(Archive) NOT THE GAUNTLET!
From the archives of the Gondorian
Premier of Ivriniel. Maernus finds out he has to face the gauntlet.
Elendor - Monday, January 03, 2000, 8:44 PM
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Weather: Clear
Time: Twilight
Season: Spring
Date: Mersday - March 23, 3019
Real Time: Mon Jan 03 18:50:50 2000
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As the squire\'s eyes adjust to the blinding light of the lantern, he looks and sees a dark feminine figure cast against the shadows of the room. His hand goes to cover his eyes, and slowly his pupils contract, adapting to the light. \"Who are you to come to the library in such a late hour?\", says the squire in a neutral voice. His armor is rugged, and dark rings around his eyes indicate a period of sleepless agony.
\"Identify yourselves or I\'ll call the guards... please?\", the boy says in a more friendly tone.
The soft patter of footsteps makes their way down the hallway leading to the library, the seemingly effortless guiding of Princess Ivriniel as her satin skirt rustles in the stillness of twilight. The guards at the door of the library click their heels and acknowledge the sister of Imrahil as she gives them a serene smile and passes through the door as they hold it open for her. The dark shadows of the library loom and flicker as the light of a lantern casts its shadows on the wall.
After a short while the short man lowers his hand. He sighs, and salutes, clicking his heels much the same way the guards do. \"Mi\'lady, I didn\'t expect you to be here so late in the night... What may I do to please you?\" He looks disappointed to see you, as if he were expecting someone else.
\"The library is in great disorder... as it usually is during the night, when I am cataloguing the books. I can help you find what you wish if you desire, Princess.\" He says the words in a tone reserved for nobles and high folk, and cautiously guards his mouth.
A complacent smile slips across the lips of the Princess as she nods her noble head in greeting to the young man. Melodic is the tone of her voice as it whispers into the night with sweetness, \"Please, continue on with your work.\" Glancing around the room at the disarray of the many books she turns her silvery eyes back to the man and questions him, \"Pray tell, how long have you been working on this?\"
Walking over to the closest shelf, her eyes drawn by a particular tome that is laying on its side, she picks it up reverently and stands it back on its edge to protect the delicacy of the parchment pages. Giving the young man her attention once more she asks of him in idle curiosity, \"And your name would be?\", mock irony clear in her eyes as she awaits his answer.
The squire\'s face grows white and he lowers his head. \"Durandir, under the tutorship of Sir Calimacil.\" He whispers in a soft tone, \"Have I done something wrong, Princess Ivriniel?\" He walks up to the tome you are holding, and easily lifts it up closer to you.
The squire\'s eyes move up and down your body, as if making some sort of measurement or decision. Then he lowers his head further, but not quite enough to hide the redness in his face.
The short man quickly adds, \"Many a night since Sir Calimacil assigned me to it... I would suppose a week or so.\" The large book on the desk looks more like it has been worked on for a month, and he must have worked for many a sleepless night on it.
The soft tinkle of her laughter is like the ringing of a silver bell as Ivriniel shakes her head softly, her sweet manner is calming and tranquil as she gazes at the young man. \"Durandir, under the tutorship of Sir Calimacil.\" One slim finger trails across the leather binding of the book he holds aloft and her words are reverent as she whispers softly, \"Tis one of my favorite tomes of poetry.\"
Suddenly aware of the squires discomfort, she struggles to keep the smile from her lips as she half turns away from the man in pretense of looking for another tome. Her voice floats back over her shoulder, amusement clearly evident in the lilting tone, \"Is Sir Calimacil having you redo the library in retribution for something done wrong?\" Curiosity arches her eyesbrows as she lifts two books and retrieves another of her favorites.
The boy looks nervous, and probably would rather not answer that question. However, he is not the one to disobey any command of noble rank. \"I... I said something about the heat of the day mi\'lady. So Sir Calimacil assigned me to work by night... and also read and memorize the Codex and catalogue the entire library of Dol Amroth. During the day I am supposed to work on the catalogue, but I find it easier to work on it at night, when there is nobody around, and I can organize the books at will.\" He carefully sidesteps a large tome on the floor, narrowingly avoiding felling the whole pile.
One small hand slips up to hide the smile on the face of the Princess, coughing slightly she waves her hand in the air as if to ward off the dust from the pile of books. A small bit of censure marks her words as she cautions the young squire, \"Tis best to understand the rankings and know what to say and what not to say at all times.\" The softness of her gaze empathizes with the squire in his effort to pay atonement for the error of his ways by the hard work he is currently doing.
The young woman at the table, though she has been reading in silence up to this point, finally raises bright grey eyes and glances at the two speaking figures before her gaze slips behind them to the guards at the door -- guards who would not be here were she not. \"
Turning in surprise at the sound of another voice, her eyes alight with delight at the words spoken. Ivriniel smiles, \"
The squire breaths deeply at Ivriniel\'s comment like it was a stab to his heart, but lets it go unanswered. He steps into the darkness and looks at the two talking women from his spot. His eyes dart from one lady to the next, as if trying to decide something. He looks as if he is about to say something but shuts his mouth, following Lady Ivriniel\'s advice. He shrugs very gently, and sighs.
Obviously in no mood for being pleasent tonight, the younger woman shoots a glance at the squire and replies in the common tongue, leaving the tome open on the table before her. \"He ought learn to watch his tongue about--\" she breaks off, realizing the young man is in the room, and favoring him with a short smile, \"You ought learn to watch your tongue about the Girithlins, Squire. And the Bragollachs if you can tell the difference.\" Turning her gaze once more to her father\'s sister, Lothiriel adds, \"I fare well enough, and would better if I could study with decent light. We leave in the morning for Minas Tirith, and I had promised Lord Borgilas a few volumes on the old tongue before we do.\"
Pulling up a seat at the table where the daughter of her brother is seated, Ivriniel slides into the chair and laughs softly as she inquires, \"Tis very difficult to distinguish the Girithlins and the Bragollachs, is it not? Both are noted for being outspoken, but the firey flame of the Bragollachs is without compare.\" Frowing as she notes for the first time the dim light, turning in her seat she barks out to the guards standing there, \"Call to a servant and see that more light is brought in here at once.\"
Placing her own tome on the table she rests her stained fingers on it for a moment as she looks at the young woman across from her, silently assessing her. Changing the subject to one of better mood she states, \"The trip to Minas Tirith should be a nice journey for you. Nice to escape the confines of the citadel and see the birth of spring as things come to life again after a cold winter.
Murmuring quietly in the tongue of the tome before her, Lothiriel does not reply immediatly. Indeed, her eyes run over the pages layed out before her for long moments ere she bothers to stir herself into a response. \"I do not look forward to a visit to so grey a city, Aunt. The beauty of my father\'s citadel in spring is all I need to cheer my heart.\" She pauses as more light is delivered to the library, making it much less a dreary place. When the servants have left again, she continues, \"I do not see why he cannot leave me here to see over his household, as he did when he went off to war. Is there a difference between this and that? The Lord Steward holds no love for me, and would rather council with my brothers anyhow.\" Snorting, she shakes her head, causing raven hair to fall over her shoulder. In her frusteration, the Princess does not bother to remove it.
Tranquility rests on the face of Ivriniel as her eyes continue to gaze at her niece, silently watching the young woman as she reads the pages before her. A smile of understanding plays across her lips as she silently acknowledges the youthful rebellion of Lothiriel. Folding her hands on the table in front of her she tips her head in thanks as more light is brought into the room, blinking her eyes for a moment to adjust to the brightness.
Reaching one hand across the table to lightly touch her niece on the arm she inquires, \"And were you not very much alone here while he was gone off to war? What of your own desire to have freedom to move about, more than within these stone walls?\" Her voice sharpens a bit as she continues, \"The Lord Steward has had a difficult time since the death of his wife, your beloved aunt. Have kindness for him in his loss child and try to understand that he has a heavy burden on his shoulders and cannot always give a young woman the attention she deserves.\" Smiling as she reaches up to fix the raven hair of her niece she says, \"Come now, let us be happy about this trip to Minas Tirith. Your father is carrying enough of his own burdens to worried by you not being happy about a trip that he cannot change.\"
\"Much worried, much fearful that he of my brothers should meet their end, but much alone?\" Lothiriel snorts gently, shakes her head, and gestures about the library as if it were the entire citadel. \"I was not alone here while they were gone. Men were left in defence, women in weakness, children because they were young. With a little help from his Herald -- not that I would accept it from the current, mind,\" her eyes flash with bright anger -- or is it loss of her own? -- ere she continues. \"All ran smoothly until his return.\"
Acting less like the young and proper Princess she should be, Lothiriel speaks much more like the child she seems to have become since the illness touched her mind this winter. \"My father can change many things. Many things.\" The light glints once more off her bright grey eyes, revealing a fevered intensity in them as she finishes her tirade. \"He can change many things that would worry him greatly -- He simply chooses not to.\"
A frown mars the smooth brow of Ivriniel as her concern for the well being of her niece rises to the forefront of her attention. Cautious eyes peer brightly into the young woman\'s eyes, noting the fevered intensity glinting in them, she deliberately speaks in a lulling tone. Soft, gentle words like the whisper of wind rustling the the trees or the soft cry of the dove as it calls to its mate, tranquil, peaceful images does her voice evoke as her words continue, speaking not of war or the subject that brought upset but instead of wonderful images. \"To feel the wind blowing my hair as my stallion trots down the road, the smell of the sea air as we travel the coast for awhile and even the magnificent view of the great gates of Minas Tirith, these are things I look forward too.\" Smiling gently, \"The smell of the wildflowers abloom at the great crossroads or perhaps the vendors hawking their brightly coloured wares, so much of life to see and enjoy.\", her voice drops off softly as she adds to herself, \"Even in these troubled times\"
Giving her head a very firm shake, the young Princess runs a hand over the page of her book, smothing out the yellowed paper. \"I do not like the Steward\'s city. My Knight does not like the walls of stone so far north. He will stay by the sea, Aunt, and so shall I.\" Her words are firm, and though the fever in her eyes is gone, the intensity remains, and touches also in her voice. For a moment, the hint of stern assurance in her tone echoes that of the Prince she so much resembles.
Leaning across the table so her words are not overheard by the guards standing at the door Ivriniel asks softly, \"Your -Knight- does not like the walls of stone so far North?\" Puzzlement mars the beauty of her eyes as she struggles to make sense of those words from the Princess. Tilting her head to one side, she gently rests her head in the palm of her hand as her elbow rests on the table, the stillness of the library making every sound they make seem to reverberate.
Trying another tactic she softly inquires, \"What if the two of us go to a play while in Minas Tirith and do some shopping in some of the lovely shops there? We could even go to the tailor there and have some new frocks made out of gorgeous new material.\" Adding with a sly smile, \"Just think of how much your Knight would love to see you all decked out in new clothes.\"
Reaching beneath the table to a small pouch hidden in the folds of her skirt, Lothiriel holds up a small toy -- a golden stick-horse upon which rides a knight also of gold, and on whose chest burns the flame of the House Bragollach. Holding her other hand open, empty palm up, she gives a soft shrug, \"He does not wish to go, and nor do I. I thought I had made myself clear, Aunt... Perhaps you can speak with my father and persuade him that I ought be allowed to remain here?\" Her pose is not near as long as her aunts, but that is all she has to say, and so to make it look longer and sound more like that of a player in Dol Amroth, she types this extra line.
Her mouth flies open in surprise as Lothiriel produces the small toy, catching herself quickly she closes her mouth and manages to smile at her niece. Ivriniel reaches across the table and softly inquires, \"May I see your lovely Knight? That is such a lovely flame on his chest, the red flaming brightly in this brightly lit room.
Tenderly her eyes go from the toy in her hand back up to the child like face of Lothiriel as she says gently, \"Child, my words cannot change the mind of your father once he has his mind set. You of all people should know the great strength of character that flows through his veins.\" One finger gently traces the lines of the horses legs as she says, \"Are you for certain that your Knight has no wish to ride on a great stallion and travel to Minas Tirith? He looks to me as if he wishes to go on a journey, am I the only one seeing his inquisitive face?\"
Inclining her head to the side, young Lothiriel watches the toy knight ever so carefully, examining the expression on his gold-plated face. \"My Knight rode his one-legged horse in the Tourney, and has no wish to ride it to Minas Tirith.\" A sly smile touches the corners of her lips as she adds slowly, \"Can you not see that the poor beast would grow tired, stumble, and likely throw my brave young Knight?\"
A soft laugh lilts through the library as Ivriniel takes a closer look at the toy, \"Oh dear, your poor Knight is missing a few legs on this horse of his. Do you suppose he would appreciate a rest and like being perched on the back of a big war stallion?\" Her expression brightens as she says, \"What do you think of tying a fine ribbon through the mane of the horse and letting your Knight ride up near the horse\'s ears, to see the entire world from the perch?\"
Returning the sly smile of her niece with one of her own, the Princess chuckles softly, \"There were many in the Tourney that fared no better than your Knight upon his one-legged horse. I would venture to say, more than two dozen grew tired, stumbled and fell into the muck on the tournament grounds.\" Turning the toy over several times as if inspecting him she grins, \"No muck or mud marring this fine horse. Are you for certain he has no wish to ride to Minas Tirith? I could swear his eyes light up everytime I mention a trip.\"
The door bursts open with a loud bang, and a messanger scampers through the door. Coming upon the table occupied by the Prince\'s two relations, he pauses to catch his breath and then announces in a voice with a slight tremble, \"The Prince wishes the presence of his sister and daughter in the Throne Room immediatly.\" He pauses there a moment, waiting for reply...
Heaving a heavy sigh, Lothiriel gives the messanger a nod, \"We shall be there presently.\" Closing her book, she leaves it lying on the table as she stands and waits for the older woman to lead the way out.
Lothiriel pulls the doors open and steps into the hall. They swing shut behind her after a moment.
You pull upon the doors and step northward into the hall.
And now the Prince turns to the Dunadan Lord who stands by his throne, and the nobles gathered before him draw back, \"Bring forth the Man-at-Arms Maernus now Lord-Captain, that he he may be judged for his deeds!\"
A door opens rather loudly, and instead of admitting a prisoner, a young woman enters even more loudly than the door. White gown swishing gently across the floor, she stalks through the room, quite ignoring the fact that court is in session, to stand quite near her father\'s throne. She shows enough courtesy, however, to remain silent until recognized... Though barely.
Even before the echoes of the door have faded, the murmurs begin -- slowly in the beginning, but then ever swifter, akin to a stream which grows into a river in spate. And a single word can be heard in those low voices.\"
Lothiriel...
And the Prince\'s gaze rests upon the white-clad woman from the opening of the doors to her taking her place by the throne, and he inclines his head to her, \"Greetings, my daughter.\"
Impatience cooling a little bit, the young Princess tilts her head a bit to the side and gives a soft, \"Good eve, Father.\" Yet she says no more, perhaps for the first time realizing that he is otherwise occupied at the moment.
look Dol Amroth: Prince\'s Castle - Throne Room
A cavernous room of icy marble yawns about you. The ceiling seems impossibly high--though the chamber\'s width is not exceptional--supported at regular lengths by thin spindles of smooth, undecorated stone. Indeed, the only color in the room itself is a slash of porphyry that runs arrow-straight westward to a set of steps that radiate outward from a tall dais, upon which rests the Marble Throne itself.
Much of the room is lost to the shadows of evening, for neither lamp nor torch can hope to banish the gloom from all corners of such a vast chamber. The purple-carpeted path towards the dais and throne is lit well-enough, though, by gently-glowing lamps hung from the columns that support the distant ceiling. The dais itself is lit by star- and moonglow from the windows upon the west behind it. The windows face onto a landscape of fog and incandescence beyond, with the black shape of Tirith Aear looming in the distance, its top flashing out a beacon of light at intervals that warns approaching ships of the dangers surrounding Dol Amroth\'s promontory.
Contents:
Gwendolyn
Maernus
Lothiriel
Melethron
Imrahil
Obvious exits:
Marble Doors
A last lingering look to his daughter, and the Son of Adrahil turns then, still upon his throne, verily as if both was carved from the same cold marble. And when the guards halt before him and bow, he motions them back -- and the prisoner stands alone before the high dias.
But even as it seems the Prince would speak, the doors burst open yet again -- and a score of gazes and more fly to the woman who enters. And Imrahil\'s voice rises above the din of the nobles, \"Come forth lady, for I would know what troubles you that you enter my Court thus!\"
Standing by her father\'s side, Lothiriel murmurs to herself, though as the room is built so all can hear the Prince\'s words without requiring him to yell, the mutter becomes just a little more than that, certainly heard by those nearest the throne. \"He would know what troubles /her/!\"
Gwendolyn looks around nervously and points to herself. Seeing that there are no other women around she steps forward and bows low. \"I am sorry Prince but Maernus is my lover. I only discovered recently that he has been imprisoned. I have been worried about him.\" she glances over to Maernus then up at the prince \"My deepest apologies\"
In the moments before the woman draws nigh to the throne, Imrahil speaks to his daughter -- low and soft such that none save she can hear his words -- yet, not as her father this once, but the Prince of Dol Amroth, and his tone bears the full weight of regal command, \"Not now, lady. Not in my Court.\"
And he turns then to Gwendolyn and regards her with arched brow for long moments ere speaking -- firm, yet not ungentle, \"I fear he has done wrong, and for that he must be punished.\"
Gwendolyn Looks up at the prince with her tear filled eyes \"Please good prince\" she pleads \"Please be lenient for he is all I have in this world.\" she looks over at Maernus once again \"I love him with all my being and without him I am nothing\"
\"Lenient? I stand in judgment over one who has broken the code by which he had sworn upon my blade, lady. His Doom shall not be harsh...or merciful -- but just! This I say to you, do not fear for his life\", and the Prince leans back then, and two retainers come forth to stand by the woman.
To the one for whom she pleads he turns now, and there is no gentleness in him -- sternly he speaks, \"Have you aught to say for yourself now, Maernus Calgar?\"
Maernus raises his gaze towards the Prince, \"Lord Prince, what have I to say for myself? I\'ve done wrong and shall be justly punished, that is all there is.\" He bows a third time, \"I have nothing else to say for myself, Lord Prince.\" With that the man stands silent and returns to looking at the floor, in front of the prince.
Gwendolyn only drops her eyes to the floor and clasps her hands in front of her. Awaiting the doom which will befall her love.
\"So be it!\" and the Prince rises from his throne and casts back his cloak -- and he sets his hand upon the hilt of his sword, \"Hear now your Doom, Maernus Calgar!\"
Gwendolyn looks to the prince and to Maernus. She trembles and closes her eyes once more, not sure why. Just fearful of the sentence.
And Imrahil continues then, \"You shall serve Sir Calimacil for three months and his word shall be binding upon you in all things. Thus shall you learn humility, for it was he you had wronged. But first, you must face...\"
\"...the Gauntlet!\"
Gwendolyn turns swiftly to Maernus and throws herself at him \"NO NOT THE GAUNTLET!\" she starts to sob.
Swiftly, the retainers come forth to grasp Gwnedolyn\'s arms and lead her away -- yet, not ungently. And the guards grasp Maernus\' arms and draw him back, to await further word.\"
Gwendolyn struggles against the hold of the retainers so that she can try to be with Maernus. but to no avail
Maernus turns to Gwendolyn, \"I\'ll be fine, Gwendolyn.\" As the guards aproach him closer, Maernus kisses gwendolyn, before the guards can reach him. As they grab him, he turns slowly away and looks at the ground
Maernus bows to the prince, \"As you wish, Lord Prince.\" With that the man turns towards the rows of knights. His slowly takes the first step in between them, his leg making a louder than normal bang when it hits the ground.