(Archive) The Crimson Knight Seeks Favour

[Calimacil(#19433)]

The soft rustling of a satin skirt is the first notice of Ivriniel moving quietly down the hallway towards the parlour. The rose colour of her gown a lovely contrast to the porcelain of her delicate skin. Slipping into the parlour she pauses for a moment as the brightness of the many lit lamps blind her. The raven tresses of the woman shimmer with her movements, blue glints sparkle against the darkness. Unaware of anyone in the parlour, she walks to the big bay window and inhales deeply of the scent of lilac coming through the open window. Her hands rest on the sill as she leans forward, peering down into the courtyard.

[Calimacil(#19433)]

Whirling quickly at the sound of a cough, a flush of crimson stains the delicate cheeks of the noble woman as one hand flies to her bosom in surprise. \"Pardon me. I did not see you as I entered.\" Laughing softly as her senses return to normal she smiles and motions to the open window, \"Is not the smell coming through the window lovely? Tis my favorite scent, behind that of jasmine.\"

Suddenly conscious of the man seated in the chair she walks to his side and rests one soft hand on his shoulder, \"The Crimson Knight\". Long do her eyes rove over his countenance before she says, \"So different do you look since last we met, I hardly recognized you.\"

[Calimacil(#19433)]

Moving towards a lamp, Calimacil ensures they are lit before turning again to Ivriniel. \"Noble Lady, flower of Amroth. If I seem anything except mouldering as one in a grave, thou art she to whom I owe my debt of thanks. In truth, men hath told me that I was nursed to life by a beautiful woman, and fey, but I swear that never I anticipated that it was thee. Altogether feeble are words that might describe thee, for thou art as far above beauty and the mundane descriptions of men as the stars course above the seas.\"

Calimacil takes a tentative step towards Ivriniel. \"If thou wouldst but give thy blessing, Queen of Gondor, Beauty of the Night Skies and True Love of my Heart, I would seek thy leave to take thy hand even this moment and press my lips to thy skin in solemn fealty and declaration of love.\"

Watching Calimacil light the lamps, Ivriniel is speechless as he turns and speaks such flowery words to her. Her soft pink lips open and then close as she struggles to bring words to her thoughts. A delicate bloom slowly rising up her chest to spread across her skin completely. Far from a maiden woman, his words stir emotions long forgotten to the fore front of her memory.

Ere she speaks, she turns from the man, hiding the expression in her silvery grey eyes until composure is once again resting upon her serene face. One hand reaches up to delicately rest against his face, solemn are the words she speaks, \"No debt is owed for the gift of your life Calimacil, no more than I expect your declaration of love in gratitude. Tis an honour for you to feel as such, but none would I accept save a truth heartfelt emotion. My happiness springs forth, bubbling over at the picture of health that you present tonight, that is my reward.\"

[Calimacil(#19433)]

Bold and daring, Calimacil takes the hand that rests against his cheek and presses his lips to it. \"Nay, my Lady. Thou mistake my intention. For, in truth, there is no reward to be had by thee in this feeblest of gestures. Rather, I seek to make my joy, as is my healing, complete by thy hand. For in the doing of thy healing arts, thou hast done also damage. In the sewing of sinews, thou hast peirced a heart and in the knitting of flesh, thou hast sundered my bosom. Thy stroke, dear, sweet, gentle Lady, is more mortal to me than any foeman\'s blow.\"

For a long moment does Calimacil hold a gaze with Ivriniel\'s eyes, his own eventually falling down and away, mirroring the movement of the Princess\'s hand as he lowers it, returning the slender limb to her own will. Calimacil bows and takes a step backwards, gesturing at the chairs of the parlour. \"Wilt thou not sit a time, my Queen, and take some wine. It is a very fine blend and most kind upon the palatte and the minds of men.\"

Pulling at her hand as the velvety soft lips of Calimacil turn and press into the palm of her hand, Ivriniel struggles for a mere second before her noble head bows in resignation of the tenderness of the man. Long dark lashes frame her cheeks as her eyes closed, healing his words echo through her mind like a sweet warm balm of healing. Slowly moistening her parched lips her eyes slowly open to gaze at the man standing before her, the expression in her eyes unreadable as her eyes are as dark as a stormy night.

Holding his eyes with her own, steady, level gaze straight into the soul of one another as if judging the merit of words spoken and thoughts unsaid. Silence looms long between the two figures caught in the gaze until the man releases her hand, unbidden it falls against the silkiness of her dress as she accepts his offer to partake of wine. Clearing her throat self consciously, she takes the proffered chair, smoothing the lines of her gown as she awaits a glass of wine, eyes glancing up and then away from the Crimson Knight.

[Calimacil(#19433)]

Moving now, Calimacil quickly pours another glass from the sideboard, before refreshing his own. With slow and stately moves, bourne more of pain than natural grace, Calimacil eases into a chair near at hand to Ivriniel\'s own. Passing her the glass, he smiles - a soft and almost shy smile, before lifting his own glass.

\"To Amroth and all that is noble within her walls. To the Lord Prince and all that is honourable. To you, my Lady, and all that is beautiful,\" toasts Calimacil. He regards Ivriniel closely for a moment following his lips leaving the glass and he he speaks softly. \"Art thou happy, Lady?\"

Breathing deeply as Calimacil moves to pour wine into their glasses, Ivriniel obviously struggles to maintain a serene expression. High colour lights her eyes, expressive and shining with many emotions. Reaching for the offered glass of wine she raises it in response to his toast and then her lips part to partake of a small sip, allowing the sweet flow of wine to slip down her throat before she answers his question.

One finger circles the crystal rim of the wine goblet as she asks truthfully, \"What is happiness Calimacil? Is it not something different to everyone and at the same time, changes as our own needs change from day to day, week to week...\", softly her voice trails off before she says, \"Truthfully, I was happier when travelling, the freedom it gave me. For Imrahil to summon me back to Dol Amroth was painful for me, but I shall serve my brother as faithfully as all of those in his fief.\"

[Calimacil(#19433)]

\"Dearest Ivriniel, I care not for a description of happiness in the abstract, nor for the meaning such as might be argued in beerhalls nor philosophical schools. The burden on my heart, this night is to know wither thou art happy.\"

Frowning as she weighs the question put forth by the Knight, Ivriniel studies him for a very long time. A deep furrow marring her lovely brow as she asks him in disbelief, \"You would offer your life to see to my happiness? Tis hard to accept such a proposal of this magnitude.\" Tapping her fingernail against the crystal as expressions cross her face, fleeting as quickly as they come. \"The burden of your heart....an interesting way to put that.\"

Her hand reaches out to rest on the arm of Calimacil as she says softly, \"Tis the nature of these things dear knight, truly it is. Oft times the man feels saved by the woman that tends to him and feels he owes her his love, his life...his everything.\" Ivriniel shakes her head gently, raven tresses slide across her shoulder and down the bodice of her gown as she admits freely, \'Your offer is one of outstanding merit, I will give you that as it caught me quite offguard.\"

[Calimacil(#19433)]

The frown of Ivriniel is mirrored in time upon Calimacil\'s face. \"I hesitate to despise your word, Lady, nor make thee speak less than perfect truth, but I must foreswear your understanding.\" He rests his own hand upon her own. \"Mayhaps thou hast the right of it, I know not. But this I do know. Long I lay in blackness and dispair and all that I could see was pain. Say not that I felt it, for in sooth, I lay there and was as one in a void. Ever and anon did pain wrack my body with it\'s chill grip and at each coming of that cruel mistress, I saw her face. She was proud and haughty and delighted in the writhings of my body. She would run a taloned finger along my chest and I would convulse. She would press that wretched claw into the depths of my wound and I would scream. She would lift it to her lips and drink of my ichor and I would sick to my stomach be, yet unable to dispatch her.\"

Calimacil finds himself of his feet, pacing the room. Turning back to Ivriniel, he crosses the azure carpet and kneels before here in her chair. \"But another there was, Lady. Beautiful and with midnight locks. She would come to me in my darkest hour and bring me succour. She would come to me in the depth of my misery and pain and give me the gift of relief. When she touched my chest, I would find ease. When she held my hand I would find sweet rest. Once, she kissed my lips and I was lifted from my prison and brought into light - as a drowning man might be lifted from the watery grave that holds him into airy life. I woke that night, my Lady, from my oppressive confines, from the prison of unconsciousness in which I was bound and the face of that noble woman was thine own.\"

Calimacil dares greatly by lifting her hand and placing it on his forehead. \"So if my life I offer, I offer it not as hysterics. If my blood I grant to thee, it is not blood cheaply bought. And if my love I swear to thee, it is not the love of some pharmacopean hallucination.\" He finishes now, looking into her eyes. The young Knight and his great Queen, looking like nothing so much as a tableaux from some maid\'s tapestry.

Tears fill the eyes of the Princess, blinking quickly they spill forth like a damn that has broken, streaming down her face unchecked to drop upon the satin of her dress. Mournful is the soft wail that slips from her as Calimacil describes the lady of death that tortured the darkness of his mind and body. Rememebering well the depth of his injuries and how he struggled to live.

Softly her hand caresses his familiar forehead as he places her hand there, gently she brushes back his hair, the tears still streaming from her face as she relives those horrible nights of sitting by his side, willing him to live with her thoughts, touches and ministrations. Leaning forward in her chair, the scent of jasmine filling his senses as she places her lips against his brow. Stilling her hands as they cradle his head in the softness of her touch.

Ithilir passes through the great doors slowly, looking at the renovations that 6 years have wrought. He espies Calimacil and Ivriniel, and nods, entering and bowing, \"Good Evening.\"

Standing, Calimacil nods at the kind words of the Princess. \"I thank you for you labours, Lady, for I was not prepared to pass from this life yet.\"

In fact, he now smiles, but it is touched with irony. \"For thy brother hast seen fit to elevate my position, though in truth, it is more an elevation in stress.\"

Turning at the voice, Calimacil smiles again, this time with warmth. \"Sir Ithilir, well met! Will thou not come hither and greet the most beautiful woman of Amroth, Lady Ivriniel Imrazor, sister to our sworn thane?\"

Ithilir moves to the Lady Imrazor, and bows deeply, \"My honor Lady Ivriniel, I have not had the pleasure yet I believe. I have been away lo these many years, and was never wont to invade the Inner Sanctum of the Palace save at needs must.\"

His blue grey eyes sparkle at the warmth of Calimacil\'s welcome, his grey cloak falling back from broadly swept shoulders as he rises once more, tall and lean. The appearance of his years falling from his countenance with the seldom seen smile. He turns to Calimacil, \"Have I interrupted my friend? I meant only to learn the ways of the palace again, and perhaps find new equipage, I fear that 6 years of neglect are beginning to tell on me.\"

He grins as he raises the bottom of his chain mail, showing the back, well mended with common wire and chain links, clearly showing the hammer blows of a village smithy upon them.

Laughing softly as she rises from her chair to fill her glass with more wine she says, \"The increase in stress will be good for you, will keep your nose to the grindstone and out of trouble.\" Tinkling laughter trails over her shoulder as she says, \"After all, tis a hard job to propose to half of the women in Dol Amroth, is it not?\"

Turning quickly at the sound of someone joining them, the expression on the face of Ivriniel returns to one of serene calmness, tipping her head gracefully to acknowledge the man. \"Tis a pleasure to meet you Sir Ithilir. I have only just returned to Dol Amroth myself.\"

[Calimacil(#19433)]

Propriatry, so ingrained in Calimacil, is lost as Ithilir raises his metal shirt. Laughter tumbles from his lips and he raises a hand to his nose. \"More than repair, Ithilir, thy mail hath absorbed much odour, and not all of it rosewater! Methinks we need some courtly costume to present thee in.\"

[Ithilir(#28685)]

Laughing, then blushing as he realizes his lack of proper respect to the Lady Imrazor, \"My apologies Lady Ivriniel, I am not accustomed to Noble Society, fortunately that is rarely an issue with Calimacil, still I should hope you would not think ill of me.\" He bows again, and takes her hand, leaning over it and saying, \"Ithilir of Dol Amroth, at your service.\"

He rises once more, releasing the hand, his brow clear, his eyes absorbing as he watches the Lady.

Twinkling eyes survey the damage to the chain mail of the man, raising silvery grey eyes alight with amusement she laughs in agreement with Calimacil, \"I dare say thou does need some refreshening if one is to partake of life in the castle.\" Her hand rests in his for a moment as the blush on his face strikes her sense of humour again and words slip out before the woman is aware of them, \"I think no ill of you in the least. The faithful men of Gondor deserve only the utmost of respect.\" Quietly the gaze of Ivriniel rests on Calimacil for a moment before she retakes her seat.

\"Wilt thou not sit, Lord Ithilir, since thou hast found our light revery? I hath wine here at hand and a glass most mete for a malodourous knight, yet with tongue silver enough to turn the head of our Princess despite your needing no page to announce thee - the clamour of thy armour proceeding thee quite as like any unfurl\'ed banner.\"

[Ithilir(#28685)]

He watches quietly, seeing that conversation is in progress, and waiting for it to resume. His eyes falling over the symbols of Calimacil\'s newly appointed Office with a grin, biting his tongue with a wink.

Settling back into the comfort of the plush chair, Ivriniel slowly sips her wine. Her expression flits from one man to another and they banter back and forth. A smile plays across her lips, deepening the dimple on her right cheek as her fondness for the Knights of her brothers fief apparent in her expression.

Long does the woman remain silent, happy to be in the background to view the men as they talk between themselves of manly deeds and battles. Her expression is unreadable at the mention of Boromir changes the pleasant look to a thoughtful one, distance do her eyes grow as she is lost in her own thoughts.

[Calimacil(#19433)]

Calimacil retakes his seat, smiling, but his face soon turns grim. \"My Lord. I recall something even now which dost press greatly upon me and, recalling that you held once this office and even the greater office of Marshall. I wonder if thou would do me a courtesy, and prescribe a time when we might take parley over this? But, so not now, for in such company, we exclude one passing fair and \'tis a sin most grevious. Shalt thou not amuse us with thy songvoice, Lord Ithilir, for my brother Calimacil hath oft told me of thy ability to make poem and melody.\"

Ithilir blinks at Calimacil\'s words, and then after a moment, breaks into hearty laughter, \"Either Beladan has been telling you fables, or you are pulling my leg Lord Tarnost. My voice does not move into the softer registers of song, and as for poems, those I recall at the moment would be best told over a campfire to a band of vagabonds.\"

[Calimacil(#19433)]

\"I seek not so much advise in the discharge of my office, Ithilir, but rather, how I might proceed on information that hath reached my ears.\" He turns to Ivriniel and adds, \"And do not believe him lady. Many times my brother told me of some feast held in this very house where he sang. Another called Helorondur gave a most eloquent piece of verse. There is more to this vagaond knight that ill manners and a penchant for wandering off.\"

Ithilir nods at Calimacil\'s words, \"Then I will listen, and offer what counsel I may, and as for Beladan, he was always wont to stir up wild stories.\" He watches Calimacil quietly, his brow darkening at the rumour of which the Knight hints.

The words of the two men fall upon unhearing ears as Ivriniel drifts into the recesses of her thoughts. The laughter of one of the them shakes her free from her reverie and returns her to the present with a start. \"Oh! Forgive me, I was quite lost in thoughts that I dare not dampen your good spirits with.\"

Turning to Ithilir she inquires, \"The office of Knight Marshall was once yours?\", surprise evident in her voice as she eyes the knight a little closer. \"Tis clear that I shall look forward to you regaling me with many tales in the future.\" Grinning impishly she adds to that, \"And if you are as gifted in song and poem as dear Calimacil states, I shall expect great things from you.\", laughing softly before she partakes of another sip of her wine. The silvery grey eyes of the woman shiny orbs of flashing amusement as she peers over the rim of her goblet.

Sweetness drips from her honeyed words as she turns to Calimacil and says, \"But of course, dear Crimson Knight, I only believe the words spoken by men of honour and valor\"

Ithilir nods softly, and says, \"Aye, I was Knight Marshall and Lord of Linhir, but was forced to retire after I received injuries which made the commission of my offices impossible. I only recently returned to Dol Amroth.\"

[Calimacil(#19433)]

\"Now there is a tale for the telling. Six years, Lord Ithilir, is a long recouperation. What kept thee from Dol Amroth aforetimes e\'en unto this very month?\"

Calimacil turns with interest to the older Knight, gazing at him with a flat expression. \"For I hath no wish to hear rumour, yet it is true that I am curious as to thy, as some would say, desertion of oath, and the seeming ease with which thou now taketh up the mantle once more. Is there any founding to this thinking, so currently abroad, and the contention that thou art not worthy of full trust?\"

[Ithilir(#28685)]

Blue grey eyes flash for a moment, to be replaced by complaisance. \"It is true that I have been away a long time, and much may be told of my journeys. My honor may only by shown by my actions, not my words, and I will speak not of such.\"

He sips his wine slowly, seeming to pause a moment, \"As for the trust with which I may be placed, that is for the Prince to determine.....and of course his appointed Officers my Lord Tarnost.\"

His eyes now shine coldly upon Calimacil, and his words are cold and full of menace, \"And as to the suggestion of Desertion, that is a grievous charge Sir Calimacil of Tarnost. Particularly as it is my understanding the Prince does not see it so. Have you charges which you wish to levy upon me? Perhaps it is indeed desertion, to be carried off the field of battle unconscious, and lie abed for nigh on 18 months unmanned, fevered and unable to stir.\"

He finishes his cup and lays it aside, \"And yet, there is some justice in the charge perhaps. These last 5 years I have been nearly as hale as I once was, and yet forsook the Barad Requain. The meaning of my absence may be said to be a desertion, although others may place a different name to it. I spent those years fighting Uruks and Harad on the borders, in a dozen different small villages, some of which had never heard of a Knight, nor had the oldest ancestor ever spoken of one who deigned to protect them. No great songs have come down to the ears of the Noble in Dol Amroth of my deed, nor will they. There is no great honor in the daily fighting that is the lot of peasants. Nor in the rebuilding of a gutted home, where a widow might raise her children, nor in the rescue of a chieftain from a ragtag band of brigands.\"

He rises to his full height slowly, towering over the Lord Tarnost and says simply, \"These are indeed not the acts of a Swan Knight M\'Lord.\"

[Calimacil(#19433)]

Calimacil spreads his hands, depreciatingly, yet not cowering before the bristling knight. Indeed, he rises from the chair in which he sits and raises his own eyes to gaze upon those of Ithilir. His eyes, however, defy the coldness of the former Lord of Linhirs with compassion and mercy, and a hand rests for a moment in a balled fist upon the palm of it\'s mate.

\"Peace, Ithilir. I tell you in truth that my mind has been less at ease than mayhaps might have been that of my brethren, especially my kinsman in Minas Tirith, but I accuse thee of no wrong nor dishonour in this matter. In fact, it was mine reluctance to bide mind to the housemaids and foolish page boys as their tongues waggle in their heads like empty reeds in the wind that lead me to ask thee directly.\" Calimacil breaks eye contact to reach for his wine, but continues. \"Yet, if my words hath bought thee offence, then I crave that thou wouldst forgive the foolish words of one seeking to guage the depths of another, even as a plumber might probe the depth of a cisternhead or well. I meant to cast in a stone and observeth the ripples - not to press thy sore flesh with a salted spear that I might cause thee pain.\"

Calimacil sips slowly from the crystal goblet, the warm and richly textured red of the wine sparkling as the light catches the glass and sends motes of color dancing merrily from the walls. \"And yet, Sir Ithilir, whilst it is the right of the Prince to hold thee guilty or guiltless, know that there are those who wouldst not wait overlong for his judgment before their own minds are turned in the direction of a court, that of the rumour and backbiting pettiness that ever circulates in a place even be it so noble as Dol Amroth.\"

Calimacil gestures back to Ithilir\'s chair, standing vacant. \"Come, Lord, noble Lord by my own lips sworn as such, wilt thou not put aside my insult and accept my apology that we might continue as we began brethren in cause and united in love, seeking bonds of friendship to encompass us about?\"

Ithilir nods briefly, then smiles and says, \"I agree Calimacil, and apologize for my outburst. I have not dealt with noble words in many years, and the sting of your words come not from the meaning, but from the own doubts within my mind.\"

He retakes his seat, raising the decanter and refilling the Lord Tarnost\'s goblet, then his own, saying, \"I too have seen the ways of the Court, and no doubt my return has and will continue to be the talk of many a Lord and page. There is no insult in speaking truth, and to one\'s face, it is honorable, and for your words, I thank you.\" He raises his glass in toast. \"Hail Lord Tarnost, Knight Captain of Dol Amroth.\"

The lateness of the hour takes a toll on the Princess as lines of weariness etch deeply into her countenance. Shaking her head as she rises from her seat, her expression falls upon Calimacil and then upon that of Ithilir as a word of warning is in her voice, \"Gentlmen, good Knights of Gondor, I dare say the Prince would be displeased to hear the words flung around this parlour tonight. Make peace with one another and forget the harshness of these words, we have enough enemies outside of our land to be fighting amongst ourselves.\" Her eyes hold each for a moment before she turns to leave the room.

[Calimacil(#19433)]

\"And to thee, Sir Ithilir, Prince\'s man, true Knight and honourable I deem \'gainst all naysayers, I pledge my sword as hedge against all who would defame thee by perfidious and devious whisperings. Thou hath proclaimed thyself as worthy and by thine oath, I accept it.\"

Calimacil drains his glass, setting it down upon the table at hand. \"And yet, I would seek to redress thee in one word of error, if thou wouldst so permit me,\" trails off Calimacil.

Ithilir rises as the Lady Imrazor leaves, \"Be well Lady, and I thank you for your counsel, it is not fit that Knights should so speak.\"

He turns back to Calimacil, sipping his wine thirstily, and says, \"I will gladly seek thine words, and redress any misdeed or error in speech as may be mine. Speak on.\"

[Calimacil(#19433)]

Bowing to the retiring Lady Ivriniel, Calimacil pours another glass and raises the glass to puntuate his sentances. His speech begins to take on the affected preciseness of one who is becoming drunk and who wishes to mask the fact.

\"You didst say that much that thou didst was not the actions of a true Knight of the Swan, yet the actions that thou hath prescribed to me this night dost all bide well for inclusion of some epic extolling the very virtues of Knighthood. One might say,\" continues Calimacil, \"That thou dost represent the very flower of chivalry, the essence of the order and the avatar of our virtues. Didst thou misspeak in passion at mu foolishness, Lord, or hast thou more that thou wouldst shareth now that might sully the spotlessness with which thou hast seemingly aquitted thyself?\" Calimacil finishes and sips the wine, making a face and setting the glass down.

[Ithilir(#28685)]

His eyes grow soft as he notes the demeanour of the Knight and says, \"Mayhaps a walk upon the Walls might be mete M\'Lord? It doth grow stifling within the walls, at least for one who has slept beneath the stars more oft than not these 6 years.\"

[Calimacil(#19433)]

\"I seek not to wrong thee, sir, merely to point out with my drunken tongue and torpid mind that I find thy courage noble beyond all measuring by standards most used here for the most part, the fop with the prettiest knickerbockers adjudicates himself the most worthy, or the painted strumpet with the most rubied lips deigns herself the most queenly. In thy tirade,\" smiles Calimacil wryly, \"Thou proclaim\'ed the action of thy limbs as the only measure of honour, and as by such, Ithilir, I wouldst deem thee King of all men.\"

Calimacil pauses and looks to pick up his wineglass, before making a noise of disgust and standing again. \"To soft hath I become in this place, recovering even from mine own wounds. Let us walk, indeed, the walls beneath the stars. Mayhap I wilt take thee to my rude hut on Wolden\'s Pond near Edhellond where I retire from the trappings of court to recall that I am but dust and mortal and frail.\"

Gesturing to the door, Calimacil says, \"Lead on, Ithilir. I look to thy lead, as do all men of sight, I warrant.\"

[Ithilir(#28685)]

Chuckling, Ithilir rises to his feet, leading Calimacil out into the hallway, and towards the Courtyard. \"Now I deem thou hast drunk overmuch, I am no King, merely a man elevated perhaps beyond others, yet my beginnings were no less humble than most.