Elendor Info

  • Increase font size
  • Default font size
  • Decrease font size
Logs

(Archive) ETHRING: A Levy of Lords

Tags: Menelglir,  Lominzil,  Fencrist,  Calardan,  Adargraw,  Aewmir,  Ssamori

Short Summary: Adargraw joins the Gondorians in Ethring.
Date (real-life): 2014-01-22
Scene Location: Ethring, Lamedon
Lamedon: Ethring

Standing just south of the mountains and leaning over the Ringlo-- the township of Ethring is an uncluttered maze of cosy buildings; some set in spacious avenues while others lean toward the hills. The mood is carefree and airy in this settlement, so detached from Gondor's greater dramas.

Homes and stores are open to the roads-- their classic architecture consistently favouring the open, elegant, and roomy. Balconies open everywhere atop of reoccurring second stories, and pristine verandas spread from front doors of manors to be shaded with canopies in the summer. Bronze benches crowned with bowls are placed beside the lime-hued cobblestone roads to be lit at night.

Here in the centre of the townsquare, from which all surrounding roadways are born, sits a great fountain. Children and teenagers might splash in its water at times, when they are not taking advantage of the river. 



The pink and yellow sky of a wintry afternoon does much for the state of Ethring, vigiliant in its delirium of illness. Stores lie closed, their cobbles unswept of the morning's snow.

A man wrapped in black proceeds slowly down the quiet street, carrying water. A thin film of ice has formed on the surface of the buckets slung over his shoulders.

[Menelglir(#17324)] 
"Lominzil?" asks Menelglir, emerging from whatever building they have taken over as the group's quarters for now--no doubt cloe to the building designated for the care of the sick. "Let me help you with those buckets."

[Morissa(#14937)] 
The head healer from the previous day has taken to moving between the locations where the sick are being held. It requires some extra effort on Aewmir's part, but at least everyone is under shelter now. At the moment, she is hurrying back towards the inn even now, a woolen shawl wrapped tightly around her shoulders.
 
 
"Careful," says Lominzil, passing a bucket, "it is water for cooking."

"Are there any new cases?" he calls across the street.

[Menelglir(#17324)] 
"Very well," Menelglir says, taking a bucket from Lominzil. "I do not know--let us hope she has good news," he says--waiting for Aewmir's answer.

[Morissa(#14937)] 
Shaking her head as she approaches the two women, Aewmir does smile slightly though she looks no less tired than she did yesterday. "No new cases. I'll not bet on it, but it's an encouraging development."

[Fencrist(#12253)]  
Fencrist, sitting tall in the saddle, trots up the street, his horse's shoes klopping loudly on the cobbles.

[Menelglir(#17324)] 
"Good news at least," Menelglir says. "What do you require of us? I have some training dealing with wounds--mostly battlefield business, not fevers and such. But that at least may be better than no additional help at all."
 
"Good," says Lominzil, and calls to the rider, "Going to relieve the guard?"

"I am making do with the inn's kitchens," he explains to the healer, shifting the water. "It is the most we can do, besides tending baths and running errands."

[Morissa(#14937)] 
"Any little bit of help is more than welcome." Aewmir smiles at Lominzil. Turning towards Menelglir, she nods, "Well firstly, can you give me an update on those who are current at the inn? Has anyone worsened or improved?"

[Fencrist(#12253)]  
Fencrist pulls up his horse close to the others in the street, but with room enough not to hurt anyone when he spurs the beast's flanks. The horse rears dramatically for a moment and neighs loudly! Finished with his brash display, Fencrist slides to the ground and gives the stallion an affectionate pat.

"Good day, squire. Just coming off guard, actually. Hir Calardan's men have things in hand."

[Menelglir(#17324)] 
The healers are resting best they can. I've not had a report yet on how many wait at our makeshift clinic," Meneglir answers the woman first. 

"Good--" the knight has turned to listen to Fencrist, nodding. "Lominzil--where do you need Fencrist helping you today? In the kitchens? Or perhaps we need him to fetch herbs? "


"The Man-at-arms is recovering," says Lominzil evenly. "I would advise that he remain inside - and I will require assistance cooking for thirty."

[Adargraw(#5440)]  
Clip.
Clop. 
Clip.
Clop. 

Another horseman approaches, his tall courser a match for the length of the Man atop it. His garb is black, emblazoned with the white tree of Gondor, and cables of rank to show him both lord and captain. Nimothan leans forward upon the pommel of his saddle for a moment, watching the display put on by the rider before him critically. 

"Report, Man-at-Arms," his rich tenor rolls off his tongue smoothly, "And what is the fate of the fisherman; for I did not hear word from him, and yet I am challenged by quarantine guards."
"But first," he adds, "my lady sister told me of patients who have become well?"

[Calardan(#30834)]  
Hir Calardan emerges from the inn in trail of another man. The two converse briefly and quietly at the doors before the Steward places a hand to the man's shoulder and seems to leave him with parting words. Soon dispersed of his company, the Hlorithain knight looks up at the rider but chooses his words wisely.

For now, he says nothing.

[Fencrist(#12253)]  
"Inside, with the plaguers?" Fencrist's face says how he feels about the prospect. "I'm luckly enough I didn't come down with it back in Linhir."

[Morissa(#14937)] 
"Yes." Aewmir loosk up at the sound of a horse, her eyes following the rider before they slide back to Lominzil, "There is one in particular, actually, that I believe one in your company need to speak to as soon as you have opportunity. She is ... what brough the disease to this place, at least that is what I believe."
 
"Or outside, in the cold," answers the Squire evenly. Ducking into the shelter of an awning, he turns back to Aewmir, allowing greater men to meet and speak on the road.

"I am interested. Please continue and describe this patient, Lady?"

[Menelglir(#17324)] 
Menelglir has turned to watch the arrival of the Nimothan, but Aewmir's words draw his attention back sharply. "One in our company? What do you mean? One of us is sick? Or what is your meaning?" he says.

[Adargraw(#5440)]  
Rising slightly in the saddly, Adargraw swings a long leg over the high back of his saddle, before descending to the earth. His tabard is worn without mail beneath, but rather a shirt of similar black. Saddlebags weigh heavily upon the horse, but his eyes remain upon the Man-at-Arms of the Silver Ship, at least for the moment, "Stay your tongue, lad," he says, striding forward, "You are not of my company, perhaps, but nor are you of rank. Or shall the squire," he begins, his eyes shifting to Lominzil, "Offer news? If so, then I require a man to see to my horse."
 
"Shall we enter the inn? It is clean of the sickness, and supper begins in an hour," the Squire puts forth.

[Morissa(#14937)] 
Smiling slowly at Menelglir's questions, Aewmir joins Lominzil under the awning for a moment, "She is a young girl. No more than a child by my reckoning. When she arrived her she was sick with the disease whose symptoms you are all quite familiar with. It was from her that the plague spread, and whrever she came from - that must surely be the source - for I had heard no rumors of it until after she came to me."

[Calardan(#30834)]  
"Captain," calls out the Hlorithain knight, stepping aside the gathered company to address the Nimothan, "I am Hir Calardan and Steward to the lands of Tarnost. Mine were the men who questioned your purpose. I see that it is well that they have let you through and Lord Denethor is joined to our purpose."

[Menelglir(#17324)] 
"See to his horse, Fencrist. Captain, the fisherman has recovered. And now, it seems, there is more information if you would like to join us," Menelglir says, then looks to the woman healer. "Lead us to her--if we are to talk with her, then let us do so immediately."

[Menelglir(#17324)] 
"See to his horse, Fencrist. Captain, it seems there is more information if you would like to join us," Menelglir says, then looks to the woman healer. "Lead us to her--if we are to talk with her, then let us do so immediately."
 
"I do offer news, Captain," says Lominzil, opening the door and allowing wamrth to seep out. "If you would join us. Hir Calardan as well."

[Fencrist(#12253)]  
Fencrist nods at the orders. Taking the reins, he leads the captain's horse away to the stable where the party's own rides are being kept.

[Adargraw(#5440)]  
"Lord Calardan," the Nimothan replies, "I have heard your name praised; you range far from home. It would seem that my messenger has failed me, if you have been drawn so far from the sea to set your Men upon the gates of such a town as this." 

Looking to the others, in turn, he says simply, "Lead on, and speak."

[Morissa(#14937)] 
"Actually." Aewmir turns to Menelglir with a small smile, "She's just inside the inn. I've been paying for a place for her a bed for her to sleep here because she refused to return home, and there was no room for her among the sick. Plus, she doesn't seem to have even a single coin to her name."

Waving a hand towards the door, Aewmir steps carefully inside and then turns, patiently waiting just inside the door.

[Calardan(#30834)]  
"I have heard little of what is said of my name; my post in Amroth relinquished, I am left to my nephew's land's caretaking and Tarnost is only south and west," says the weathered Hlorithain knight. He stands still at the entrance to the inn, holding open the door for the rest of the company to venture inwards.

[Menelglir(#17324)] 
Menelglir nods to Calardan and slips inside the inn.
 
"We cared for a patient in Linhir, who led us here to Ethring," says Lominzil over his shoulder, leading the lords through a lamp-lit corridor to the warm, firelit commons. "Many in this town have taken ill with the winter's onset - delirium accompanying fever - and the healers were in great need."

Rolling up his sleeves, the Squire fills a giant cast-iron cauldron over the flame, "Hir Calardan, at the marches of his land, heard of trouble here, and raised his banners in quarantine."

Lominzil says, "We are acquainted, and were glad of his assistance."

[Adargraw(#5440)]  
"Faithful in times of dire need," Adargraw replies, "Without regard for station, but rather for the realm. I shall hold such a name with respect. All else is folly." 

With that, he follows the white-cloaked knight into the inn, showing little sign of listening to the squire's account, he nonetheless responds to it, "I bid the fisherman send word to me if things were indeed amiss. Has something ill befallen him? Or was my faith misplaced?"

[Fencrist(#12253)]  
Fortunately, the party's horses are being kept at a stable close to the in. Fencrist passes the captain's horse to a waiting groom and then heads inside the inn through another entrance, meeting the others inside.

[Calardan(#30834)]  
"I have not caught your name, Captain," says Hir Calardan as the Nimothan passes. All gathered, and Fencrist entering elsewhere, he shuts the door.

 
"Silmir is here," answers Lominzil. "I had thought we sent word in Linhir, though the illness was not so dire then. We had thought, ere so much help was needed, to send some of our party back with word."

"But here we are, and here you are." He produces a heavy, flat-bladed knife and brings it to the table, where winter vegetables are stacked in array.

[Adargraw(#5440)]  
"Uiras," the Captain replies, "When I studied in the halls of Dol Amroth. Adargraw Nimothan," he adds after a moment, before returning to nod slowly to the squire. 

"Then let us be swift, I shall see to my messenger as time permits."



[Calardan(#30834)]  
Hir Calardan lets most pass to see the patient-- all, that is, except one. He says, "Squire. A moment, if you will."

(Lominzil) 
Unlike the child of yesteryear, the Squire squares his gaze on the Hlorithain, and submits no words.

[Calardan(#30834)]  
There is a table nearby and the Hlorithain moves smoothly to it, pulling out a seat for the Girithlin before affording himself one of his own.

Seated, the knight says, "Have you yet seen one of those who is truly affected? I am wary of the term 'disease', for it can mean many things."

(Lominzil) 
"It is a malady that brings true fever," answers Lominzil, studying his hands, which have cracked in the chill with frequent washing. "And there is delirium. At first I suspected, yet these patients have nothing to gain, and all to lose."

"What do your eyes see in this town, Hir?"

[Calardan(#30834)]  
Calardan is slow to respond. He takes his time to think over his words.

"I see the same as you-- too many sick for this to be a ruse; but there is a yoke to which this party is bound, and it is not Hir Menelglir's."

(Lominzil) 
"I do not understand," says the Squire.

"Why should the attention of the Swan be drawn to small Ethring?"

[Calardan(#30834)]  
"I suspect we shall find out soon enough," says Hir Calardan. "I thank you for your answers, Squire. Let us join the others."

(Lominzil)
A beat, and, "I do not feel his hand in this, and yet..."

He follows.

[Calardan(#30834)]  
Hir Calardan offers the Squire a smile, "No, not him. But evil has many faces."

"Luckily, so does good."

Date added: 2014-02-26 01:36:01    Hits: 47
Powered by Sigsiu.NET RSS Feeds