(Archive) Rorgan\'s Lost History — The Red Book of Westmarch

So anyway, Rorgan decided he wanted to found a noble house. The problem was that his character was non-noble. However, with a few comic bookesque macguffins we can fix that...

Elendor - Friday, March 17, 2000, 9:44 PM

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Hall of Ulmo

The Hall of Ulmo is not so much a grand hall, but a private chamber where the Knights of Dol Amroth can relax and enjoy each other\'s camaraderie while in Minas Tirith. A large fireplace of comfortable-looking bricks stands in the northern wall, and the floor is covered in a royal blue carpet, amazing for its soft, padded depth. A table to seat twenty men is near the windows inthe south of the room, which look out over the street. Comfortable chairs and couches are arranged near the fire, and small tables hold books and games of strategy.

The great curtains of blue velvet are open, and the sunlight floods through the windows from outside. The scent of savory spices wafts in from the kitchen-door, and several other doors lead to smaller sleeping quarters, all west of the fireplace in the north wall. Several knights sit at the great table, enjoying their meal.

Contents:

Yeorl

Rorgan

Obvious exits:

West leads to Dol Amroth Embassy: Hall of Heraldry.

The man you behold is an aged figure with once-black hair now nearly completely shot through with silver and grey. His chiseled features have begun to sag with age, yet his pale eyes bely the sharpness that remains within his mind, even at an apparent age of over ninety years. His tall, lithe body is held proudly erect, and his movements can only be categorized as spry. The hands of this man, though, display the full ravages of age and then some, gnarled and twisted into a nearly unusable grotesque of the five-fingered hand of a normal man. Disshapen, swolen, and crooked, they draw stares and murmering almost anywhere this man goes.

The man\'s boots are a pair of well cared for black walking boots, polished to the birghtest of shines. His pants are of a shimmering charcoal material, and are fitted loosely about his legs and held at the waist with a broad belt of the shiniest black leather, buckled with a thick silver buckle. The shirt about the man\'s body is also of the same shimmering material as the pants, yet its color is of the deepest sea, embroidered about the collar and neckline with abstract patterns in the darkest color of the blue sky just before dawn. The man\'s cloak is a fine and lordly thing, as well, the thick royal blue velvet bears a grey wolf supine under a white tree embroidered in large scale upon the center of the back, and it is lined within all in grey fur.

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Weather: Stormy

Time: Early Evening

Season: Autumn

Date: Trewsday - November 2, 3019

Real Time: Fri Mar 17 20:18:31 2000

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The howling winds drive cold teeth jaggedly through the night as the storm rages on outside the warm, coziness of the luxuriant Hall of Ulmo in the Dol Amroth Embassy in Minas Tirith. The moaning of the wind crossing the top of the fire\'s chimney rises and falls, and the fire sizzles and pops in the fireplace as several knights recline near by. In the distance, the front doors of the embassy can be heard to open with a wind-driven bang, and then grunting and a loud curse as they are pushed to again, sealing the building once again from the elements.

Moments later, the soggy sound of wet leather upon the flagstone floor can be heard just outside the hall\'s door, then a grunt as the doors are pushed open to admit a wisened figure, dressed in shimmering charcoal wrapped in a thick royal blue velvet cloak, with the hood pushed back to reveal his lordly visage. His hands are folded underneath the cloak in the front, hidden from view, but this is a posture that adds to the man\'s apparent authority. Finally, he moves to stand near one of the youngest men in the room, by all judgement a young squire on his first junket to the capital, and asks, \"Prithee, lad, wouldst thou know the location of Lady Aearwen Ethring-Bragollach? Long have I travelled upon the roads in foul weather upon the scantest of hopes that I wouldst find such a highly recommended young lady in such a place as this.\"

The howl of the storm whistles outside the windows as the rain lashes at the large panes of glass in the windows. Dark, ominous clouds streak through the sky as the last remaining light slips from the day.Tucked away in a quiet corner in the Hall of Ulmo, oblivious to the sounds of the Knights as they chat and laugh amongst themselves is Lady Aearwen. Curled up in a high back chair before the fireplace, she lazily reads a tome when her eyes are not lost in the flickering flames of the fire. Now and again, a yawn slips from her lips and is daintily hidden by one slender hand, a picture of serenity as she relaxes.

The sound of the doors opening, allowing a gust of cool damp air to blow in, affords no more than a cursory glance before the woman again drops cerulean eyes to the lines written in the tome perched on her lap. Shimmering blue satin is the colour of her gown, matching that of her eyes, the colour of a calm sea on a sunny day, vivid and bright. Suddenly aware of her own name being spoken, a brightly coloured ribbon goes into the tome, marking her page and she leans forth to eye the stranger, \"I, would be Lady Aearwen. And you would be?\" Calm, serene eyes gaze at the stranger with a bit of curiosity

\"For many years, my lady,\" speaks the old man, now moving away from the young squire and toward where the young woman takes her repose, \"have I been known amongst men as the master tailor Yeorl.\" Finally his sodden boots make their final approach to her seat and his hands come out from under the cloak, shriveled and crooked grotesques of the normal five fingered appendages of most men. Indeed was this man not only hiding such malformity from the sight of the hale and hearty knights lounging about the room, but he carries in them two items -- a small jeweled box of great antiquity and a leather-bound tome of at least equal age. These he sets upon the table beside the lady before he speaks again, \"I have made a decision, my lady, and when I sought about one who wouldst be best to help me speak my mind to my son, it was the name of Lady Aearwen Ethring-Bragollach which camest to me from the highest of sources. It is your aid I seekest, my lady, if I may presume to say such whilst our acquaintance is yet so new.\"

Reaching to lay her book on a nearby table, the eyes of the woman never fall from the face of this wizened man. Listening to his words carefully, seeming to judge them as each one falls from his lips. When the name of the gentleman is spoken, her eyes dawn with recognition and a warm smile curves her lips as she sits up a little straighter in her seat. Quickly do her eyes glance at the items he sets upon the table and then back to his face in puzzlement, \"My first question would have to be. What aid do you seek from me? And secondly, my curiosity is abounding greatly as to why I have not met you in my many stays in the stone city.\"

Waving to a seat close to the fire she laughs softly, \'Please, forgive my manners. Have a seat before the fire and let the heat ward off the chill of your dampened clothing while we discuss this matter of what seems to be importance\" Eyes scan the man from head to toe as if assessing the situation as Aearwen awaits his next words.

It seems years of fiddling must go into the removal of the man\'s cloak, but finally his ruined hands manage to unbuckle the clasp at his throat and the cloak is laid over another near-by chair before Yeorl takes the proffered seat. He smiles slightly toward the woman, almost an apology for his clumsiness. His words carry on throughout the whole process, \"My lady, though Minas Tirith be my home, it is seldom that I find myself in the city. Either away I am to Pelargir, Dol Amroth, Edoras, or even further North. It is no surprise that we have not yet had the opportunity to meet, when each of these places have their seasons and large populations.\" Of course, such a one as this would answer the trivial questions first.

Once he is seated, he begins on the more important question, \"I wouldst tell thee a story, and showest thee supporting documents verified by a number of prominent historians from the University. This story hast been hidden from all but a few since I was but a young man, and if thou wouldst humor an old man and but listen, it is my sovreign belief that thou will undoubtedly escry the exact nature of the aid I seek.\"

While the gentleman removes his sodden outer clothing, Lady Aearwen captures the attention of a servant and calls them forth. Upon arrival she requests an assortment of refreshments to be brought for the two as they sit isolated in front of the fire.Smiling gently at Yeorl as he gives her an apologetic smile, she waves it away with no word said, with one soft shake of her head.

Nodding her head as he explains his absence from the stone city she doth reply, \'I am not oft a visitor here these days as I was in old. My return was called for by Commander Galdorim and whilst here, the Steward did command me to oversee the House of Healing.\" Shaking her head in sadness, \"Terrible disrepair had fallen with the absence of Lady Maeghan\" Blushing a light shade of pink she goes on to say, \'My words are rushing forth like a spring. Please, do go on with your tale and I shall avail to be as silent as possible.\" Twinkling blue eyes rest upon his face as her interest is all his. While the gentleman removes his sodden outer clothing, Lady Aearwen captures the attention of a servant and calls them forth. Upon arrival she requests an assortment of refreshments to be brought for the two as they sit isolated in front of the fire.Smiling gently at Yeorl as he gives her an apologetic smile, she waves it away with no word said, with one soft shake of her head.

With a nod as his sea-grey eyes focus upon the fire and his mangled hands come to a rest upon his lap, Yeorl begins his tale in a firm, quiet voice, pleasant to listen to and obligating the listener to listen well as the words are given only enough volume to carry to the intended audience and no further, \"I was born in the year 2931 with the name Urumir Gaurdhagnir. My father was Rantaur Gaurdhagnir, the twenty-eighth Lord Gaurdhagnir. I am his only son and as is my right, I have decided to lay claim to my father\'s title.\" There is a pause here, and finally, Yeorl looks toward the book upon the table. \"That tome is the history of my house. The first Lord Gaurdhagnir was awarded the house in the year 1032, as a reward for his efforts in clearing Ithilien of Wargs, Werewolves, and other fell wolf-beasts. A great and heroic man was he. Still others in the line were titled \"Protector of the Anduin,\" \"Master of Southern Ithilien,\" and other things that spoke of the great deeds that they have done.\"

Another pause here, as the man\'s eyes return to the hearth, \"You may read of these men at your leisure, my lady, if the stories of my heritage are of interest to you. Suffice it to say that I am not cut from the same stock as these men and have lived a most shameful life since the death of my father upon the beach of Belfalas.\" His eyes seem to sink into his head and his brow furrows, even as the man sniffs through his nose -- either holding back a tear or a cold -- but he does continue in short order, \"My son, the one known as Lieutenant Rorgan of the Minas Tirith Guard, though only half of his blood be that of Numenore, is undoubtedly of the same stock as these ancestors he and I share. Of this there can be no denial.\" Now does his voice shake as his story winds to a halt, \"I have done my son great injustice by denying him his heritage. He was born Rantaur Gaurdhagnir, like his grandfather, and I would like but to pass onto him what he so justly deserves...\"

Aearwen leans back into the plushness of her chair, delicate hands folded in her lap as she listens to the tale springing from the lips of the old man. Nodding her head to indicate her involvement of this story, a frown mars her beauty for a split second at the mention of wargs and then smoothes back out to one of interest. One eyebrow raises sharply as his tale comes to a close and her head cocks to one side in question, \"Your story is very interesting and I shall be happy to read it in its entirety. But, I have to admit a bit of confusion here.\" One hand lifts in the air and turns palm up, \"What use can I be in your quest to see that Rorgan assumes his rightful place?\"

Shaking his head slowly, Yeorl uses the moment to regain his composure before speaking, \"My lady, the number of things which you can do is three. First, the assention requires a witness of noble birth. So doth an abdication. And another assention. Thou wouldst also help me greatly in convincing my son of the genuinity of his claim -- it should not be an easy task for the one who has kept it hidden from him his whole life.\"

The old man stares into the fire with a far away look in his eyes for what would seem to be a long time before he speaks again, \"The box contains the symbols of the office of Lord Gaurdhagnir, just as they were passed to me upon the death of my father. I have done nothing with them since that day, save find a safe hiding place for them near where my wife and I settled in Rohan. \'Twas the purpose of my latest journey North to retrieve it from where it was hidden in Deorlas Keep.\"

Picking up the book from the table, Aearwen leafs through the pages, reading randomly for a few minutes. Silence looms heavily as she continues to look over the entries in the book, biting her bottom lip as her brow furrows deeply in question she finally raises her eyes to Yeorl and says, \"Again, my confusion is great as I read the history of your family.\" Tapping one finger along the binding of the book she questions, \"This has been hidden since your father perished upon the shores of Belfalas. Is there no one that can verify this claim? Someone that knew your family name? Perhaps a knight of old that can recall the ancient awarding.\"

Pausing again as she reopens the book and points to one entry, there would have to be some record of such heroic deeds, \"The protector of the Anduin, Master of Southern Ithilien...all rich rewards for service.\" The question in her eyes is clear as she says, \"What exactly do you wish for me to do? \"

\"For nearly two thousand years has House Gaurdhagnir existed. No living man has a memory that seeks that far into our past -- it was in the time of the Kings, and at the height of fair Osgiliath on Anduin. There may yet be a few who remember me from their youth, but indeed, I served as Guildmaster of Tailors even before Lord Denethor became Steward of Gondor. No, there are none who\'s memory could reach as far back as you ask. That is why I consulted the historians, who have validated everything in that book from what remains of our histories. That the House existed, there is no doubt. That I am the heir, I have only the proof of that which remains in yon box. The seal of the house upon a signet ring of the finest silver that does not tarnish. A few letters from my father to me as a small child. The record of my mark as both Yeorl and as Urumir. Little proof, indeed, to try and save a failing house.\" The old man shakes his head sadly, directing his eyes again toward the fireplace.

\"It is not difficult for me to understand your reluctance, my lady. I have only my word and a few scratches on some parchements and scrolls with which to convince you, and I deem you to be less the doubter by half that my son will be.\"

Forgotten is the tray of refreshments that the servant brought, perhaps hours ago as time has gone unnoticed as Aearwen and Yeorl talk before the blazing fire. Laughter tinkles as she nods her head, \'There is not a truer statement to be said than that one. Your son can be most -difficult- at best and yet, I call him among my most favorite of people.\" One delicate shoulder shrugs slightly as she says, \'These items of proof and my word will perhaps open the door to his believing in such a claim, but I sincerely doubt him to be totally accepting of the idea. His love of Rohan and the ties there might sully the desire to bring forth this new heritage at such an advanced age in life.\"

Her head shakes softly as her eyes fill with doubt, \"To presume anything, would be an idle waste of time, I suppose. But why me? Why did you not give him this information yourself?\" Understanding, dawns on her face, as she says, \"Perhaps the two of you are very much from the same mold and do not see eye to eye very oft?\", a sly grin curves her lips as she pauses to once again glance through the book.

A simple nod serves as enough of a reply, but yet the old man adds words of confirmation as well, \"My son and I have not seen eye to eye since the day I moved him from Dunlostir back to my home in Minas Tirith. Always wanting to be a part of things, that one...\" He shakes his head with a wry grin, \"And look what it\'s gotten him.\"

Then with a vague guesture toward the table, \"The prooving items reside not within the book -- it is but an historical account of the family preserved for the Lord of the House. The other artifacts within the chest.. even the chest itself, now those should be of especial interest.\"

Nodding her head in understanding, Aearwen says softly, \"Rorgan does love Rohan and its people and they him. My own love of the place brings me a great appreciation for his deep roots there.\" Puzzled by the words of the old man she asks, \"Look what it\'s gotten him? Pardon me, for questioning, but I am afraid that I do not follow your intent there.\" A tinge of irritation flares in the eyes of the lady as she feels her friend is being maligned by his own kinsman and she adds defensively, \'A more loyal man cannot be found among the soldiers of Gondor.

Many times my own eyes have been witness to his bravery upon the field of battle.\" Blue eyes blaze with anger as she glares at the old man indignantly. One finger points to the box and she asks abruptly, \"Am I supposed to open the chest and view these artifacts or are they for his eyes only?\"

Clearing his throat a bit nervously at the sudden flaring from the Bragollach and silently chiding himself for not seeing it coming, Yeorl sits mute for a few moments before replying, \"For the eyes of any the current Lord of the House deems fit to view them. Open the chest, if you will, for my hands can not accomplish that task without aid.\" Then sitting back in his chair a bit, \"What I meant was that for all his work and bravery, my son is but a lieutenant in the guard. Back in my day, half the man with half the deeds would have been deemed a hero and Great Captain of Gondor.\"

Admittedly, the woman flushes a bit as the last words of Yeorl ring true and she replies with a slight grin dimpling both cheeks, \"Could it be the fire that rushes forth to speak without thought that has preventing him from advancing in the ranks of the guard?\" Twinkling eyes flash bright as she says, \"I am well -versed- in such speech myself.\"

Sliding to the edge of her chair, the silken strands in her sea blue dress glimmering in the firelight, auburn strands of hair illuminated as both hands reach out to gingerly pick up the antique box. Ever so careful does she raise the ancient lid, oddly enough, the sweet smell of cedar rises from the inside and a smile again curves her lips, \"A pleasant surprise, I quite expected a smell as ancient as your family name.\" Peering inside she touches nothing, but points with one slender finger, \"And this would be?\"

\"Ah, so you, too, are familiar with what he hath said to the sons of the Steward when they were both young men,\" the old man chuckles dryly. \"From what I understand, the elder brother has forgiven and the younger has all but forgotten. No doubt whatever he had to say to them made them grow into better men for it. The boy has my own gift of tongue.\" The old man now smiles, \"Ah, that... The ring. Take it out and have a closer look -- I have not had my hands inside that box since Rorgan was a boy, and that only to put in his birthrecord. There won\'t be a spot of tarnish on it at all, though. Nor sign of wear, other than that of great age. I remember the rare occaisions that my father would remove it from the box. He\'d say, \'This ring is as old as our family name. I\'d bet that Men in those days still knew enough of the old ways to make a thing right when need be.\' I never really understood what he meant until I took it out of the box on the day I put in Rorgan\'s birth papers. It had been nigh on twenty-five years since I had received the box then, and it looked as cared for as it does now.\"

\"The box itself is rumored to be far older than that, but as to its origin, I would say that it was made in Osgiliath, sometime after the reign of Isildur -- the one that cut the Dark Lord\'s finger from his hand.\" Yeorl edges forward so that his eyes may look a bit deeper into the box, \"There -- the yellower of the parchments -- that would be Rorgan\'s birthrecord from Dunlostir in Rohan. I named him Rantaur, after my father, and that is upon the papers along with the name his mother gave him in their tongue. That was the last time I signed my mark as Urumir Gaurdhagnir. From that day forward have I been Yeorl of Gondor -- and that name is inscribed there as well. If this is but a plot to steal your attention, let it be said that it was most likely hatched at about the time of your /mother\'s/ birth.\"

\"The other papers are there as well -- the letters from my father. An amazing little box, this -- any papers that have been placed inside have kept remarkable well, considering their age.\"

The soft tinkling of Lady Aearwen\'s laughter fills the air as she shakes her head, \"Rorgan and I have a -rich- history since my arrival in Dol Amroth. I daresay, that I will never forget him hissing at me in Osgiliath as he stomped up and down the infirmary.\" Sadness wells in those cerulean eyes as remembrance also brings another memory, \"And that was my first hearing of his loss....\", looking up at Yeorl she adds, \'Your loss as well M\'lord.\" Shaking her head as if to free the memories of goblins and death from her mind, long slender fingers doth pick up the ring from where it lays.

The warm glow of the firelight beams from the glittering ring as she gently turns it over in the palm of her hand, admiring the craftsman ship of the ring. Carefully, she slides the ring on her first finger and holds it aloft, in awe she says, \"Tis a beautiful piece of workmanship.\" Glancing at the papers with little more than a cursory glance she asks, \"Do you intend to be present when Rorgan is given this information?\"

The hand that was holding the ring aloft, quickly drops to the lap of Lady Aearwen as she expels a quick breath and then says, almost breathlessly. \"Tonight? You wish him to be told of this tonight?\" Her hand rises to her chest as she awaits an answer that is already known in her heart.

A nod, slow and sure, serves as Yeorl\'s only reply.

A nervous swallow, followed by the slow fluttering of long dark lashes that fan across the alabaster of her cheeks is the response of the woman upon witnessing the nod of Yeorl\'s head. Drawing in a long, deep breath, her shoulders square and determination fills her blue eyes as they open and glance at the man. \"And where would Rorgan be at this hour of the night?\" Aearwen laughs softly as she says, \"Or is it yet morning?\"

\"Before I came here in search of you, my lady, I checked the duty roster for the company he commands -- it is Rorgan\'s night to supervise the watch. He will be found in the Officer\'s Quarters or even upon the battlements of the first tier,\" Yeorl replies in the same quietly riveting voice he began his tale with. \"If I were the one to send for him, he might not come as soon as for a friend such as yourself.\"

\"The dawn approaches. He can be spared from duty for what remains of the watch, unless the foul Master of the East hath unleashed his dark hordes upon us,\" the old man almost chuckles. \"Then would he be needed elsewhere.\"

Rising from her chair, and nodding briefly to Yeorl, the envoy to the Prince of Dol Amroth takes a few steps in the direction of where a few Knights remain in conversation and smiles as her eyes alight upon a squire. \"Pardon me, could I borrow this young squire to deliver a message for me?\" Dawn breaks and the sunlight streams in the window to the right of where Aearwen stands.

One elderly knight gives his approval for the task at hand and the head of Aearwen bends to whisper softly her directions and then reaches into the pocket of her gown and withdraws a coin, \"Now go and be quick about it.\" Returning to her seat she motions to the tray with the light repast of food and drink, \"Would you like something to eat or drink while we await his arrival?\"

As the night has progressed, the storm has abated, and the dawn promises to be clear and cold in the City of Stone. Already the revelers of the night are giving way to the early risers within the Embassy. One such early riser, a young man tall and fey, stokes the embers of the fireplace with the point of his sword, no doubt preparing to begin his day with the martial exercises. Yeorl remains seated by the fire as its warmth again begins to spread throughout the farthest reaches of the room. He seems none the worse for the sleepless night, and even as the offer of food and drink is made, Yeorl\'s bright eyes have lit upon that very spot, and he nods brightly, \"Aye, breaking the fast of a long night wouldst be the more pleasant for your company, my lady.\"

Pouring a cup of tea, still amazingly warm, from the earthpot, she smiles at Yeorl and asks, \"Would you prefer your tea with honey or plain?\" To her own she adds a dollop of honey and the tinkling of the spoon against the china of her cup seems to resound loudly in the silence. Blinking her eyes in an effort to stay awake she says, \"I do hope that squire finds Rorgan with ease.\"

\"Plain would be fine, my lady,\" the elderly man replies, sinking into his own silence of contemplation. After a reaching out to accept the teacup and cradling it gently in the oddly lumped palm of his grotesque hand, he takes a sip and finally says, \"Indeed,\" seemingly some form of delayed response into the growing silence of the wait.

Fortunately the wait is not long ere the squire returns to the room and announces to Lady Aearwen, \"Your man has been located, My Lady.\" Then the young man offers a most courtly bow, \"Lieutenant Rorgan responds that he will attend the Lady\'s wishes with all due haste and bid me run, not walk, back lest he overtake me in delivering the message.\"

No sooner are these words out of the lad\'s mouth when a tall man, head crowned in greying blonde hair, crests through the door, plain black cloak and silvery helm with backswept wings resting upon his right arm. Indeed this is the man who has been sent for by the pair, his black uniform covered still by the tabbard that marks him as a guardsman of Minas Tirith, and the three silver and black braids of rank angling from his neck to the left armpit sway to and fro as the man makes his approach to the Lady Aearwen, giving only half a glance toward Yeorl.

\"Good morrow, my lady,\" Rorgan greets the lady with his typically proud half-bow, and once the pleasantries are accounted for, he turns toward the old man. \"Good morrow /father/,\" he says, not even having the courtesy to mask the distaste with which he speaks the last word. \"So nice of you to join us, Yeorl. What do you have up your sleeve this time, old man? Trying to enlist my friends to convince me to resign my comission? I swear to you, old man, one of these days you\'re going to cross the line into treachery, and I\'ll be the one there to push you from the cliffs above.\"

Through the lieutenant\'s tirade, Yeorl sits silent, watching his son and listening to the sharp words. Finally does he speak, \"If you\'re quite through, boy...\" Then with a shake of his aged head which almost dislodges the tea cup balanced on the odd shape of his palm, Yeorl says, \"It\'s quite to the contrary, my son. Please. Sit down. Listen to what Lady Aearwen is about to tell you.\"

The china cup is placed on the tray with ease as Lady Aearwen looks up to see Rorgan striding into the room. A smile curves her lips as the fondness for this man is apparent on her expression, deep dimples show on either cheek as she says, \"Good morrow to you Rorgan. How fare thee today?\"

A little taken aback by the snarl of words between father and son, the noble lady rests both arms on the plushness of her chair, one long fingernail tracing the tapesty pattern of the material as she eyes the two men. Not long does she withhold her words before she looks up at Rorgan and motions to a chair across from her, \"Please, be seated. There is something I wish to share with you and I do not wish to crane my neck in this position.\"

Rolling his eyes at his father, Rorgan does as the Lady instructs and sets himself to occupying a near-by seat. Looking toward Aearwen with curiosity rimming his sapphire eyes, Rorgan says, \"The old man can be quite charming when he wishes, but be wary -- oft his words have a bite on the end.\" Only a brief pause separates this from, \"I am well enough, considering that the Steward hath sent one of my squad leaders away from the city after he had but only been promoted to the position. Until that Smith\'s son doth report for duty, I fear I shall be drawn as thin as the transparent silk the desert women wear over their faces. All the same, I do have time to hear your out, so speak, but mind you, I know the words of my father well, and should he be speaking through you, it shall not be a long conversation.\"

\"Hrmph!\" echoes Yeorl from his own seat, \"My words are mine own to speak as I see fit. Can an old man not take the opportunity to right the ills he hath done in his life in order to assure himself of a restful death?\" Now does the old man roll his eyes at the younger -- it is impossible to tell which aquired the gesture from which, yet, to be certain, this is one moment that the differences between the two seem to be in appearances only.

Irritation flares in the brillance of Lady Aearwen\'s eyes for a second ere she holds up both hands and says impatiently, \"Alright! Alright! Enough of this bickering back and forth. If this continues the last you see of me will be the swish of my satin skirt disappearing through yonder door.\" To make her point her left hand points to door in question. \"Now -- where to begin this story.\"

Reaching forward she picks up the ancient tome and says to Rorgan as she flips through the book again, \'Your father recently returned from a trip to Rohan where he secured some objects that had been hidden for many years. This tome being one of these objects.\" Closing the booklet and reverently tracing the thick binding with long fingers she says with a soft laugh, \"Already I can hear your hiss of anger when I tell you what is stated inside of these pages...can see you stride back and forth, ranting against the truth spoken here and yet, the truth must be said.\"

Holding the book aloft, waving it in the direction of her dear friend she chuckles, \"It would appear, by the many testimonies and proof listed here that you are of noble birth my dear man.\" Laughter spills from her as she shakes her head with a start, \"These facts are at a time in your life when I am sure that you have no wish to turn things upside down with such a claim, but it cannot be denied.\"

The elder Gaurdhagnir leans back in his chair with a rather satisfied look upon his face as Lady Aearwen speaks. Even does the beginnings of a smile touch his lips. \"This is something that should have not been kept from one such as you, my son, but who was I to know that my son would be such as you?\" the old man finally speaks.

Indeed are the words of Aearwen somewhat prophetic when it comes to the younger Gaurdhagnir, though, for Rorgan at once is upon his feet, shaking his head, \"Nay, not I -- nor you, old man.\" Still shaking his head, he bursts into maniacal laughter, \"But here it is, and you seem to have it proved, don\'t you?\"

Then in answer to his own question, Rorgan says, \"By the Valar, I swear I knew that something was afoot the moment I laid eyes upon you here, old man. Pray tell, what is the name of this noble family that you have hidden from me my whole life, father!\" Then his laugh becomes a bit more healthy, and he waits for a response.

Flashing eyes cut to Yeorl with a warning as she espies the -smug- look on his countenance. Her eyes hold his as he speaks his -few- words, a frown drawing her dark eyebrows almost to the middle of her forehead, so intense is the concentration of Lady Aearwen.

When Rorgan jumps from his seat her words chide him gently, \"Please, take your seat Rorgan, do not let all of the Hall of Ulmo know this information before you, yourself have had time to come to terms with it.\"

Reaching out the thick tome to him she says, \"Read the entries in this book. The family name is Gaurdnagnir and they come from a long line of those awarded for service to Gondor. The one that stands out the most in my mind, due to our travel to Rohan and the wargs we saw there, is a reward in Ithilien for something to due with bravery and wargs.\" Her eyes close for a moment as weariness again makes itself known, \"Forgive me for not recalling the details, it has been a long night of reading and talking as your father convinced me of his tale. -Not- an easy task, but then, you know me well.\", a mischevious grin alights her eyes as she looks at her friend. page Lock me=!me You paged Merry with \'!me\'.

Again does Yeorl take the time to add his few words, \"The tales I have heard of that journey are what actually reminded me of the existence of these things, Rorgan. In the old tongue, Gaurdhagnir means Werewolf Slayer.\"

Eyes widening, Rorgan does manage to sit himself again, and finally, with some trepedation, reaches out for the tome and begins to skim the entries found there. Shaking his head as he carefully passes over the pages, he remarks, \"Does that mean that the Gaurdhagnir that wrote the book on strategy and tactics is related to me.. to us?\" Thumbing quickly through the book, Rorgan\'s eyes light up, \"Ah! Here he is!\" Again he laughs, \"This is too rich, Father. How certain are you that this is truly my family, Lady Aearwen?\"

Quiet as Rorgan flips through the many pages of the tome, his eyes eagerly scanning the entries in the book, Lady Aearwen smiles to herself as Yeorl tells the meaning of the family name. \"Almost ironic.....werewolf slayer indeed.\" Looking to the old man with eyes that have seen too much at such an early age she says, \"The journey to Rohan and experiences there are unlike any I care to repeat. Perhaps you and your -son- could cast your differences aside and allow him to recant the battle against the wargs lair and the forces of darkness that threatened our very existance.\"

The antique box is almost forgotten until Rorgan questions the truth of the information shown him tonight and she leans forth in her chair and brings out the glittering ring of the House Gaurdhagnir and hands it to Rorgan, almost reverently, \"I would suffice to say the emblem on this ring and the carvings on this antique box would solidify the information in that tome.\"

Carefully examining the ring, Rorgan frowns, \"This matches that which /he/ has been wearing upon his cloak.\" He shakes his head, \"\'Tis an interesting tale you yourself tell, Father. And though I must say most of my doubts have been shaken by these items, I must also say that they have not been quenched.\"

Turning then toward Lady Aearwen, he says, \"Would you be so kind as to verify the verifications that he has already had made. I can see that you are convinced, my friend, but indeed, I am no expert in history or the ages of things such as these items. Truly, if this house is as great as even the few of these titles I have read from this book, there will be some corroborating information that survives to this day.\" He rises to his feet then and looks as if he is about to take his leave.

For his own part, Yeorl simply rolls his eyes again, and nods his permission for the Lady to do just as his son has suggested.

An amused smile warms the countenance of the noble woman as she shrugs, \"I felt the proof was undeniable with the entries in the tome and the items in the antique box.\" Her expression turns quizzical as she asks, \"How would I be able to verify such a claim? These oldest entries go back some 2000 years.\" Her lips purse as she taps one slender finger against them as she thinks, \"There would be no listings in the ancient tomes in the library of Dol Amroth as your family would have fallen under the jurisdiction of the Steward.\" Her eyes are apologetic as she says, \"To investigate such a claim here in the Stone city would be hard at best. Where are records of these sort kept in Minas Tirth.\" Her voice drops to a mere whisper as she says, \"You, of all people know how unfamiliar I am with this city.\"

Nodding slowly as he turns toward the door, Rorgan says, \"Speak with the Historians at the University. Show them the box and ring -- there will undoubtedly be a record of such treasures if they were known to have survived the fall of Osgiliath. I must go now, for duty sake, and to think on this news you have given me. Would that it had come a year ago, Yeorl. I do not begrudge you the life you chose and tried to choose for me, though. Good day.\"

Nodding at these final words of his son, Yeorl remains seated, as if to hug the relief that shows on his face close to him and to take it with him out into the day.