Perilous Journeys. Shadow Over Rhudaur III

[Daurendil]

The “Merry Messenger Tavern”, Cameth Brin. Night of November 8.

“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 Raglas 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 should 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,” Raglas 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,” Raglas 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 Raglas, 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!”

[Witch-king of Angmar]

Written by Gordis with some help from Angmar

Carn Dum, late evening of November 8, 1347.

“State your business, nephew! What is your excuse for coming here? I will not put up with any of your nonsense!"

Agannalo was genuinely distressed and his voice shook from suppressed emotion when he replied. “So here is your welcome, my Captain? I hoped against all odds that you might be pleased to see me again after all those years… For, good or bad, I am still your closest kinsman left in Middle Earth… But no… I must have been mistaken to come here. Nobody likes Agannalo – I have long known that. But, my Lord, it is not my fault that I am the way I am! Yes, I need human blood – what of it? You can’t change it anymore than you can make Khamul enjoy swimming in the Anduin!”

“I have told you many times, Agannalo, discipline your mind. You won’t die without blood – and you know it full well,” the King replied, softening somewhat.

“You don’t want me here – then I shall go…” the other continued dejectedly. “You grudge a mortal female for a kinsman and an old companion – well, I understand… Agannalo shall return to his wanderings… I shall pick up my old horse at Shedun and go as far as the old nag bears me. When it dies, I shall walk – away from here. I have nothing to lose, you see, as I have already lost everything I possessed. And I have nearly lost my life there in Greenwood when trying to get here. It was a close call, you know…”

The King frowned. Agannalo’s pleading was slowly getting on his nerves, but the last piece of information and the mention of Greenwood sent cold shivers along his spine. He raised his hand. “Stop this whining, 'nephew.' Sit down and pour yourself some wine from this flagon. It will soothe your nerves and clear your murky brain. Now tell me what has happened to you in Greenwood.”

Agannalo stole a glance at the Captain. It seemed that his Lord’s anger had abated – he only looked preoccupied. Agannalo had a very good guess why.
Glad of the Captain’s invitation, Agannalo walked towards the table and let his tired body sink into the ample cushions of a big armchair. He poured two goblets of wine, noticing that it was not some weak brew of mortals, but the old wine of the Nazgul, green with cold vapors rising from the surface. He downed his goblet and almost purred in satisfaction feeling the liquid fire spread through his body. “Ah, I really needed it!” he smiled.

The King sat facing him, eyes glinting and his back ramrod straight, as if he was sitting on a throne in his Hall and not in a soft armchair. He picked up his goblet but made not a single sip. “Speak up!” he urged.

“Well… I don’t know where to begin…” Agannalo started uncertainly. “I don’t think you are now much interested in my life in the South. I will tell you the story sometime later, when you are in the mood to enjoy a funny tale. Anyway, thirty years ago my peaceful and pleasant life ended in a major catastrophe. I decided to go North, first visiting Khamul, than Gothmog, then coming up to your new dwelling in Angmar.

“Was it Khamul who told you that I was to be found here?” asked the King.

“Khamul?” Agannalo exclaimed bitterly. “Nay, the blasted scoundrel never deigned to give me an audience. Al-Khamul, the Sublime Lord of Khand, the Pillar of Firmament, the Defender of the People et cetera et cetera was always so busy with matters of State (or, more likely, with his harem) that he had no time to spare for vagabonds like me. He kindly sent me a new horse (a good one, I must grant him that) and a small coffer of gifts and kicked my butt out of his realm. Nay, it was Gothmog who told me where to find you – mostly because he didn’t wish to put me up himself.”

“I see…” the King commented, unsurprised. ”At least you should be grateful that Khamul has not seized the opportunity to wring your neck once you came unprotected into his realm. Time must have made ol’ Khamul soft – or forgetful.”

“I have always been a good comrade to him” countered Agannalo. “I tried to better him, civilize him, enlighten him - but he wouldn’t listen. Coarse barbarian!”

The King chuckled. This discussion reminded him of good old times. To say that Agannalo had been unpopular among his comrades was an understatement. Khamul, in particular, hated his very guts – because Agannalo never bothered to hide his deep conviction that only Numenoreans were worthy to be called Men, while all the others, Khandians included, were hardly better than animals.

“Now, enough of this nonsense!” prompted the King. “What road did you take to get here? Were you traveling along the east bank of the Anduin?”

“I have wandered a bit here and there, searching for the others… Rhun… Rhovanion… Then I went West skirting the Southern edges of Greenwood – do you know that people turned to calling it “Mirkwood” now?”

At the nod from the King, Agannalo continued “There is a good reason for it. The forest seems weird. And what horrible tales are told in the villages nearby! Spiders… wargs… orcs…and some darker creatures with no name. Of course, being what I am, I had hardly listened, secure in my power. And I was wrong! I, Agannalo, have been overconfident – and paid for it!”

He paused for emphasis. The King shifted impatiently: the pompous brat Agannalo could never tell a tale without embellishments and lots of dramatic effects! But the King wisely chose not to interrupt his underling to avoid more diversions.

“Well, my Lord,” Agannalo continued, “as I said, I rode skirting the southern edge of the forest following a well trodden path – almost a road. It went in and out of the trees and the Sun was on my left. Then the path turned deeper into the forest. I thought nothing about it at first, but deeper and deeper into the forest it went, until the overlapping branches hid the sun. The path became less and less perceptible until I had to pick my way among the trees as best as I could. After a while I realized I had no idea anymore where the West was. I had gotten lost – the first time in my life - can you but imagine that?”

The King snorted sarcastically. “As far as I remember, you did get lost quite a few times,” he commented.

Agannalo choked on his wine in indignation. “But this last time in Harad I was all but stoned by hashish! And that other time in Rhun, it was Khamul who lost the path: blind as a bat in daylight he was, but still he insisted on leading the way!”

The King waved these explanations aside. “Oh, leave that alone and go back to your tale, “nephew”! I have not got all the night to listen to you.”

Agannalo felt frustrated, wondering what other duties were so pressing as to leave little time for the talk with an old companion. He continued somewhat morosely. “Soon I decided to turn back, but the trees that I have just passed seemed to form a solid wall behind my back – the way that I had just taken became shut! I thought of those Huorns, you know, and grew very uneasy. We have little power at best over the walking trees. So on I rode or often walked leading my horse, led deeper and deeper into the forest. The ground was steadily rising. The path became better – as if in response to my going in the desired direction. My Gray even managed a canter, when suddenly something struck me across the chest and I fell down. My horse bolted. At the same moment a rain of boulders fell from above on my unprotected head. I had ridden into an ambush!

“Were I an ordinary man, I would have been killed on the spot. As it was, I was stunned for some time, before realizing that I had hit a wire stretched across the path and had upset another rope - thus upturning a platform piled with stones that was cunningly placed between the branches above me. By the time I understood what had hit me, my assailants were upon me. Trolls! Bigger and uglier that I have ever seen, and walking in daylight!”

Agannalo looked at the King – his face was grim, but he didn’t seem to doubt Agannalo’s words this time.

“Some trolls were armed with heavy clubs and the others were bearing torches. I had a nasty feeling they knew exactly what sort of being they were hunting. I rolled away to avoid the leading Troll’s swing and commanded my Ring to turn me invisible. They seemed not in the least surprised when I had disappeared into thin air. Shouting to each other, they formed a circle around the place where they thought I was and started battering the ground with their clubs. Before they closed on me, I picked the place where the trolls were most widely spaced and ran one through its stomach with my sword. It roared in pain but didn’t fall. Desperate, I whipped out the Elven dagger I had with me at this time and plunged it into the brute’s crotch. The troll screamed and fell, and I screamed with it - from pain in my hand caused by the enchanted weapon. My scream had little effect on them, though. I decided it was time to run – and run I did, as swiftly as I were able.

“For some time I heard their heavy feet behind me, but after a while I turned sharply left and managed to dupe them. They thundered past. Still invisible, I stopped to get my bearings – and felt IT.” Aganallo shivered and gulped down another goblet.

“Describe it!” the King prompted sternly.

Agannalo shook his head. “It was just a feeling… of something … somebody… that was trying to reach me, to draw me to It. It called to me, maybe wordlessly, maybe singing softly and seductively, promising me riches, power, rivers of blood, if only I heeded Its call, came to It. I felt Its hunger and Its longing…”

Agannalo’s troubled blue eyes looked directly into the King’s silver ones. “It wanted my Ring, Captain”.

The King’s eyes blazed, suddenly turning bright red. For some time they sat in silence. Then Agannalo nodded in reply to an unspoken question.

“Aye, It felt familiar,” he said brokenly. "Very familiar – but much weaker. Oh, Captain, what shall we do?”

[Witch-king of Angmar]

November 8, Carn Dum

"You ask me what we are going to do?" The King looked into Agannalo's blue eyes and read the fear and questions there. "We are going to do nothing, for there is nothing that we can do." Agannalo stared at the King in surprise.

"My lord," Agannalo's voice was tense, "you mean that you think that the Dark Master has taken up His abode in the forest of Greenwood?"

"Let us not deceive ourselves, Agannalo. There is only one who can exert the kind of power which you felt in Greenwood, and we know who He is. That you escaped your misadventure virtually unscathed proves that He is there somewhere, but too weak to have total power over you now. He desired your Ring to aid Him in regaining His control! You must never go back there! To do so would be the height of folly!"

"But can we be sure?" Agannalo shuddered slightly, his throat contracting in a gulp. "Perhaps you are mistaken?" He certainly hoped that the King was wrong, but he had the feeling that he was not.

"Who else can it be? You say that you saw trolls walking in daylight, far bigger and uglier than any you had ever seen before. Such things as that are unknown. You know they could not bring themselves into being. And the ambush. Who could be the mastermind behind that? There is only one, and we know His name." The King needed to be by himself to think, and that was difficult to do. True, his 'nephew' had had an unnerving experience but if this meeting were not concluded soon, Agannalo would keep him up the rest of the night whining. He must settle him down and then send him on his way.

While the king had spoken, Agannalo's expression had grown more worried. His hand shook as he bolted down the rest of his drink and then took the liberty of pouring himself another drink from the flagon. He waited for the brew to take effect and felt a comforting glow spread through his body as the liquid coursed through his veins. He would be safe here. He had made the right decision to come here. Besides, who else would have him?

"Perhaps you are right, my Captain, and you can be sure I have no plans to go back there." He settled back in his chair, now able to relax somewhat as he sipped his wine. Then the disquieting thought hit him and he felt the tension and worry coming back: since He was able to detect me in Greenwood, how do I know that He cannot find me here?"

"You are certain that you were successful in eluding the trolls? None followed you?" The King looked at him sharply. Agannalo was certain that he had read his mind.

"Aye, my Lord. They ran right past me. You know they are stupid brutes, all power and brawn and possessing nothing of intellect."

"True enough, 'nephew,' but just to make certain they did not, I will double the scouts on the marches. Should He have the slightest suspicions of who we are, He could destroy everything that I have worked to build here." The King's eyes glowed red like flaming brands and seemed to bore into Agannalo's soul. "And then the blame can be laid squarely at your door!"

Agannalo hung his head, and when he looked up, his eyes were filled with remorse and shame. "Then, my Captain, since I have brought such calamity upon you, I will leave now." He pushed back his chair and rose to his feet. "No one wants Agannalo and perhaps they are right in feeling that way! But, Captain," his voice choked, "I never meant to bring trouble to you!"

"But it seems wherever you go, you bring it with you or else create it!" The King added quickly before Agannalo could offer another excuse, "Now sit down and stop your accursed whining! I will tell you what you will do now! You will not leave the walls of this fortress for any reason until I feel it is safe for you to do so."

"My Lord, you mean I can stay?" Agannalo asked eagerly, his eyes lighting up like those of a small child who has been told that he may go to the village fair.

"Aye, I will allow you to stay," the King grumbled, "but only under my terms. You will learn to control yourself and not give into your bloodlust. Your lack of self-discipline has brought you to much woe over the years. You will learn to curb those tendencies of impulse and hot temper. And above everything else, while you are here, you will keep out of trouble and obey my orders implicitly! Do you understand?"

"Aye, Captain, aye!" he exclaimed. "I understand perfectly." Agannalo had guessed what had been the dark force which had called him in the Greenwood, and now the King had verified his fears. That knowledge had terrified him, but perhaps he could be safe here.

"Now, 'nephew,' another thing. I should not have to mention this, but I will. You are to stay away from my women. One indiscretion on your part, and I will drive you into the cold!"

"Aye, my Lord. Your women are safe from me. I will be as impassive as eunuch."

"Impassive?" the King chuckled dryly. "We both know that there has been more than one ‘impassive’ eunuch who has been beheaded for cuckolding his lord."

[Witch-king of Angmar]

Carn Dum, night of November 8, 1347.

As Agannalo finally made his way out of the King’s rooms, the question that had bothered him during the long interview was unexpectedly answered. For there, in the antechamber, a gorgeous woman clad only in a magnificent ermine coat over a diaphanous pinkish nightdress was impatiently pacing, glaring at the doors to the King’s study. Alassar was following her like a faithful dog and trying to reason with her to have patience. “No wonder the Captain was so eager to end our meeting and be off to bed,” Agannalo thought with a stab of envy.

“Lady, Gelireth, have a little patience, I beg you,” the Steward pleaded, “It won’t do to interrupt the King while he is in conference with his newfound kinsman. Really, you should return to your chambers, lest you catch cold – it is so chilly in here! I am sure the King will join you when he is done …”

Heedless of the advice, the dainty little lady stubbornly tossed her head and abruptly turned away from the chagrined Steward, sending her ermine mantle flying in her wake. She almost collided with Agannalo, who had to abandon his initial intention to slip quietly by. She stopped looking on him with evident curiosity while he pressed his right hand to his breast and bowed to the Lady. Doing so, he couldn’t fail to observe how her thin nightdress enticingly revealed the soft curves of her young body: firm breasts, tiny waist and full hips. He lowered his long lashes, trying to conceal the hungry gleam in his eyes.

Surprisingly for Agannalo, the lady didn’t make the slightest attempt to wrap herself up in her heavy furs. Instead she held her ground scrutinizing him in her turn. It was no good to stare at one of the Captain’s women – unsafe to put it mildly - so, cursing inwardly, he lowered his gaze even further down. Unfortunately, this brought in focus the lady’s delicate feet shod in silver slippers - the small bare feet that were already turning blue from cold – the dainty feet that nearly cried to be warmed. Agannalo felt a new surge of lust and muttered under his breath an ancient Adunaic obscenity, which the lady mistook for a shy greeting.

“Welcome to Carn Dum, Lord Silmadan,” she chimed in her clear silver voice. “Or should I call you Prince?” she laughed softly – Agannalo’s head was still bowed. “I am Lady Gelireth. I hope your journey went well?”

“Yes, my Lady,” Agannalo replied shakily. “It was rather …uneventful. Thank you for your kindness. However, I must ask your leave to retire now, as I am tired after the long journey.”

“You have my leave,” the little lady conceded generously. “But I hope I will see you on the morrow so you could regale me with tales of your adventures…”

Wordlessly Agannalo bowed again and quietly turned to leave – only to be stopped by the Steward.

“Here is your dagger, Lord Silmadan. I have retrieved it from the Guardhouse. Please forgive the guards their mistake,” Alassar said somewhat nervously, gingerly offering Agannalo the Morgul knife swathed in several layers of cloth. The nazgul noticed that the Steward also wrapped his hand in his long trailing sleeve to pick up the weapon. It was clear that Alassar knew or at least had a very good guess about the weapon’s dangers.

With a nod to the Steward, Agannalo took the blade and stalked away from the antechamber, feeling Gelireth’s eyes on his back. Impatient to leave before the King saw him talking with his mistress, Agannalo was almost running, but due to his acute hearing he couldn’t help but overhear the rest of the conversation between Alassar and the lady.

“What a charming young man,” Gelireth drawled. “Don’t you think, Alassar, that, for one so handsome, he is most endearingly shy?”

“Yes, my Lady,” the Steward replied, “The King described him as a scholar totally devoted to his spiritual studies. It seems he shuns women and has made a vow to remain chaste.”

“How very unusual… I hope I will get the opportunity to get to know him better…”

“Blast the stupid woman!” Groaning, Agannalo made his way to the sumptuous guestroom reserved for him. A quiet, obedient servant showed him around: there were heavy drapes on the windows, dark oaken furniture and many stuffed heads of deer, elks, and bears nailed to the walls. It felt homely – Agannalo only wished it were human heads displayed there instead, as was the custom in Far Harad.

Dismissing the servant, Agannalo pulled out of his pocket the small box with hashish he had obtained from Hyarion by not-so-honest means. There he found about a dozen small greenish balls of the viscous substance – a single one capable to send a man on the paths of unearthly dreams for a whole night. Agannalo swallowed all of them at once and stretched contentedly on the bed awaiting the oh-so-rare peace and rest.

Written by Gordis

[Lieutenant Hyarion]

The road to Carn Dum, morning of November 9, 1347

When the cavalcade had set out from the inn that morning, Lord Hyarion had been in a bitter, black humor. Now nearing the town of Angoul, his mood had not improved. There was really little about which to be happy.

Yesterday, after deceiving the Lieutenant of Shedun Fortress and making him appear the fool, the prisoner Silmadan had escaped, but not before setting all the horses in the inn's stables free. His men had spent needless hours searching for the runaway horses, and though they had located most of the mounts, still two of the pack animals had not been found. The loads on the other horses had to be repacked and added to the saddles of the remaining beasts. While the varlet had taken the magic dagger with him, at least he had not been able to ferret out his other confiscated possessions. The priceless emerald sheathed dagger was safe, hidden in its pack, guarded by one of his own men from Harad. Hyarion considered the prisoner's harp as useless, and if it had not been confiscated property for which he was responsible, he would have had his men toss it over some convenient bank. As it was, the men were afraid of it, muttering dark imprecations whenever its name was mentioned, and making the sign against evil behind their backs.

Aye, there were many things to make Lord Hyarion disgruntled that morning. Continuing to mull over the miserable prisoner in his mind would only make him angrier, however, and so he determined to channel his thoughts over to more pleasant matters. He frowned. Even here, there were unpleasantries with which he must deal. His new toy, Elína the Lossoth girl, had proved to be a pleasant surprise. Lovely, young, docile, obedient, and after her introduction to the pleasures of connubial bed, she had been eager for his caresses. He had planned to take the girl back to Shedun Fortress and add her to his harem of two wives, three concubines, and five slave girls. In this damn cold place, a man had little enough to console him through the long, dark nights, and no one could blame him for bringing some of the comforts of home with him.

Nothing had gone quite the way that Hyarion had planned it, however. After the ceremony of the night of the 7th in which he had allowed the prisoner to perform certain rituals using the strange glowing blade, the girl had not seemed the same. Throughout the course of the day yesterday, she had been beset by a bout of chills. While last night she had seemed to rally and be much her old self, the morning found her looking wan with dark circles around her eyes. Even her rosy cheeks and red lips looped pallid. Although they had experienced a night of the warmest love-making, she had awakened in the middle of the night, complaining of terrible dreams. He had managed to soothe the girl, though, and she had fallen off into a peaceful sleep in his arms.

He turned around in the saddle and looked back to the sleigh where Elína rode beside the driver. Since he did not plan to be gone long in Carn Dum, Hyarion had rented a sleigh and team from a local man and would return them after they rode back that way in a few days. Though Elína was wearing a warm woolen dress and a fur-lined cloak and was bundled in furs and blankets, the girl was shivering as she sat in the sleigh. Hyarion smiled encouragingly at her and she managed a weak little smile. He looked beyond her at the pack horse, where the emerald dagger and Silmadan's other possessions were hidden in a pack saddle. He thought to himself how impressed the king of Angmar would be when he presented it to him as a gift. Perhaps that would do much towards mollifying the king when the Lieutenant reported that the prisoner - who was suspected of being an assassin - had escaped. If Elína had not been ailing, he had even considered giving her as a trinket to His Majesty. There was no possible way he could do that now.

Though there were deep layers of snow in high banks along the sides of the road, the roadbed itself was clear. That was one thing for which he had always been grateful in this miserable cold northern country - after a storm, the road crews were out as soon as possible, clearing the trail. Things were run efficiently in the kingdom.

Riding beside the sleigh, Lord Hyarion opened one of the wine flasks which he carried on a hook on the cantle of his saddle. "Drink, my little northern flower," he encouraged her in his deep, richly accented Southern voice. "This will put some color back into your cheeks."

Smiling at him from under long, dark eyelashes, the girl took the flask and brought it daintily up to her lips and drank. "Thank you, my lord. Feel much better."

He studied her eyes and knew that she was lying. If anything, she looked even worse, but at least she was not shivering.

"My dear, look how clear are the skies today. No storms are expected, and if we continue the pace that I have set, we should be in the capital of Angmar, Carn Dum, by nightfall."

She extended the wineskin back to him with a "Thank you" and a little nod of her head.

"No, dear," he smiled as he stoppered the vessel and handed it back to her, "you may keep it to warm you as needed." He winked at her. "There are plenty more packed in the pack saddles."

"My lord, this place we go..." her brows knitted together as she tried to think of the unfamiliar Common Speech words, "what it look like? Big?"

"Little Elína," a smile came over his face, "'big' is not the word. Immense would be a more accurate way to describe it. There is a mighty fortress with a great wall and a high tower... garrisons, storehouses, blacksmiths' shops, armories, stables... and the town that has grown up around it... the fortress will be like nothing you have ever seen!"

"My lord," she frowned and stammered as she attempted to form the difficult words, "is there a.... what you call it? Chieftain?"

"No, my dear," Hyarion chuckled, "in Angmar there rules a great king, a mighty king, whose like has never been known in Middle-earth. My soothsayer back at Shedun Fortress predicts that he will be like a spectacular star which blazes across the heavens, that he will a great conqueror and destroyer of kingdoms, and that his fame will endure until the end of the world!" The girl looked puzzled, and he was not certain how much she understood.

"Oh, I see!" A look of comprehension came over her face. "A big chieftain with many furs, sleds and dogs!"

"I suppose you could say that," Hyarion grinned. He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. As he was straightening back in the saddle, Hyarion detected a flicker of movement far ahead. Squinting, he made out the shape of a horsemen far in the distance and heading their way at a rapid pace. The column halted until the massager drew up, and after saluting the lieutenant, the young man, resplendent in the red and black Angmarian livery, handed him a sealed scroll. Opening the missive, the lieutenant read,

"Lord Hyarion, Lieutenant of Shedun Fortress, you are hereby ordered to report immediately to Carn Dum and present yourself before Lord Alassar, Steward to His Majesty. You are to bring all the possessions and property which you wrongfully confiscated from Lord Silmadan, His Majesty's nephew."

Blinking, Hyarion looked up from the message. "Silmadan!" he thought. "So that impudent young pup was the King's nephew? So it was true after all!" A sharp pang struck his abdomen, and he felt a brief wave of nausea rush over him. He was not yet prepared to consider the full possibilities of what this startling revelation might mean for his career... or even his life.

"Sir," the massager asked in a clipped voice, "do you have a message for me to take back in return?"

"Aye," Hyarion replied, trying to keep the nervousness out of his voice. It would never do to let this Carn Dum man think that he had any hesitancy whatsoever.

"Sir, do you wish to write it?"

"No, you can take this oral message... tell the steward that all the requested objects are in my possession, and that my escort and I should be arriving in Carn Dum by nightfall."

As Hyarion watched the massager ride away, he felt himself breaking out in a sweat even though the day was cold. The day had started out most unpleasantly and he had little hope now that it would improve.

[Caelen]

Morning of Nov. 9, Eryndil's house in Cameth Brin

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]

Morning of Nov. 9, Eryndil's house in Cameth Brin


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.

[Eryndil]

November 9, 1347 – late morning, Eryndil’s home at Cameth Brin

“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.

[Caelen]

November 9, 1347 – late morning, Eryndil’s home at Cameth Brin


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.

[Odaragariel of Mitheithel]

Afternoon of Nov 9. Cameth Brin. Somewhere in the Palace.

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. Odare mumbled - "I must have lost it when I was, you know, attacked by the bear," 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...