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(Archive) PELARGIR: The Day's Catch

Tags: Adargraw,  Silmir,  Lominzil

Short Summary: Adargraw would call Silmir into the Hosts. Lominzil watches.
Date (real-life): 2014-01-02
Scene Location: Pelargir
Pelargir: Ilmentirion - Hall

This chamber is vast, slightly echoing--a great domed hemisphere, the stone midnight-stained at the apex and gradually lightening to azure, into which are set myriads of glistening gems to mimic Varda's own. Round the base of these circular walls run scenes in relief of the star-kindler herself, while upon the tiled floor--this done in colored glass of green and brown--stand several curving worktables, stacked high with charts, codices, quills and inkpots, and all manner of odd contrivances crafted in flashing brass.
The windows edging the great chamber show only inky-black darkness now, but the jewels set into the walls and ceiling coruscate with lamplight, flickering in the darkness above--here is a starscape within-doors to pay homage to Varda's own, grander vista without. In the room's center is a spiralling staircase, brass-railed, that rises to a trap-door in the ceiling; to the southwest stands the dark and imposing door that leads back outside.


[Silmir(#24455)] When the fisherman comes in the hall this second time, he is unescorted, and also not quite as awed by all the soldiers. His eyes look over the groups of men, hunting for Lord Nimothan. A piece of parchment is in his hand, held close to him so it doesn't get lost.

The Captain of the White Tree Company can be found amongst its men this evening. There is a small cadre of men, their black tabards and cords of rank set aside, each with a long pipe in his mouth, mumbling low in an archaic tongue.
Coming upon the White Tree in the city by chance, Lominzil of the Swans has joined himself to their company for the nonce. He sits comfortably against the curved wall of the observatory, with empty plate and unfolded map, upon which lie breadcrumbs as markers. He is not alone at the table, but he watches only a small jewel on a string, which throws its angled light onto the page.

"Who?" he murmurs to himself, not lifting eyes. "... Herrings?"

[Silmir(#24455)] Silmir catches sight of the tall captain, making his way toward the man as directly as possible, though he does dodge to keep out of the way of others walking through the hall. He waits respectfully for Adargraw to notice his presence, not wishing to presume to interrupt him from his time off with his men.

The Nimethain lord's attention is captured, earlier than might be expected, but he rises swiftly and offers a swift motion with his left hand, the small group around him tightening and hushing their voices. 

"The Fisherman returns," he offers, his voice rolling slightly with a droll tone, "I pray the day's catch is of interest."

[Silmir(#24455)] "Not my usual catch, but hopefully of interest to you, my lord." Silmir hands over the parchment. On it is a tolerable map of the country with detailed directions to Suliell's village, along with more detailed notes on where rumors might have spread from about the sickness and its symptoms. The writing is quite legible, though not as neat as one trained by tutors might have been; obviously his own.

Adargraw reaches out to receive the map with his left hand, his right raising up to grasp the bulb of his heavy-looking pipe, a mild frown forming upon his lips as he reviews it. His mild expression is belied by the small, piercing irises of his eyes, as they turn back towards the fisherman; black pools in a sea of gray. "You have heard the news of our council, I presume?"

[Silmir(#24455)] Silmir shakes his head in the negative. "I had not heard any news, though I would not say no to learning, if I can be so bold." He tries not to look too eager to hear what had happened, but isn't entirely successful in that.
The crystal at the end of Lominzil's thread hovers, curves in a lazy arc over the crumb marked as Pelargir. Then, west towards Andrast, wobbling a little on its tether, it swings down to Umbar, to Ithilien, and finally across the backbone of the Nimrais. In a steady circle it spins across the span of Gondor.

The lord takes a deep reath, releasing it slowly, his pipe still held loosely in one hand, he returns the map to the fisherman. 

"The Knights of the Swan shall investite this, for these lands are guarded by Lords who are sworm to Imrahil in Dol Amroth," he says, a frown of thought rolling over his lips as he looks upon the man before him.

[Silmir(#24455)] Silmir nods, taking back the map. "I assumed as much. It is logical that others at least look into it quietly, before a panic can spread." His brow furrows a little as he watches the captain frown toward him in a look that the fisherman is starting to consider Lord Nimothan's 'plotting face'. "My lord? Is there something else you wish of me?"

The Captain's eyes raise slightly, "Take a care, when offering service," he says, "For is that not what you disparage your own brother for doing? If you have no sword, I can summon one for you, that you might fulfill your wish." 

"For it was decided that along with the Knights of the Swan, and their Squires," a glance offered towards Lominzil, "That the Silver Ship and the White Tree should also send a representative. Is that what you offer, to march in the livery of the eldest of all the hosts of Gondor, to seek out the source of this illness; should it even exist."

[Silmir(#24455)] A muscle in the young man's jaw clenches a little as his brother is mentioned. "Make no mistake, my disappointment with my brother was not because of his choice to serve, but because of the manner of his doing it. He left his family when we needed him, snuck out as a thief in the night so he would not have to say good bye. I disparage him for not returning when I wrote that she was ill, on her death bed. I disparage him for only coming home to Dol Amroth to see her buried, and not before. I disparage him for many things, but not his service." Silmir quiets, looking down. "I wish to help. But I know nothing of combat. I know only ships and the catching of fish."

"If that is your view of what is required, then perhaps it is better that you did not make the same choice," Adargraw says, his voice firming, "For a Man of Gondor comes and goes at the Steward's will. Am I less, because my own family forbade my return home from studies in the house of Theoden of Rohan, or Imrahil in Dol Amroth? Or is that the whetstone, and I the sword?" 

His gaze raises again to Lominzil, "Squire, have you not endured hardships, when you wished to return to your familial home," he asks, "But stood the course, in your service to this Man's home?"
The pendulum wobbles, then stops, snapped up in a net of long fingers.

"It is duty," answers the Squire. "Once your resolve has been made, it is troth. But consider this well: it is a most bold and binding resolution."

[Silmir(#24455)] Silmir listens, frowning a little. "His arrogance and recklessness does him little service in the guard. I can only hope that he can learn from the wisdom of others in his service." He pauses, clearing his throat. "I would have at least given an answer to the letter. It was poorly handled on his part, but it is in the past. Those things do not hinder me. As I said, I know little beyond my work on the seas." He folds his arms over his chest, chewing his bottom lip. "I would like to know a little more about what would be required."

"I have need of a Man to travel with this party; but not as a fisherman. I have need of a Herald and steward, but require a man with steel in his heart, at least," Adargraw says, his lips curling downwards in a scowl, even as his eyes appear to soften slightly, they return and remain set upon the fisherman. 

"I would put to you the choice, to cast your nets, or to bear the standard of the White Tree. I have many swords, many spears, at my disposal," the Captain says, every bit his rank, with or without tabard and cords of rank, "But I think I must seek another, for I must send a Man on this expedition."

[Silmir(#24455)] "You have many men. I..." He pauses, looking down. "Might I have time to consider?" Silmir speaks softly, a little unsurely, though the steel Adargraw wishes for is beginning to harden a little in the young man. The courage is there, just little confidence in himself to use it.

"I shall consider, yet," Adargraw replies, frowning, "For it is rare for the Company of the White Tree to accept a Man not already sworn to the service of the Steward. The Silver Ship is full of honourable Men, who have said the words. The White Tree is of Men who understand them." 

With that, the Lord Nimothain turns, "The hour is late, call upon me in the morn if you wish to pursue this matter; and should you wish to bear the burden of the black tabard, consider all the more. Do not forget the final words; oathbreaking, with vengeance."

[Silmir(#24455)] Silmir gives a bow to Lord Nimothan. "Thank you for understanding. I simply do not wish to make an oath without fully considering. Vengeance is not something I wish to incur. Good night, then, my lord." He turns and heads out of the hall, thoughts racing.

Date added: 2014-02-26 01:04:02    Hits: 45
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