(Archive) - Moor/Arali in Prison

Elendor - Wednesday, August 16, 2000, 12:31 PM

The guards let you into the holding cell.

Holding Cell(#29511Rn)

Obvious exits:

Out

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Weather: Clear

Time: Nighttime

Season: Winter

Date: Sunday - January 28, 3021

Real Time: Wed Aug 16 09:44:07 2000

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

*Note - Moor aka Arali*

[Moor(#20995)] Several weeks have passed since Moor first returned to consciousness and the young man is doing much better (except for the setback involving a beating by one of his interrogators). His fever has finally disappeared and there is no sign of infection, yet his scarred arm and back remain bandaged up and the cut to his temple sustained during his beating is quite visible. The young man\'s enemies now seem to be boredom..and the Gondorians of course.

Staring at his surroundings, Moor occupies his time by counting the number of stones in his windowless cell. He sighs to himself, knowing boredom is the least of his worries.

The rattle of a key in the door and then the creaking of the heavy ironbound door marks the arrival of Lady Ivriniel. Esscence of roses wafts into the room as the sister of Imrahil glides quietly into the small cell. Holding a candle aloft, she looks quietly at the prisoner, silvery grey eyes perusing the scars and injuries before she says quietly, \"Have you been receiving the food as per my request?\" Turning as the guard brings forth a chair for the sister of Finduilas, she smiles gently and thanks him before sitting in the carven chair. Turning back to Moor, still silent as she awaits an answer, the flame of the candle flickering as a cool breeze slips in under the cell door.

[Moor(#20995)] If one is perceptive, one might catch the hint of fear that suddenly shines in Moor\'s cool grey eyes as the candle flame flickers. Nodding a little to the Lady, the young man replies, \"I have, Lady. My thanks.\" There is a moment of hesitation before he goes on, \"Did the other lady..the one who had been bringing me my meals carry out my request?\" He seems anxious to know whether it was carried out or not.

Catching the glimpse of fear seen in the young man\'s eyes for a moment, Ivriniel moves the candle to a spot of the floor, out of view. However, the flame of the candle now casts an eerie illumination into the small cell as the face of the Princess is in a deep shadow. Amusement tinges her voice as she inquires, \'Your request?\" Laughter rings out loudly in the tiny room as she repeats the words again, \'Your request? And pray tell, what -was- your request Moor?\"

[Moor(#20995)] The young man\'s face suddenly turns dark, but his anger remains suppressed. With restraint, Moor explains, \"The man who beat me was punished unjustly. I asked the lady to speak to he who had punished the man and ask for his release. A simple request. My people are not the barbarians you think we are. I derive no joy in seeing a man punished for what he should not have been.\"

Studying the man for several moments, Ivriniel leans back in the chair and folds her hands in her lap, a picture of decorum as she finally speaks, \"Then tell me, if your people are -not- barbarians how would you explain the slaughter and looting of the ship?\" Her voice is deadly calm, curiosity plainly heard as she goes on to say, \"I am sincere in this question. I cannot for the life of me understand and I would ask for your help.\"

Moor pauses before he answers, a slight frown crossing his lips. \"The slaughter is on both sides, Lady,\" he begins to say, choosing his words carefully, \"For every Gondorian that has lost someone in battle, there is a Haradrim who has lost someone as well. I speak not only of warriors, I speak of women and children who were but innocents. I abhor the fighting between our two peoples, and if you were to more closely examine my actions on board the Torath, you would see that I attempted to spare those who I could, especially your ladies-in-waiting. Do not blame me for the faults of the city\'s leaders.\"

A tightness in her jaw, a barely perceptible movement of muscles clenching is the only indication of the emotional state of the Princess as she says, \"Your actions?\", a bitter laugh rings out as she says, \'Your face along with the blood on your clothes and scimitar spoke volumes to me.\" Shaking her head, a wisp of raven hair brushes across her forehead as she adds, \"My Ladies in Waiting....the Knights guarding me...squires.. -everyone- on board that ship was slaughtered.\" Silence falls for only a brief instance before she says, \"The leaders? I know not the language of your peoples but it -appeared- that everyone on board was killing will glee.\"

[Imrahil(#29017)]

Muffled by the thick door of unyielding steel, as if heard from a great distance, steady footsteps draw nigh, accompanied by voices -- and then, silence. Until, long moments later...

A sudden clanging of metal ringing in the chamber, and the door is drawn back -- thither upon the threshold stand two figures -- tall and lordly both, yet one with hair dark as the night without, and the other, golden as the torchlight which plays upon them.

[Moor(#20995)] Moor\'s voice is tight as he rebuts the damning charges laid at his feet. For once, his face is animated and he seems to feel genuine indignation, \"I have no control over the actions of Lord Khazamr. No one does. You can take up your grievances with him. *I* did my part to keep the other corsairs away from your ladies. If they perished, then I had no part in it and indeed, no knowledge. For I would never have allowed such a thing to happen if I had any say in the matter. Killing a warrior in battle is one thing, killing helpless and feeble women is totally another.\" At the Prince and his companions\' arrival, Moor falls silent, gaze cast towards the door.

The sudden clanging of the steel door at this late hour of the night brings pause to the words of Ivriniel as her head turns to see who is gaining entrance into the locked cell. Rising quickly upon viewing the countenance of her brother, she curtsies quickly and says softly, \"Your Grace.\" nodding her head to the man with him, obviously Rohirrim by the gleam of golden hair.

\"What brings you here at such an hour?\", ever curious is the sister of Imrahil as she eyes the two men.\" The words of Moor ring out loudly in his denial of the atrocities of the Corsairs and Ivriniel turns to cast a cold look his way, demanding his silence.

[Imrahil(#29017)]

One among the two -- upon his brow glitters a gem akin to a star of Elbereth brought within the shadowed chamber and who among the Men of Gondor may it be save the Son of Adrahil? -- steps forth then, even as the Southron speaks. Yet, it is not upon the prisoner that his gaze rests, but his sister.

\"Did you not bring a guard with you into this place?\" A rebuke surely, but a mild one, and one belied by the worry in his eyes.

[Valgrim(#29910)] At the words of the Prince, a muffled cough can be heard from the doorway, like a soft scuffling of shuffling feet on the stone floor. Quiet, his eyes downturned to the rough and aged stone, Valgrim stands silently. His giant height and the forboding shadow it casts upon the ground betray the look of innoncence and fear in his eyes.

[Rananar(#18669)] Returning the graceful inclination with a curt bow of his own, the northman lord stays silent as the Prince Imrahil speaks. He eyes the southron with cool curiousity, expression stern but his brow furrowed for some reason.

A tinge of colour flares across the porcelain cheeks of Ivriniel at the rebuke heard in her brothers words. Dropping her voice to all but a whisper she replies, \'I asked the guard to wait outside while I spoke to Moor. I sent Valgrim back to the Halls of Healing for a salve and he will return in but just a few minutes.\" Waving one hand in the direction of Moor she says, \"He has been badly burned and beaten and poses little threat to anyone in his current state.\"

Silvery grey eyes hold those of her brothers, twin mirrors as she says, \"I have oft tended to this prisoner since discovering his presence in the Halls of Healing, my brother. And as you are aware, he -is- one of those on board that ship where...\", swallowing thickly before she continues, \"I encountered Khazamr and his atrocities\"

[Moor(#20995)] Studying the new arrivals with detached interest, Moor focuses especially on Imrahil. Speaking softly, he says, \"I would not have harmed her even if I could have, Lord.\" His grey gaze then travels between brother and sister, apparently curious about something.

[Imrahil(#29017)]

A glance over his shoulder to the towering youth who stands in the doorway, and the Prince nods, \"Come within, Squire...and close the door.\"

And his reply is to his sister, yet it is upon the Southron that the sudden weight of his gaze comes to fall, clear and bright -- thus he regards him for long moments, \"Do the folks of Umbar send even their children to battle now? Mayhaps the Lord Rananar has seen one as youthful march to war among the foes of Rohan in the North, but not I.\"

[Valgrim(#29910)] Like a beaten dog, his head bowed toward the ground, Valgrim shuffles into the room, trying to avoid the icy stares passed between those within. His feet scrape against the ground, as if the stone grumbles in protest at the man\'s giant steps. Yet the squire nears the Princess, his hand extended with a small bottle of salve that reflects the torchlight like tiny jewels.

[Rananar(#18669)] \"It is sung that in the long years beyond the count of men, the Eotheod sent even the youths to war,\" replies Rananar after a moment\'s hesitation, \"for at those times there was need. And even now, aye, the hillmen do the same. It is a shameful thing, to slay a boy.\" His words are grave, eyes moving from prince to princess, but then finally they fall upon the southron. \"But they die the same as all other men, if they raise up arms that would better suit a man\'s years.\"

Moor is at a momentary loss as to how to reply to Rananar\'s words. Looking between the three, and even sparing a moment to ponder Valgrim, he says, his voice never rising in anger, \"No family have I. I do what I must to survive.\" It is a simple answer, one that Moor hopes will help his cause.

[Imrahil(#29017)]

\"And that is what we must decide, is it not, Lord of the Wold? The fate of this Southron who comes by hidden ways into this land -- scarce a man in years, but more, perhaps, in deeds.\"

And taking his seat on a chair by the bed, the Prince leans forward, intent yet upon Moor -- his question is sudden and unlooked for, yet simple, \"How came you into Gondor?\"

Reaching out for the small bottle of salve Ivriniel says naught to the Squire as her fingers tug at the cork stopper in the top of the vial. Instantly the room is awash with the scent chamomile as the Princess turns back to the prisoner, still silent as the bottle is tilted into her bent fingers and a goodly amount filling the palm of her hand. Gently the thick salve is spread onto the worst of the burns that remain on the arms of Moor as she muses, \"And yet, you would come into Gondor alone? Try as I may, that makes no sense to me. Why would the Tower Lord send you here?\" Her fingers still their motions as she raises her eyes to the face of the young boy and says aloud, \"If indeed, you were -sent- here.\"

[Valgrim(#29910)] Standing now behind the Princess, like a silent guard taking position at a royal gate, Valgrim raises his head. A few strands of dark hair fall down onto his forehead, almost like dark straw on a pale dirt road. Yet the expression on his face, his eyes formerly defeated, take on a stoic look. Those same eyes glance across the southron with a look of curiousity, the eyebrows furrowing in thought.

[Moor(#20995)] Hiding a wince as his injuries still hold some pain for him, Moor nonetheless cooperates with Ivriniel as she tends to his injuries. Glancing to the Prince and Princess, his visage is grim, \"You know I cannot answer such questions. If I die because of it, so be it.\" The young man falters for a moment, \"I do ask for mercy, but also understand that I ask you not to ask of me things that are impossible to say or do.\" Anxious, he rests his gaze on Valgrim for a moment, almost wishing they could exchange places and that he was not in this dire situation.

Valgrim clears his throat, the sound loud despite the attempted muffling of his voice. With a deep, unnecessarily loud voice that nearly echoes about the chamber, the young squire speaks, the words spilling from between his thick lips. \"Lady. He has done nothing more than what we would do had our Lord commanded it. You think it strange. I think it duty.\"

[Imrahil(#29017)]

Calm and level yet is Imrahil\'s tone -- yet, the words spoken are not. Dire and grim, they sound in the chamber, and their memory lingers for long moments after they are gone -- recalling perhaps, for some here, the clash of battle and comrades lost.\"

\"Did they show mercy to Torelin of the Amrodath when they hewed him down? Or Calimendil when they slew him before the cheering folk of Umbar?\"

And his gaze flashes to the Squire -- perhaps it is ire which flashes in his eyes, but he says no word to him.

[Moor(#20995)] Growing desperate, for truly this young man has no wish to die, he replies cyptically, \"Some have been spared, at great cost. Do not visit on me the sins of others.\" Taking a deep breath, Moor grimaces and then says, \"Perhaps we can as yet come to an..agreement. Think on what I could offer you without betraying my countrymen. There might be a way I could be of some benefit to you, enough for you to spare my life. I do not want to die,\" he says, his voice suddenly hard with determination. At the last, he turns his gaze to Valgrim...there is nothing but gratitude there as he studies the squire\'s face, committing it to memory lest they ever meet again. Yet there is also relief on Moor\'s face, relief as someone finally understands the bind he is in.

[Imrahil(#29017)]

\"You will be judged by your deeds, Man of Umbar...not by those of others, or what you may offer me for your life. But think on what I have told you. Think of all that has passed between our folks through the long years -- and perhaps when next we speak, your answers will be otherwise.\"

And with these words -- unfathomable perhaps to the youth and the others here -- the Son of Adrahil rises. For a moment longer he studies the Southron, ere striding to the door, \"Come, Lord Rananar. We will speak of these matters elsewhere. Squire...stay with the Lady Ivriniel until she should choose to leave.\"

And he is gone then, striding down the long corridor, his footsteps all that speak of his passing.