The Pretender Chronicles - Report to Lord Bragollach

Thamas Daerlach -- The Manor

Wrought of marble, the manor house of Thamas Daerlach is two high-roofed storeys in height a mansion of masterful design and stunning craftmanship, dominated by the Grand Hall of the Bragollach. Rising as tall as the manor\'s two entire floors, the Grand Hall is as long as it is broad, and its immense ceiling is upheld by two rows of tall columns that march down its notable expanse. Each pillar is fashioned in a unique manner: a different statue of an ancient Lord of Men, clad in the proud garb of lost Numenor and clasping a star-hilted sword in massive hands, whose archaic emblem matches that of the circlet which crowns his high brow upholding the ceiling. Beneath the shadow of these Kings of Men stretches a single wooden table of dark mahogany, while light and warmth are provided by the gilded lamps and great stone hearths that dominate the walls on both sides. Hung tapestries pay homage to the clans of the House of Sudden Flame, including those of Anfalas, Ethring, Pinnath Gelin, and Erech. The banner of the main line of Dol Amroth is the most elaborate and fair, however, and reserved for the far wall behind the head of the dining table and opposite the main doors, hung high above the wide staircase that leads up to the private wings of Thamas Daerlach.

Beyond this staircase lies the private wings of the Bragollach of Minas Tirith the grand domiciles of a proud and noble people. The chambers of the servants lie nearest to the stairs, while beyond can be found the richly-appointed guest chambers that look out over the central courtyard. From there, separate staircases lead off to the private suites of the resident Bragollach, past red-carpeted hallways and tall windows draped with crimson curtains.

The curtains are drawn against the darkness of the night, and the flickering glow of candles and dimmed lamps battles against gloom. The occasional servant moves about on late duties, whilst two red-clad Bragollach guardsmen maintain a vigil in the Grand Hall.

[Minas Tirith City ZMO(#81)->Ceredir]

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Weather:            Cloudy

Time:               Nighttime <23>

Season:             Autumn

Date:               Orbelain - September 1, 3046

Real Time:          Sun Apr 12 21:33:31 2009

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[Imrakhor(#30834)]

The night is cloudy, and there is little to say of Thamas Daerlach, save that candlelight is the manor\'s sole illumination and a lone figure sits at the grand table of the Great Hall of the Bragollach. He is its Lord.

\"Sir?\" A servant coughs in the dark room, coming forward from the entranceway. \"There is a young man here to see you. A Scout.\" The servant\'s distaste for the caller or his position is evident in the way he says that word.

But behind the servant by several paces is Ceredir, who has followed despite the servant\'s instructions that he should wait. \"Sir Bor...\" using the Knight\'s former name.

[Imrakhor(#30834)]

\"Dismissed,\" says the Lord Bragollach to the servant, waving a hand.

\"Sit,\" he instructs Ceredir.

\"Talk.\"

Despite the instructions--or orders, to the Master Scout\'s ears--Ceredir pauses to look at the grand hall, a mix of scorn and jealousy on his face as he does so. Then he turns back to Bor and deliberately sits slowly.

\"We do not yet have the plans we sought. We have an agreement to exchange...information for it. Did not Arphenon inform you of it all?\"

[Imrakhor(#30834)]

\"Arphenon spoke of the wondrous sights and the great conversations,\" says the Lord Bragollach. \"It was wrong of me to send him, but it is done.\"

\"What will we exchange?\"

\"Wondrous sights? Great conversations?!\" Ceredir\'s mouth drops open in combined anger and astonishment.

\"What we will exchange,\" he continues coldly, \"is information about the sword of Anarion. And...I will get my wife back. Perhaps.\"

[Imrakhor(#30834)]

\"What did you just say?\"

\"My wife. They hold her hostage as a show of..our good faith.\" Ceredir words his answer carefully, but his eyes do not waver from Bor\'s.

\"And Lord Alphros..and a rival of his...both want information about the sword of Anarion.\"

\"Why?\"

[Imrakhor(#30834)]

\"What rival?\"

The edge of the Lord Bragollach\'s voice is sharp.

\"What difference does it make?!\" Ceredir snaps back at the man. \"A rival of one of the towers in Umbar...Lady Captain Eruphel. But that is the politics of Umbar, not here. It makes no difference to us. And my wife, Bor--my wife..she..\"

Frustrated, Ceredir gives a small snort and shakes his head.

[Imrakhor(#30834)]

\"Your wife is lost,\" says the Lord Bragollach, \"For you will never recover all the parts of Anarion\'s sword, not if you searched for all your life.\"

\"Such foolishness!\" he exclaims.

\"Do -not- tell me my wife is lost,\" Ceredir says in a tone of ice cold anger. \"Lord Alphros did not demand the full sword. He wants information about it. Besides, I did not have a choice. I was there.\"

\"You were not. Only your fool of a brother was with us, and little use was he. He should have been taken hostage, not Nelladel.\"

[Imrakhor(#30834)]  \"It is Lord Alphros now?\" says the Knight-Captain, laughing.

\"You betray too much, Scout,\" he adds, \"Far too much.\"

\"But tell your Lord this, while you are still of use to me.\"

He reaches under his shirt and unveils a glittering gem set upon a chain. It sparkles with an allure that belongs to another age.

\"That the Jewel of Anaril will be his over my dead body, and only then.\"

\"I betray nothing, Knight. Do you think that after a month of playing their game, watching every word I said and even thought that such habits die easily? And do you think for a moment that this whole expedition would have succeeded even as little as it did without me? No. It would not have.\"

\"Your brother, Menawa, the others...all of them would have been hung or sold into slavery and you would have not even the glimmer of a chance of getting your precious weapon that you want to make yourself king of Gondor, Bor.\"

\"So don\'t pull this crap on me of my betraying too much, Bor--I know exactly what you are up to and you--you do not know me anymore. Not at all.\"

It takes a moment for Ceredir\'s anger to subside enough so that he can catch his breath, and when he does, he glares at the jewel that Bor has now revealed. His hand, almost by instinct, goes to the dagger at his belt--but then he lets his hand fall to his side and insteand speaks, voice low and tightly controlled.

\"Choose. Do you want the Numenorean Fire arrow or not? I cannot put a price on your ambitions versus that jewel--but I know the jewel will buy the weapon plans you want and need.\"

\"Choose.\"

[Imrakhor(#30834)]

There is only an arrogant smirk.

\"And you have clearly misjudged me, for I choose neither. Let your Lord Alphros come pry the gem from me, and I shall have my wish,\" says the Lord.

\"If that is your choice, so be it,\" Ceredir answers, his voice not revealing any emotion--even the anger gone now. \"You have revealed to me this jewel, and that, in fact, may be enough.\"

\"As for getting what you want...well, we shall see about that, won\'t we now?\"

[Imrakhor(#30834)]

\"Go.\"

The Lord Bragollach slips the jewel back under his shirt.

\"Good evening.\"

\"Cousin.\"

Ceredir turns, crossing the room and heading toward the outer hall.