(Archive) The Fellowship of the Sword 26 - Morrandir and Rowaen

Night.... how different it is or seems in the realm of Lothlorien, there where First Born have their dwellings. For how light is reflected brightly, silver sparkles all around, crystal-clear water peacefully finds it's way. No clear trace shows the season to be winter, one easily could still think himself in Spring.

Amidst all it all seems only few out of place, one being a figure, lending it's back against the majestic mallorn tree. Blue eyes carry a faint twinkle, gazing skywards, stars seen, causing a serene smile upon the figure's face. How peacefull is features now look, as if finally Rowaen of Nimothan, was in harmony with himself. For it is indeed the Blue Squire standing there, alone with his thoughts.

Wandering among the flowers is another squire, the bandage about his head making him instantly identifiable as Morrandir. He looks about him with wonder, his face bearing a broad smile. He spies the young Nimothan and waves, then walks slowly towards him.

And the greeting does not go unnoticed, for look! Almost instant is the reply, a hand lifted shortly towards the figure of Morrandir, eyes for a moment breaking free from the beauty of the stars, for a moment returning to the present... There the blue rests gently on the other squire, now a nod being given, yet no words are spoken. Silently Rowaen sets himself now, back straight against the tree, arms resting on the raised knees, his hands lazily bungling in between.

Morrandir smiles, and looks up at the stars. He does not speak, not daring to break the silence. Pulling his cloak about him he continues to gaze towards the heavens. After a moment he looks to Rowaen, and shatters the calm with his gruff voice. "Beautiful evening isn't it?"

"Tis... though on such nights many comes to mind not as beautifull or pleasant."

So speaks the young Blue squire in answer to his friend, words spoken softly, while eyes go upward again, searching the stars with intens. "Yet tell me, Morrandir, how do you feel on such a night as this, here amidst the First Born, in their realm..."

"Humble." comes the reply. "There is a sense of power here...I don't know what it is." Morrandir looks around him, staring into the blackness that surrounds them. "It is a beautiful place yet I do not feel at ease." He glances at Rowaen then turns his eyes downward, saying no more.

At the words of his friend, a smirk comes to the youthfull face... "Ah the days I could feel at ease, safe and assured..." Here eyes are closed for a second, though head still facing the sky above. A relieving sigh leaves the Nimothan's lips, announcing more words to be spoken.

"Still, this 'power' you speak off... Do not worry of that, my friend, it shows you are not likely to be caught by the lurking peril of the Dream Flower... Keep your unease, reflecting your sense of still being aware this realm is not the end of our goals. Let it be beautifull, I myself am amazed with all my eyes come across, yet... as you, do not feel at -ease-." Silently now Rowaen rises slightly, stretching his back against the base of the tree.

"Indeed. It is all so amazing. I deem we shall all be changed men by the time this quest comes to an end." Morrandir pauses and exhales quietly. And not only physically." he adds, pointing to the bandage about his head. "That is if we ever make it back to the fair fields of Belfalas..."

Slowly the young Nimothan nodds his head in concurrence, eyes again opening, facing the stars above. "Aye, changed... Somehow.. that word seems to frighten me. Especially when knowing a Lady waits back at home, in Dol Amroth. Many times being told she loves the person that I am, so... change..? I do not know if the outcome will do me good or wrong. Dark thoughts perhaps, unfitting for such a place of legends and grace..." Another sigh is heard, as Rowaen now places his hands on his knees, head resting upon them silently.

"Yet, enough of such troubling thoughts, surely this here place plays tricks upon my mind... You spoke of physical changes, that reminds me, have you already been helped by the healer's of this here Woods?" Dream makes place for wondering, Rowaen facing Morrandir directly now, a brow raised in patient waiting for an answer.

"I have indeed." Morrandir replies with a curt nod. "As soon as I arrived I was whisked away and had my wounds cleaned. I will never forget the sweet aroma of herbs in that place...and there wasn't that horrid lingering feel of death which usually accompanies a healers abode. After my wounds were cleaned all that was to be done was for them to be dressed again. They had become infected on our journey. Not badly, but I am well now. Afew more days and I shall feel fit to wield a sword once more." He sighs, and closes his eyes. Tilting back his head he inhales deeply, as though trying to recapture the sweet smell he had described.

"Good news indeed, though no sword will be wield or even touched during stay in the elven realm. I fear such an action will be returned with dozens of arrows, of the guards all around..." A jump and Rowaen stands back on his feet, eyes now peering up into the nearbye standing trees, as if to see the guards he speaks off. "I wonder, if there are guards near us at this moment... My feeling tells me yes, though my eyes tell me no.."

"Aye, one never can tell in this place." Says Morrandir with a frown. "They probavly stand ready to put an arrow in our throats should we feel the urge to carve our names into a nearby mallorn." He looks up into the trees. "But they need not fear!" he adds in a loud voice, as though calling out to the guards. "We are men of Gondor, and keep our word!"

And look! A faint grin now curls around the lips of the Blue Squire, eying his friend somewhat amused. "Aye, Morrandir, tis as you say, only history speaks against us, and it is this history of First and Second Born, they distrust us so. Comparable to how we feel towards the Southron's. Both a shame and understandable..." Slowly Rowaen steps forth, towards the sparkling fountain, as he draws near it's edge, he rests his hands op the rim, staring blankly into the water.

"If only we could convince them of our goodwill... yet there is none, only to do as they asked."

"And why should they trust us?" Says Morrandir frowning. He leans against the tree. "Men are the only children of The One who would ever willingly serve the Dark Lord. We are feeble of mind and easily corrupted in their eyes, and in many ways they are right. It is a shame..."

"And what can I do otherwise then to conurr with such words. Tis a black page in the History of Men, one that will not be easily forgotten. Foolish pride and hunger for power, so common to the Second Born. Even now... it grieves me to say it, yet still there exist those in search of power... The intrigues of the Court being clear evidence for the still ongoing foolishness." An annoyed sigh is now othered, a hand raised, making a faint gesture towards the water-surface, the movement causing slight wrinkles in the peacefull flow.

"As if people are to stubborn to learn, almost it being part of their nature to act as so, forgetting trust and honor if power and might can be gained.."

"Every man desires power." Morrandir says sharply. "We are brief, our lives short, leaving us with little time to leave our mark upon the world. We have that burning desire within us that cries out for power. Unfortunately the quickest way to achieve prestige is often through misdeeds. I could serve our Prince all my life, and through great trials become a Knight of great renown. Yet I could become more famous with far less effort. Were I to instead slip a poisoned dagger into our Prince's back, I would instantly be remembered for far longer. Some men can not resist the temptation of glory, and strive to achieve it in evil ways..."

Yet look now! As the expression upon the young Nimothan's face seems to darken a bit... A brow is furrowed, and a sharp turn made, him now eying Morrandir directly.

"Surely, Morrandir, you seek no such power!? If I am not mistaken you describe the urge to have a goal in your life, and not so to seek out ways to achieve power, wealth and more. For such goals I do not charish! I search for happiness, ways to test myself, a challenge even! For is the road to Knighthood not one of the greatest challenges? Aswell as loving a maiden so dear as I do... Such events make my life worth living. And should I ever become a Knight, as I, mother and Dania would desire, then nothing more then happy will I be and proudly fulfill the duties and bear the responsibility that comes with such a title. And I can only hope such reasons are yours aswell?" A slight trace of confusement seems to shimmer in the Squire's eyes, in wondering of the words his companion spoke, as betray his words, spoken clear and somewhat sharp.

"I seek no power." says Morrandir dryly. "Though one must have a goal. Without a goal one has no purpose. Without a purpose what is the use of being alive? My goal is to become a Knight, and to serve Gondor." He looks across to Rowaen, his eye glimmering in the starlight. "Nothing more."

And so the wonder makes place for a more pleasant expression, eyes assuming their common calm coldness, a smile curling round Rowaen's lips. "And let it forever be as you said now, Morrandir, for those are wise words, and in the end more rewarding then the search for power. I can only hope some First Born heard our words, perhaps to help them realize, that things past are for some indeed things past. Mistakes made not likely to be made again."

A turn and Rowaen stands silent again, hands above the surface of the fountain.

Morrandir says nothing for a moment, as though considering the Blue Squire's words. "Indeed." He says at length. "Though I believe the First Born must trust us. We forget what an honour it is to be brought into this wood. They allow us to walk in their fair lands, and we must be grateful for that."

Another smile is shown, curling lively around Rowaen's lips. "Oh I am gratefull for everything I see, all I encounter, and yes there must indeed be some trust, otherwise no entrance would be given. I deem only the memory is not forgotten of the betrayel of Men. And what wrong lies in being carefull? None I can think off. So indeed let us be gratefull and enjoy our stay... yet now..." Sudden seems the change of mood, words lowering in volume, the look casted towards Morrandir is one of grave and concern, "there is more that I am gratefull for. People who are dear, people whom I disagree with, and still I seek for the answers to resolve the problems risen... If you would share me some moments with my thoughts alone, then I would be most gratefull.."

Falling silent, lips still smiling, yet the expression upon his face is wearisome, eyes dim, seemingly lost the sharp awareness. And so the squire strides off, feet carrying him to another please