Storms at Weathertop. Shadow over Rhudaur IV

[Galphant]

Galphant's rooms in the West wing. November 17, 1347, afternoon.

"So King Dirion has been dead for two years now, and yet the throne remains vacant? How is that possible?" Gimilbeth inquired of Hador, who had been discussing, in a sardonic manner, the political situation in his kingdom. Galphant sat quietly, watching the beautiful princess, trying to decide what he thought of her.

"I think Orogost enjoys running the kingdom himself, and wouldn't like to be bothered with a king, to be honest. He's mandated just about the longest and most tortuous process imaginable to determine what everyone already knows - that there are no heirs of Caryontar in the male line."

"But surely these matters would be at the decision of the council as a whole, and not of Orogost alone?"

"She is quite clever," Galphant thought to himself. He hoped that Hador would not offer any more details on this front, but wine had loosened the old man's tongue, and, Hador immediately responded to her question.

"Well, you know, I can't speak for why Malvegil's allies have not pressed their cause more fully, but we have thought it to our advantage to bide our time. The old prince knows he is unpopular, and that so long as he is alive, things are not likely to work out in our favor, and, in any event..." he broke off, as he looked at his wine glass and saw it was empty. "These servants have been very remiss in making sure we are well tended for. Where's that damned bell?"

Galphant pointed it out to his friend, and took the opportunity to change the subject. "Hador has now said a great deal of affairs in our kingdom, so perhaps I would not be forward to ask after the state of things in Rhudaur? Is all well with your father? What has brought him to send you here? I should have to thank him, on my part, for brightening what would otherwise be a most tedious duty by sending you here."

Gimilbeth responded with a smile. "I do not believe that my father had your entertainment in mind in sending me. There were matters of business to discuss with King Malvegil, and, as he could not go himself, there are none he trusts more than I to carry out his wishes."

"She's far more coy than Hador, that's certain - she reveals no more than she knows I must already know," Galphant thought to himself. He said aloud, "that is a great honor that the king shows to you, and speaks as well for your wisdom as your beauty does for itself." He grimaced inwardly at the necessity for these awkward compliments. "Your brothers, I imagine, are still too young to yet be of much help to your father in matters of state."

Gimilbeth frowned at the mention of her brothers. "My brothers, I suspect, will never be of much help to my father." Here she stopped, perhaps feeling that she had revealed too much. "But perhaps I am too hard on them - they are, as you say, still very young. They are around the age of your son, I think. I am disappointed that he did not join us for dinner tonight."

Now it was Galphant's turn to frown. "Yes, Herunarth ought to have been here. But I've found it impossible to separate him from the young Arthedain princes since we arrived - they seem to be fast friends already."

Galphant looked towards Hador, who seemed to have fallen asleep. "My friend, I see, is no longer with us. Perhaps that signals it is time for the dinner to break up. May I have the honor, my lady, of escorting you back to your chambers?"

[Gimilbeth]

Galphant's rooms in the West wing. November 17, 1347, afternoon.

Despite Galphant's courteous dismissal, Gimilbeth remained seated, fiddling absent-mindedly with her long-stemmed wine glass crafted of the finest Moria crystal. She scrutinized Hador: the Cardolani councilor seemed genuinely asleep and oblivious to the world. Yet he was there all right, and her meeting with Galphant was no unseemly tête-à-tête in his quarters. The servants have left and the oaken door to the chamber seemed solid enough. There were so few places in Amon Sul where she could discuss secret matters without being overheard and Gimilbeth was not going to lose such a rare opportunity.

She turned to Galphant, noticing how he had arched his brows at her long silence. "Thank you for the wonderful meal," she began with a charming smile, "and for the genial company. In this dull and boring place both are invaluable. Moreover," she looked around, "your Western wing seems to be so much warmer than my own chambers. If you don't mind, I would beg your leave to stay a bit longer for there are matters of import that I wish to discuss."

Galphant swallowed, all on the alert now. "Is he afraid that with Hador asleep I will make some advances?" she thought, amused. He tried his best to conceal his embarrassment, though.

"Certainly, my Lady! Your company brightens my day and I was only afraid to appear importunate in trying to prolong these precious moments. Would you like some Khandian coffee? I know few in the North have a taste for it, but perhaps you would find it pleasing?"

Gimilbeth inclined her head, smiling. "Thank you, Lord Galphant, I do like coffee. I was born in Gondor and raised in Umbar where everyone appreciates this delicacy."

Galphant rang the bell and ordered to brew some coffee. While they waited, unable to discuss serious matters in front of the servants, Galphant decided to use the time for some small talk and, if possible, to learn more about Gimilbeth's background. The moment seemed opportune enough. "So, my Lady, your mother's family originates from the sunny Umbar? No wonder you suffer in our wretched climate… "

"Yes, the cold in Rhudaur and Arthedain freezes my very bones, I admit. But Cardolan, I guess, must be much warmer, isn't it?"

"Yes, the southern lands by the mouth of the Gwathlo are warm and pleasant enough. The area around Tharbad is too boggy, however: in summer the midges try to eat you alive," Galphant laughed. "I prefer my own land of Tyrn Gorthad: rolling green hills with grazing sheep, white towers and deep forests. But perhaps, I am being partial to it."

"Everyone loves his native land above all else," replied Gimilbeth. "What a platitude I have just uttered," she thought inwardly wincing and hurried on: "I often dream of the high cliffs of Umbar, of tall ships filling the harbor, of palm-trees swaying in the wind. I hear in my dreams the melodious speech of my homeland, so different from the crude dialect of Rhudaur"

"What is it they speak in Umbar?" inquired Galphant with genuine interest. "Is it some version of Westron?"

"A version of the ancient Adunaic would be more accurate," Gimilbeth explained. "The Umbarian dialect has got more vowels and less consonants than Westron, and some words and names would seem strange to your ears: "Adraeel", not "Adrahil" for instance."

"By the way, if I may be so bold to ask," Galphant inquired hesitantly, "is it usual for Umbarian nobles to have Adunaic names, not Sindarin?"

"Do you mean my name?" she laughed. "Gimilbeth" is nothing but my epessë. I was given a Sindarin name at birth, my father saw to it. It is Menelien, but hardly anyone uses it anymore."

"Menelien..," repeated Galphant slowly, tasting the word on his tongue. "It is a beautiful name and becomes you well. Your eyes are the color of the sky at dusk, deep blue, almost black…"

So he was flirting with her, no doubt of it! Gimilbeth blushed slightly, but to her relief she didn't need to give an answer, for at this moment the coffee arrived. The servants put the thin porcelain cups with steaming brown liquid on the table, bowed and left. The time for pleasantries was over, now it was the time to talk politics.

Gimilbeth took a sip of her coffee and nodded her approval. Then she said in a grave voice. "My Lord Galphant, I have always thought that the matter of Cardolan succession is your own internal affair and that it is of no concern either to me or to Rhudaur. However, quite recently, I have found myself approached and sounded - and it bothers me. Are you aware that some factions in the Council of Cardolan are willing to declare that the right to the throne of Caryontar in the absence of direct male heirs should pass to the line of Dauremir, and thus to Tarnendur, my father?"

Galphant nearly choked on his coffee. Carefully he put the cup down and stared at her, temporarily speechless. "So, he didn't know about it, just as I thought," Gimilbeth smiled inwardly.

"It is not Tarnendur that they want as King, however," she continued, "but his younger son, my brother Amantir, who would be nothing but a puppet of the faction that had devised this cunning plan."

For quite some time Galphant was silent, thinking. Then he said warily "May I ask you to disclose the source of this information, my Lady?"

Gimilbeth replied without hesitation: "I have reasons to believe that this plan is being devised by Amdir, his father Orogost and their associates."

Galphant nodded and admitted "I thought as much. Up until now, lord Orogost appeared impartial, but this scheme suits his interests well enough, I deem." He studied Gimilbeth, no trace of flirting in his eyes anymore. "And what would be your reaction to such a proposal, my Lady?"

"I have witheld my reply as yet, lord Galphant, for I am undecided. On one hand it seems an attractive offer to provide a king for Cardolan, but on the other hand it will lead to a quarrel with Arthedain, which is certainly not in our interests. Moreover, Amantir is a weak spineless child; he would be a mere pawn in the hands of Orogost and of no use to Rhudaur whatsoever."

She paused and took another sip of her coffee. Hador moved his head on the table, snoring. Gimilbeth smiled to Galphant and asked innocently: "But I will have to reply eventually and I would appreciate your advice. What do you think is the best course for me to take?"

[Galphant]

Galphant felt himself in an awkward position. How was he to respond to this request for advice? He hardly knew yet what he thought of the proposal himself. Some wispy young foreign princeling hardly seemed the ideal king for Cardolan - especially when his own prospects for the throne seemed so capable of realization. And yet such a move would, at least, be preferable to establishing Malvegil on the throne. And how was he to provide impartial advice to her on such a question? He once again stood impressed by her craft, and pleased by the preference she had shown to him in betraying Orogost's secrets to him.

Almost involuntarily, he began to think of what a formidable wife she would make - he could not help but compare her to his late wife. Celraen had been beautiful and gentle, but she had never been a true partner to him. She had shown little interest for any subject but court gossip, and could never understand her husband's ambitions and responsibilities. A thought came to him which he had repressed for years, ever since her unfortunate death - he had never truly loved her, and he had regretted the marriage almost from the first.

And this woman before him - she was everything that his wife was not. Ambitious and masterful, clever and proud of her own abilities, dark where his wife had been fair, mysterious where Celraen had been an open book. He could not help but think that she would make a formidable partner to whatever man would claim her hand. He half resolved that Hador had been right, that he should propose marriage between them. And yet, there was something in her eyes - something dark and strange - which made him nervous, and which he could not quite ignore. But how to answer her?

"My lady," he began, somewhat tentatively, "I cannot think that I can give you disinterested advice on such a matter. My own ambitions are caught up in the matter. I am the grandson of King Menelcar, and I believe that I am the legal heir to the kingdom. I am an enemy to Malvegil, and I must be an enemy to your brother as well if he should stand against my claims. But my opposition likely means little to Rhudaur. That of Malvegil means more, perhaps, and you should certainly not expect any friendship with Malvegil if you pursue such a course. He is a bitter, vindictive man, and would take Rhudaur as his sworn enemy should your father thwart him in that way."

Here he paused, and Gimilbeth took the opportunity to speak. "I have no wish to make unnecessary enemies - not with Malvegil, certainly, but I should hate it even more to make you my enemy, when we have only just become friends." So you would counsel me to reject the offer out of hand?"

"I did not say that, my lady. I do not know Rhudaur's situation, or what priorities your father has. It might very well be in his interest to promote your brother's claim, such as it is. It might well be worth your while to pursue the matter, see what deal Orogost is prepared to strike."

She smiled and sipped her coffee. "So, in spite of your own interests, you advise me to listen to their proposals. A man as honest as you is rare indeed, Lord Galphant. I must say, though, that I am a bit disappointed in you. I should have thought you cared more for me than to so advise me to make you my enemy."

"Of all people, I would not wish to have you for my enemy, my lady." Galphant found that in spite of the entirely cynical origins of his courtship of this woman, as he proceeded he could not help becoming genuinely infatuated with her.

"But you asked for my honest advice, and I have tried to give it. And this need not make us enemies." Here he paused, half-smiling. "I should be happy, indeed to continue to advise you on these matters if you will continue to confide in me."

Gimilbeth laughed. "So, you would have me tell you Orogost's secrets, and in exchange, you will give me advice as to his motivations and trustworthiness? We are both to be spies against our own cause? It sounds quite delightful to be laughing at the pompous fool behind his back. But what if I should decide, in the end, that Orogost's offer is an attractive one?"

"Then so be it - I would not have you act against the interests of your homeland." He should have stopped there, but in the heat of the moment he did not. "But before you agree to any offer from the honorable steward, you should know that I am prepared to make you an offer that might be more to your liking."

Here her face turned serious, and she looked closely at him. "I am afraid I do not understand you, sir."

Galphant's face turned red. She might say she did not understand, but of course she did. He had not intended to go so far, but he could not withdraw now without looking a fool. Proceeding might yet make him a fool, but it seemed the better option. He reached deep into his memories of courtship to find an appropriate speech. As he spoke, he was not sure if he hoped she would reject him or accept him.

"My lady, I am sure you must understand me. Rather than making your brother King of Cardolan, I should make you its queen. Although we have known each other for only a short time, never, since my poor wife passed on, have I met a woman who has made me feel as you do. You are all that one could look for in a wife and a queen - beautiful, stately, wise, and graceful. I think you should find that I would be a suitable husband. From my mother, the blood of Isildur flows in my veins, and my father is scion of the greatest house that joined Elendil in his journey hither from lost Númenor. I am the heir to a great principality, and I hope that soon enough I shall myself be king of Cardolan. In short, I love you and ask you to be my wife."

When the flow of words ceased, Galphant found himself astonished. What had he done? He looked at her, awaiting her reply.

[Gimilbeth]

Gimilbeth drew in her breath listening to the proposal . That was unexpected … at least not expected so soon. They knew each other for … oh Eru… but three days! What was it then - love at the first sight? Gimilbeth felt a warm tide of pleasure wash over her and dug her nails into the unyielding wood of the armrests to stop a silly smile treacherously creeping to her lips. What was she thinking? Blushing like a shy maiden at her first proposal… Although… certainly this one was not the first proposal she heard, but it was the first one that she possibly could and was willing to accept.

When the torrent of words from Galphant had abruptly ceased, Gimilbeth sat for a moment immobile, looking at him. The man was very pale ant there was something in his eyes that shouldn't have been there … bewilderment - or fear? But whatever it was, Gimilbeth had to reply.

She said gravely "My Lord Galphant, I am quite honored by your proposal. It is a bit sudden and unexpected, but I realize that in these troubled times usual conventions hardly apply. I will be honest: I look favorably on your suit. I can't say that I love you - yet," she added with a coy smile, "but I readily believe that the respect and sympathy I already feel for you could with time transform into much warmer feelings, maybe even true love. Moreover, I fully realize that we share common interests in this difficult game we are playing. Both of us are victims of the partilineal law followed by Elendili: I have lost my birthright to the throne of Rhudaur and you, my Lord, are about to lose your rights to the throne of Cardolan. I deem together we would be able to bring about the reversal of the laws of succession to the "New Law" of Tar-Aldarion and take what is rightfully ours. Therefore, for my part, I gratefully accept your proposal, but you must be aware that the final decision rightly belongs to my father and liege lord, King Tarnendur and to the Council of Rhudaur.

Galphant listened to these words on his bended knee: he realized a tad too late that he should have kneeled earlier, while making the actual proposal, but his courting techniques had indeed become rusty. So, she was accepting to become his wife… He didn't feel any joy, only trepidation like an animal that hears the doors of the trap clang shut with a bang. Now there would be no way out…

What was she saying now? Ah… King Tarnendur… Galphant realized he had all but forgotten about the old King. But she was right, mature and independent as she seemed, she was still technically a young maiden, fully dependant upon her father.

"My Lady Gimilbeth," he said in a shaking voice, "you have just made me the happiest man in the three Kingdoms." He bent his head over the pale long-fingered hand she had extended to him and lightly brushed his lips over the knuckles. "I hope your august father would deign to look as favorably on my courtship. I only wished to be certain of your own feelings, in order to proceed with the betrothal proposal. I will send an ambassador to Cameth Brin straight away."

Gimilbeth smiled to him. "Please, don't be so hasty, Lord Galphant. The road to Rhudaur is so uncertain and dangerous that it could be perilous for a small company to take it in winter. If you agree to wait for about a fortnight, your vassal could join the company of soldiers I am sending back to Rhudaur with a letter to my father describing the progress of my mission. Also, the departure of your man would probably pass unnoticed by other parties at Amon Sul, which could only be to our advantage"

"Thank you, my Lady," Galphant nodded. He rose to his feet and resumed his seat at the table. "I will accept your generous proposal and send my Steward Aegnor to the King Tarnendur with your men." He added in a lighter tone "It will give me additional time to compose a fitting official letter to your August father."

"Indeed, and the proposed solution will have one extra advantage," Gimilbeth laughed. "No one will be able to say that you have proposed to me after only three days of acquaintance, which would look a tad unseemly. Please, make sure to date your letter at the last possible moment."

Galphant finally permitted himself to relax and smiled back "Ah, my Lady, I see you are as full of wisdom as you are beautiful." A new idea came to him. He took a flagon from the table and poured the dark wine into two crystal goblets.. "Let us toast our betrothal, My Lady."

They rose, lifted the goblets in salute and drank in silence, looking into each other's eyes. His heart beating fast, Galphant leant forward and lightly kissed Gimilbeth on the lips, wondering at his own audacity. Gimilbeth didn't shy away, but accepted the caress with a smiling face.

Then the princess put the empty goblet down and said somewhat hesitantly "Now I have a boon to ask of you, Lord Galphant."

"Whatever you may wish, my Lady, will be granted with pleasure, be it only in my power…"

"Then, please, stop courting me." She placed a reassuring hand on Galphant's sleeve and smiled tenderly in his suddenly drawn and bewildered face.

"Our force is in secrecy, my Lord. Announcing our betrothal unexpectedly at an opportune moment, better still at the crucial moment, would bring our cause enormous advantages. If they continue to observe us walking hand in hand all over the fortress, our adversaries would start suspecting that our relationship could mean something more than casual friendship born of boredom. Now that we have sealed our pact, we must be discreet. Let us limit our meetings to a common meal once a week, here in the genial company of Lord Hador." She chuckled observing the sleeping Counselor and pressed the matter further. "Meanwhile I must be seen conversing, walking around and maybe even flirting with the others: with Belector, Amdir, maybe Adrahil. Please, have faith in me and don't worry: I am not flighty by nature and will keep my honor and your trust intact."

Galphant's face darkened, but he seemed to be accepting her idea. She continued "Also, please, for the time being keep our betrothal secret from everyone, except for counselors you trust implicitly. I will go as far as asking you to keep it secret from your own son. I know it is a hard thing to ask, but Herunarth's recent friendship with Beleg of Arthedain makes the common gossip. I doubt that at his age your son would be able to keep secrets from his new friend and any indiscretion on his part would be ruinous. Will you grant me this boon?" She looked into his hooded grey eyes pleadingly.

Galphant sighed deeply and cleared his throat. "It is a hard thing you ask of me indeed, my Lady, but I see the wisdom of it. So be it. I will not seek to meet you before the week is past and I will keep our betrothal secret from everyone but Hador and Aegnor."

"See you then in a week - I will be counting days till the next dinner in your company, my Lord Galphant. Now, please, call a servant to see me to my room. I shall make my farewells here."

Turmoil of emotions swirling in his head, Galphant kissed Gimilbeth's hand in parting and watched as the door closed behind her. He was walking back to the table to pour himself more wine, when he met the completely sober gaze of Hador. Grinning delightedly at Galphant, the Counselor sat back in his chair.

"That, my lord, was simply masterful!" he cackled. "Warmest congratulations on your betrothal!"

[scribe]

placeholder - just in case

[Celebrindol]

Place-holder for Val

Cel talks to Malvegil via the Palantir: midday Nov 17.

[scribe]

November 17th, evening.
Ladies' wing

“You are awfully quiet tonight,” Erebloth remarked to her daughter after they had retired to the ladies’ drawing room after dinner.
“I didn’t sleep well last night,” Sulawen said evasively, while staring into the fire.

Erebloth looked at her daughter pensively for a moment. Then she nodded to her ladies in waiting that they could retire for the night. The girls bade their lady goodnight and withdrew. Sulawen did not even notice them leaving.

“Sulawen, we need to have a talk,” said Erebloth as she sat down in the empty chair next to her daughter. “I know you well enough to know that one missed night of sleep does not normally put you in such state. Now be honest with your mother: what troubles you?”
“Oh mother!” Sumawen exclaimed and launched herself out of the chair and started pacing before the fire. “Is that not obvious?”
“Ah,” Erebloth said calmly, ignoring her daughter’s emotional outburst. “princess Gimilbeth.”
“Yes, Yes! Gimilbeth!” Sulawen sat down on the bear rug that lay before the fire and put her head on her mother’s lap, something she had not done since she had been a child. “What else would worry me?”
“Sulawen, Sulawen, why do you worry about things that pose no threat to you? Is life at the Royal Court then so easy that nothing more important concerns you?”
“Important!” cried Sulawen distraught. “What could be worse than losing my husband? Look at me, mother. And then look at her. I have borne several children, it shows. She still looks like a maiden. Age has carved lines on my face, hers looks like porcelain! She’s a princess, I am but –”
“She’s but a princess,” Erebloth interrupted her daughter firmly, “you will be queen.” She cupped her daughter’s chin gently in her hands and raised Sulawen’s head so she could look her in the eyes. “I will tell you what you are and I will tell you what she is. You are Sulawen, daughter of the warden of the Seeing Stone, wife and beloved of Celebrindol, the Heir of Arthedain, mother to Beleg, Aramacil and Estelien, all three beautiful children. Have you forgotten them so easily? Celebrindol chose you and faced the entire court for you, even his father, who is by no means an easy man. Not many women have been so ardently pursued, my dear. He chose you over Gimilbeth, I might add. And who is Gimilbeth? She is princess of a troubled nation, and one that she will never rule, a member of a family that appears to have little love among themselves. She is still as beautiful as in her youth, yes. But her beauty is like that of a beautiful rose, frozen in a block of ice.”

“I can not imagine that is comfortable to bed,” Erebloth added dryly, almost as an after-thought. Sulawen could not hold back a faint smile.
“And you Sulawen,” her mother went on. “The lines on your face, you find so terrible, disappear when you smile one of your radiant smiles.”
Sulawen blushed. “Mother, now you are just exaggerating,” she admonished the other woman, but she still smiled.
Erebloth clacked her tongue and threw up her hands. “Ah, why not. Go ahead and tell your poor mother off when she’s only trying to cheer you up,” she muttered in mock-anger.
Sulawen said nothing, but she took her mother’s hand in hers and smiled.
“Now, go catch some of that missed sleep, my dear,” Erebloth said, also with a smile. “And remember that there are many things Gimilbeth can never take away from you.”

Sulawen bade goodnight to her mother and retired to her chambers. It was a different Sulawen that looked back to her from the mirror as her maids helped her undress and prepare for bed.

Mother is right, Sulawen thought triumphantly. Gimilbeth will not win Celebrindol as long as I live. And even after, it will still be my children that will rule Arthedain. I know Malvegil may have wished for Gimilbeth to wed Celebrindol instead of me, but it is my children that are his heirs, and he loves them well, no matter how moody he acts towards me.

It was not long before Celebrindol retired as well. Sulawen had been waiting for him and approached him as soon as he entered their bedroom.

“What has brought that on?” he asked, surprised by her sudden, loving kiss.
She smiled at him mischievously. “Marking my territory,” she said and pulled him towards the bed. She didn’t mind losing some more sleep tonight.

~~~~~

The bed was warm and comfortable, but Celebrindol was still not entirely at ease. Sulawen lay with her head on his shoulder, her hair as a warm blanket across his arm. One of her arms was thrown possessively across his chest. Her eyes were closed, but she was still awake, Celebrindol knew, and there still was a vague, satisfied smile on her lips. She looked indeed very content, he thought. It was a pity to spoil her good mood with news he knew would not be well received. But he could not keep postponing it.

“Sulawen…” he started, gathering his resolve.
“Hmmm?” came the soft reply.
“There’s a matter of importance I have to discuss with you. Concerning Beleg.”
“Beleg?” She shifted to look at him.
“No, nothing has happened to him,” Celebrindol said to head off any worries. “He’s perfectly fine. But a matter arose concerning his future. Rhudaur has offered him Princess Tarniel’s hand in marriage.”

He artfully avoided mentioning Gimilbeth in the matter, but Sulawen was not to be fooled. Her eyes went wide and he could feel her body tense.

“Gimilbeth? Is that what she has come here to do?! Steal my son?”

Celebrindol was prepared, and wrapped his arms around her and held her close, to prevent her from jumping up.

“Shh, now. He would be marrying Tarniel, not Gimilbe-”
‘She’s Gimilbeth’s sister!”
“Half-sister,” Celebrindol stressed. “And nothing has been decided yet. But father will request hefty concessions before he agrees to anything,” he added, thinking that the thought of Gimilbeth having to pay handsomely for the match, would please his wife.
“Concessions?” Sulawen repeated bitterly, “already he’s selling his own grand-children for lands and money.”
“Sulawen,” Celebrindol warned. He knew very well there was little love lost between his father and his wife, but he did not want to have that conversation again tonight.

Sulawen sighed sadly and put her head back on his shoulder. She didn't look at him.

“But why isn’t Beleg allowed to marry for love? Like we could,” she said softly after a while, sounding at the edge of tears.

Celebrindol pulled her closer and kissed her tenderly on her head. She knew him well, he thought without regret, that she always knew to say the things that moved him. Instead of merely continuing her rivalry with Gimilbeth as he had feared, she chose rather to focus on her son's interests.

“Sulawen, Sulawen, who’s to say there will not be any love between them? The Rhudaurian delegation presented father with a portrait of the princess. Tarniel is quite a fair and lovely young lady. I’m sure she’ll win Beleg’s heart in an instant.”

Sulawen didn’t answer, but instead she asked: “And have you told Beleg yet?”
“Not yet, Celebrindol admitted, “there’s little point in doing so before anything is definitive. But I wanted to tell you first, so you could prepare yourself.”
“Thank you,” was all she said.
He kissed her on the top of her head again, grateful things had gone remarkably well. “Now, don’t worry yourself any more and go to sleep. Everything will be fine.”

Sulawen nodded absentmindedly, but it took a while before she fell asleep. Be that as it may, she told herself fiercely, but no one marries off my son for land or money without his knowing. Not Gimilbeth, not Marvegil. No one.

[Kirael]

Early morning of the 18th of November
Amon Sûl kitchens

As she had not felt entirely well the previous evening, Kirael decided to stay in bed a little longer today. No one would specifically need her anyway. But on days like these, she felt her age.

There was a quiet knock at the door, and she could hear Narian say something from behind the door.

“Yes, you can come in,” Kirael replied. “Although I hope you don’t mind that I don’t get up.”

Narian came in and closed the door behind her, she looked vaguely worried.

“I’m sorry to bother you at a time like this, Kirael,” the cook said guiltily.

“It’s quite alright,” Kirael reassured her, “I feel better today, I’m just a little lazy now, that’s all. What is it you wanted?”

Narian took a deep breath. “You’ve always told me how you were here when Amon Sûl was claimed by the other Arnorian kingdoms. I have need of your memory of that time, I fear. Do you remember how to make Harnost Toast?”

“Harnost Toast?” Kirael repeated with surprise. “It’s been a while, but I dare say I still do. Why?” She sat up, her interest piqued.

Narian started pacing in Kirael’s small room, realised she could hardly take two paces, and stopped. The words came out in a torrent. “Prince Beleg came to the kitchens yesterday after you had retired. It seems he struck some friendship with his counterpart of Cardolan, Prince Herunarth. The latter has been extolling on the virtues of Cardolani food, most specifically this… Harnost Toast. Now prince Beleg wants to try it, he said prince Herunarth has been complimenting on our kitchen’s work but that we wouldn’t be able to do Cardolani food justice.”

Kirael was starting to feel amused. “Aha, fighting words those are, I take it you didn’t take that challenge lying down?”

Narian’s eyes flashed, and for a moment her nervousness vanished. “Of course not!” She said hotly. “I have a reputation to maintain! Anyway, I promised both lads the Amon Sûl kitchens were quite capable and that they’d have this Harnost toast for breakfast. But I’ve been pouring over every recipe I collected over the years all night, including your own old notes, and I can’t find anything about this Harnost Toast!”

Kirael smiled. “And naturally, you didn’t ask the Cardolani prince what was in it?”

“And confess I didn’t know?” Narian said shocked. “I’m the head-cook, I can’t confess to not knowing a dish!”

“We’ll better get started then,” Kirael said. “Give me a moment to get dressed and I’ll meet you in the kitchen. Send one of the boys to Falmion, the baker, and tell him I’ll need an extra loaf of bread.”

Visibly relieved, Narian hurried out of Kirael’s room to make preparations. Kirael rose and got dressed. “Well, well,” she said quietly to herself. “Harnost Toast… I never imagined making that again. Life’s full of surprises, it seems, even for those with foresight.”

When she entered the kitchen, she found Narian ready and anxiously waiting.

“Very good,” Kirael said. “Now, Narian, taking notes will not be necessary, a recipe for Harnost Toast is for students, not head-cooks. Besides, this dish is at its best when you add a pinch of… spontaneous imagination. In essence it’s a very basic dish, but we have a reputation to maintain so we’ll need something extra to make it memorable for our royal guests. Now, there are a few ingredients that must absolutely be included, but the rest can be changed or substituted according to the seasons, which makes Harnost Toast a very variable and useful dish. Hmm, we don’t have maple juice this far north, so we’ll take honey….”

Kirael was really starting to enjoy herself. Nothing was as good to recover from feeling poorly like cooking in your own kitchen. She grinned. “Open up the spice cabinet, Narian, we’ll need it. Ha! There will be two young princelings about to be knocked off their socks!”

“Kirael!” Narian said breathlessly.

“What?” Kirael said with a amused shrug. “Weren't you the one fretting yesterday that a Cardolani noble had complained his meal with the princess was too bland? Besides, I’m old, I’m allowed.”

[Gimilbeth]

Gimilbeth's room at Amon Sul. Late morning of November 18, 1347

Gimilbeth awoke late in the morning to bright rays of low winter sun shining directly into her window through the colored panes. She stretched like a big lazy cat and took the luxury to linger in bed for a long while, idly observing the multicolor speckles of light merrily dancing on the ceiling and the white walls.

It felt nice to be betrothed... Much as she had always professed her love for independence and indifference to marriage, deep down, remaining an old maid must have galled her considerably, after all. She imagined her father's wonder and pleasure at the unexpected advantageous proposal from Cardolan. To tell the truth, the realized that the news was bound to make a big day for virtually everyone in Cameth Brin, the Queen, her siblings, the whole court: obviously they would relish the opportunity to get rid of her once and for all. Gimilbeth smiled evilly. Well, let them rejoice: she couldn't care less. In a year or so, she would be Queen at Harnost and would put the cold, backward, disgusting Rhudaur along with the Hillmen barbarians behind her.

She thought about the party to be sent home. Whom should she choose to carry the letter to her father and to command the soldiers? Much as she would love to be rid of Barund after his yesterday's indiscretion, she needed him at her side as a go-between herself and Amdir. The plot for proclaiming Tarnendur Heir of Cardolan seemed too promising to be abandoned. Let Malvegil concentrate on fighting this plan, she thought, then, perhaps, he would forget about Galphant or consider him the lesser of the two evils.

But if not Barund, then there remained only Edelbar the page, a promising and trustworthy young noble indeed - but only barely thirteen. Hmm… was he mature enough to be trusted to lead such a company? But then again, he would have more experienced men to counsel him, like old Siril, the sergeant of the guards from Cameth Brin, Callon the driver… And there would be Aegnor from Cardolan, who looked to be a fairly tough and experienced man. Such a pity she couldn't let him command the men of Rhudaur…

What irked her was that she had to wait for the reply from Gondor before sending the party back to Cameth Brin. There was still hope to get some military or at least some monetary help from the Southern Kingdom. But the Court at Osgiliath was still unable to set the time for her audience with King Romendacil. At the moment the King was apparently away in the North, inspecting the building of some monumental statues on the banks of Anduin above Nen Hithoel and was expected back in a fortnight.

Gimilbeth yawned and rang the bell for Nimraen - if was time to start a new day. In an hour, she was ready. She took a short walk along the main wall in the company of Edelbar, but, despite the sun, the frosty air proved biting, so she decided to return indoors.

There was little to do at Amon Sul, she observed, bored. But after a midday meal, she decided to visit the public library that the Warden had vaunted at the last reception, and check some manuscripts pertaining to the division of Arnor. Who knows what hidden clue could be found there to help her eventually in a dynastic argument?

[Amdir]

Early Morning, November 18, 1347

"And so, my lords, as you know, the Warden has been kind enough to let me know that we are to go this morning to the chamber where the Chief Palantír of the North is kept, to practice using it. I trust you won't mind that I've taken the liberty of writing out a short message that we should initially send to the Stone's Warden in Osgiliath. Amdír, my boy, you have that piece I had you write out, don't you? There, there, give it to me. Alright, there it is, very good. Let's see, 'To His Excellency the Lord Warden of the Seeing Stone of Osgiliath, the Council of the Kingdom of Cardolan sends it greetings and best wishes.' Hmm...best wishes, I don't like that. How about if we change that to 'regards.' What do you think of that Hador?"

Amdír slunk back while his father droned on. Aegnor tapped him on the shoulder and spoke to him in a low voice. "So, I suppose we're to be at ends again this morning. Shall we find our friend from Rhudaur?"

Amdír laughed. It was best that Aegnor not think he have any particular business with the Rhudaurian. Looking at his friend, he could not see any clear signs of suspicion, but it didn't hurt to be careful. "I suppose we've got little enough else to do. He is certainly an amusing fool."

"A fool indeed, yes. His infatuation with his mistress is certainly a reason for much amusement. That he should be in love with her is perhaps unsurprising. That he should be such a fool as to tell those he barely knows about it is what makes him such a fine fellow."

"Yes, he is a fine fool. I suppose we may find him again and see if he has anything amusing to offer us. Perhaps he is still jealous of your lord's attentions to the lady. That could provide some amusement. Has Lord Galphant continued his attentions to the lady?"

"I hardly know what you're talking about - I don't think there have been much in the way of attentions. This is a boring, cramped little place, and Lord Galphant finds amusement where he can. I doubt the lady thinks any more of it - she is practically a confirmed spinster, as I understand it."

Amdír noticed that Aegnor was scratching his ear nervously as he spoke - almost certainly he was concealing something - there was almost certainly more to the flirtation between Galphant and Gimilbeth than he was letting on. He hoped he would get more from Aegnor later, but it behooved him not to show Aegnor that he was suspicious. "Oh, of course, of course. I never thought it was anything more than that. So Galphant finds amusement where he can, and so do we, I suppose - the meeting seems to be breaking up. Let's off to find Barund."

Amdír and Aegnor waited as the council members slowly made their way from the room - Orogost and Hador deep in conversation on some fine point of the inheritance laws of Númenor, one would imagine; Belecthor prattling on to Galphant about a fine bottle of Ithilien wine he had recently acquired for his cellars; and Adrahil walking quietly behind.

After they left, Amdír and Aegnor were left to their own devices, and walked out into the corridor in search of Barund. "So, what shall we try to make the good captain rant about today?" Aegnor asked as they walked towards the dining hall, where they suspected they might find Barund.

Amdír paused before answering. He was interested in finding out the nature of Gimilbeth's Palantír conversation the previous day - he had seen her angrily walking out from it and talking to Barund. But might it not be best to wait and try to discover more of that on his own, without Aegnor present to report everything back to Galphant. Given Barund's foolishness, though, it seemed quite likely he might tell the whole story anyway, so why arouse Aegnor's suspicions by evasion? Better maybe to tell the whole thing to Aegnor. "I believe his mistress spoke with the King of Arthedain yesterday on the Palantír. And I know that Barund was speaking to her immediately afterwards. Perhaps we might guide him to learn what Malvegil said."

"Hmm...yes, that does seem an interesting topic. It would give us interesting information to report, certainly."

They had nearly gotten to the dining hall when they heard someone approaching from behind. Turning to see who it was, they found Barund. "Ah, greetings friends," the Rhudaurian said. "I am happy to see you. I was looking particularly for you, Amdír - "

Here Amdír cut him off. "I'm sure there's nothing we could have to talk about that we could not share with our friend Aegnor."

"But, I think -" whatever Barund was about to say was cut off by Amdír stepping hard on his foot. He winced in pain.

"Oh, I'm sorry friend - I must watch where I'm going. Why don't we go have a drink in the dining hall and talk for a while? Aegnor and I have no duties for some hours now."

Barund seemed to finally get the message. "Oh, of course, of course. Let's sit down and talk."