(Archive) Lothiriel and Ivriniel

Elendor - Wednesday, April 26, 2000, 6:21 PM

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Dol Amroth: Prince\'s Castle - Hall of Heralds

Upon entering the Hall of Heralds, it is impossible for one\'s eyes not to gaze up, towards the vaulted ceiling. There, the senses apprehend an inkling of the glory of Dol Amroth. Bright banners of Belfalan nobility hang freely from stone piers and arcades, proclaiming their honor and pride for all to see. No mean portico or ante-chamber is this!! To reach the Throne Room beyond, one must follow a blue-carpeted walkway that skirts the sides of this hallway. For, directly astride the center of the chamber, you cannot fail to notice a long and massive desk. The area before the desk lies devoid of furniture or other impediment, save one small statue. Here, those with court business come to plead their affairs.

Turning to the south, one notes over the archway a great map, greater than any other commonly known. On it lie painted the lands of Middle Earth and the realms of the ancient Dunadan, places wherein the sons of Numenor yet hold sway against the onslaught of the Shadow.

Contents:

Lothiriel

Obvious exits:

Burgundy Door , Marble Doors , and Archway

[Lothiriel(#4309)] While rain pelts the lands of Belfalas, while dark, stormy clouds hover overhead and let loose their burden of wetness, and while the winter\'s darkness begins to creep over the land, the citadel\'s inside ignores nature\'s tantrum. Brightly lit, the Hall of Heralds especially defies the storm outside. Voices rise in conversation as small groups of people stand about, idling the cold day away, or conducting business of some sort.

Off to one side of the hall\'s central feature, the giant marble Bench of the Heralds, a young woman has seated herself on a cusioned chair. About her stand three men, perhaps four if one is blended with the crowd, young and old alike, all clad similarly as those of the Guard of the Princess. Otherwise, the young lady is alone, blue-grey eyes staring at the vaulted ceiling, face blank with thought.

[Dol Amroth ZMO(#5927)->Ivriniel]

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Weather: Stormy

Time: Late Afternoon

Season: Winter

Date: Trewsday - February 29, 3020

Real Time: Wed Apr 26 16:03:09 2000

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The bright banners of Belfalan nobility hang freely from the stone piers and arcades of the Hall of Heralds, grandly proclaiming their honour and pride for all to see. Striding into the grand room is Lady Ivriniel, dressed in a rose satin dress, her assistants make haste to keep up with the noble woman as her footsteps cover ground quickly. Silvery grey orbs glance at those gathered in the room and disappointment mars her smooth brow as she pauses, one assistant coming very close to plowing into the back of her.

[Lothiriel(#4309)] Though her gaze has been far away with thought, the Princess\'s peripheral vision has been anything but absent, and the arrival of her aunt does not go unnoticed -- nor does the assistant who nearly runs her over, and brings a hint of a smile to the young woman\'s solemn face. Yet the smile flickers and is gone more quickly than it came, and once more her gaze turns distant.

Ivriniel slowly turns her head and gives her assistant a less than pleasant look when she realizes what -almost- took place. A blush quickly covers the young woman\'s face as she stutters, \"I beg your forgiveness, Your Grace.\" Quickly she curtsies and glances around the room like a trapped animal, searching for a way to get away from the icy stare. Without a word to her helper, Ivriniel finally espies the form of her young niece sitting, almost hidden by several gathered and she walks her way.

[Borgilas(#22134)] Into this scene comes yet a third retinue, this time led by an aging, bearded man in the Prince\'s blue, with two pages and one rather lackadaisical lordling trailing him, each carrying a book or scroll. The man himself, bearing a heavy chain of office \'round his neck, reads from a scroll as he makes his way forward--somewhat awkward, given that one hand bears a tall lebethron staff as well as holding back the bottom of the scroll.

Hearing the commotion--and at a surreptitious cough from the lordling--Borgilas draws up short, then, glaring.

[Lothiriel(#4309)] Almost blind to the comings and goings in the hall, Lothiriel remains seated on her cushioned chair, and neither moves nor rises as people filter in and out. A book rests nearby on a table -- it seems these days she is rarely seen without one or another -- yet is closed at the moment. The calm in her face is belied by the glint in her blue-grey eyes.

Stopped after just a few steps, Ivriniel visibly sighs as the Lord of one of the Noble Houses speaks her name. A smile, not one that reaches the sea grey of her eyes, is given to the man as she nods her head in response to his question. Standing in conversation, her gaze strays from the face of the Lord and finds its way to her niece. Again, the smoothness of her brow is marred by the line of a frown that flits across momentarily. On and on the man seems to drone, Ivriniel struggles to pretend even a modicum of interest as her eyes deaden in boredom. Finally she interrupts a long tirade with a hand to the sleeve of the man, \"Would you please forgive me? There is something that I -simply- must see too. Shall we continue this conversation, perhaps tomorrow in the healers chambers?\" Without awaiting a response, she is off in a flurry of rose silk and the scent of jasmine.

Borgilas pauses, his two youthful pages bumping into him as he draws up short--he spares no glares for them, for the young man at his side hisses words sharp enough. \"Peace, Attanil,\" Borgilas intones calmly. Slowly, ostentatiously, he dips his head toward Lothiriel. \"Highness,\" he says. \"Long have the months been since I have seen thee. It gives me pleasure to see the lines of an Imrazor visage in thy father\'s lamented absence.\"

[Lothiriel(#4309)] Chuckling softly yet without humor at her aunt\'s treatment of the old fellow, Lothiriel\'s eyes turn swiftly to the approaching Seneschal or, more specifically, the chain of office that burdens his neck. \"I\'m certain it is, Bragollach.\" The Princess\'s features are pale and drawn, as one recovering from an illness and has not yet regained full strength, and her words are slow and measured to match.

Arriving just in time to hear the honey words of the Seneschal speak to her kinswoman, a flicker of amusmement brightens the face of the elder Imrazor for a second before it is masked behind serene nobility. Looking to the aged Knight she nods her head briefly, quickly dismissing him from her attention as she looks to Lothiriel, quickly roving over her pale, drawn face with an experienced eye. Softly do her words speak to her beloved family member, \"How fare thee today, my niece?\"

Borgilas draws back as the elder woman arrives, drawing into himself at the same time and stepping back a pace. He gestures for his retinue to continue onward into the Throne Room, handing his scroll to the petulant Attanil...who in turn passes it to a page boy and remains behind Borgilas, out of his field of vision, smirking ever-so-slightly.

[Lothiriel(#4309)] Perhaps prefering to be the silent one today, the young Princess stares a moment at the Bragollach before her eyes turns to Ivriniel. \"I fare well enough, Kinswoman,\" are her short words, her tone that of smothered anger and impatience. \"Certainly the two of you have duties to tend to, and more important things to care for than standing about a hallway.\"

Borgilas arches an eyebrow coolly, and then glances back to the still-smirking Attanil. He inclines his head. \"Just so.\" is his curt reply, and he moves further into the Throne Room.

Oddly enough, the petulance of the younger woman brings laughter tinkling from the lips of Ivriniel. Dimples appear in both cheeks as her smile spreads her lips, pearly white teeth gleaming as she responds, \"My goodness, what a lovely mood.\" Looking above the head of the Princess she makes mockery of the shortness of her response, cocking her head from one side to another, \"I see not a rain cloud above your head. What ails you today?\"

[Lothiriel(#4309)] The rainclouds remain outside, Lady Ivriniel -- My father would certainly be displeased if I allowed them to drip on the floors here.\" Yet her voice holds no amusement, and the possibly humorous effect is lost. \"Really, I am quite all right, Lady... Perhaps a little tired, and still recovering from a bit of illness, but otherwise, quite fine.\"

A pang of remorse quickly removes all vestiges of amusement from the face of Ivriniel at the mention of her brother. Quickly does her chest rise as a deep breath is drawn, concern for her kinswoman evident in the warmth of silvery grey orbs as she bends slightly to look upon the other woman, eye to eye. Her soft hand reaches out to lightly touch Lothiriel on the arm as she inquires, \"An illness and I was not called upon to see to you?\" Almost at a loss for words her hand reaches up to lightly touch the forehead of the younger woman, quickly, so as to not make a public display of checking her for fever.

[Lothiriel(#4309)] The young woman shrugs back, manouvering smoothly away from her aunt\'s hand. \"A small one, a simple fever. The Master Healer of Dol Amroth has more pressing wounds to tend to, you know.\" There is a sharpness in her voice, an anger almost, and a fear, and a sadness, all in one. \"Especially when she is called to aid in running my father\'s business while he is away.\"

A nostalgic smile doth turn up the corners of Ivriniel\'s lips as her niece avoids the touch of her hand. Warmth floods her expression as she says, \"The Master Healer of Dol Amroth has no matters more pressing than those of her family. Always, they shall come first.\" Her head bows, but not before a glint of moisture is seen as she says, \"The council is taking more thought and effort than I imagined. And truthfully, more than Imrahil would have dreamed.\" Sighing sadly she remarks, more to herself than to Lothiriel, \"He would be sorely disappointed in many of those in his fief.\"

[Lothiriel(#4309)] The Princess straightens, drawing a sharp breath at her aunt\'s final words, and her expression changes from one of anger to... one of anger of another sort, and a dry smile cracks her solemn visage. \"He would be that indeed... And they ought fear the day when he returns, for the Prince\'s disapointment is not an easy burden to bear.\"

Nodding her head in response the words of her niece, Ivriniel says softly, a hint of warning pervades her words, \"Fear indeed. His disappointment and rage shall not be a pleasant thing to witness. Too long have wagging tongues worked against the House Imrazor, I fear the day of reckoning is closer than they realize.\" A white hot anger turns her face to one of stone as she says, \"Sitting on the council has made me aware of those not in total loyalty and it sickens me to the core.\"

[Lothiriel(#4309)] The young Princess nods in agreement, though her eyes no longer look outward to the people in the room, but perhaps inward, thoughtful. \"What reason, perhaps aside from personal averice, have they for such disloyalty, though?\"

The voice of the elder Imrazor drops to all but a whisper as she becomes aware of those standing -perhaps- a little too close to where she and her niece are in the Hall of Heralds, \"The quest for position and power oft ruins the best of men, \", adding even softer, \"and women.\" Although looking at her niece, her words and thoughts obviously take her elsewhere as a distance is seen in her silvery grey orbs.

[Lothiriel(#4309)] The younger Princess smiles softly, \"The quest for power is not all that ruins them,\" and her voice is sad, and angry still. \"You have given me much to think on, Lady, and I thank you for that... and for your kindness... But I feel somewhat ill still, and think it best to retire to my chambers and allow you to continue with your heavy duties.\" And with that, Lothiriel stands, motions her guards about her, and steps quickly -- almost abruptly -- from the hall.