(Archive) Rorgan and Caladrielinde
From the archives of the Gondorian
Calawhatever is a Gwen-alt... so expect some catty witticisms.
June 27, 2000
*Note log supplied by Caladrielinde aka Gweneth*
Library(#17857R)
The famous library of Minas Tirith! Records and archives kept here stretch back all the way to the distant ages long past when the Numenoreans fled for their lives from the destruction of their island home and first built the rocky fortress they named Minas Anor. Students there are here, although not in the numbers which used to flock to this great seat of learning. They are scattered about the room at tables piled high with parchments and books of bound illuminated vellum. Occasionally one looks up to shush you (watch out for the squeaky boards) as you pass. The bookshelves rise to the very ceiling far, far above you, and ladders lie against them, propped into the corners. They don\'t appear all that sturdy and it\'s amazing more students don\'t fall from them. But somehow they manage and go tripping about the shelves in search of tomes as nimble as elves in the trees. One wall however, is not lined with books. A series of tapestries hang there, one after the other in succession, like a picture-book history of the Numenoreans and their descendents.
Contents:
Rorgan
Book of Epics(#929V)
Book of Gondor(#21758V)
Tapestries(#18214)
Obvious exits:
Door
The smell of old things permutates this room, mixed with a great deal of humidity would make, one would think, this one of the few places people would decide to spend a evening filled with rain. Surprisingly though, without windows many a scholar have lost track of the time since they first saught shelter from the rains, taking up their latest item of research or even just a recreational read, the great library has each of its desks filled as is each couch and chair. Even the young school children have turned to their studies for some reprieve from the weather. One young lady, not nearly old enough to be named scholar, though far from her years as a schoolchild sit on one of the coveted chairs. Her flaxen hair pulled back into an intricate braid with crimson gems intertwined in the weaves. This matches her equally ornate gown of satin and lace, also of crimson. On her lap rests a medium sized tome which she flips through leisurely, sipping from a cup of steaming liquid held in her free hand.
Trudging his way in out of the rain, a tall man of about middle age and Rohirric by his greying-blonde hair and bone structure pauses inside the library and glances about with a look of mild consternation upon his face, obviously having expected the library to yeild to its normal emptiness under such weather as this. With a slight shake of his head, he sets the silver and bronze medalion about his neck swinging, and thus he stands for many a long moment ere he finally makes his way to a shelf not far from where the young Lady with crimson gems braided into her hair sits. Murmering something to himself as he scans the end-jackets along the shelf, finally the man chooses a rather large tome, and pulling it from the shelf, he turns now his back toward the shelves and leans there, opening the book and beginning to thumb through the pages.
A woman\'s voice, sweet yet not kind, intones, \"It is against the rules of the library to lean against it\'s shelves. It damages the spines as well as the threat of tipping it over.\" The words seem to have come from the young woman, though there is no sign she spoke. She turns the pages as the same pace and still drinks of her tea.
Looking about curiously for but a moment, but not moving, the tall man gives a chuckle. Obviously the comment was intended for him, but also obviously, he seems to ignore it, finally taking pause in thumbing through the pages. One hand with ever-so-delicate fingers reaches up to the page and the index finger moves along the lines, held at a never varying hair\'s breadth above the page. Then, midway through the page his own voice, still glowing with the previous chuckle speaks into the book, \"Then arrest me, Lady, for I am but the basest of Library criminals here to steal the knowledge of this place and use it to further my own nefarious means.\"
A simple reply comes, \"Even a thief treats his gold and jewels well else they would be damaged and worth less to him.\" If Rorgan where to watch, the young lady in red does in fact speak, but other than her lips moving, there is no sign she is engaged in a conversation.
\"Ah, lady,\" speaks to the pages of his book still, and in quiet tones, \"but the province of these jewels is in the mind, and that I do take care of as well as can be in times such as these. Of course, metallurgy being what it is, as well, I have taken a few knocks in my day... Perhaps the last knocked loose my brain and you shall have to keep me for a madman, for if even a thief shows respect for what he would steal, and by your evaluation I do not, though I proclaim myself a thief, then indeed must I be a deranged lunatic. Mad as a Wose.\"
\"Madman or no, I ask of you, please, to lift yourself up and stand on your own,\" the young woman says, her words a plee but her tone the same as before, \"I am not one for threats but if I must do as you say, and call a clerk to aid me, I shall.\" A light sigh escapes from her lips, as she adjusts her position slightly, making room on the couch, \"And if you will not move yet, I will share my seat with you.\" Her eyes lift from her pages and meet Rorgan\'s then fall back to her pages.
Stll does the tall man lean against the shelves, though from his lean frame and the grace with which he carries himself, even in such repose, it would seem that no great burden is being placed upon either the shelves or the floor on which the man stands.
CRACK!
The tall man\'s cane seems to choose its moment to fall over quite wisely, and as the tall man closes his chosen tome around his finger, he bends to pick it up by it\'s Ivory Eagle\'s head handle, speaking again quietly as he does, \"I am but a simple man and not worthy of sitting with a lady such as yourself. Also am I a married man and true. Fear not for the books nor the shelves whilst I am about, for it is my duty to protect each of them exactly as I do the children and women and men of this city.\"
There is a slight unseen roll of the woman\'s eyes as she shakes her head slightly, \"Milord, you think too grand of yourself, I fear. It is the protocal of a lady to offer one who is older and,\" she pauses, her eyes moving to the cane, \"Injured. Though I am not one yet, I study to be so and follow the conduct and protocal of such. With that, my protector, I assure you, it is quite safe to share a couch with me.\"
Tilting his head into a graceful nod, the tall man replies, \"Yet even the simplest of washer-women seem to know of my every move and sitting, or so would my wife report.\" He smiles, \"But I shall accept your offer, though it be made with some ... misconceptions.\" Now does he move toward the couch, cane and tome in tow, seating himself somewhat gingerly upon the far end.
After a moment he adds, \"For I am not injured, nor have I been for some time. Though older than you, I suppose I must be, perhaps even by a total of your own father\'s years.\" He chuckles again, and now opens the tome upon his lap, \"As I said, I am but a simple man. I prefer there to be no pretenses.\"
The young woman\'s attention returns to the book for some time, not responding to Rorgan\'s words. Till after a time she speaks once more, \"Simple? I have found the men I have met so far to be nothing but.\" She hesitates continuing, instead adding, \"Not to be insulting, it is just an honest observation. Though, few have been as loquacious and jolly as yourself.\" Her head rises from the pages, a look on comtemplation on her brow, \"Perhaps it is your age. I find most young men trying to be more than they are. I wonder...\" She does not continue, instead looking back to her tome.
The initial comment draws a true laugh from the tall man, though he quickly silences it, lest it draw unneeded attention, \"No insult taken, my lady. It is certainly the way of youth to do as you say.\" He shakes his head slightly, \"Though I doubt that even you would faire much better should a man who is as handsome as you are lovely and as brave as you are mannered took your interest, rather than the other way around.\" He chuckles now, \"Nor do I intend insult, but think you on Lord Faramir, and what you would do to capture his attention, if you but made up your mind to do so. It might be a useful meditation.\"
\"I appreciate the advice though it is quite outside the area of conduct for a young lady to engage in such,\" again a slight pause, \"Schemes, milord...?\" She trails off, looking from her book with a cocked eyebrow.
Another chuckle does this draw from the tall man, \"Such things are beyond my simple comprehension.\" He winks. \"But of course, I would certainly be willing to learn just what it is that a lady of this land is expected to do in such a case as that.\"
Caladrielinde turns her attention to Rorgan fully now, the first time of the night, lifting her face to look at him, \"If a Lady had an interest in the Lord Faramir, she would be but naught the Lady that she is. If the Lord was interested, he would show it otherwise there would be no reason to pursue the Lord. A Lady does not chase like a mouse, scurrying for food. Though, such matters for are beyond my scope and will be for a time,\" she says turning back to her tome, \"As I still study for the position I aim to be and currently am in waiting to another Lady of my House.\" She sniffs slightly, perhaps in humor, perhaps contempt, \"Though, you could learn this and more, if you wished me to point you to the correct books, milord...?\" she trails off again, this time in asking for Rorgan\'s name.
\"Rantaur of Nimothan, son of Urumir am I,\" says the tall man formally, \"but to one and all in Gondor I am known as Rorgan, a name I got as a youth in far-away Dunlostir.\" He smiles, and folds his hands upon the top of the open pages of the tome in his lap, now turning his own full attention toward the lady, obviously waiting for something before he will continue.
The slightest curl of a smile flits upon the young woman\'s lips as she replies, \"My name is Caladrielinde of the great and noble house Bragollach, Lady in Waiting to Lady Aearwen of the House Ethrig and too from the great and noble house of Bragollach. It is a pleasure to meet you, Lord Rorgan,\" she bows her head politly, \"I have met Lord Faengor, a kinsman of yours I believe, during my time in Minas Tirith.\" She pauses slighty, her smile fading, \"Though I do not think he thinks fond of me.\"
\"Ah, yes, Faengor...\" Rorgan chuckles, but comments no further, changing the subject. \"So what are these books of which you speak? I was not aware that such traditions as lady-like behavior were set down in any form of writing.\" Then he shakes his head and smiles, \"But where are my own manners? Well met, Lady Caladrielinde. The Lady Ethring-Bragollach has been a dear friend of mine for quite some time, and she remains close friends with my wife, Lady Maeghan of Isilrim, as well. Have you had the opportunity to meet her yet?\"
Caladrielinde shakes her head, \"Indeed not, though I work closely with Lady Aearwen in the House of Healing, I have not yet seen the Lady Maeghan. As for as books on protocal, simple manners have been documented in a number of volumes. Many young women are not privy to some of the more esotaric books on the subject as there are few and fewer still in westron. Luckily, my fair cousin has a collection of literature that rivals many in the land and her love is of the books of old. She gave my teachers the volumes from which I studied from until my graduation. Indeed, she still has another tome sent to me on a monthly basis that I am to read.\" Her lips tighten slightly, \"I wonder sometimes if I must read her whole collection before I am named, Lady.\"
Chuckling, Rorgan nods, \"Well, it shall be once and the same for me, I fear, for I do not speak the King\'s tongue well enough to be a Captain in this land, though I would like nothing more than such a ranking among the Steward\'s men.\" He shrugs, \"If well could I earn a promotion from reading even a whole library of books, I would do so, for there are far worse ways to earn your keep in times such as these.\"
A crease marks the brow of Caladrielinde as she questions, \"Times such as these, milord? Whatever do you mean?\"
Nodding his head toward the East, Rorgan says, \"The creatures of the Nameless One multiply beyond count.\" He nods South, \"The Southrons become ever bolder.\" He nods North, \"The Orcs and other foul creatures of the Misty Mountains have taken to wandering the plains of Rhovanion.\" He shakes his head, \"We are a nation beset upon three sides with only one ally, and our ally is likewise beset upon three sides, or so it would seem. There is little but the steel and flesh and bone of the Steward\'s good men between you and atrocity at any time, my lady.\"
\"I do not mean to frighten you, or to cause you grief,\" Rorgan continues. \"Nay, in saying this little thing to me, you have given me a compliment greater than any other I have received from any citizen of Gondor, save that which my wife gave me when she took my hand in marriage.\"
\"That you would not know of these things tells an old soldier such as myself that I and mine have not sacrificed in vain and have not gone forth unnecessarily to face the dangers and trials that our enemies lay before us. For that, my lady, I thank you.\" He nods and rises with a smile, \"And also with that, I fear I must take my leave.\"
\"Your company has been exquisite, and of the finest manners I have experienced in many a day. Were your cousin Lady Gweneth herself, I would still send good report of you, so before I go, simply speak the name of your Lady, and it shall be done.\"
Caladrielinde tilts her head, obviously confused, \"My cousin is Lady Gweneth of the Great and Noble House Bragollach. She has been the one who has tended to me all of my years.\" She smiles, \"This may sound odd, being that Lady Gweneth is not that old, but even before I was born, I am told she had lesson plans already prepared for one of her cousins who she would dote on. I am that one.\" She pauses in her words, pride beeming from her smile. She then closes her tome, first marking the page, then rises, \"Again it was a pleasure, Lord Rorgan, until we meet again,\" she dips into a deep and formal curtsey.
The half-bow now sketched by Rorgan is a mar on the previous grace of his movements in its awkwardness, yet it does suffice, perhaps, for an old man such as he. He then sets the tome he had been perusing aside, and, picking up his cane, draws the hood of his cloak back over his head, leaving those thin, delicate fingers suspended in mid-air for just a moment before they, too, dissappear under the folds.
From within the cloak, the voice of Rorgan comes drifting, \"Until we meet again, my lady.\" And then does he stride with all the purpose and quickness in his lengthy legs toward the doors to leave the library, still carrying his cane, but not using it.
The young Bragollach watches Rorgan leave then looks down to his book, \"A lord... indeed,\" She sniffs, this time very much in contempt, and takes up his book, returning it to where he took it out.