Family Reunion

Elenur of House Bragollach meets his son, Ceredir. They don't hit it off well.
Sort Date: no date set
Location: Dol Amroth
Description: [Elenur(#14000)] 
        A chilly early afternoon...

        The sun's steady rays dapple upon the wooden floors of the library, offering light but little warmth amidst the stacks of scrolls and bound parchment. Faint and far off is the bustle of the city in this haven of calm.

        Amidst the gentle chaos of the room sits its sole occupant, a goblet paused - perhaps forgotten - midway to his lips as he reads the bound volume in his lap. Stern of mien and of stiff bearing even in these surroundings - sits Elenur, the elder knight of the Bragollachs.

        A shuffle of feet and gentle scrape of the door announces intruders into this peaceful scene. An old and tottering manservant. "Sire.. you have a visitor..."

The visitor is a dark haired young man of 18, clad in greens and browns more suited to the wood than this fine marble-floored hall. Indeed, the young man seems keenly aware that he is out of place--he shifts uncomfortably behind the manservant, waiting to be announced and not knowing what to do with his hands. His eyes keep roving the room and its finery, and then come to gaze on Elenur, that man's clothing and his face, and then away again.

        The words intrude upon the silence of the room, and are met with a stern gaze. "Yes.. what is it?", asks the gruff voice. "Sire, this young master wishes to speak with you. Says it is important."

        A The goblet is placed untasted upon a the table beside the armchair, and the now free hand waves the lad in - "Well, come on then.. have a seat.." - and toward another of the armchairs "what do you need boy?"

The young man hesitates for a heartbeat, then takes a step into the room. Still, his gaze wanders about once more before it settles on this sterner older man--Ceredir taking measure of the man's features, his own brow furrowing.

"Forgive me, sir. But you are Sir Elenur of House Bragollach?"

        "Aye", comes back the gruff voice. Interest finally seems to stir in the old knight as his name is formally put and his posture stiffens. "That I am", says Elenur.

        "What business do you have with the House that you have sought me out?" The hand waves the boy toward the armchair again. Grey eyes take in the attire of the lad, and a matching furrow appears upon the old knight's forehead. "A long way from your normal haunts, aren't you?"

"I..." the young man starts to say something, then clearly changes his mind as he sits in the indicated chair. "I am here with my company. For the tournament. Though I just joined them, and so I don't really have a role in any of the contests. You see..." and he stares intently at the man's face, "I just turned 18."

        Good. Good..", nods the knight in obvious approval. "New blood must help aid our vigilance in these dark times."

        Rising up, Elenur crosses to a table where clean goblets surround a number of decanters. A wine is picked, and splash of red meets clear shiny metal. Walking back to the boy, he holds out the glass "To luck and bravery.. in the face of darkness", says the man with a smile. "What company are you with?"

Behind the man's back, Ceredir stares, grimly. "Luck. Yes, luck. As for my company, it's the Willow Wardenry." As he reaches for the goblet, he pauses, letting his hand rest on the wine but not take it from Elenur a moment longer than he should. Then he takes the goblet and sips. "You see, my name, sir, is Ceredir. I thought I was the son of Lathnoss." Grey eyes now look up to meet Elenur's.

        "Well met Ceredir, son of Lathnoss, man of the Willows" Stepping back, the knight retakes his seat. "That name.. Lathnoss, is familiar.", says Elenur - the frown of thoughtfulness reappearing upon his face.

        For a moment, it seems he has it, but then the frown slips away. A shrug, before the steely grey eyes focus back on the boy. "So, what business does a Scout have with the House?"

Bewilderment and frustration cross the youth's face, but then his jaw sets in determination, his frown as stubborn as Elenur's, his eyes gone just as steeled.

"You see, though, sir, I am not the son of Lathnoss. When I reached the age of my majority this month, he told me. I am the son of Elenur Bragollach, though not by wedlock. I was raised in Minas Tirith so as not to be...an inconvenience to my father."


        A single syllable. The gray eyes hold the boy's gaze. Silence descends upon the library again. Then simply...

        "What do you want?"

"Want?" The question takes the youth by surprise, and he stares slack-jawed at Elenur.

Then anger kicks in.

"I wanted to meet my father. I want to meet my mother and the family that I rightfully belong to. Marriage or no marriage. I want to know if that woman I saw playing the harp outside here yesterday is my cousin. I want to know...I want to know," he continues, anger flashing in his eyes, "why you abandoned me to a sh*thole for 18 years and thought you could get away with pretending you're not my father."

        "Your father", muses the gruff voice, even as cold eyes look the boy up and down. "Your father is the one you have known all these years. That is your life."
         Sitting back in his chair, the tone is merciless. "You will find no cousin. No -", and here a trace of emotion flits across Elenur's face and voice - "mother." A pause. "And most of all, you will claim no father among the Bragollachs."

"Oh no," the youth insists angrily. "That is _not_ my life. That's the life that you thought you would hide me in because you don't want to take responsibility for an inconvenient fact that happened 18 years ago. You _think_ you can hide me away! You _think_ you can just make me live the life a a stinking, filthy tanner!" He slams his wine goblet down as he stands, the wine sloshing out onto his hand and dripping onto the fine wood of the table.

And then Ceredir stares at the man before him, pain in his eyes. "I thought..." he says more quietly, "that you would be happy to see me. That you'd want to recognize me as your son. A Scout of Ithilien," he says, frowning and fingering the fabric of his cloak.

        "Don't be a fool, boy", says the knight as he observes the results of the outburst pool across the table. "You are nothing but .. ", a sigh, ".. an old man's mistake."

         There is pain in his voice too, but controlled, steady, "Tempted by unwanted life and jilted by undeserved fate.. and you the unwanted reminder." Rising up, the voice harshens. "No! Ceredir. Go back to he that raised you. You must live as a tanner's son.

        "I am not your father."

Youth and rage get the better of Ceredir, and his hands ball into fists as Elenur speaks, the boy's own anger stopping him from seeing the pain in the older man's eyes. "NO!" his rage breaks and he lashes out at whatever is closest to him: in this case, the wine goblet, which goes flying across the room, clattering to the floor as he hits it. "No! Lathnoss has rejected me. Told me I am not his son. To seek my true family, which is you. HERE!"

He doesn't keep his voice down--surely the servants must be hearing this? "You paid him! You _paid_ him to raise me! How could you?! What kind ...what kind of monster are you?!"

        The rage and the outburst go unremarked upon. As the old and doddering manservant peeks his head in concernedly, Elenur shakes his head. "Go", he says to the boy, his voice turned cold and final.

        "If your father has tossed you out on the street, take that up with him, not me. Disturb the peace of my house no longer. Your business here is finished."

         Walking away from his son, Elenur addresses the manservant. "Show Master Ceredir out. I am sure his company misses his winsome presence."

"Don't think you can get rid of me so easily, old man!" Ceredir snarls, even as he heads to the door. "My father _has_ tossed me out on the street and I _am_ taking it up with him. This is not the last that you'll hear of it, either." He's no longer shouting, but there is threat and anger combined in his voice. "Oh no. I will make you regret throwing me out like a piece of trash, you piece of filth. You don't deserve to be my father!" With that he turns on his heels and storms out.

Players: Elenur,Ceredir
Located in: Gondorian | Mordain