(Archive) The Dragon of Dol Amroth

Elendor - Monday, April 24, 2000, 11:23 PM

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Weather: Clear

Time: Dawn

Season: Winter

Date: Mersday - February 24, 3020

Real Time: Mon Apr 24 20:33:53 2000

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Dol Amroth: Halls of Healing - Master\'s Chambers

So broad is this chamber that at first glance it seems not one, but two on the west, a luxurious office, the floor covered by a thick carpet of Southron make, green laced with black. Centered upon it rests a broad mahogany desk covered with the implements of scholarship, flanked behind by a brace of tall, imposing shelves lined with scrolls and codices, and on the front by two wing-backed chairs upholstered to match.

The eastern end of the room, though, is bare and spartan, but heavy with fragrance. A workbench of scarred and yellowed wood covered with a variety of randomly-strewn arcane objects hugs the eastern wall, while the space above it is lined with a lattice from which depend bundles of aromatic flora hanging like withered fingers as they dry. Overlaying their perfume, though, is the scent of fresh, green Spring that only Kingsfoil can produce--it must be this, then, that lies in the covered wickerwork baskets around the room\'s periphery.

Shafts of light slant into the room from the windows set into the northern wall between workbench and desk--narrow windows, deep-silled, that look onto the distant Bay and the town below through thick, muddled glass.

Contents:

Borgilas

Obvious exits:

Out

The heavy rain and storms during the night have disappeared, leaving a cool, clear morning as dawn streaks across the sky, spreading hues of purple and pink across the darkness as it flees from sight. Slowly, Dol Amroth begins another day, the sounds of those already at work fill the citadel.

A lantern whose oil is almost spent sits atop the mahogany desk and sputters as the last drops burn out. Wearily, Lady Ivriniel leans back in her carven chair, bent fingers finally laying the quill in her hand to rest as her eyes close for just a moment. Slowly does her chest rise and fall as the efforts of the night\'s work take their toll on the woman. A sudden knock on the door sents silvery grey orbs flying open in surprise and disorientation as she calls out in a tired haze, \"Come in\"

[Borgilas(#22134)] A look of faint distaste crosses the bearded features of the Seneschal as he picks his way into the room, glancing around him in morbid curiosity at the pungent herbs, his cloak and staff held close for fear of contamination.

\"Good morning,\" he says softly, licking his lips and glancing around the room rather than at the woman herself. \"I seek the Lord Calimacil...he hath not been seen of late, and I had thought perhaps he had taken ill and was under thy...\" he pauses again, licking his lips as his eyes fall on a bundle of drying flowers, \"...ministrations.\"

A flit of irritation passes quickly over the face of the healer as she notices how carefully Borgilas guards his person as he enters the room and eyes its contents. Her hand rises to wearily push back a strand of raven hair that brushes across her forehead and leaning forward in her seat she then rests both forearms on the cool wood of the desk.

Nodding her head in cool greeting she says, \"Good morning to you, Seneschal\", carefully avoiding the more familiar address of given name. Looking at up with a bit of confusion she thinks of those in her care and knows the Crimson Knight is not and has not been seen in the Halls of Healing for quite some time know. Waving to the chair across from her with an absent motion of one hand she inquires, \"When last was he seen? Truthfully, I cannot recall when last I saw him.\"

[Borgilas(#22134)] The blue figure glides forward and eyes the chair, considering the offer. It seems at first as though he will reject the offer, but with a faint sigh he lowers himself along his lebethron staff and sits gingerly upon it.

\"Several days ago. I have not spoken with many about this...but I fear there may be sinister hands at work. In addition, his absence leaves the Ruling Council with but two members.\"

Ivriniel bows her head, a glimmer of amusement curling her lips as the man lowers himself so carefully into the seat across from her. The quill on the desk falls prey to her thoughts as the feathered end is toyed with as she thinks of the words brought forth by Borgilas.

At last silvery orbs turn again to the man, clear and bright, despite the hours of toil. \"What reason have you to suspect that there may be sinister hands at work?\" The quill brushes back and forth on the desk in a sweeping motion as Ivriniel leans back in her chair, one hand resting in her lap as she considers the elderly Knight. \"Are there pressing matters for the Council that cannot await his return or do we need to adjourn to form a party to search for evidence of his disappearance?\"

[Borgilas(#22134)] A flicker of annoyance ghosts across the man\'s features, but they are smoothly schooled a bare instant later. \"No matters of import that press upon me now, no. But if something should arise--are we to convene as a diad rather than a triumvirate? Suppose we are locked in our opinions...?\" here he at last raises his eyes to hers for a brief instant--in them is certainty that this is not an idle possibility. He looks away again after this contact, focussing instead upon the woman\'s desk.

\"As for why I believe what I believe...I am afraid that I must keep that in confidence for the time being. Even the ears have walls at times, and with the Prince gone...\" a pained expression now finds its way to his visage, and unlike the earlier one does not leave without marking its passage. \"Dol Amroth seems not what once it was.\"

A pained expression clouds the face of Ivriniel at the mention of her brother, slowly she licks dry lips and says cautiously, \"Tis true, Dol Amroth is not what it once was, but those loyal to House Imrazor shall keep her true to the wishes of the Prince.\"

Holding the gaze of the man, her message is clear as she then adds, \"If Calimacil has fallen, or perhaps been sent on a secret mission, the council will not fail to meet its objective. Lady Gweneth and the Swan Knight Ithilir are to be called in for support.\" Pausing for a moment she raises one eyebrow and asks, \"Do you truly fear a deadlock if there were no additional parties to bring forth?\", incredulous would best describe the expression as she awaits her answer

[Borgilas(#22134)] The man sighs slightly, looking in the wan morning sun less an aging Knight and more an old man. \"We have not agreed in the past. I fail to see why the Ruling Council appointment would change either of our temperaments. It is, I think, why the Prince placed us both upon the council together, with Calimacil to temper the fire.\"

A short, brief chuckle. \"Is this so surprising?\"

A shrug of one delicate shoulder rises and falls as Ivriniel says, \"The past is the past, as I see it. Tis never too late to call a truce and work for the good of Dol Amroth.\" A sadness wanes as she says, \"Imrahil would expect both of us to put aside any differences we may have and see to the tasks at hand.\"

Amusement dimples her cheek as soft pink lips turn to a smile, bright and sunny, \"And who knows, we could actually come to like one another. Or dare I say, at least respect one another\'s opinions.\"

[Borgilas(#22134)] The other smiles, but it is not a warm one. Nor cool, but...rather forced. \"We shall see,\" he answers shortly. \"I cannot hope for miracles at my age. It will be enough if we do what is est for the City and the Realm, I think. But I have troubled thee too long, and must be gone anon.\" He rises stiffly, and offers a bow.

Again the sister of Imrahil studies the elder Knight, choosing her words as she says, \"My own age is one of many years and miracles are but a dream of young children. Experience and the wisdom to put aside any such difference can come to those willing to strive for a common goal.\" Nodding her head in response to the bow she rises from her chair, closing the heavy tome upon which many hours of work were just spent.

[Borgilas(#22134)] At the nod, the figure in blue spins and glides out of the room with little assistance from his staff. His gait is somewhat uneven, but it seems that he is in some hurry to depart, and he does so without further ceremony.