The Knighting of Arashen, the Azure Knight of Dol Amroth
Backstory (this took place in 2000 or 2001):
_The White Stag of Ithilien_
/
Scene I:/
/ /The Telpekhor held a Midwinter fete in their Pinnath Gelin keep, Nan Eirin. The notables of the western fiefs were invited. As part of the celebrations, the family hosted a hunt on their eastern lands where the hills end and the wilderness stretches up to the Ered Nimrais. Among those attending the hunt were, Laeraelin, Duilin, Meneliel and Morrandir. The hounds caught scent of a stag and the hunters chased him through the woods. Laeraelin and Duilin lead the chase, and both managed to sink arrows into the hart. Duilin ran off further into the woods and thus missed the appearance of a mysterious man who identified himself as the Azure Knight. He claimed the lands were his and that a price must be paid for killing his stag. He put Laeraelin into an enchanted swoon and carried her to his horse. The others protested and Morrandir challenged the knight for possession of the lady. The Knight offered the Knights of Dol Amroth a chance to redeem Laeraelin. They were charged to find and capture the White Stag of Ithilien and bring it to him in that place in one year and one day or else Laeraelin’s freedom would be forfeit and she would be doomed to live wit the Azure Knight for the rest of her days. He paroled her until that time.
/Scene II:/
/ /Having received permission to enter Ithilien, Dorionn Telpekhor entered the garden in the company of two rangers – Phallanath and Arathil. They three tracked the stag and set up a trap using a magical bait made from special flower and several strands of Laeraelin’s hair. The White Stag appeared, ate the bait and a net was thrown over the hart. The three hunters ran to secure the stag but when they got there it was gone. But beneath the netting was a newborn baby boy. By appearance he looked like a pure Dunadan and had a strange birthmark shaped like a swan on his left shoulder. Phallanath instructed Dorionn to bring the baby to Laeraelin.
/Scene III:/
Laeraelin presented the baby to Imrahil before returning to Pinnath Gelin on the appointed day. She showed him the birthmark and everyone marveled at it. She announced that she would not give the baby to the Azure Knight but would allow herself to be taken if that was to be her doom. The Prince forbade her to give the child up and declared that the Azure Knight would not have her, either. He officially placed the infant in her care and instructed her to present him when he came of age to become a squire of the Order. Then he sent her off to meet the strange knight with a large contingent of Swan-Knights.
/Scene IV:/
/ /They meet the Azure Knight, he says the baby is special and also places him in Laeraelin’s care – releasing her from the blood price. Then he gives her a nifty knife from Numenor and disappears.
/Aftermath:/
/ /Laeraelin officially adopts him as her son. He father grants him the right to bear the name Telpekhor. He lives in Dol Amroth until age 5 when he and his mother retire to Pinnath Gelin. Despite her urging, he does not travel to Dol Amroth at age 16 to become a squire. Instead he spends his time alone in the eastern wilds of Pinnath Gelin, obsessively searching for the Azure Knight. He does this for three years and learns the ways of woodcraft, wild animals and tracking. In addition, he is gifted with speed and agility. At age 19 he abandons his search and travels to Minas Tirith where he joins the Order.
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Knighting Part I
Summary: Arashen asks his Knight, Imrakhor, permission to follow Sirion to where it is rumored the Azure Knight was sighted.
*******
The Letter:
A messenger arrives delivering the following dispatch to Arashen...
To the Squire Arashen Telpekhor,
Good greetings and salutations. It would do me great honour if you could seek leave from your Lord Imrakhor and attend to me at your leisure at the embassy of Dol Amroth. I have news of personal consequence to you concerning the Azure Knight.
Respectfully,
Sirion son of Tirion of Calembel
*******
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Weather: Cloudy
Time: Early Morning <09:07:33 >
Season: Summer
Date: Orbelain - August 10, 3046
Real Time: Sun Apr 05 16:42:31 2009
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Hall of Ulmo
The Hall of Ulmo is not so much a grand hall, but a private chamber where the Knights of Dol Amroth can relax and enjoy each other's camaraderie while in Minas Tirith. A large fireplace of comfortable-looking bricks stands in the northern wall, and the floor is covered in a royal blue carpet, amazing for its soft, padded depth. A table to seat twenty men is near the windows in the south of the room, which look out over the street. Comfortable chairs and couches are arranged near the fire, and small tables hold books and games of strategy.
The great curtains of blue velvet are open, and the sunlight floods through the windows from outside. The scent of savory spices wafts in from the kitchen-door, and several other doors lead to smaller sleeping quarters, all west of the fireplace in the north wall. Several knights sit at the great table, enjoying their meal.
***
A fire burns.
And near it sits the Lord Bragollach staring blankly at the leaping flames, alone, his solitude all the greater in the grandness of the Hall of Ulmo.
The doors burst open and in rushes Arashen Telpekhor, Squire of the Blue. Great emotion swirls in his grey eyes as they sweep the great hall, searching, searching. In his hand he clutches tightly a piece of parchment.
The young man is nearly past his Knight before he sees him. He stops abruptly and pivots, moving gracefully in his unnatural manner. "My lord!" he cries breathlessly, "May I have a word with you?"
The Swansman turns his eyes away the fire at once, and what alert sounds in them is only passing. He greets his Squire calmly, "Yes, Arashen?"
"Go on. You need no permission to speak with me."
And thus encouraged to speak, the Squire appears to have lost his voice. He stares at the Bragollach Knight for many long moments in silence. Turmoil yet roils in his eyes, stripping his newly minted manhood away to the boy beneath.
Gathering himself with visible effort, he takes a deep breath and begins to speak, somewhat calmly. "I received a letter from Sirion the Elder, my mother's great uncle. He has bid me seek your leave to meet with him and...and...
"He has news of the Azure Knight," he finishes succinctly, biting off his last words.
"Oh?"
"And what news is this?" encourages Bor with a question.
"I do not know," Arashen confesses. He pauses, looking thoughtfully at his Knight - even a bit cautiously. "Do you know the story of my birth? Do you know of who I speak?"
"Sir," he adds hastily.
"I had precious little time in my youth for story time, Squire," says the Captain. "But now, now I sit and stare into fires for hours at a time."
"Tell me."
"When my mother still hunted," Arashen begins, after taking another deep breath," she chanced to shoot a stag."
"It was in Pinnath Gelin during a Midwinter Feast. Before the party could claim the beast, a man appeared clad all in Azure. The Azure Knight he named himself. He claimed the lands and stag as his own and then demanded a life for a life. He put my mother into an enchanted swoon and carried her away. One of her guests, a Knight, challenged the man. The Azure Knight relented and laid a geas upon my mother. He gave the hunting party a year and a day to find, capture and bring him the White Stag of Ithilien. If they failed, he would reclaim my mother and she was to spend the rest of her life with him."
A grey-haired Knight, seated some distance away, looks up from his chess game to watch the young Squire curiously.
The Knight-Captain stares at Arashen.
"That is enough."
"Tell Sirion that you have my leave to pursue this tale to its end," says Bor, "But that is what it will be: an end. You will return to your service, with nary another word of White Stags of Ithilien or magical Knights."
Arashen flushes deeply and nods his head, saying nothing. If possible, the turmoil in his eyes has increased.
The grey-haired Knight rises from his seat. "I was there," he says firmly, his calm eyes steady on the young Bragollach. "I was in court the day they presented the infant to Prince Imrahil. I heard the story, I heard the Prince's command and I saw the mark."
"I congratulate you, Sir Knight," says the young Swansman to the older.
"But our Prince is absent and his sons lost at sea, and now is not the time or the place for my mind to be further burdened by such a fanciful tale."
"You are free to go, Arashen. Find your past, but do not forget the present."
The elder Knight snorts once and shakes his head. He does not bother to respond but sits down again to his game of chess, muttering something quietly to his opponent.
"Thank you, sir," Arashen replies, politely - there is however, still a hint of agitation to be found in his voice. Bowing, he rises and turns to leave the great hall, nearly as quickly as he entered.
As Arashen disappears out of the hall, the Lord Bragollach turns to face the fire anew. And it is some minutes before he rises and walks over to the chess board and to the men seated before it. He knocks the pieces off...
And then, in a huff, the Knight-Captain is gone.
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Summary: Sirion the Elder and Arashen depart Minas Tirith in search of the Azure Knight. High up in the Mountains, Arashen is confronted with a fleeing thief and the man he stole from. With Sirion ridden ahead to the village, it falls to Arashen to render judgment.
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Weather: Clear
Time: Midday <13:17:39 >
Season: Summer
Date: Orgilion - August 19, 3046
Real Time: Wed Apr 08 18:05:53 2009
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Chapterhouse of the Swan
The slick marble floors and grand, cylindrical pillars that support the cathedral-like ceiling of this room are meant to recall the Hall of Armour in the Marble Citadel itself--and do so wonderfully. The floor is a black speckled with white and silver, polished to almost a reflective sheen, and the pillars span many feet high into the air, dark marble as well. From the beams of the ceiling high overhead fly many banners of the most storied and prominent Houses of the Belfalas, displaying their devices proudly: Bragollach, Girithlin, Telamarth, Isilrim, Hlorithain, Edainemyndon and others.
High, narrow windows in the walls above let shafts of sunlight fall readily into this mighty chamber, illuminating the great vault in a soft bath of of warming light. A single carpet-walk of royal blue runs from the entry in the southwest to a Grand Staircase in the northeast--a stairway that slopes down from above and, by the banner of the Ship and Swan above it, can only lead to the chambers of Imrahil himself. A set of double doors graven with the image of the Silver Swan lies east.
***
Sitting by the fire in the chapterhouse is old Lord Sirion. He stares into the fire calmly. In his hand, he holds a cup of warm tea. He smiles and says, "Life is beautiful."
A young man, appearing to be in great agitation, enters the room: Arashen Telpekhor.
His grey eyes quickly search and evidently find, what they seek, for as soon as they come to rest upon the old man by the fire, the Squire of the Blue makes his way to Isilrim. "Uncle," he greets, bowing low, his clenched fist over his heart.
"You said you have news of the Azure Knight," he says without further preamble, taking a seat nearby. His gaze, intense and rapt, never strays from Sirion.
The old knight rises slowly and looks upon Arashen, "You have grown strong Arashen Telpekhor. Perhaps the time has come for the wheel of your fate to turn."
"The Azure Knight has been heard of. He is in the passes nigh Mount Mindolluin where ‘tis said he dominates over a mountain village. When word came to Dol Amroth and to my ears, I knew very well of the strange fate of your finding and therefore came hither. Together, you and I shall go."
The Squire's eyes widen at the news. The young man leaps to his feet, his emotions worn clearly upon his features. "I can be ready within the hour!"
"My Knight has given me leave to, as he says, ‘follow this tale to its end’”.
"I can not believe he has been found at last. I searched for years in Pinnath Gelin and Morthond, both."
Sirion the Elder nods and says, "I have seen stranger things with my eyes. Get you ready and then we shall meet again by the Great Gate!"
"Yes, sir!" Arashen replies, breathlessly. And then he is off, rushing out of the Chapterhouse so fast he collides with another squire in his haste.
***New scene: The Journey***
Minas Tirith: Before the Great Gate
Long ago, the Kings of the Sea came and established the city before you, naming it Minas Anor, the Tower of the Setting Sun. Since that time long ago, it had been renamed to Minas Tirith, the City of Stone, yet in shape it remains as it was wrought in the ancient world.
For the fashion of Minas Tirith is such that it is cut from the hard horn of Mindolluin and it has been built on seven levels, each delved into the hill, and about each is set a wall, and in each wall is a gate. Yet the gates are not set in a line and only by going back and forth through the levels with their walls of glistening black stone, cutting through the vast pier of rock whose huge out-thrust bulk divides the city can one achieve the High Court and the Place of the Fountain before the White Tower.
The light of day shines bright and you can clearly see the black clad soldiers marching upon the battlements, ever on the watch against the foes of Gondor.
***
Before the great gate sits Sirion upon a white steed. Next to him, is another horse, bereft of rider. Waiting...
Arashen emerges from the shadows of the Great Gates, dressed for travel and laden with a few light packs. "How far is this village?" he asks as he secures his belongings on the horse.
He swings himself up into the saddle.
"Not far," says Sirion urging his steed forward. "Very nigh the city, but up in the hills where there are few folk."
Anorien: North of Mount Mindolluin
The towering walls of the city of Minas Tirith loom high above you, making you feel small and insignificant compared to the grandeur they hold. The winds from the north buffet the walls terribly here, whipping around you and causing you to pull your cloak ever tighter. All around you lie the plains of northern Gondor, and far to the north, you can just make out the tops of the southern Misties. Behind you lie the White Mountains, cold and still, secretive. And to the east...you shiver as your eyes turn eastwards for there, much closer than you had imagined lie the mountains forming the border of the Dark Lands. Perhaps you should seek safety within the walls.
The Sun is still quite high in the sky and the waters lay sparkling
under a clear Summer sky.
***
Sirion the Elder rides on. He says to Arashen, "So tell me nephew. How is it being under the dominion of Lord Bragollach?"
As the travelers leave summer behind in the lower elevations, Arashen pulls forth his cloak and swings it about his broad shoulders. With one hand, he clasps his brooch crafted in the shape of the eight-rayed star of the Telpekhiri. "He treats me with surprising fairness," answers Arashen, glancing to the old Isilrim beside him. "I was not only so, but we shared..."
The Squire pauses, looking as if he were searching for the right words. "We were in the resistance together. All the men who were there, we...we have an understanding - those of us who survived."
"But he can still be difficult, even so. He asked me to tell him the story of my birth, for instance, and then stopped me before I could get far. He was angry about it and told me to follow this through and never speak to him of it again."
Sirion the Elder nods to himself and says, "Yes, quite hard to believe your story unless you were witness to it. Perhaps we might now find the answers that you seek... indeed, perhaps more than you guess."
He urges his steed on slowly up the path.
A Steep Trail
This trail makes its way steadily up Mount Mindolluin along the edge of a precipice. As it slowly rises, it grows steadily more windy and cold. The barren rocks echo with the wind. There is some green here. Some bent trees and lichens able to grope a living from this otherwise bare place.
***
"There was an older Knight in Ulmo's Hall that day," Arashen says, urging his horse to follow Sirion up the path. "Who claimed to have been in the Prince's court thy day my mother presented me to him he said he saw ‘the mark and heard the Prince's command’, but still Lord Imrakhor was angry."
"I do not dare tell many people. He was Prince Imrahil's own Squire. I thought he would believe it."
Sirion the Elder nods and says, "Suspicion of all things strange is a hallmark of Men I think." He slows down his pace and says, "Arashen... I am going to scout ahead to yon village. You stay here and look about. There is a strange air about."
"Alright, Uncle," Arashen replies, looking a bit reluctant to carry out this arrangement. "But call me if you need help. I will come quickly."
Eyeing the treacherous footing, they young Telpekhor dismounts.
Sirion the Elder gallops off to the village.
Perhaps a half hour later, a noise can be heard up the path. A man comes racing down. He is bloodied and bruised. So panicked he is that he bumps into Arashen!
"Oh good Lord," he says panting. "Help me Lord! He is mad I tell you!"
Arashen reaches out to grab the man by the shoulders, "Steady there, man! What are you talking about? Who is mad? Are you hurt?"
Even before he receives the answers to his queries, the Squire's keen gaze is searching the direction from which the man came.
Yet before the man can reply, a burly man comes running down after the man with a heavy stick in hand, "Get back here you thief! Thieving from me are you?"
He then sees the well-armed Arashen and stops, "Pardon me lord." He reaches up and removes his cap.
"Thief?" repeats Arashen, glancing back to the injured man. His countenance betrays, rather than judgment, curiosity. He returns his regard the burly man. "Pray tell my good man, what is the problem here? What has this man been accused of stealing?"
"My lord," begs the battered man. "I have mouths to feed! They are starving."
"I don't care how many mouths you say you have to feed," says the burly man. "You can't go stealing coin that doesn't belong to you. It ain't your right!"
He then addresses Arashen and says, "Lord, he's been thieving from my house down the ridge. He made away with a pot of coins I had."
"Oh and you had plenty to spare!" hisses the beaten man looking dejected. "Fat on honey, wine and coins you are!"
"Lord," says the burly man, "It is the law that this man be punished. Yet I defer to you."
The peasant now begs Arashen, "Please lord have mercy! My children are starving!"
"You admit you stole this man's coin?" Arashen asks the battered man, wearing a stern frown.
The man bows his head and says, "Yes Lord. I had to do it. I have seven children and they are starving!"
"Where is this pot of coin, now?" asks Arashen.
The man takes out the coins. Not a pot, but a jingling bag. These he offers to Arashen.
Arashen accepts the bag of coins and then tosses them to the burly man. Turning back to the thief, he frowns. "Your plight and that of your family is desperate indeed, but it is no excuse for wrongdoing. And even though this man's property has been returned to him, you must be punished."
"And yet," the Squire adds, glancing back to the burly man, "There can be no justice when innocents suffer along with the guilty."
"So it is my judgment that you work for this man for a fortnight at half pay. Half your labor will be uncompensated and will serve as your penance the half will ease the suffering that urged you down the wrong path to begin with."
"In addition," the young Telpekhor adds, speaking to the burly man "I lay upon you the task of redemption. If this man serves you well and you are happy with his efforts I pray you keep him at full pay. If you truly have no need of his continued services, you are called upon to give him good reference so that others in your village might know him now as an honest man rather than a thief."
Both me bow their heads in acknowledgement of this. The burly man however, despite getting his money back seems a bit unsatisfied.
The guilty man however seems somewhat relieved.
At this moment, Sirion comes riding back. His face looks somewhat puzzled as he says, "Well nephew, I have made accommodations... but what is amiss here?"
"This man here," Arashen says, indicating the burly man and then the bloody and battered man, "Accused this man of thievery which he then admitted and plead mercy for his starving children and wife."
"When asked to render judgment, I declared that the thief should return the stolen money and work for the accuser at half pay for a fortnight."
"It does not seem to make all happy," The Squire adds, resting his gaze on the wealthier man. "You would see this end differently? Speak man."
"No lord," mumbles the burly man. "I'll put him to work. He's lucky he didn't get tossed from the mountain for this. By your leave I'll see to it?"
Sirion is silent and watches the proceedings.
"He is lucky he was not tossed from the mountain, indeed," Arashen answers, leveling his gaze on the battered man. "And if he remembers that for the rest of his years, he will be the better for it."
"Go," the Young Telpekhor says to burly man, inclining his brow. "And good fortune upon you."
The two men head off up the path.
Sirion then says, "Was that the first time you laid judgment?"
A slow flush darkens the young man's countenance. "Yes, uncle. It was."
"I did nothing wrong, did I? I mean, I know most men would toss him off a mountain. But if this crime was truly driven by circumstances and not nature...then it seemed justice would be better served in this way."
"I will not judge your judgments," says Sirion gravely. "Yet as you can see there are many shades of grey in this world. Come. We shall go to the village. We shall have to stay in separate quarters though since the villagers cannot accommodate both of us in one house."
Still a bit red in the face, Arashen nods and wraps the reins of his horse around his hand. "Then lead on. I am sure whatever accommodations they offer will be fine."
The pair, an old knight and an older squire now head off to the village...
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Summary: Arashen learns that his host is receiving stolen goods from Minas Tirith and must decide the man's fate and that of his family.
***
Conjecture now a time of night. Where in a quiet mountain village the lights are dulled and all sound asleep. It is a village without a name, and with few residents. Here Sirion the Elder and Arashen, a blue squire stay -- both in separate hovels. In the hovel with Arashen is a peasant family. A husband, a wife, and seven beautiful daughters -- cute as buttons but they are as poor as dust. A fire burns softly, and all is hushed in this living area, where Arashen has been given room to sleep.
But sleep eludes the Squire of the Blue. He sits at east before the small fire, his eyes gazing sightlessly into its flames. In his hand he holds a withered branch. Every few moments, Arashen snaps off an end and tosses it into the fire. Thoughts weigh upon his brow.
There comes a tap at the window... Soft and light...
Tap... tap... tap tap...
So deep are the young man's thoughts and so light the taps, the first few go unnoticed. Until at last, Arashen stirs. He shifts his gaze to the window, rising from his place before the fire. A few strides bring him to it and he peers out curiously.
Tap.. tap...
Then a hushed, "Comeon Berand, open the window!"
At the sound of the voice, Arashen hesitates a moment. Then clearing his throat, he opens the window and whispers. "I am not Berand, but a guest. My good host sleeps."
Suddenly, behind Arashen, Berand looms, "Oh ‘tis nothing. He shoves Arashen out of the way and lunges for the window. He grabs something shoves it into his shirt but it falls -- spilling out a medley of jewels and coin."
The noise is such that immediately the household is awake, and the man by the window quickly leaves into the night.
Arashen stares at the treasures lying upon the dirt floor, and then lifts his hardened gaze up to his host. "Explain yourself, man," he commands, his voice stern.
The man reaches into his belt. Draws out a knife... he looks at Arashen but now drops it. He then says, "Lord, I must beg your mercy. These are taken from the city. They are brought here and then later sold."
Berand now turns to his family and says, "I have failed all of you. I promised you happiness, but now we live in this hovel and all I can do is steal to feed us." He drops to his knees and weeps. Immediately his daughters gather about him, but his wife does not near, for her grief is great.
"How often have you received these stolen goods?" Arashen asks. He crouches down to pick up the knife and tuck it into his belt. Then scooping up the jewels and coins, he pours them back into their pouch.
"This past year," says Berand softly. "Since the little one was birthed."
"And have you ever stolen something yourself?" asks Arashen, looking into the man's eyes.
"Never," says Berand. "I only hold it for them. They pay me a fee which I use for necessities."
Arashen nods, as if considering this. After a moment, he speaks again. "Can you name your associates?"
Berand now says, "My lord, I dare not! If I do they will swore they'd kill me and my family!"
"You must answer for your crime in the city," Arashen replies, a look of sympathy upon his countenance. "However, you have only abetted a greater crime. The Steward's men may be lenient on you for this if you turn in your associates."
"They cannot harm you or your family once they are in custody. But if you would rather keep silent and accept the responsibility for all, then that is your choice."
The girls now gather around Arashen like lost puppies and they begin to weep, "Oh papa won't do it again!"
The wife now looks at Arashen and says, "Have you no mercy? Have you ever starved? Do you know that you are now dooming us?"
"Yes," the young man replies, curiously, "I do know what it is like to starve for days on end and yet to fight on with my waning strength."
"Lady, do you truly think /I/ have brought this doom upon you?" Arashen replies softly to the wife, compassion and distress vying for control of his features. "The victims are many and absent. I cannot pass judgment on this alone. It involves a ring of thieves who prey on the people of Minas Tirith."
"Do not assume these faceless victims are the wealthy, you cannot easily steal from the rich for they can afford securities simpler folk cannot."
But the woman does not listen. The children weep and the wife shouts, "OUT! Get out of my house!"
"I will lady, if you wish it," Arashen replies, calmly. "But your husband leaves with me in my custody. You and your children will be unprotected."
Berand now intervenes saying, "Nay my family. Lord Arashen is right. I will go down to the city and seek justice. But my family must come with you, because they will be slain otherwise."
"I will see to your family's protection," Arashen promises, "In one fashion or another."
"I have come to this village for purpose but we will speak to my uncle in the morning to see how we can arrange for your transportment to the city and your family's safety."
There is a murmuring, but the family accepts this doom.
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Summary: Arashen speaks to his Uncle, Sirion the Elder, the morning after he rendered judgment upon his host for receiving stolen goods. His mind is troubled.
Arashen emerges from the hut alone, buckling his belt. He adjusts his sword as he walks over to Sirion. "Uncle," he begins, his countenance troubled, "something happened last night."
"It may complicate our business here."
"How so young one?" asks Sirion. He strokes the mane of his horse.
"I caught my host receiving stolen jewelry and coin," Arashen explains. "It has been going on for a year. I deemed he should be brought to the Steward's men in the city since that is where these items were stolen from."
"But he says these thieves have threatened to kill him and his family if he reveals their identities. So I have promised his family will go to Minas Tirith as well, and I will see to their protection."
"You don't say?" says Sirion smiling. "Two times already you've been asked to judge. How do you feel?"
The young man glances back to the house and says, in a low voice. "This was hard. Yesterday, the situation was easy. There was the victim and the thief - I could render a judgment with near complete knowledge. But here…the victims are numerous and faceless. And yet I felt compelled to consider their own rights to justice with equal weight against what was before me. And what was before me was a frightened and upset wife and her children faced with the loss of their father, possibly forever."
Arashen looks positively miserable.
Sirion the Elder looks grim and says, "No decision in life is easy. You know that. Nothing is in a vacuum. There is no such thing as black and white, though many would disagree with me. A virtue to one is a sin to another. The Swanknights have been always guided by virtue. Some virtues are more prevalent than others. Take for example Indilzar Bragollach, the Black Knight of Belfalas. His courage is legendary, but he was impatient and given to anger. Take myself for example. I would say I am a man of Justice, yet was I just when I sent Rorgan away on the Quest for the Wolf's hide? In the order, what we essay to do is embody virtue, but not to be blind either. That way, just decisions shall be made -- and sometimes, no decision is the right one."
Nodding, Arashen says, "I feel I have served Justice at the expense of Compassion."
"But both of my Knights, Lords Barsaphad and Imrakhor, warned me these conflicts could arise."
The young Telpekhor sighs, "And so what are we to do? Return to Minas Tirith and forsake my quest to find the Azure Knight, or send the man and his family back with some sturdy village men?"
"What does your heart say to do?" asks Sirion.
"My heart wants nothing more than to find the Azure Knight," Arashen says, lifting his eyes to meet those of Sirion. A fire burns steadily within their depths - and then a flicker of doubt. "But surely my duty is to escort these people myself..."
"The answer then is simple," says Sirion. "I shall escort them back, and you may carry on. I do not think you have too much further to go, and the path is clear."
Eagerness faintly tints the young man's features with this news and he nods. "Very well, Uncle. Thank you."
"Have you had a chance to enquire in the village about the Azure Knight or should I undertake that straight away?"
There is a thoughtful pause before Sirion says looking up the path, "Nay. He is up there. This village is in his thrall. For why do you think they live in such misery?"
Arashen's own gaze follows the path upwards. "Does he demand tribute from them?"
"To that," says Sirion. "You may wish to ask him yourself."
"Very well," Arashen answers, his gaze yet upon the steep trail. He sighs deeply and squares his shoulders as if bracing himself. "Fare you well, Uncle. I will fetch my horse and ascend."
The Squire turns away and makes his way to the crude lean-to that shelters his horse.
"Namarie," says Sirion in the Elven speech. "Walk with the Valar, and may the Sun shine upon your face."
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Summary: Arashen meets the Azure Knight upon a dangerous bridge spanning a deep chasm. He is challenged to combat.
The heights are lonely and the trail winds on to nothing. Here there is seemingly nothing. Far below is the great city. The air is thin. There is a gorge, and a bridge, and perhaps a figure upon it.
Now mounted, Arashen carefully urges his steed up the rocky, narrow path that leads up the mountain - and perhaps to his destiny.
Chancing to look up from the treacherous path, his keen eyes espy a bridge ahead and the figure set upon it. He narrows his eyes and rides closer.
"Who comes hither?" cries a voice that echoes across the chasm. "What do you seek?"
"I am Arashen Telpekhor, son of Lady Laeraelin and Blue Squire of Dol Amroth," the young man calls out. "And I seek the one who calls himself the Azure Knight."
"Then you have found him," says a voice laughing across the span. "What do you wish of him?"
The simplicity of it all appears to steal the young man's speech. Arashen stares for several heartbeats. Then stirring, he says, "I wish to talk to you. I wish to learn the truth about my origins."
In the midst of the bridge their now approaches a dread figure. Tall and azure clad he stands there menacing, "Perhaps you shall. Perhaps it is time for you to prove your worth. Come forth, and fight me, then the Azure Knight shall answer all. But first you must defeat me."
Arashen hesitates only a moment ere he dismounts. He wraps his reins around a nearby twisted branch and then approaches the bridge. "I desire only to speak to you," he says, "but as you wish."
The young Telpekhor steps onto the bridge and brings his shield to bear. He draws his sword and tosses his cloak over his shoulders as he walks nimbly along. With unnatural agility, he quickly spans the swaying, dangerous bridge. Coming up a few paces from the Azure Knight, he raises his sword in salute.
The Azure Knight draws out his mace and holds it by his helmet in salute. His helm covers his head and you cannot see his face. Yet his breath can be heard... cruel and menacing...
Crouching slightly, Arashen makes a sudden movement with his shield and brings his sword in quickly from the right side where the full helm limits the man's vision.
The Azure Knight steps back slams his mace down on the sword, "You think you can fool me with that trick young one?"
Arashen smiles, but says naught. He disengages his sword from the mace, shifting his left foot backwards a step and brings his sword in from below, point first, to seek an opening where chest armor and ailette meet.
Arashen's foe hisses as the blow weaves between the joints of his armor. There is a dark cry as the voice says, "You are fast for a cub."
He twists his body to try to jerk the blade out while at the same time flying his mace downward.
The armor and movements of his opponent slow Arashen's response. He is unable to bring his blade up to parry or to dodge properly. His shield is brought to bear, but poorly and the mace glances off its edge to skip along his left shoulder, tearing armor and flesh in its wake. The Squire grunts and grits his teeth, bringing his sword slashing in from the side.
And while the Azure Knight may be powerful, he is not swift. Again the blow hits and he doubles over. He takes a step back, and shakes the bridge to bring discomfiture to Arashen.
Unnaturally quick and trained to fight in rigging and upon the rolling deck of a ship, Arashen does not experience discomfort. But keeping his footing does command his concentration and so his next attack is merely a token stab at the Knight's midsection, possessing little strength or accuracy behind it.
The Azure Knight takes another step back. He swings down his Mace, testing Arashen yet again.
Turning the mace aside with his shield, an act that causes obvious pain in the young man, Arashen brings his sword in low towards the Knight's thigh. "This is unnecessary," he says succinctly.
The Azure Knight steps back and says, "You are quite right. Now you may stop. Your skill is great. You are worthy."
The Azure Knight lays down his mace and opens up his hand in token of parlay.
Two men fight in the middle of a dangerous rope bridge spanning a deep mountain chasm. The elder, a knight dressed all in azure has wielded a mace with great strength against his younger opponent, a Squire of the Blue. The Squire's quick agility has served him well and both men have managed to injure the other all for the price of a conversation.
Arashen forgoes his next attack and watches the Knight warily. He does not sheathe his sword yet, but does lower the point between them. "And now you will answer my questions?"
The Azure Knight lays his mace upon the ground and kneels. He then says, "Ask."
"Do you remember my mother, the Lady Laeraelin?" Arashen asks, letting his sword fall to his side. "The lady you claimed to replace a deer she slew and then allowed her companions to redeem her with a replacement - the White Stag of Ithilien?"
The knight bows his head and says, "Yes, I know her well. Very well... Telpekhor, isn't she?" There is a small smile on his face.
"She was a Telpekhor, yes," Arashen confirms, his lips pressing together for a moment. "I was the babe they found when they netted the White Stag. I was the babe she presented to you and refused to give up. I was the babe you placed in her care."
"I want to know the truth behind my birth. I want to know who my birth father is - and my mother. I want to know who I am or at least, who I was."
The Knight bows his head and says, "I am the father, and Laeraelin is your mother. Yet now, that I am older, let me tell my tale. Long have I waited for this day, and you may decide what you wish. Will you listen?"
"I..." Arashen begins, the shock obvious on his young countenance. Emotions swirl in his grey eyes, but when he speaks again, he merely says: "Go ahead, then."
Sighing, the Azure knight says, "It was a dusk of autumn. I had come from the hunt and I found an encampment of Lord Hirluin... yet no knights and guards. I entered, and there I saw your mother as radiant as Luthien the fair..."
He coughs as a tear runs down his cheek, "Then... a madness of desire took me. So I took her against her will. Thus you were begotten, but even then I greatly rued my black deed, so your mother and I made this whole story -- to give you heritage."
He bows his neck, "That of course is one of my crimes. As is many. Many years ago Adrahil of Dol Amroth cast me out, and now... well now I am but a mockery of scorn. Therefore, I give to you judgment. I am a murderer, a rapist, a father who abandons sons, a thief, and my repentance is my only virtue. Strike me down if you will... or not... but the truth unadulterated is thine."
A great anger builds in the Squire's countenance and comportment. Storms rage in his eyes and he grips his sword so tightly his knuckles turn white. He raises it, but does not yet bring it down. Whether through blood or nurture, his Telpekhor nature holds Arashen's great rage in check. "You are not my father. Your blood does not run in my veins," he says through gritted teeth, each word uttered with force.
"If I kill you now, justice will be served and my mother's dishonor will remain secret."
Thus he stands, his sword held over the man declared his father through a despicable act. His face contorted, he cries out in frustration and turns away, his sword sweeping down through empty air. "NO! This is not the way!"
"You will be brought to justice for your crimes, but others will judge your fate. I will bring you to Dol Amroth to stand before the Prince. There you will answer for all you have admitted to and for your subjugation of the village below."
"That is enough," says another voice that resonates in the mountain sides. Then standing on the cleft is another, azure clad knight, but he is different than the other. He is taller and more lordly.
"Lower thy sword my son," he continues. "And accept my apologies for these trials. They were sore to thine heart I am sure. *I* am the Azure Knight and I am thy father."
Utter confusion reigns upon Arashen's countenance. He lowers his sword, though it seems more from a neglect of it's presence than by command. He looks from the lordly Knight to the one kneeling before him and back again - now staring at the tall figure standing at the far end of the bridge.
"I do not understand," the Squire says, frowning.
The new knight takes off his helm to show a kindly, if not grim face and says, "It has been a hard road to be sure. A life of testing. Yet your testing is now done."
He then motions for Arashen to sit, and strangely, the previous Azure Knight is now gone.
Unconsciously mimicking the faux Knight, Arashen kneels in the middle of the bridge and lays his sword down in front of him. Emotions still churn in his eyes, but do not threaten to brim over for the moment. Too are questions to be found there and many of them. "Is this another test?" he asks quietly - a touch of weariness in his voice.
The new Azure Knight kneels by Arashen and says, "My name is Baramir Orontirith. I am your father. Your mother, Melian, died in childbirth. When you were an infant, you were marked with the sign of the stag, which is the sigil of our ancient House and Order."
"I have never heard of Orontirith," Arashen replies, his brow furrowed in searching thought. "Do you mean to say that I really was the stag? That was not just a story?"
"It was an illusion," says the Baramir the Azure. "And it was real. For my duty prevented me from raising you. Therefore, a suitable foster mother needed to be found. There are few in the land who know of our order. The Prince however knows, and he long protected you. Our mission is sacrosanct and for over two thousand years we have held our duty paramount above all things."
There is little abatement to the young man's confusion and entwined with it now is a thread of sorrow. "Am I worthy enough to know your mission?"
Baramir Orontirith, the Azure motions behind Arashen to a grove, "We protect thither. That is the grove of Nimloth. It is said that in that grove, the White Tree shall grow again."
Arashen turns his head to look, then returns his regard to his father. "Am I to join your order?"
He shakes his head then and glances down, then up again to meet the Knight's eyes. "I have wanted to know who my father was for as long as I can remember. And now...I find myself at a loss for words."
"I do not know what to say or what to ask..."
"The Order is ancient and secret," says Baramir. "It has been passed down to son by father and it is considered our sacred honour. Yet the choice is thine. My time has not yet passed, but when the day comes, you might be called to defend the Grove of the Tree."
"May your life be long," Arashen says solemnly, "And call me when it is time."
"I must keep you secret as well, I suppose?"
The Azure Knight bows his head and then reaches out and places his hand on Arashen's head and says, "Go with my blessing. When the hour comes, you shall be summoned. Is that not right Lord Sirion?"
And there, behind Arashen, stands Sirion the Elder who looks upon the two smiling.
Reaching up as the Knight touches his head, the Squire clasps his father's arm a moment and releases it. Then turning, he exclaims “Uncle! You did not go to Minas Tirith?"
A sudden look of guilt crosses his features and he glances back to the Azure Knight and then again to Sirion. "I did not ask about the village and the plight of its people. Were they an illusion too?"
"Sirion son of Tirion is a friend to our Order," explains Baramir the Azure, "and these past days were your final test."
"Yes," offers Sirion, "it is so. For to be the Guardian of the Grove, one must have the highest principled mind, and you were not found lacking."
A spark of youthful pride peeks through the miasma of emotions that still show upon Arashen's features and in his eyes. His mood appears lighter when he turns to the Azure Knight and says, "Can I find you here when I have need or just to talk? I would learn more about you and my…mother."
"It shall be so," says the Azure Knight. "For here I shall remain to guard the grove, though at times, I may be found in the foothills of these mountains."
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Summary: Pt 3 of the last test: Arashen is swears an oath to his father and is Knighted by Sirion the Elder
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"And in that time, young Arashen," says Sirion. "You shall learn much more of duty and honour. Yet do not hold it hard against your father for the burden of this charge has been upon him all his life."
A thoughtful look comes over the Squire and it is several moments before he speaks. "When I was growing up," Arashen begins, avoiding his father, "I was very angry and hurt that I had no father - I wanted one so badly. Lady Laeraelin did not marry until I was fully grown and though my grandfather took it upon himself to teach me what I needed to know to become a man, it was not the same."
He raises his eyes then, to look at the Azure Knight. "But it seems I was never destined to be raised by two parents. So it little matters, I suppose if I had never known a mother's love in stead of my current circumstances."
"With all due respect to my birth mother and your lady wife, Laeraelin is my mother and I am content with the life she and her family gave me. The Telpekhor brought me into their family fully and if you know anything of that House, you know their noble name is no idle thing to bestow upon a foundling."
The Azure Knight inclines his head and says, "So be it. For it is said that blood is not always the mover in all things and for your troubles I would give to thee a weregild from what meager things I possess."
He then draws forth from his cloak two items: A sheath and also a pin.
"This sheath shall fit the dagger well," he says, "For that dagger is a mark of your kinship to me. It was wrought in ancient days, in Numenor and ‘tis said that with that dagger Isildur himself cut a fruit from Nimloth, the White Tree of Numenor, ere it was fed into the furnaces of Sauron. Keep it well. Second, is this broach -- it was given to me by my father and so passed on. As you can see, it is an emblem of the white tree, but in it are also seven stars. That is a sigil for this order."
From the folds of his cloak, Arashen withdraws a sheathed dagger. He draws it and it is, indeed, of a make so ancient it must match the Knight's sheath. "I have it here. My mother gave it to me when I told her I would seek you out."
He accepts the pin and sheath, looking upon both with an expression of awe. When he raises his eyes once more, the confusion has gone and is replaced by a deep emotion - reverence. "Never in my wildest imaginations did I expect that I would be belong to such a noble heritage. Father, hear my oath."
"If I am still found worthy, I will take your place when it is time and I will take your name. In turn, my worthiest son will carry your name so that your House will continue."
"This I will do for Gondor, the King that will come, the White Tree of Numenor and my true father." He takes the dagger and draws it across his palm - drawing a line of blood to seal his oath.
The Azure Knight is silent for a long time and then says, "So be it. Your oath is heard and I bear witness to it."
"And I," says Sirion. "Now Arashen. Turn before me and kneel. For an hour long prepared has come."
It is with reluctance Arashen turns away from his father and with curiosity that her turns to face his uncle. Adjusting his sword as he lowers himself to the ground, he kneels before the old Isilrim Knight and gazes up solemnly.
"Give to me your sword," says the elder knight to Arashen.
Drawing his sword from its elven-made sheath, Arashen wordlessly offers it to Sirion hilt first. His hand trembles a little.
Sirion the Elder takes the blade and looks upon it. He then says in a formal voice, "Thou hast trained long and long for knighthood. Now the hour has come. Wilt thou with fully obedience accept the lineage and rank of a Knight of Dol Amroth? Wilt thou hold true to thine oaths? Wilt thou protect the Prince at need and call?"
A fierce surge of emotion shines in Arashen's grey eyes and he intones, "I will accept the lineage and rank of a Knight of Dol Amroth with full obedience. I will hold true to mine oaths. I will protect the Prince at need and call."
Then, Old Lord Sirion lays the blade on the right shoulder of Arashen and says, "For here is a grand place for such a ceremony. Also too your Lord Imrakhor hath said that it may be so. I am empowered by the House Imrazor to do this in his name -- for I am Sirion, son of Tirion, descendent of Solitar and a Lord of Belfalas. Thus I say in the name of Elendil..."
He now takes the sword and lays it upon the left shoulder of Arashen, "...and in the name of Anarion..."
Then he finishes by bringing the sword back to the right shoulder of Arashen and says, "And in the name of Prince and the King that will come again, you are hereby named Swanknight of Dol Amroth and with it all the responsibilities of that office and the protections and the immunities it implies. Also..."
A curious smile crosses the lips of the Old Knight, "... also, let it be said that you are Arashen the Azure Knight of Belfalas. Arise Knight!"
Arashen bows his head at the sword's first touch, hooding that fierce joy that now must give voice through the tremble of his body, only. And thus he kneels until the final kiss of the sword.
Only then does he raise his head to reveal that fierce joy has grown in intensity. He rises tall, proud and lordly - a scion of both Orontirith and the Silver Lords: Hir Arashen Telpekhor, The Azure Knight of Belfalas.
Sirion offers Arashen back his blade, "Go with the Valar and may the Sun shine upon your face."
Arashen's joy breaks free from its solemn cage as a beaming and somewhat boyish smile. "Thank you, Uncle!" he cries as he accepts his sword, one bequeathed by his grandfather.
He turns to his father, still smiling broadly, "Absent you may have been, father. But you were witness to the most important moment of my life - and I am glad for it."
The Azure Knight bows to his son and says, "For that my heart is warm, and you have grown up to be strong. Forgive me for my transgressions for duty called me hither."
The young Knight moves to embrace the elder Azure Knight, "I forgive you father."
And so rapprochement is made between foundling and Knight as the sun begins its western descent into the distant seas the Western Seas beneath which lays a broken land whose passions, magnificent failures and promised glories still move its children millennia after its fall.
