Post by scribe on Sept 10, 2009 12:31:23 GMT
(Written by Eärniel and Valandil)
Sulawen's quarters. Early afternoon, 18th November 1347
After Vorondariel had left, Sulawen pondered on how she should best pursue her intentions. She wanted to speak with Beleg on the matter of a possible marriage between him and Princess Tarniel, but she wished to do so privately and discretely. She knew very well that even Celebrindol would not look kindly on her speaking about the matter to their son before he could do so himself. And the King would no doubt be most wroth, but he at least had never needed much provocation to loudly bemoan his son’s choice of wife.
Yes, discretion was needed here. A thought struck her. Her sister Rangwaien had been complaining only the day before about Beleg and his companions as they had been listening in on – or rather watching- the choir-ladies’ practice. Perhaps that was a good excuse to…
She sent out a page to fetch her son to her chambers. The boy found the prince in the company of his brother and new-found foreign friend in the hall near the kitchen. There they had commandeered a table in a discrete corner, and had devoted all their attention to the sumptuous, exotic breakfast the cooks had provided for them. They no longer needed Herunarth to convince them of the virtues of Harnost Toast, hardly a crumb remained of the well-seasoned dish. Kirael, (more from experience than actual foresight) had also made sure the boys had a large kettle of hot tea to their disposal.
“Forgive me, master Beleg,” the page said when he approached the princes. “Your mother, the lady Sulawen, requires your presence in her drawing room.”
Beleg shared an uneasy look with his brother. Usually when they were called like this by either their father or their mother, they had been found out about some secret exploit that children usually wished to keep hidden from their parents.
Ignoring the summons would only make matters worse, so Beleg at once followed the page to his mother’s drawing room. There, the page announced him and withdrew at Sulawen’s request.
Beleg greeted his mother courteously in the silent hope that this would at least partly diffuse the expected parental anger. Sulawen returned the greeting but continued to look at him strangely.
“Ah,” she spoke at last. “How quickly you grow up.”
Beleg didn’t immediately answer, this wasn’t quite the conversation he expected.
“Come closer, Beleg, and take a seat. There is something I would like to discuss with you,” Sulawen said, indicating to her son the seat next to her. She went on, as soon as he was seated.
“My son,” she said, “what I’m about to say should not leave these walls. Perhaps it is unwise of me, but consider this a mother’s whim. No doubt your father will -in due time- speak to you on the matter in more detail, however I do not like you to be caught unaware when that time comes.”
“You have no doubt noticed the Rhudaurian envoy that have arrived in Amon Sûl. The Rhudaurian princess,” here Sulawen’s cheeks still flushed when she thought of her rival, “has spoken with your grandfather, the King, concerning an alliance.”
“I have heard she had come here to make use of the Stone,” Beleg acknowledged carefully, “But why do you confide in me about these matters, mother?”
Sulawen smiled briefly. “Have you not guessed it, Beleg? What is the oldest and strongest method of forging political alliances? Why, a marriage, of course!”
Now it was Beleg’s turn to flush. "But... she is so much older than I..." He trailed off, unsure of how to proceed.
Seeing his mother’s puzzled look, he ventured further, although not without some embarrassment for having to discuss such a thing with his own mother. “Could she even still produce me an Heir in my turn?"
Sulawen blinked for a moment. "What do you mean, my son?" She asked slowly.
Beleg licked his lips nervously. "Well... I understand that the Lady Gimilbeth has her merits and is highly regarded by some, and she has indeed retained the form of a younger maiden, but..."
He didn’t go any further as his mother jumped up from her seat as if stung by a wasp. “No, Beleg! No, no, no!”
She let out a short laugh before sitting down again, once more composed. “No, son,” she said earnestly. “Gimilbeth is not intended for you. King Tarnendur has a younger daughter – still in her teens, named Tarniel. It is she whose hand is offered in marriage.”
Sulawen leant back in her seat, and not able to resist one more little jab in Gimilbeth’s direction, she went on. “Queen Eilinel, Tarniel’s mother, is of noble Rhudarian birth, not a crass Umbarian. I am told her image was brought here, and sits atop the tower, in the High Chamber - where it was shown to your father, and even to King Malvegil, in the Stone. Your father has said she is fair to look upon."
Sulawen carefully studied her son’s expression at these revelations. A mixture of emotions chased one another on Beleg’s face. She saw (to her satisfaction) that Beleg seemed very much relieved that his bride would not be Gimilbeth. She even noticed a tiny glimmer of hopefulness when she mentioned that Tarniel was said to be beautiful. She resisted a motherly smile, boys will be boys.
“Oh!” Was all Beleg said.
Sulawen gave him some more time to gather his wits, and when he made no further reply, she added: “But be aware that I may be speaking of this prematurely, your grandfather has not yet made up his mind whether he will accept the proposal. Discussions about the dowry may yet turn to naught. However, I have made up my mind to see that no child of mine will caught up Malvegil’s political games unaware.”
“Yet now that you are aware, you will be wise to keep this information to yourself and do not mention it to anyone before your father has discussed it with you. In any case,” Sulawen added with a playful smile, “you will have something to consider when you observe the choir ladies during their practice!”
Beleg smiled guiltily. “I see aunt Rangwaien has informed you of my movements, mother.”
“Say rather, she has complained about it,” Sulawen said. “If your brother asks about this interview, you can tell him I have cautioned you in this matter. However, I have every faith in my sons that they will treat the ladies with nothing but gallantry and courtesy, as they have been raised to. Now go, I’m sure you and your friends had many plans for today.”
Beleg then left Sulawen’s chamber, unsure whether her last comment had been a compliment or a maternal warning.
Sulawen's quarters. Early afternoon, 18th November 1347
After Vorondariel had left, Sulawen pondered on how she should best pursue her intentions. She wanted to speak with Beleg on the matter of a possible marriage between him and Princess Tarniel, but she wished to do so privately and discretely. She knew very well that even Celebrindol would not look kindly on her speaking about the matter to their son before he could do so himself. And the King would no doubt be most wroth, but he at least had never needed much provocation to loudly bemoan his son’s choice of wife.
Yes, discretion was needed here. A thought struck her. Her sister Rangwaien had been complaining only the day before about Beleg and his companions as they had been listening in on – or rather watching- the choir-ladies’ practice. Perhaps that was a good excuse to…
She sent out a page to fetch her son to her chambers. The boy found the prince in the company of his brother and new-found foreign friend in the hall near the kitchen. There they had commandeered a table in a discrete corner, and had devoted all their attention to the sumptuous, exotic breakfast the cooks had provided for them. They no longer needed Herunarth to convince them of the virtues of Harnost Toast, hardly a crumb remained of the well-seasoned dish. Kirael, (more from experience than actual foresight) had also made sure the boys had a large kettle of hot tea to their disposal.
“Forgive me, master Beleg,” the page said when he approached the princes. “Your mother, the lady Sulawen, requires your presence in her drawing room.”
Beleg shared an uneasy look with his brother. Usually when they were called like this by either their father or their mother, they had been found out about some secret exploit that children usually wished to keep hidden from their parents.
Ignoring the summons would only make matters worse, so Beleg at once followed the page to his mother’s drawing room. There, the page announced him and withdrew at Sulawen’s request.
Beleg greeted his mother courteously in the silent hope that this would at least partly diffuse the expected parental anger. Sulawen returned the greeting but continued to look at him strangely.
“Ah,” she spoke at last. “How quickly you grow up.”
Beleg didn’t immediately answer, this wasn’t quite the conversation he expected.
“Come closer, Beleg, and take a seat. There is something I would like to discuss with you,” Sulawen said, indicating to her son the seat next to her. She went on, as soon as he was seated.
“My son,” she said, “what I’m about to say should not leave these walls. Perhaps it is unwise of me, but consider this a mother’s whim. No doubt your father will -in due time- speak to you on the matter in more detail, however I do not like you to be caught unaware when that time comes.”
“You have no doubt noticed the Rhudaurian envoy that have arrived in Amon Sûl. The Rhudaurian princess,” here Sulawen’s cheeks still flushed when she thought of her rival, “has spoken with your grandfather, the King, concerning an alliance.”
“I have heard she had come here to make use of the Stone,” Beleg acknowledged carefully, “But why do you confide in me about these matters, mother?”
Sulawen smiled briefly. “Have you not guessed it, Beleg? What is the oldest and strongest method of forging political alliances? Why, a marriage, of course!”
Now it was Beleg’s turn to flush. "But... she is so much older than I..." He trailed off, unsure of how to proceed.
Seeing his mother’s puzzled look, he ventured further, although not without some embarrassment for having to discuss such a thing with his own mother. “Could she even still produce me an Heir in my turn?"
Sulawen blinked for a moment. "What do you mean, my son?" She asked slowly.
Beleg licked his lips nervously. "Well... I understand that the Lady Gimilbeth has her merits and is highly regarded by some, and she has indeed retained the form of a younger maiden, but..."
He didn’t go any further as his mother jumped up from her seat as if stung by a wasp. “No, Beleg! No, no, no!”
She let out a short laugh before sitting down again, once more composed. “No, son,” she said earnestly. “Gimilbeth is not intended for you. King Tarnendur has a younger daughter – still in her teens, named Tarniel. It is she whose hand is offered in marriage.”
Sulawen leant back in her seat, and not able to resist one more little jab in Gimilbeth’s direction, she went on. “Queen Eilinel, Tarniel’s mother, is of noble Rhudarian birth, not a crass Umbarian. I am told her image was brought here, and sits atop the tower, in the High Chamber - where it was shown to your father, and even to King Malvegil, in the Stone. Your father has said she is fair to look upon."
Sulawen carefully studied her son’s expression at these revelations. A mixture of emotions chased one another on Beleg’s face. She saw (to her satisfaction) that Beleg seemed very much relieved that his bride would not be Gimilbeth. She even noticed a tiny glimmer of hopefulness when she mentioned that Tarniel was said to be beautiful. She resisted a motherly smile, boys will be boys.
“Oh!” Was all Beleg said.
Sulawen gave him some more time to gather his wits, and when he made no further reply, she added: “But be aware that I may be speaking of this prematurely, your grandfather has not yet made up his mind whether he will accept the proposal. Discussions about the dowry may yet turn to naught. However, I have made up my mind to see that no child of mine will caught up Malvegil’s political games unaware.”
“Yet now that you are aware, you will be wise to keep this information to yourself and do not mention it to anyone before your father has discussed it with you. In any case,” Sulawen added with a playful smile, “you will have something to consider when you observe the choir ladies during their practice!”
Beleg smiled guiltily. “I see aunt Rangwaien has informed you of my movements, mother.”
“Say rather, she has complained about it,” Sulawen said. “If your brother asks about this interview, you can tell him I have cautioned you in this matter. However, I have every faith in my sons that they will treat the ladies with nothing but gallantry and courtesy, as they have been raised to. Now go, I’m sure you and your friends had many plans for today.”
Beleg then left Sulawen’s chamber, unsure whether her last comment had been a compliment or a maternal warning.
