(Archive) Barad Nimothan

July 21, 2000

*Note - log supplied by Rorgan*

Barad Nimothan - Great Hall(#8872Rn)

The entire breadth of the tower at this level is devoted to a great hall, decorated with many tapestries and paintings dipicting the past Lords and prominent figures among the Nimothan. A large table, suitable either for feasting or casual occupancy occupies the center of the room, and chairs and various tables line the walls. A stairway leading into the upper reaches of the tower, occupies most of the Southern face of this room, and near the foot of the stairs, double doors, each inlaid in guilded bronze and silver depicting a white ram atop a mountain peak offer entrance to the private audience chamber used by the house Lords and other officials for conducting that part of house business which must take place behind closed doors. To the right of the guilded doors is what would appear to be a dressing table, complete with mirror.

Obvious exits:

Guilded Doors and Gate

Over the course of many hours the atmosphere here in the Great Hall of Barad Nimothan has grown more and more festive. Liveried servants have brought forth many new tables and chairs so that the entire circumference of the room is lined with places for the many guests to sit during the forthcoming feast. All throughout this process, there has been no sign of Rorgan, the Steward of the House and keeper of this tower.

When the servants brought forth the decorations for the tables, there was still no sign of Rorgan.

When the servants came and went with many great urns of wine, mead, ale, and tea, the absence of the Steward of Barad Nimothan became the topic of many conversations.

[Kalenar(#25120)] Sitting near the rest of the Raven company, Kalenar watches anxiously for his Comander, his captain. He looks to the wall where he had set his fathers sword, so honered, and then spears some mutten on a knife, and orders for some beer.

[Faengor(#18480)] Grim and stern are Faengor\'s keywords as he oncemore finds himself standing alone with a richly ornated goblet filled to the brim with red wine in his hands. Near the wall he stands with a pensive look in his eyes as he stares at the flames of the torch infront of him silently, idly toying with the goblet. Such he stands, dressed in expensive, white garbments, held together by a brown, leather belt and with several liveries and symbols of Minas Tirith and Nimothan embroidered onto them. Attached to his belt, a sword with a richly ornated handle rests, into a crimson red scabbard wich is equally impressive. Several rings can be seen on his fingers too.

Yet ere someone could declare that the former tailor had returned to insanity or that he had run away from his responsibilities as a host, the double gilded doors burst open and there emerges a tall figure, clad in black.

Tall and lordly he is, with his graying-blonde head held high and sapphire blue eyes focused straight ahead as he makes a stately entrance into the Great Hall at the head of a small troupe of jugglers and acrobats. It is indeed the Steward of Barad Nimothan that enters thus, thick cloak of black bound to his shoulders, embroidered on the back with life-like renditions of the White Tree of Gondor in the upper left and the White Ram of Nimothan astride the peak of a brown mountain a bit lower and to the right.

Shining mail covers his arms and stands out at the neck of his tabard. A broad medallion depicting a white ram in silver atop a mountain in bronze hangs about his neck.

On the man\'s left side hangs a silver and bronze scabbard depicting scenes of white rams in the mountains, the exposed hilt of his sword is also done in silver, bronze, gold, and gems such that the handle and crossguard seem a jagged mountain and the pommel is the white ram standing atop it.

Thus comes forth the host to his feast, with jugglers and acrobats tumbling and twisting forth around him and into the wide open space at the center of the room. and with the barest nods of greeting to those he knows, he makes his way to his place near the head of the first table and is seated by a pair of the liveried servants.

CLAP!

The mighty noise his hands make as they strike each other summons forth what would seem to be an unending line of servants from the kitchen, each bearing a tray of steaming food. Fresh-baked bread, roasts of many beasts and fowl, butters, cheeses, and all manner of condiments and vegetables are all brought forth and placed upon the tables, within easy reach of all who care to partake. This is all accomplished without the slightest disturbance among the performers it is as if the whole thing were choreographed, and once the line of servants finally dissipates, Rorgan calls forth in a resounding voice, \"Come, friends! Let us all share a meal together!\"

This announcement is greeted by the expected hearty laughter, and the feast is joined in earnest as those who have still been milling about take seats and begin, almost immediately, to eat.

[Durandir(#30040)] No herald or horn sounds the arrival of this one -- yet he wears armor and scabbard as rightly as any. A simple tunic depicts a large white swan overtop a great silver ship. A plain blade is sheathed in the purest of white and a fair helm graces his head. The Knight sits down beside his lord and father. His face is young but scarred -- this must be a Knight of the Swan.

Tiralyn cautiously steps into the room, looking behind her as she does so. Her hands are holding a basket of fruit to which she holds tight. She looks about the room taken aback by it\'s relaxing atmosphere as of now, yet knowing what happened earlier in this hall, she cautiously looks around for a place to put her offering. She has come to do her job, and that she will do.

[Faengor(#18480)] And the arrival of Rorgan, Steward of Barad Nimothan does not go unnoticed by many. Silently the Nimothan, Faengor turns his gaze to his cousin, taking a small sip from his gold-plated goblet, bending his head to it carefully, before inclining his head to the Lord solemnly as he passes him to take his place. then upon the clapping of Rorgan, faengor himself moves to take his place, with dignified yet quick steps.

[Kalenar(#25120)] looking up at his commander, Kalenar smiles. \"Captain, Thank you for this feast.\" He takes a flaggan of wine, and toasts him, his eyes returning to kalnar\'s sword.

[Hemel(#20880)] Milling, such fun, well, not for the few men that wear tunics of white, the emblem of House Earendor born upon their left breast. Slowly, the handful begin to gather in around one who is taller than the others, with ptich black hair and eyes of such darkness that the brightest light is unable to penetrate their inner lairs. With nothing more than a nod, the tall lad flickers his eyes over his comrades as they seat themselves, anticipating food and drink. Yet, the lad stands still and locks his hands behind his back, unmoving and unspeaking, eyes seemingly staring into the abyss beyond.

[Faengor(#18480)] Smiling faintly, Faengor takes his seat in the vicinty of his cousin and the other Nimothans, seating himself with grace and pride, yet he never lets go of his goblet as he seats himself. His eyes dart over the large tables for a few moments, carefully sipping from his goblet as he does. Silence prevails over the lord as he leans back against the hard back of the chair, placing his both shoulders against it and his goblet on the table.

[Thorondur(#13821)] The passing week has brought many a visitor to this hall, and last night was no different even hours past midnight, or so it was spoken of later that day, a dozen of Prince Imrahil\'s swan-knights came in through the driving rain. Yet they were not here for the festival, whispered the servants....

Tonight\'s feast finds a different story, however. For the twelve knights and their retainers have remained, and now sit at table in the far reaches of the great hall unexpected they were, but space has been found for them.

Nodding toward his newly adopted son and Swan Knight from Dol Amroth, and then toward his cousin, Rorgan reaches forth one delicate hand and grasps a goblet, merriment dancing in his eyes as he rises to his feet and raises the goblet high above his head.

Waiting for a moment of silence in which to raise his voice, he speaks now to the room, \"Fellow Gondorians, friends of the Mark: We are gathered here in celebration of a very important event for our two nations, for with the work that we have accomplished over these last few weeks, we have strengthened the Oath of Eorl and we have restored that ancientest of communications between our nations - the Beacon Hills are ready!\"

The applause and cheers are nigh deafening in the stone-encased room, yet Rorgan still holds his tankard high above his head, and when the opportunity arises, he continues, \"But, friends, I have more to celebrate than the faithful execution of our Lord Steward\'s will, for it is my pleasure to announce to you all that I have chosen to adopt an orphan into my family. He is already a man and well proved to all here, so this night, I give to you Durandir, son of Rantaur, Swan Knight of Dol Amroth!\"

[Indilzar(#10108)] There is a soft murmur by the door wards as a figure swathed in sable makes his way through. He glances about the hall keenly, with eyes grey and sharp. At length he touches the sigil of the flame upon his breast even as he looks upon the image of the mighty ram. Behind him comes another man, by bearing a servant. He too also looks upon the ram, but his master says, \"Long have been the years since Imlazan came here and saw his love. When the heirs of Anarion yet held the mastery here they built. But now the king is gone and the stones are old. Yet still the Bragollach is older. Come, let us see what we will and find my sister if we may.\" He does wait for a response, he enters.

[Durandir(#30040)] Slowly, the young Knight looks around. Rorgan. Faengor. Kalenar. Lastly his eyes linger on Tiralyn -- but he quickly averts. Extending his arm, Durandir raises his voice. \"A toast -- to the Steward, to Imrahil, and to the defeat of the Great Enemy!\"

Then the glass is brought to mouth. He turns to stare at the astonisment of the Knights of Imrahil and perhaps, Lord Thorondur. \"I am alive and quite sane.\" He turns to the sudden appearance of another at the entrance.

[Thorondur(#13821)] The cheers come no louder from anywhere, for Durandir, than they do from the twelve traveling knights -- for is he not their oathbound brother? These noblemen bang cups against their table in hearty approval, all of these men save one -- their leader, the Knight-Herald, is silent. Only Thorondur does not cheer this one merely smiles, and lifts a glass of wine in silent salute.

Kalenar Rises a glass to the captain and the Knight, a smile on his face.

[Indilzar(#10108)] With the quickening glances that the men of the West bare, the new man looks with stern speed upon those faces only to look with amazement upon the knight Durandir. Yet he says naught for he now sees Thorondur Girithlin. He approaches.

Thorondur begins to sing, \"It\'s coming home, it\'s coming home, it\'s coming... RP\'s coming home...\"

[Faengor(#18480)] Faengor too smiles in recognition at Durandir, likewise lifting his goblet in recognition to Lord Durandir, son of Rantaur, inclining his head to him gracefully he speaks, \"how do you feel now that it is made official Lord Durandir, servant of the swan?\" Faengor speaks with a voice filled with mirth as he brings the goblet to his lips oncemore, before setting it down to face the knights.

[Thorondur(#13821)] Turning his gaze from the acclaim of Durandir, Thorondur tips his glass to those thin, slender lips, and would drink -- yet beside him, the knight Dirhavel has espied an approach. Responding to the other\'s wordless nudge, the Lord Girithlin\'s eyes cut to the newcomer, glittering azure crystal above the wine...

And he drinks, waiting.

[Gandalf(#22098)] At the doors -- barred by the door wards, arrives one man. No entorage, no calling of trumpets, nor even the pleasent nod from the Wardens of the door. Instead, resistance. For there the man, old and wrinkled with age, is halted. If not for his appearance then nothing. For all in grey is he. Robes tattered and torn. Nearly black in places from dirt and grime.

But alas! The man passes by -- the faces of the wards blank some words said -- but never known to anyother. And among the crowd this man stands. His voice silent and his actions motionless.

Tiralyn obediantly stays her place as not to make notice of herself. Her only movement is to pass a whisper and her basket to a passing servant moving about the hall. After the cheers fill the hall and then quiet, her own lips protrude a smile at the scene set before her. A quiet mouse about the corner, she waits for the opportune moment to slip out.

[Hemel(#20880)] Still not opening his mouth for words which may be best unspoken, the tall lad watches the procedings with a seeming disinterest. His comrades though, toast Durandir, in effort to fit in with the rest of the company this night. Still does the lad make no move or sound, voicing no opinion of this adoption one way or another, unless silence is voice enough.

[Indilzar(#10108)] If there is mirth in the eyes of the man, it is unseen. He then sits across from Thorondur and smiles slowly. He then says to his servant, \"See perhaps if you can bring wine to me. For though I would forgo of such, tonight is needs to celebrate.\"

The servant bows, \"Aye Lord Indilzar.\"

It is just then, that Indilzar opens his mouth, perhaps to greet Thorondur when his eyes turn to the doorway and what voice he has is stayed, for he knows this new man and mouths slowly and silently. Then at last he says in a small whisper to Thorondur, \"Mithrandir.\"

Taking the customary drink from his own cup, Rorgan acknowledges Lord Thorondur and Lord Indilzar each in turn with a inclination of his head, again raising his voice to be heard by all, \"I give you each and all my welcome and bid you: EAT!\" Then does Rorgan tip back his cup once again, as he reseats himself.

The tall captain\'s eyes seem to linger on the elderly stranger entering through the doors for but a moment, yet he does not return to his feet, yet again his voice can be heard to call out above the din, \"All shall be welcome in Barad Nimothan this eve! Come! Share in our meal!\"

Indeed now, but for a few absent stares, and some resentful among the higher-born toward the elderly man, the room seems to have quieted greatly as the guests begin to take from the massive trays of food at the tables spread \'round the perimeter of the room. In the center of the tables, a small troupe of jugglers and acrobats perform again, now that Rorgan has finished his small attempts at speech-making. Food and drink enough for what would seem to be ten times the numbers gathered here is spread before them, and servants in the livery of the White Ram mill about the tables, tending to the wide variety of drink being served.

[Thorondur(#13821)] For his own part, the Girithlin\'s eyes narrow cautiously. \"Is it he?\" A glance, a darting glance between Indilzar across from him and the tattered old man, and then returning to the Bragollach in black. The chiselled jawline sets then, like statuary.

\"Pray the Valar he comes not upon an ill wind, as the whispers say it,\" the Knight-Herald breathes. A murmur arises at the table of the Knights -- for lo, all the stories told of Thorondur Girithlin mean little here he has never before seen a wizard.

Kalenar looks, startled at the old man. Who is this? All are welcome in barad Nimothan, he is sure, but never has his eyes seen such a sight. And having caught the knights whisper, he wonders. Mithrander? In Gondor? What would his lord steward say should He know? He just looks at his fathers sword, and a tear comes to his eye as old memories lurk.

[Indilzar(#10108)] \"Indeed the storm draws nigh,\" nods Indilzar Bragollach sagaciously. \"For even it is said that where things are in peril, he comes. Did I not meet him in the Haradraic Wars?\" He then takes wine even as his servant brings it to him, \"Yet, it would be well not to meddle in the affairs of Wizards. If he has need of the strength of the Bragollach, or even of the Girithlin, I shall go, for Imrahil deems him wise. Elsewise I shall not speak with him until he reveals himself.\"

Then a pause and the mercurial eyes of Indilzar again look at Thorondur, \"I came here for my sister, but I see that the Waif-Knight Durandir has been adopted by this house. Whyfore? Does the Prince know?\"

[Gandalf(#22098)] \"I pray Lord,\" The old man calls, coal black eyes glazing quickly over the Lord Indilzar before moving onwards -- without a second look. \"That the hand of Lord Rorgan has always been a generous hand, sir.\" There, amidst it all, Mithrandir stands -- but is it he? Could it be? For where is the storm on which he rides the crest?

\"But I, sir, am not here to feast -- but to attaned. Humbly. Where is the wine?\" And thus does he speak -- his words silent and no more after the quasi speach. Busy does he make himself attending to the tables. Enveloped in his work, it would seem -- but always his eye wanders and his ear listens. For news he seeks.

[Faengor(#18480)] As food is brought, Faengor sets down his cup, straightening himself in his chair as he reaches for his dinner cutlery and gazes upon the food in front of him. Calmly he cuts the food on his plate, keeping his attention on the food and nothing else, a serene look in his eyes. Then as the meat is cut, the Nimothan brings a piece to his mouth with his fork, at the same time raising his gaze to meet the acrobats, paying little attention to the old and weathered man with the funny white hair, casually taking a sip from his goblet.

[Thorondur(#13821)] The handsome face of the Lord Girithlin -- neither young nor old, and as some yet say, elf-cursed -- remains unreadable before the scrutiny of the fell warlord opposite his place. He takes no bait, and offers none in return only does he shrug his slender shoulders.

\"I may speak for the Prince, Lord Indilzar,\" he avers, toying idly with the eagle signet upon his left hand, \"but I dare not presume to think for him.\" And then he smiles, almost coyly, still watching the old man over Indilzar\'s shoulder.

[Durandir(#30040)] After the compliments have been paid and words said, Durandir proceeds to pick his knife at a meager serving. He stabs at it. A piece of fat drops from his fork. The Knight seems unsettled, occupied with something... If one were to examine, it would be obvious that he is transfixed by the ragged man standing at the door. \"The oppisite... unlike... so far... the touch...\"

[Maernus(#17520)] Returning from a long ride, Maernus enters the hall yet unaware of the feast. He notices the feast quickly upon his enterance and becomes abruptly slowly. The squire seeks to walk around the feasters without notice, walking softly upon his half-wooden leg. The noise still carries, no matter how he tries and try he does to avoid the notice of all in his apparently late as normal enterance. He glances around, looking at the stairs and to the area of the feast.

[Indilzar(#10108)] \"It is far from Dol Amroth, Lord Thorondur,\" says Indilzar with courtly grace, \"still the ghost of Adrahil haunts the dreams of Imrahil. Long has it been since the Dragon-Helm has gone forth and indeed he has been missed. Did you find what you sought?\"

Rising now again to his feet, Rorgan addresses the old man, \"And so even the oldest of friends are welcomed into the house, though all should forget who they are.\" The Captain makes a gesture to one of the servants, and a goblet and wine are brought at once to the old man.

Then the Steward of Barad Nimothan again reseats himself in his high-backed chair, straight and proud as the man now sitting upon it. \"Looking at the old man, are you, son?\" asks Rorgan in the lowest of tones.

Tiralyn starts to move towards the gate to social freedom, as one of such little means would certainly accept. She tosses her hair about from one side of her cheek so that it falls like cascading water from a mountainside down her back. She nods again to one of the servants busily hovering over goblets and smiles to say silently that she will return with more goods.

[Hemel(#20880)] \"Come now,\" the lad murmers to his comrades who had seated themselves so long before and now partake in the food and drink given, \"This /lord/ to whom we were to apologize, he is no more lord than commoner, for he flaunts his station and does merely what is required of him, nothing more.\" All this does the lad murmer to his comrades, loud enough only for them, and perhaps the few others who are near, but worry about them, he does not. His gazes never waivers, even as he speaks of Faengor.

[Thorondur(#13821)] \"We have found many things, my lord,\" replies Thorondur Edrahil, the Girithlin ever-present, that enigmatic smile plays again upon his lips. \"But the right of it is yours: we are indeed far from home.\" He fixes Indilzar with a frank, honest look. \"And I am not the only one whom Rumour names a wanderer. What of your travels?\"

[Gandalf(#22098)] And the storm on which Mithrandir rides seems nought more than a receding tide. Still the old man makes himself busy clearing a platter here, filling a goblet there -- until one of his own is offered. \"If my services attending are unneeded and my journey for waste of that, then I shall enjoy the food, it would seem.\" Speaks he once more, accepting the wine and finding a seat. A seat somewhere near the Knights of Dol Amroth and near all else. \"Fancy that, sent to serve only to be served. Bless Lord Rorgan.\" Calls he once more.

[Indilzar(#10108)] The Bragollach then slowly murmurs, \"Aye freedom. What bounds of Men might be gainsaid to us so entrusted to bear such a burden that lesser Men cannot enjoy? Bound to farms and families and honour that is both treacherous and ubiquitous.\" He then says, \"And what tale might I tell of my travels? Let me make my point plain and clear.\" He then motions to his servant...

As asked, the servant comes, \"Aye Lord Bragollach.\"

Indilzar spends a moment looking about the room and then his sharp glance espies Tiralyn, \"Hadrian, ask that maid yonder to join the Lord Girithlin and I.\"

He points a gloved finger at Tiralyn.

Hadrian bows, \"Yes Lord.\" He turns and speeds to the corner and then coming before the woman he bows, \"M\'lady?\" He asks this question solemnly with the rich accent of Belfalas woven in his words.

[Durandir(#30040)] His attention snapped by the call of his father, Durandir responds to Rorgan. \"Yes I am father. Yes, I am looking at the old man.\" His face twists. \"Is he truly what they say he is? My demons, oh so terrible -- I see them in the night...\" Then the Knight composes himself and whispers further. \"I see it in my dreams father... coming to me... that horrible touch... Perhaps...\" Durandir lowers his head, and picks at his food again.

[Thorondur(#13821)] The answer, and indeed, the behaviour of Lord Indilzar that follows it: these things take the lion\'s share of Thorondur\'s notice the secret smile never leaves his lips. Yet the presence of the wizard must continue to vex him, for now and again, sapphirine eyes flicker in the direction of Mithrandir, openly curious.

The greying-blonde head of Rorgan is again inclined toward the old man, graciously. Words, though, come from his mouth, in quiet tones for only the young man at his side to hear, \"Many are the legends of this and that, my son. Best they are to be experienced with your own senses. Yet, ere he leaves, even though he seems to wish to remain unknown by us, I shall try to speak to him about your nightmares.\"

[Tiralyn(#3193)] Feared she may be reprimanded for her stunt earlier, as she does not hear the conversation that has called her to such a noble side, Tiralyn has heard her presence requested and will not disobey. She looks curiously at the instantaenous title given to her, and cautiously steps forward towards Indilzar. Taking a deep breath she crosses the distance from her once safe haven at the door, and curtsies before the nobles, \"Yes M\'Lord?\" She keeps her eyes down submissively as she awaits her supposed chiding.

[Indilzar(#10108)] Indilzar rises as the woman approaches and bows, \"Greetings Lady, I am Indilzar son of Indilkhor, Lord of the Bragollach.\" He then motions to Thorondur, \"This is Lord Thorondur Girithlin, Knight-Herald of the fair Prince of Dol Amroth. You must seek my pardon, but would you join us? I wish to ask some questions of you that would perhaps not be too taxing. More enjoyable than aught else I hope.\"

He then seats himself and motions to an empty chair.

[Maernus(#17520)] Perhaps the time has passed for worry, perhaps not...yet the Squire Calgar begins to head towards the feast, eyeing for where the squires and other commoners lay upon the table. He begins to approach that quarter of the table, still walking lightly on his old wounded leg. He glances around, scanning over the area of the knights from which Indilzar and his ilk take rest.

[Thorondur(#13821)] The other knights, the eleven who surround the pair of high lords, are ensconced in their own conversations they do not see, or choose not to see, the Lord Indilzar\'s interaction with the girl. Yet Thorondur\'s own interest has been piqued, and with his keen eyes the Lord Herald watches the lass, and the lord, without speaking.

When the Bragollach asks the girl for her company, the younger lord shoots him a warning look, but has a courteous smile for Tiralyn.

[Gandalf(#22098)] Mithrandir\'s eyes, a mirage of of events past, stray about. Sweeping the scene. Engrossing in the most minute of debates. But he sits silent. Unobtrusive and at peace. In his hand his wine, red of course. And beneath his robe, presented from a fold, is a a pipe -- itself no more better for the wear and tear than he himself.

But from there his eyes seek even more -- passing those of Thorondur and those of Rorgan and his newly adopted son. Breezing by Indilzar and the newly approached woman: Tiralyn. But still he is, apparantly, a commoner among Lords. But always is he watching. Listening.

Tiralyn is taken aback at such a request. She seats herself, trying to straighten out her common appearance but grimmaces and sees the dirt upon the bottom of her dress. She sighs deeply. \"M\'Lord, I\'m no more a lady than you are common, but if its entertainment you seek, I will be more than happy to oblige.\" She swallows again, feeling abit like a mouse invited to dinner by a hungry cat. She adds with a more courageous look at Indilzar, \"What can I possibly say that you would find interesting M\'Lord?\"

[Indilzar(#10108)] Indilzar smiles and says courteously, \"Do not think that society or station may effect so much to whom I talk, or to what reasons. For are you not of the kindred of Men as much as I?\" A pause. Then he speaks again, \"I was speaking to the Lord Girithlin about the matters of Men and how we might have freedom, but others do not. Tell me about yourself. Do you have such freedom in your life?\"

[Durandir(#30040)] \"Nightmares... no, not nightmares. Ghastly things. It comes when I sleep. The horse -- I see it coming from the sky. Only not a horse. Dead. Cruel. Piercing eyes. Then it dismounts... and approaches... the touch, it is terror. It leaves... but I know it will come again...\" Suddenly his fork drops. The young Knight stares at an empty thing. His pupils grow smaller. His hands drop. His face pale. \"No... it has never come now. Not now! NO!

[Thorondur(#13821)] \"Be at ease, child,\" comes the voice of Thorondur to address Tiralyn, chiming and musical and sudden. Calming. \"The Lord Bragollach may seem fearsome, and all of our brethren with our silver and satin. Yet I assure you,\" he says, \"His treatment of you shall be kindly, and honorable -- and his questions fair.\"

And with that last, the sapphirine Girithlin eyes glitter hard and sharply, for they seek out Indilzar\'s, and they seek out -- nay, demand -- agreement.

[Faengor(#18480)] Faengor takes another bite of his meat, bringing it to his mouth with his fork, taking another sip of his goblet, before bending himself over the table to whisper to the young knight, bringing his head close to knight, \"Are you allright Durandir?\"

And lo! In the center of the room, the performers break from their individual entertainments to surround one of their fellows clapping and swaying from side to side as the man juggles four pins, and then one of the other jugglers tosses him a fifth and a sixth. Twirling in circles the six pins do make their arcs in the air above the stoicly concentrating performer until...

Seven! Another pin has been tossed to him and he begins to sing,

\"Gondor! Gondor, between the Mountains and the Sea!

West Wind blew there the light upon the Silver Tree

Fell like bright rain in gardens of the Kings of old.

O proud walls! White towers! O winged crown and throne of gold!

O Gondor, Gondor! Shall Men behold the silver Tree,

Or West Wind blow again between the mountains and the sea?\"

Then the man quickly catches all seven pins and takes a bow, even as Rorgan speaks quietly to Durandir, in the midst of his own applause, \"Be calm, son. You are among friends now. Patient and still must you be, and think not of such things, for this is as much your feast as it is mine.\"

Indilzar smiles and his eyes flash to Thorondur\'s and for a long moment his eyes flicker, as if duelling with a rival from afar. At length he says, \"Indeed, for our we not Men of Gondor? True to our word?\"

[Thorondur(#13821)] \"Men of Gondor, and Westernesse before it,\" Thorondur agrees, striving with Indilzar. Striving, and thus unaware of what goes on upon the dais, and at the high table. And yes, agree he does, but the words come with the slightest of edges, as if he mistrusts the other.

[Hemel(#20880)] Finally, after long murmerings between he and his comrades, the lad moves from his station behind them. He turns his head, eyes following, locking upon Feangor, making his destination clear to those who would follow his eyes. His feet bring him before Lord Feangor, and a bow of his head does he offer. \"Good Lord Feangor, would you share with a man of common blood a drink from your golden goblet?\" To the entertainers he pays no attention, focused only upon Feangor.

[Maernus(#17520)] Catching the trailing end of Durandir\'s rant, the raven-clad squire for-gos his seat and quickly tries to circle the table to go to the side of his knight. He approaches the young swan knight with a hand upon the hilt of his sword, \"Sir Durandir...is there something beseeching you for fear?\" The young squire looks towards where Durandir appears to be looking at, seeing naught but air and wall.

[Indilzar(#10108)] \"The West,\" replies Indilzar slowly. \"Nay, but nay, the blood still runs true.\" This is strange to many, for though these two rivals seem at once at ease in each other\'s presence their eyes and wills seem much more. Whence this rivalry came, who can say? Where it shall lead? None may know.

Tiralyn seems to relax in her chair, but lifts her head as would a noblewoman. Her grey eyes almost start to storm with thought. \"Well freedom has many levels would you think? I may have the freedom to walk about without chains. I may have the freedom to think what I like, without restriction of who will hear. I may have the freedom to dream, but nay, I find myself a willing servant to my father who has fallen ill. I find myself willing to walk in his shoes to fill your tables with the \"fruits\" of my labour, and I suppose I will continue to do so until it is not necessary anymore.\" She looks down at a silver cup before her on the table. \"Freedom to me is the ability to choose what to think, what to say, how to act according to who we are, not who we are percieved to be. So yes, I do consider myself quite emmancipated.\"

[Gandalf(#22098)] Quick are the coal-black eyes of the white-haired man. Smoothing over feats by the entertainers and cries from the newly-adopted. But it is this cry, so quick, so fleeting, that garners all his attention. Upwards the old man rises. And approaches. His posture firm. His gate smooth. In his hand still, the goblet of wine.

\"Lord Rorgan,\" speaks he once more. His voice now decidedly differant than before. Flowing and knowing -- kind and foreboding. \"Long it has been since I last saw you in Ithilien and your fate seems to has changed accordingly. But of these I wish to discuss only later.\" Says he as he approaches the pair of Father and son. \"But too do I wish to speak to your son of this...dream. Yes, I have heard your talk from my seat -- but still I wish it not be known that I have returned to the South. Not yet. Though undoubtedly the Knights of Dol Amroth know as much already.\" Thus he speaks -- his voice naught but a whisper above the hum of the feast.

[Faengor(#18480)] A laugh escapes Faengor\'s lips as he finds the same man who previously insulted him, standing next to him. His lips curl in a smile as he gazes upon the soldier of Earendor with intense and warm eyes. Finally, after several moments the Nimothan raises his right hand, picking up the golden-plated goblet and raising it for Hemel to accept. \"Gladly will I offer you my goblet man of Earendor,\" he speaks as he raises from the chair himself, to meet Hemel, \"Drink from my cup and let us burry the strife between us!\"

Kalenar Looks over at Mithrandir, fearful of the storm still commingk, but greatful to see so famous, if unloved, man in Gondor. He also waits for news, for it is that which makes one learn

Indilzar nods slowly and then says looking to Thorondur, \"You see Girithlin? It is as I say. Freedom to us is only by grace and luck. Yet I wonder if we are not less free, then that of Tiralyn? Think of those burdens laid upon us, so heavy. Never to be shared but contantly weighing against honour?\"

\"Indeed shall it be, \'old friend\',\" says Rorgan with his customary smile returning again to his face, as though far less information had been contained in the words of Mithrandir. \"And indeed shall I once again find myself in your debt.\"

Then he turns his sapphire blue eyes upon his son, \"Durandir, I think that our friend would like to have a few words with you, ere he goes again on his way. When he comes, you shall do as he asks of you and speak to him of that which mine own ears have not even heard.\"

Tiralyn gasps at just the mention of that foresaken word. /Honour/ She quickly glances about the room and then back to Indilzar and Thorondur, opening her mouth for a moment, then quickly closes it and averts her eyes.

[Thorondur(#13821)] The Herald breaks the deadlock first. Softening to a more everyday expression, his eyes traverse from Indilzar to the servant girl. Lips pursed, he nods in approval of her speech -- for a speech it was, and the length and breadth of it brings him a glimmer of mild, and pleasant, surprise. His answer for the other is a simple nod, yet the question he then poses Tiralyn is of more practical bent than philosophy.

\"You are well-spoken, lass,\" Thorondur says at last, in the lilting tones of Belfalas. \"Tell me--is it custom in the north for a farmer\'s daughter to speak so well, or think so deeply?\"

[Thorondur(#13821)] He seems uncognizant of her downturned eyes, or the catalyst of that reaction.

Annarchel rushes in with much dexterity as if in pursuit. He suddenly freezes, perceiving all those before him, and stops, retreating with his back towards the wall. his eyes are wide and innocent upon a youthful face. In his hand still lies a flagon.

Tiralyn looks curiously insulted by the way of the stranger at Indilzar\'s side. \"And what would you have your servants or a poor farmer\'s daughter not think or read for that matter M\'Lord? We are not as ignorant and petty as one would have thought. Infact, while tending to my gardens, or picking those...\" She points with a slender finger to the silver bowl of gorgeous fruit. \"beautiful apples, it would be mindless work? What I lack in title I doth portray in speech M\'lord.\" She finally gives in and takes the cup before her, bringing it to her lips.

[Durandir(#30040)] Durandir looks at the concern of both the Squire and Guardsman and brushes them off. \"I am quite well Faengor. You Maernus, should know not to question your Knight.\" His tone is stern but his eyes are glistening, betraying his posture. \"Of course father. I will have word with any that you deem worthy.\" Finally, the young Knight begins to take interest in his meat... he takes a rather large bite of pork rinds and a great gulp of water.

[Hemel(#20880)] With the rare smile, the lad\'s eyes are filled with warmth, and he accepts the goblet with a soft grasp. \"I thank thee good Lord Faengor,\" he says. To his lips he raises the goblet and from it he drinks. Extending the goblet back to Feangor, he speaks again \"With you I agree, let the differances between us be forgotten and relations between us shall prosper.\"

[Indilzar(#10108)] Not a question Indilzar asks of the Lady. Rather he says a statement with a firmness in his voice, belying his nature, \"Words make not the woman. Apples make not the tree indeed. Yet you must forgive the Lord Girithlin, for he is of scholarly bent and would if he might duel with scribes and pens more than the sword. He is merely curious as to who you are. Such as one might ask another over a quiet drink in a humble hall.\"

Indilzar smiles at the Girithlin, as if a point has been scored.

[Gandalf(#22098)] \"But now,\" Speaks Mithrandir, himself regarding Durandir now. \"Is neither the time nor the place to speak of such things. Later, I deem, we shall. As I shall speak with others here whom no doubt have spotted me as well.\" And again his gaze glosses over the table of the Knights of Dol Amroth. \"I advise you both to do as you are and enjoy this feast! For indeed is it great that the ring has been completed. And your son.\" For him, a nod. \"I must go now, Rorgan -- but I will be about when least expected and absent when looked for.\"

[Thorondur(#13821)] \"If truth be told, lass,\" answers Indilzar\'s comrade, quick to perceive the girl\'s reaction to his words, \"In the demesne of my fathers, there lies a school where the citizens who live there may gain an education, should they wish it. The House Girithlin would deny knowledge to no man -- nay, nor woman either.\" Now he smiles.

\"Forgive me, if I have offended let me mend my error, if I may.\" A shrug of his slender shoulders, and Thorondur gestures vaguely with his goblet. \"I know little of the customs in Anorien. I had thought them, perhaps, different. You have proven me wrong, and I am in your debt for it.\" He bows his head, gravely.

[Maernus(#17520)] Nodding towards Durandir, then bowing. \"You are most correct, Sir Durandir.\" Maernus says, as he stands to return to a seat, he notices Faengor and grins slyly. \"Hello Lord Faengor, I hoped to find you amoung the feast-goers.\" His grin fades not as he turns away from the noble without waiting for reply and heads towards his seat.

[Faengor(#18480)] Smiling warmly, the Man-at-Arms inclines his head to Hemel, averting his eyes to the floor, as he accepts the goblet oncemore from Kalenar\'s hands, raising them back to take a sip from the goblet with curled lips, his gaze resting upon Kalenar oncemore. Placing down the now nearly emptied cup on the table he speaks with a warm voice, \"We have fought and we have sealed friendship Soldier of Earendor, yet I still do not know your name, please allow me to inquire to your name.\" and Maernus receives a curious glance in reponse, yet little more.

[Annarchel(#29752)] Crash! The bottle that had lazilly hung in the hand of Annarchel drops to the floor, bursting into countless pieces of glass, small and shiny. He raises his eyes, which seem lost and peculiar, and looks to shift his weight from foot to foot, balance proving a tough duty at this point for him. Leaning backwards then forwards, he lets out a small burb as an apology for the drink which now is spilled over the floor, and an evil smell indeed is rising from it. His face is grave, and he speaks naught but issues forth a few steps and glances towards those before him.

Indilzar narrows his eyes at the sound.

[Thorondur(#13821)] If Indilzar has scored a point, Thorondur has not noticed, or is not keeping score -- and perhaps, that is a point in itself. The Herald seems content in his expression of humility, and his apology to the girl.

Indilzar leaps up from from his chair and with speed he hastens over to Annarchel, his sword drawn as if in sudden fury. He comes within three steps of Annarchel, glances at the bottle then at the man and then slides his sword back into his scabbard.

Nodding then to Durandir and to the old man, Rorgan takes a long drink from his own flagon ere he returns a portion of his attention to his food, saying quietly, \"To humility,\" as he tips his cup toward the soon to be receding figure of the wizened old man.

Then turning on the three who are nearest to him: his son, his young cousin, and the Squire Calgar, Rorgan laughs merrily, \"There, now, Durandir, if ever you doubted my words to you in the Healing Houses there should be none now. Where there is life there is always Hope. Now, friends, take advantage of the respite we have paid so dearly for and enjoy yourselves.\"

Even so, and without any prompting from the man seated in deep conversation at the head table, the servants of House Nimothan begin to move round the lad, Annarchel, cleaning up the broken glass from \'round his feet and mopping up the spilled drink from the floor.

Indilzar turns and joins Tiralyn and Thorondur again. He dusts off his seat and looks at Tiralyn explaining, \"I must apologize, years of war have made me thus.\"

Indilzar slowly seats himself yet again and looks to the maid and the Lord.

[Annarchel(#29752)] \" Have a drink ? Friend ?\" says the youth, his eyes muddy and lost now, his speech coming very slowly, words slurred. His head seems unstable upon his shoulders, and though he addresses the man before him, quickly do his eyes, though powerless and lame now, shift to drink in the details of the others round. \" What fine messs...\" he beings to say, those the words leave his mouth mixed with drool and the last letter, unfinished hangs on his lowerlip, about to fall and lose itself in the air.

[Gandalf(#22098)] Uninterrupting and all-together and quite possibly unknowing of the events behind him, Mithrandir walks out the door. Past the wardens who gave him trouble not too long before, and out into the night. His passage unnoticed by most.

Gandalf passes through the gateroom and the heavy iron-bound gates beyond.

Gandalf has left.

Tiralyn sets down the cup with shaking hands now, realizing her attempt to play the nobility game has failed miserably. She is put back in her place by her own morality. Finding herself guilty of what angers her the most. \"No, M\'Lord..\" She dries her lips with the readied napkin upon the table. \"It is I who owe thee an apology. I was out of my...\" A gasp now comes as the sound of glass breaking startles the common girl. As all is shown to be without harm, the maiden continues to Thorondur, \"I was out of my element by such harsh words. Forgive me M\'Lord. I\'m quick with the thought on the tongue and often find myself in deep regret for it.\"

[Hemel(#20880)] Bowing his head once again, the lad reduces the smile to a mere grin. \"To a good many and select few I am known as Hemel, son of Inradale, who is long since dead, killed by corsairs.\" He speaks not all his words with confidence, for when he mentions the name of his deceased father, his voice lowers and murmers into nothingness and he speaks no more motionless, hands once again locked behind his back.

Kalenar Toasts his fellow man-at-arms

[Thorondur(#13821)] \"What forgiveness that I can give, is yours,\" Thorondur tells the girl, Tiralyn, solemnly. \"Fear not for a sharp tongue,\" he continues, finally looking away from the mercurial Indilzar as that one sits, \"or a quip without thought. You speak to a man whose own words have caused him far more ill than any sword.\" He laughs, albeit wanly -- amused, after a fashion.

[Indilzar(#10108)] Returning to the conversation Indilzar says slowly, \"Words are the bane of Men, are they not? By it do not nations fall? Rather I would do the deed, than to speak overlong of it.\"

[Faengor(#18480)] Faengor bows his head in recognition to Hemel, \"well met then Hemel, son of Inradale.\" The warrior speaks with a curtly smile as he gazes upon Hemel, \"Yet do not think of death and decay Now Hemel, for this is no such place.\" Motioning to an empty seat near him with his right hand, \"Sit with me, eat and enjoy yourself for that is the reason of this feast!\"

[Durandir(#30040)] \"Aye. For things that have brought us together, and for the great things to come. Hail Gondor!\" Durandir raises his cup. He licks his lips. \"There he goes father. He is gone -- and my chance. Perhaps for the best.\" The young Knight sighs, starting on a new slice of roast pork. \"Hail Gondor, Imrahil, and the courtesy of Nimothan, whose doors are open to any, no matter how young...\"

\"...or how old.\"

[Thorondur(#13821)] \"And yet a rash word,\" counters the younger of the two high lords, \"can be taken back, while a rash action is forever.\" With that, Thorondur glances briefly back to Indilzar, arching a dark and slender eyebrow. But the weight of his attention falls mainly upon the girl, drawn unwittingly into this game of knights and lords -- and he seems, perhaps, saddened by it.

[Gweneth(#17847)] \"The Lady Bragollach!\" Booms the voice of the young man annoucing the entrance of the guests, and indeed it is a Lady that slowly descends down the stairs in the south of the room. Her gown is nothing short of that a Queen would wear, in fact its seems not unknown to a tailor in this very room, elegant in everyway. A jeweled necklace of pearls lines her throat and in her hair, too, are pearls weaved elaborately into her braided hair. Gweneth Bragollach pauses midway down the staircase, looking over lively hall or allowing all to look over her, seeing her brother and with a smile descends the rest of the steps.

[Indilzar(#10108)] \"Yet man is mortal, so does it really matter? Men are to die in one way or another, so why spend our time to speak on it?\" replies Indilzar. He then looks up and says, \"Ah, my sister has arrived.\" His face looks grim, \"I must greet her...\" He rises but sees her coming, like a slow insidious spider with a fair face.

Tiralyn smiles softly now at the road that lies before her. She melds each of her hands into one another and quietly says, \"It seems by words not only do nations fall, but do our own kin....\" At the entrance of the Lady, all this maiden can do is stare with longing eyes and then the recognition of her title she brings a hand to her lips. At Indilzar\'s standing, she takes the opportunity, \"And I must take my leave M\'Lords. I fear I have stayed too long and would occupy the seat that would be better suited for a Lady than a dirtied young woman with an equally slanderous tongue.\" She attempts to stand.

[Hemel(#20880)] \"To such a kind invitation, I must respectfully decline,\" says Hemel with a soft sigh, responding to Faengor, \"To my comrades my attention now must lie.\" His dark eyes flicker to his comrades, who all seem to be watching him intently. \"Another time Lord Faengor.\"

Indilzar looks to Tiralyn with an ashen face, \"Oh no Lady, please. I would have you meet my sister, Gweneth. She will be charmed by you.\"

[Meneliel(#26525)] Without the pomp and circumstance of some great ladies\' entrances, Meneliel quietly slips into the room, a small smile playing on her lips as she silently considers those assembled. Her hands are folded before her neatly, and she exudes shyness. She is not, however, awkward, even as she tries not to call attention to herself.

[Gweneth(#17847)] Gweneth threads through the crowd like a needle, offering fair smile and warm word to all that greet her. The crowd thins and finally parts as Gweneth arrives at the location of Indilzar. Her smile only widens, \"Brother!\" and she quickly flits over to Indilzar, kissing the air near each of his cheeks.

\"He shall come again, son,\" says Rorgan with a smile to Durandir, \"for like even our own people, the old man is true to his word. Much could he gain from what\'s inside your head, and leave you the better for getting it out.\" Still does the former tailor\'s voice carry only to his son and those immediately near, though, as he takes a long look around the room over the rim of his cup.

Neatly divided seems the crowd, for the most part, along social lines. The end of the room farthest from Rorgan and the rest of the Nimothans is occupied by two Lords of Dol Amroth and close to a dozen Knights of the Swan. To one side is a table occupied mainly by commoners and the youngest and least recognizable of the soldiers present. Tables ring the room, and in the center, a small troupe of acrobats and jugglers still ply their trade, though as the hours have worn on, their performances seem to have taken a more personal note, performing their tricks for coins at the tables.

Annarchel stumbles forth to an empty chair. He seems still for an enduring moment, his hands buried in his long hair, holding a heavy head, staring forth blankly. He then turns and stops to watch the approach of the Lady. \" The beauty of Gondor, at last is shown.\" he begins, \" Not in men, with words so high, they pierce the sky, but in a woman so charming to mine eye.\" he says, and the \'drink\' is less in his voice this time, and it sounds clear and running as a spring, yet his face is sadder than before, and weariness continues to grow within it.

Indilzar returns the airy kiss to his sister and says, \"Ah! There you are. Everybody was asking for you!\" His smile is even and his eyes bright, \"For what would a celebration be without my fair twin to lead it?\"

Tiralyn closes her eyes for a brief moment. She takes yet another deep breath as the Lady fast approaches. Opening her eyes, \"Not so more than I am charmed by her entrance M\'Lord.\" Silence takes her lips as she watches the exchange between brother and sister.

Thorondur inclines his head as the girl makes to rise, but reaches out to cover her hand, and stay her departure. It is a gentleman\'s gesture, and not forward. \"Nay, Tiralyn of Anorien,\" he tells her, \"for we have brought you into this, and now you shall stay until amends are made. I, for one, think it poorly done should we let you flee, now.\"

\"If there is to be guilt, here,\" Thorondur adds, quietly, \"Let it lie upon me, for not halting Indilzar when I might have.\" Now he sets his lips in a grim line, for another of the Bragollachs nears.

Kalenar admires tiralyn already. She is a wise, and to his eyes lovely, girl

[Faengor(#18480)] Faengor chuckles lightly, almost inaudible as he turns his gaze to Hemel\'s comrade, treating them to his mirthfull eyes and his optimistic gaze. Oncemore grasping the golden-plated goblet in his hands and bringing it to his lips, emptying it with a good sip before raising it in front of Hemel, \"Another time then Hemel, I shall look forward to meeting you again.\"

And after saying such the Nimothan turns from Hemel, seating himself in his chair oncemore, placing the goblet down on the table. after bringing another piece of meat to his lips Faengor\'s gaze turns to Gweneth and her brother, noticing their kissing.

[Durandir(#30040)] Durandir finishes his meal. His eyes brighten. \"Perhaps father, I have been looking too far. Perhaps... I must look closer to the heart, closer to home... to master my woes...\" His eyes slowly turn across the room, inspecting each and every occupant, until they finally rest on the Dragon Helm and it\'s wearer... \"Father, perhaps wizardry is not needed, but the mastery of man by other man...\"

[Gweneth(#17847)] Gweneth offers Indilzar a coy smile, \"Why no party at all, of course.\" She turns to Thorondur, \"Ah.. Lord Thorondur,\" her voice drops slightly in volume, \"A pleasure, as always,\" she curtsies slightly to the Lord, looking back to Indilzar, \"I see I have missed much of this night. Indeed tell me of what gossip of this feast shall be spread tomorrow by the servants?\"

Tiralyn looks over to Thorondur at the gentle touch, and smiles. Her confident stare takes him for a moment, while Gwenth has his attention as if to say, \"I will find out what you meant by that comment M\'Lord.\"

[Indilzar(#10108)] Smiling slightly Indilzar replies, \"Nothing yet sister, for no gossip can start without your arrival.\" He then says, \"I was just debating with the Lord Girithlin, and this Lady Tiralyn...\" He motions to the aforesaid woman, \"Over the nature of freedom and words. Rather dull fare I imagine.\"

[Maernus(#17520)] Content with staying out of the large festivities, the Squire Calgar merely eats his food. He glances at the wine, wondering where the vintage comes from. He glances at the new arrivals, making a comment to a nearby servant that if the nobles spent as much on furthering the wars against the dark as they did on clothes, Gondor would already have won.

[Hemel(#20880)] And to his comrades Hemel does go, with a parting bow of his head to Faengor. Among them he seats himself and murmers a few things. His comrades give him a few startled looks and go back to their food and drink, in which Hemel finally partakes.

\"The mastery of man by himself must come first, son,\" replies the greying Captain with a smile, his attention now returning to those closest to him. \"Ere he can serve another with his whole heart.\" Then, rising to his feet, Rorgan nods to those at his table, \"It is time now for the host to tend to his guests. It seems the entertainers that were hired didn\'t have the stamina of some of our Southern keen.\"

Tiralyn can only curtsy low to the magnificent Lady before her. Her eyes cast down much the way she greeted the brother of such nobility. \"It is an honor, M\'Lady.\"

[Thorondur(#13821)] Releasing the girl\'s hand when she settles back to her seat, Thorondur rises is his smile a trifle pained, when he makes his bow to Gweneth? Surely, his motion is elegant, proper, graceful -- every inch a gesture of respect. But he says in greeting her name only, \"Lady Gweneth,\" ere returning to his seat.

Annarchel overhears the comment and cackles to himself, \" Aye.\" he speaks, lonely in his chair, yet with mirth nonetheless. \" All the talk, the useless talk, deeds none, yet talk is plentiful. Were I to know where my brothers were...wise words is all one gets in Anorien !\" he mutters to himself, rambling on, though visibly his weariness is starting to wear off, and a fire begins to flicker within him.

Kalenar Strides over towards his captain, cautiously, and sits near the wine, his eyes off his sword and on this young farmers girl

Gweneth looks over Tiralyn, nodding her head, \"Lady Tiralyn?\" she questions, whether asking the ladies name or perhaps if she is a Lady at all, it is impossible to tell, \"It is a pleasure to meet you.\" Her glance then moves between Indilzar and Thorondur, \"Freedom and words, why you do pick dull topics for a feast. Perhaps power and love? Now there are a pair of topics to make any debate lively if played by the right speakers.\"

Indilzar smiles and then says, \"I can already espy it in the air sister.\" He then leans over to his sister as if to say something softly...

[Meneliel(#26525)] Glancing about as if she is not certain as to what to do with herself now that she has arrived, Meneliel wanders without purpose or direction, her hands still folded before her. Her steps are light, scudding across the floor like high clouds, and she is silent. A pretty young lady, she simply smiles faintly at any who might catch her eye.

[<#10108>] Indilzar nods slowly toward the other end of the room and says, \"... ... seem that ... has caught ... ... ... ... ... ... .... ... ... by ... ... ... ....\"

[Thorondur(#13821)] \"Power and love?\"

The choice of Gweneth is repeated by the Lord Girithlin, in a tone of mild, scholastic distaste. though he smiles -- as ever -- his mysterious smile. \"Perhaps in the right hands, my lady, indeed. Yet you shall not find them here. The one is but an ailment, a weakness come from the Shadow the other a thing I dare not touch. Now quit your whispering, Bragollachs,\" he finishes, laughing, \"or I shall think you would seek both, together.\"

Crossing the room, Rorgan first stops beside the token group of Rohirrim that did finally arrive, and speaks to them in their own tongue. Then passing on to the other tables, he offers kind words and hospitality as he goes. Finally does he arrive near the debating nobles, and he stands in silence, waiting for a break in their conversation.

Tiralyn hears her name, but keeps her head down for the moment until the noble siblings have concluded their words. \"Nay M\'Lady, I am not of such caliber as thee.\" She finally lifts her glance to meet her lovely face and as Thorondur speaks, this young maiden can do nothing but bring a cautious hand to her own lips perhaps hiding her suprise of such a comment, or prevent her chuckle.

[<#17847>] Gweneth +whispers to Indilzar, \"... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... her ... ... in ... ..., ... ... ... ... ... .... ... ... ... Indilzar ... ..., \"Ah, then perhaps there is no need for a debate on love...\" ... ... ... ... ear, ... ... ... ..., \'Charming ... ..., ... ..., but ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...,... she ... back ... ... ..., \'And ... ... well, for ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... of ... all.\' ... ... ... the trio, ... ... ... ... ... ... ..., ...,... her ... deepens ... ... ..., \'Perhap .... ...,... ... nods ... ..., ... to ... and Thorondur, .......\"

Annarchel looks at Meneliel as she passes and offers her a chair with a gesture as kind as he can make it appears. \" I would be honored my Lady.\" he says deeply, coughing a little bit, and offering. Then, miraculously, seeing Rorgan stride by, he extends the other chair on his left to him, noting that it is also empty. \" I think there are tidings that I seek which only one of your stature may give...\" he calls, lowly and directly only to Rorgan.

[<#17847>] A smile again curls on the lips of Gweneth as her brother speaks in hushed tones, her eyes glancing briefly at Tiralyn. She too offers Indilzar quiet words, \"..., ... perhaps ... ... ... need for ... ... ... ......\" She rises from Indilzar\'s ear, smiling warmly at Thorondur, \'Charming as ever, Lord Thorondur, but still I must force myself to part with you,\' she looks back to her brother, \'And you as well, for there are many guests and I quite behind on my greeting of them all.\' She curtsies to the trio, \'I shall return later in the night, or,\' her smile deepens into a grin, \'Perhap not. Milady,\' she nods to Tiralyn, then to Indilzar and Thorondur, \'Milords.\'

Kalenar Reaches into the courage he has so focused against the orcs, and heads to the farm girl. \"You are, er, tiralyn, right? I am Man at arms Kalenar, of Minis Tirith. May we talk a while?

[Thorondur(#13821)] And with Gweneth\'s departure, it is Thorondur who -- despite his sardonic smile -- seems to relax ever so fractionally. And it is Thorondur, too, who first espies Rorgan\'s approach now does the Lord Girithlin rise, and smile with genuine warmth. \"But who should come to join us now? Rise, lass,\" he says, grinning at Tiralyn, \"for here is a lord whose company you cannot fail to enjoy. Rorgan, how fare you?\"

Turning, then, Rorgan fixes a smile upon the young man, Annarchel. \"And what tidings do you seek, lord... ?\" asks the tall Captain, seeking an introduction from the young stranger. Instead of sitting on the proffered chair, Rorgan raises one of his enormous feet and places the boot that contains it upon the chair, leaning forward and resting his arms upon his knee.

[Indilzar(#10108)] \"Farewell sister,\" says Indilzar. \"As for myself, I cannot tarry long hither either.\" He then glances again at his sister, \"I do hope you will not have any more \'accidental\' incidents such as was at Linhir.\"

[Meneliel(#26525)] Nearly jumping as Annarchel speaks to her, Meneliel turns to peer at the man, blinking at him as she studies him for a moment. \"Oh,\" she replies after a short pause. \"Thank you very much.\" With little hesitation, she takes a few steps over in his direction to accept his offer of a chair, arranging herself in it quite gracefully, subtly beautiful.

[Gweneth(#17847)] Gweneth only smiles at her brother as she steps away into the crowd...

[Durandir(#30040)] Watching with interest, Durandir looks at the guarded conversation between the nobles. \"Maernus is right... perhaps if all this gallantry was spent on fight...\" He smiles gently, and eyes Lady Gweneth. The young Knight makes a motion with his hands like swinging a bucket... then he lets loose a loud \"Swoosh!\" from his mouth. He grins, and turns away, one eye kept to see the reaction.

Indilzar turns and bows to Lord Girithlin and Tiralyn, \"Please excuse me. I have some matters to attend to.\" Then with a motion his servant follows him as he departs from the hall.

Indilzar passes through the gateroom and the heavy iron-bound gates beyond.

Indilzar has left.

Annarchel clears his throat, looking up at Rorgan, \" It is of military matters, of great import....by all accounts sir, my Father seeks to know of his elder sons, Ilradan and Rochonor which are said to have departed for Ithilien p\'haps too many a month ago...sir, and I am,....Annarchel,of the younger sons of Glorwaen the Hamer...I come forth so, though terrible events beset me, and such is the reason for my state of drunkenness...\" he says, speedilly, and wary of others around...seeming at a loss for breath yet divulging all which may have been sotred up inside for far too long now, for with great delight and clear of voice and face he explains what may be only the beginning to the story.

Tiralyn expends another curtsy at the Lady\'s departure, somewhat relieved and yet somewhat disappointed. Infact, lost in so much thought, she hears neither the offer from the approaching Man-At-Arms, nor the invitation from Thorondur. She straightens herself and smooths out her dress. \"Indeed, what have I missed? I fear I was caught up in my ideals of nobility.\"

Now does the Captain\'s boot return to the floor as he is caught between two conversations and introductions. He looks first toward the young stranger and then toward Lord Thorondur and the young farm girl. Then his glance follows along the young lady, Meleliel, and he nods then to Annarchel, \"We shall speak of such tidings as these later, lad,\" he nods again, \"now is the time to make merry. Be welcome, young Annarchel, and seek me out on the morrow.\"

Turning more fully to face the Southern Lord, Rorgan now inclines his head toward Thorondur, \"I had wondered, Lord Thorondur, if you would have remembered who I was after so long and the both of us dead.\" Then he throws his head back and laughs heartily. Then he offers a half-bow to the young lady, \"Well met, indeed, my lady.\" And still that smile upon the tall greying-blonde Captain\'s face, as he reaches out and refills his flagon from one of the pitchers at the nobles\' table.

Meneliel lingers where she is, her hands in her lap, and her expression passive. She is so still one might almost think she were posing for a portrait for a very slow artist, for even her smile is that relaxed half-curl to the lips. She is listening, however, her ears perked as she overhears the conversation between Annarchel and Rorgan.

[Thorondur(#13821)] \"We have met once since then, sir, in Osgiliath as you\'ll recall,\" Thorondur reminds Rorgan with a grin, sharing in the other man\'s laughter, \"Unless you have taken one blow to the head too many.\" With a subtle wink, the lord from Dol Amroth completes the joke, and looks back to Tiralyn.

\"You have missed little, I think,\" he says, still just past his laughing, and merry again, \"save perhaps those ideals of nobility? For I will tell you truly, that for the most part, the Sons of Anarion are noble men, and strong of heart and spirit.\"

Ormus enters softly and quietly, his face placated with an expression of familiar awe for the decorative fixtures in this great hall which he feasts his eyes on before viewing the crowd gathered here.

Annarchel nods grimly, \" Often are those low that think of themselves to be high....\" he mutters under his breath. Looking up brightly at Rorgan he bows his head respectfully, \" Indeed so we will do. Perhaps a drink for the both of us might start this feast, for many adventures have I trodden through on my way hither, and already my bethrothed is left me, I figure I can drink beyond the reckoning of the sons of Anarion tonight !\" he says merrilly...his hands groping for the empty glass on the table which he had laid claim over minutes prior.

Tiralyn addresses Thorondur with a smile. \"Indeed, I am finding out such a statement M\'Lord.\" At the newly arrived Captain, she curtsies. \"Well met indeed!\" She lifts her head to watch him fill the pitcher and with a laugh, \"Well if I may permitted to say so, the sight of such a esteemed soul doing my job rather sends a shiver down my spine. A welcomed sight.... without being rude of course.\" She offers a smile to back up the thought.

Tiralyn addresses Thorondur with a smile. \"Indeed, I am finding out such a statement M\'Lord.\" At the newly arrived Captain, she curtsies. \"Well met indeed!\" She lifts her head to watch him fill the pitcher and with a laugh, \"Well if I may permitted to say so, the sight of such a esteemed soul doing my job rather sends a shiver down my spine. A welcomed sight.... without being rude of course.\" She offers a smile to back up the thought.

Ormus slowly walks within earshot of the small crowd, but keeps his distance upon not recognizing any of those conversing.

[Maernus(#17520)] Raising slowly from his seat, finding something worth while in the feast. The chair and his leg making a good deal of noise upon the floor as he moves them both, Maernus raises a glass of wine, \"If it does not disturp the noble Lords who sit now upon the table of the generous house of the Nimothans, I would like to offer a toast!\" He turns towards the knights, awaiting their aprroval. He holds the glass in one hand, his other in a fist upon the table in front of him.

Nodding back over his shoulder once again toward Annarchel, Rorgan next turns his smile upon Tiralyn, and with that same slight inclination of his head, he replies, \"Of course. But such comes naturally to me, my lady, for I was but a humble tailor ere I learned some little bit of the craft of War and the true lines of my own heritage. In fact, it was by my hand that the Lady Gweneth\'s gown was made,\" he chuckles and gives a shrug toward Thorondur, \"But of course such things would bore a noble-born such as this one to tears if he had to listen to them all night.\"

[Thorondur(#13821)] The eleven knights who ride with Thorondur, by now well into their cups -- or at least, into their cups after the fashion of knights, which is to say, in moderation -- seem amused by and indulgent of the squire, Maernus. Almost to a man, they raise their goblets, egging him on in his toast.

Rorgan turns and give a nod toward the enchaired Squire, returning his cup to his hand with a smile.

Ormus stops a nearby waitress, slipping her a few pennies to bring him a cup of ale quickly to join in the toast.

Annarchel takes a long draught from his mug, the type that just makes you thirsty to watch him. He then returns the cup to the table and looks up with renewed vigor. \" Now I am not the type to drink naught but water, yet I felt compelled to....well Lord Rorgan...\" he says, \" I am glad to be here at this merry meeting and hour of mirth and celebration but may I ask, what is being honored here ?\" he asks, well pleased now with his surroundings it would appear.

[Thorondur(#13821)] \"And is that what the people are saying, now?\" Thorondur wonders this, asks it of Rorgan with a sad smile, giving a cursory look to Maernus and his toast, but not entirely forgoing conversation. \"Is the blood of Westernesse run so thin that we cannot indulge the skills of the tailor, or the farmer, as well as the valor of the knight or the warrior?\"

\"Nobility,\" Thorondur asserts for the hearing of Rorgan and Tiralyn, quietly so as not to disrupt the toast, \"is as much responsibility as privelege. The social order has stood thus for millenia I believe there is as much good in it as there be in the hearts of the Men who uphold it. No more -- and no less.\"

[Meneliel(#26525)] Lingering where she is, having no interest in a glass of anything at the moment, Meneliel simply listens to the goings on, considering the words of Thorondur and Rorgan, as well as the toast, enjoying the multitude of stimuli, as yet not caring to call much attention to herself.

[Maernus(#17520)] \"A toast,\" Maernus continues, having gained the approval he saught. \"to the beacons. So that the Gondorrim may call upon their truest friends and allies the Rohirrim or they call upon us in times of dire need. May the bird of peace ere long fly over the skies of both our lands and the tree of friendship grow both strong and true.\" Maernus says, then taking a sip of his wine. He remains standing as such for yet a few lingering moments, before sitting down again, his toast completed.

[Tiralyn(#3193)] As accustomed to all this feasting night, the maiden Tiralyn looks to the Captain and brings her hand to her lips to hide her smile and suprise. \"Well if I may say so, twas the dress that caught mine eye when the Lady walked in. You do brillant work with such warrior hands.\" She also lowers her tone to Thorondur, \"Ah, but while you can indulge yourself in the skills of the commoners, the favor is not yet returned. I consider myself blessed of this night, and perhaps I will wake from this dream with the air that nobility is indeed something to strive for instead of angering.\" She quiets herself to the toast, yet no glass adorns her hand.

[<#17565>] Ormus scans the crowd gathered, and spots another bystander like himself. He slowly makes his way over to her, hopefully inconspicuously as possible, and drops his voice as he speaks, \"... ... ... ..., .... ... is the ... ... ... ... ... ...?\"

[Faengor(#18480)] Silently the Man-at-Arms, Faengor is seated at his table, wich has nearly emptied as people have walked away to converse with their friends, slowly having formed groups and having formed groups elsewhere. Yet Faengor remained at his table, silent and grimly, eating his plate with calm chews, slowly and almost serenelike digesting his food as he gazed at a nearby candle, his eyes toying with the flames as he sat alone at the table.

Suddenly then, the young Nimothan places his fork and knife aside, lowering his goblet and placing it near his plate as he pushes his chair back, carefully without making a sound. Then after raising himself from the seat, he walks towards Rorgan with slow steps, the ploys and sleeves of his garbments flusttering as he walks.

Upon reaching the crowd, the Man-at-Arms bows respectfully to them, yet little else does he do as he keeps his lips perched tightly together. Bending himself towards Rorgan he speaks into his ear, \"Forgive me for this intrusion Lord, but I would to speak to you\" and after a few seconds he adds, \"in private.\"

\"Such do my brothers and I see it, Lord Thorondur. Our lordship is a duty to the people who live within the lands that have come into our possession,\" Rorgan replies quietly, \"And the words I spoke were in jest.\" His eyes, though, remain on the Squire and the toast, even as he speaks.

\"TO FRIENDSHIP!!\" roars the former tailor as one with many of the other men in the room.

And then, his smile fails for a moment as his young cousin whispers into his ear and he nods, \"If my lord and lady will forgive me,\" Rorgan says, \"I must temporarily depart your company, for the duty of which you speak has called itself upon me.\"

Meneliel startles as she is spoken to, staring at Ormus in some surprise. \"Why sir... It is a fall festival, I believe,\" she replies, sounding as if she is perhaps a little unsure of things herself. \"And this a feast at which to socialize and make merry.\"

[Thorondur(#13821)] \"Well said, Maernus Calgar,\" says Thorondur, simply. His voice is quiet, and level, and surely lost in the loud acclaim of the hall in general -- those eleven knights included. Yet now he looks back to Tiralyn, and smiling fairly, gestures with his empty goblet.

\"It is the duty of every man to perform his task, Tiralyn. The farmer tends his fields, or her orchards the knight lifts his sword to protect the farmer. Yet verily--\" Here he breaks briefly, nodding a kind farewell to Rorgan ere resuming.

[Durandir(#30040)] Smiling, Durandir moves forward. \"That was very good Maernus. Be careful though -- for every friend you make, there are bound to be enemies made thrice fold. That is what I have learnt in the court, the difficult way.\" The Knight stands. \"If you will excuse me father, it has been a very... rewarding evening.\" Flashing another glance at Thorondur, Durandir turns away. \"If you would have me... the party is now thirteen...\" The Knight is gone.

Annarchel interrupts, \" The farmer feeds the Knight, so he is no lesser....\" and thus saying this he remains qquiet.

[Faengor(#18480)] Cautiously and silently the young Nimothan retracts himself from the crowd after whiserping his message into Rorgan\'s ear and having received his response, bowing to the group oncemore in an apologizing manner, yet not a word he speaks to them. his gaze then turns to Rorgan, patiently as he waits for the Steward of Barad Nimothan to take initiative and guide him.

Tiralyn rapidly quiets herself as Faengor approaches, trying desperately to disappear into the woodwork. Unfortunately at this, she grimmaces as the Captain asks his leave.

Ormus chuckles softly and briefly at Meneliel\'s physical response. He inclines his head towards those gathered about the table as the toast is proclaimed. He lifts his cup along with the others, and drinks jointly as well. He turns back to Meneliel and smiles in question, \"If the feast is to be a social one, why do you stay behind in the shadows so?\"

[Thorondur(#13821)] \"Verily,\" admits the knight, his smile again sad, and in this moment the wisdom and sorrow of long years and travels is writ large upon his otherwise youthful face, \"there are some who can rise in station... or fall. As their Doom decrees it... yet it is said among the Elves that Men hold fate in their hand, should only they learn how to seize it.\"

Another half-bow does Rorgan give Lord Thorondur and the lady in parting, then with purposeful steps, he heads directly toward the double gilt doors without so much as a look over his shoulder to see if his cousin follows.