to Daurendil, “Your Highness, something of yours which you had loaned me, I believe.” He drew the prince’s grappling hook from a bag and handed it to him. Then, retreating backwards toward the door, he made a last bow to the King with a final, “Your Majesty” turned out the door and headed back for home.
________________________
* mettare = "last light" in Quenya, and refers to the last day of the Year.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Eryndil's home at Cameth Brin. Noon of November 9, 1347.
Written by Valandil
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“What do you mean, ‘packing’? Start UNpacking! You’re not going anywhere.”
Caelen visibly tensed at his words. She seemed about to erupt, but as he smiled, she began to soften – seeing this as an insistence of his love, not as a rebuke for her actions. Still wavering, she said, “But I don’t need to be here… stirring things up with your… family. I have some money now… I can, I can…”
Eryndil drew closer, until he stood just inches before her and held her arms at her side. “Look Caelen, Hendegil has explained things to us a bit, and we’ve all had a good long family talk with my mother. For her part, she misunderstood some things – and I think she’s beginning to come around.”
“You mean… you mean it’s not over? Even after I… after I sla…” she couldn’t quite say what she had done.
“No Caelen, it isn’t over. And I don’t think I’ll EVER be over you.”
Eryndil thought it would just be a quick little kiss this time, but after a few moments, Caelen responded enthusiastically. Eryndil hung onto her as well, and found that his hands slid all too easily down the length of her back, to the roundness below. She stiffened and pulled back from the kiss just briefly, but only to look into his eyes. Then she resumed and relaxed herself, her own hands moving up and down Eryndil’s back, until they passed below his belt.
The sensations were driving Eryndil wild. It would be very hard to wait the next 7 weeks – and then some. And… what had he said about waiting 10 days? Or had he promised 10 years? He forced himself to break it off. It was the middle of the day, and his sister would be along soon.
“Now Caelen… I have a couple… errands I have to run today. I’ll be back though, and maybe this evening, we can… talk… a little more,” he said with a smile. “Hendegil will be here soon to stay with you. In fact, I think I hear her coming now. I have to… I really have to… go now.”
It was hard to extricate himself. He didn’t really want to, after all, but it was time. Caelen sat on her bed as Eryndil began to pull things out of her bag. This embarrassed her, especially when some particular items came up – and she stood back up and pushed him away, but they ended up laughing and teasing one another. When Hendegil knocked and entered, Eryndil composed his features and excused himself.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Around back of Eryndil's house, by the Blacksmith’s shop, early afternoon of November 9, 1347.
Written by Valandil
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Eryndil watched Harda work at the small shop they had contrived for him just behind the stables and coachhouse. The man was meticulous with his work – very slow, but very sure once he had begun. Eryndil supposed this to be attributed to his age, though most practised smiths he had watched worked much more smoothly, even well into their years.
Harma was there watching as well, staying by Harda’s side as often as his duties permitted. Camglas sat nearby at a stool – and as he often permitted Harma to stay near Harda by joining the two of them and insisting on Harma’s attending him, the trio had become a frequent threesome.
“So Harda, you say yours will be even better than the one I gave you as a sample?”
“Yes, young sir. You can fasten it to the head of a javelin, or a heavy arrow. And while the hooks at first lay tight against the shaft, when the head strikes something, they will spring out like this…”
He demonstrated the concept on his model – made from scraps of this and that, pressing the hooks against the shaft and shoving it into the side of his anvil, which released the hooks from their places.
Eryndil nodded, trying not to act too pleased with it – but really, it seemed quite remarkable. He wasn’t even sure why he had decided to ask for such a thing, but on a whim it had struck him as something that might be handy to have.
“Alright – get started on the real thing then. I’ll take your sample back to the man from whom I borrowed it.”
Eryndil pulled his cloak and hood closer about himself as he stepped away from the heat of the smithy.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Cameth Brin Palace – later that afternoon - November 9, 1347.
Written by Valandil
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The King had kept Eryndil waiting for some time – but that of course, was his prerogative. Especially when Eryndil had come without being summoned. Orefim had mentioned other interviews the King held with family members throughout the course of the day – but it was not necessary. Eryndil knew his place – and it was now his place to wait.
When at last he was summoned and beckoned in to meet with Tarnendur, Eryndil was a bit surprised to see the other family members as well. For while Tarnendur stood before him in the center of the room looking somewhat troubled, in the back and off to one side stood Daurendil, with his mother Queen Eilinel and sister Tarniel sitting before him. The only ones not present were Amantir and Gimilbeth – but she was away.
Eryndil bowed to first his King, saying “Your Majesty”, and then bowed in succession to the Queen and their two offspring. The King gestured for him to come forward and spoke next.
“Eryndil – you have requested an audience with me – for two items, I understand. What are they now? Be quick.”
Eryndil bowed and replied, “Three actually, Your Majesty, for I first must congratulate you on the successful rescue of your elder daughter, the Lady Gimilbeth.”
From the corner of his eye, Eryndil saw that the other family members shifted a bit at this, but King Tarnendur only nodded and asked, “And second?”
“Second, Your Majesty, as a man in your service, I must inform you that I am now engaged to be married.”
The King’s demeanor brightened into joy, “Really now! Well, aren’t you a bit young? But who is the lady, and of what house?”
“She is the Lady Caelen, of a good Dunedain household by Tanoth Methed.” He noted the reactions of all the family. Tarnendur raised an eyebrow and glanced significantly back to the others, Daurendil and the Queen appeared somewhat dismayed and Tarniel showed the girlish delight that young ladies are inclined toward in instances of such announcements. Eryndil smiled at her in a natural response. Was she looking at him with admiration, he wondered.
“We are to wed at the Yule, Your Majesty.”
“The Yule?” asked the King, and the Queen now seemed a bit alarmed. “Had you not heard of our plans for a Royal Ball at Yuletide?”
Eryndil had not, but it made little sense to admit it. “Then it would be my highest honor to wed at sunset on Mettare*, and then to come as newlyweds seeking a royal blessing when we arrive at the ball’s commencement.”
Eryndil had never been to a Royal Ball before – only simple balls in the country. And, he would later learn, that while it was standard practice to marry at high days in the country, those in the city learned to reserve those days for special events such as this.
“Very good then,” said the King, and then after glancing back toward his family once again and looking rather pleased he continued, “I shall be happy to bestow the royal blessing on the newlyweds.”
Eryndil bowed at the compliment and paused, uncertain how to proceed. At last the King looked a bit perplexed and said, “There is then a third? What is it?”
Eryndil glanced over at Daurnedil, now looking a bit sullen.
“You may speak,” continued Tarnendur. “My family must see at times the things that come before a King, and how he would answer them. For before too many more years have passed, my throne and my crown must pass to another.”
Eryndil was rather uncertain, but at last he found the words.
“Long yet may you reign, oh King Tarnendur, but there is truth in what you say. Your years are full, and the son who will succeed you will come to the throne young. And it is precisely of this about which I come to speak.”
Tarnendur looked puzzled, but nodded for him to go on.
“Daurendil is a fine young man, and when he has come into his own, will be without equal in this land,” of this Eryndil felt sure. Daurendil was as tall as his father, about three to four thumbs higher than Eryndil, who was himself quite tall. Daurendil’s stature was still slight, but a Dunedain man of his frame at 20 could be formidable at 40 or 50 – if the years between were spent vigorously, rather than in idleness.
“What he wants is testing… and hardening, Your Majesty. As a young man, he has already learned much of the ways of court and council. But he lacks the learning of a soldier, and a woodsman, and the strength that learning adds to body and mind. Why – I’ve taken such youngsters, yet none who could approach him, and made true men of them, even as was done for me when first I entered your service. The idleness of his life in Cameth Brin, well, it does him less good than he could have otherwise, and perhaps leaves him too much opportunity… for… misjudgments.”
Eryndil paused, and suspected he was being impudent. Even that the King might become angry and order him away, maybe even remove him from his service, for this breach of decorum, and began to doubt his own judgment. This suddenly didn’t seem like such a great idea after all.
But the King merely cleared his throat and asked, “So… what would you propose?”
“Well…” Eryndil went on uncertainly, wondering if he was getting just enough rope to hang himself, “I know that an army is to go afield this winter. The conditions will be harsh – but an expedition of this kind might be just what it takes for Daurendil to become a fit leader for men – to earn the respect he must have from such men in times to come. I ur… I suggest to you, Your Majesty, that your son Daurendil lead the Rhudaurian regulars in the expedition to take Dol Hithaer.”
At first the King displayed no signs of reaction or inclination, one way or another. But at last, looking quite amused, he declared, “Well how very interesting. This very day, I have heard from two different men, each asking that the other be assigned to this venture and sent away from me.”
But, and perhaps with mock seriousness, we went on, “But really I could not be parted from either of you. And you see, Daurendil,” turning back to acknowledge his son, “the man is about to marry. We cannot send him out now – before he weds. Nor would it be good to force his intended bride to marry him early, then separate them so soon, would it?”
Turning back toward Eryndil, the King continued, “But you have a point about Daurendil, Sir Eryndil. He lacks… direction, at times. The type perhaps that a father should rightly give, but a father who is also King, must first be father to his kingdom – to the great loss of his sons. Besides all that, the wildest… rumors pass around at times, oh, all sorts of things, don’t you know.”
The King paused for a moment, as if in thought, and then at last looked up and spoke decisively, “The solution to all this is right before us. Daurendil,” and he beckoned to his son, who came before him and stood beside Eryndil, but not very close. “Daurendil, your habits must change, and you must enter into rigorous training. Amantir will join you in this, and we shall gather other young noblemen of such years, just as was done in Arnor in days long past.” Daurendil nodded his acknowledgement.
“Eryndil,” said the King, turning now toward him, “you shall train them. This shall now become your chief duty, though I do not dismiss you as my advisor. But with Broggha away for the winter, my cares will lighten by themselves – and you may start the day after Broggha leaves. Until this time, we shall gather Daurendil’s young companions in training about him. And of course… you may lighten your own duties a bit at the Yule and just after – for you will have other hard duty come upon you at this time, of your own choosing.”
Eryndil was taken a bit aback, not even sure what part of that had struck him the most. It was all a bit much. But Tarnendur looked quite pleased with himself, Queen Eilinel seemed a bit embarrassed, Daurendil looked rather upset and barely able to keep his self-control. Tarniel had a look of mischief and delight – and only she and the King looked into Eryndil's face.
Eryndil took it that he had been dismissed. But first he turned to Daurendil, “Your Highness, something of yours which you had loaned me, I believe.” He drew the prince’s grappling hook from a bag and handed it to him. Then, retreating backwards toward the door, he made a last bow to the King with a final, “Your Majesty” turned out the door and headed back for home.
________________________
* mettare = "last light" in Quenya, and refers to the last day of the Year.
,