(Archive) The Fellowship of the Sword 59 - Inner Peace

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Foothill Path

The land is quite rough here, and though hilly there is a distinct increase in elevation to the north. The trees close in all around. The incredibly steep land makes travel off the trail impossible. Climbing east or descending west would be very dangerous even with proper equipment. Looking up to the east you can clearly see the land rush upward toward the mountain peaks. Looking in other directions reveals little because of the heavy forest.

Contents:

Amano

White Pavillion

And so once more Arien finds her resting place, the rays of the sun diminishing, Tilion already rising to take the other\'s place. Not complete is the darkness yet, mere a mixture between the last rays of day and the first glimmerings of night. Though there seem but few to take note of the change of light, here amongst steep rocks and thick forest, men of Gondor dwell. They ride in a small fellowship, camp now set between the trees, to rest for a further journey, one to take them to the sacred valley of Imladris. Where the men hope to find some peace and well-needed rest. For many grow more and more weary of the dread and darkness upon their path... and one of them is the Blue Squire Rowaen.

Silent his figure sits against a tree, few feet away from the camp. The lad seeks no converse, not glancing at the few men that are about. Grave the Nimothan sits, a shining blade set next to him within the soil, it\'s edge buried into the ground, resting proudly. Almost longing two sullen blue eyes gaze up towards the beginning darkness, the squire resting his uninjured arm gently upon his limp right leg.

\"So Tilion, you arise once more, please let it be a starlit night this time... for the silvery light is what I seek...\" the youth muses softly, speaking words to no other then himself, and a weary sigh leaves his lips as he falls silent.

[Amano(#30032)]

Of the Isilrim, it is said none colder there are, in the noble Houses of Gondor, when angered and well it might be thought of Amano, for his countenance seems perilously still, and unmoved by aught that passes him by. The tall, raven-haired knight gives no heed to the sunset, nor the rising of the moon, in which the Eldalie might take delight and instead, methodically works at polishing the fine steel of his sword, rubbing it with what seems a bunched white cloth wound around a bag of sand. He sits in front of one of the small tents, undisturbed by those who pass to and fro upon their tasks, seemingly engrossed in his own chore, one pragmatic and not necessarily leaving space for other than quiet thoughts.

Once finished, he begins oiling the blade, and the steel shimmers in the fitful firelight this he does in silence, till at length the entirety of the metal is covered with a thin coating, and the sword returned to its scabbard with a slight hiss.

Only after he is done, does he turn his gaze from other than the weapon he had been maintaining, and his clear regard goes to the lone Nimothan beneath the tree, speculatively, before rising to his feet and making his slow way thither.

Yet more houses are renown for their calmth and coldness besides the Isilrim, so no stirr comes from the Nimothan as one makes his way towards him. Though it might be sincere ignorance, or mere a facade, clear expression being sealed away from the outside world, with a glance of coolly calmth, for of the Nimothans it is said their will\'s are as steel, almost impossible to turn, once they set their mind to a certain goal. And such a will can only be kept away from foolish stubborness and erring ways, by common sense. A sense most members of House Nimothan possess aswell, still... t\'seems Rowaen for once has lost that one precious virtue. So lacking the one, the other characteristic turns a wrong path, mind set for wrong reasons, thoughts directed for false intensions.

Yet Io! There when Tilion takes it\'s rightfull place, announcing his reign of hours, calling forth the stars to aid in his lighting task, under such magnificence and grace comes a frowning of brows. And it is doubt that strikes the young Nimothan, eyes clouding with ignorance, a glint of sadness shining through. So his calm glance, resembles the great sea, where many stirrs under it\'s surface, a surface that breaks, stirr\'s assuming form in clear expression.

\"Good eve, sir Knight.\" so indeed he knew...

[Amano(#30032)]

A wave of one gauntleted hand, as if dismissing sombreness in this night hour, and other thoughts that might prey on a mind in the darkness, and Amano\'s face seems to ease from its set rigidity, even as he sits upon a moss-covered jutting stone, to the tranquility that so often is seen on those older and surely wiser. But his next words make no pretensions of age or dignity.

\"Put aside formality, Rowaen, we are not being called to account before the lords of Gondor for some deed. Surely after all this way I would not press upon you to call me \'sir,\' it sounds not right to me.\" Those wide shoulders stir in a slight shrug, and he sets his scabbarded sword before him as a prop for his hands to rest upon.

\"Your troubles seem to eat at you,\" the knight continues, without other preamble, \"such that even I see them clearly. A glance at you would betray them, and yet I seem to remember on this journey, we have spoken as this before. I know better than to attempt to cheer you, and foolish would be one to do so, knowing how stubborn indeed you are.\" A grin forms at this, to take the sting from his words, vanished with the next moment.

\"So, what say you? In this forest, not far from our next destination, where perhaps a gentler rest will come to us at the setting of the sun.\"

Is it a trick of the light, Tilion in for a jest... for there a smile curls around the lips of the silent Nimothan and he... laughs?! Keen and sharp Rowaen turns his glance to Amano. \"Words to my liking, Amano, I see you are still the one I thought you to be. As for my, stubborness, aye a worry I share myself, yet as they say, to make a Nimothan change his mind once set, is like to move a mountain from it\'s place, to dry the seas, or to catch the light of stars...\"

Almost careless a hand extends to reach for the glimmering blade, and firm is the pull, freeing a sharp edge from rocky soil. Flickering, Maegalfuur is raised in hand, and silently turned before the Nimothan\'s eyes. \"Maegalfuur, it bears a Sinda name... A name which should aid me in ways and thoughts.\" Then mysteriously Rowaen falls silent, lips pressed, eyes lingering upon the steel of his sword. Clear is the reflection of silver light, the stars and moon seemingly granting their blessing upon the weapon, an act which apparently pleases the Blue Squire, for he faintly smiles.

\"Tell me Amano, you as my friend, are we not all uncertain in our futures? All men ignorant on that what is still to come, tell me if there lies truth in those words...\" so the youth muses, hand slightly lowering, blue captivated by the silver glimmerings.

[Amano(#30032)]

\"Uncertain, but few are willing to admit it to themselves, and even fewer forge ahead, determined to make their own future in defiance of fate or destiny, willing themselves to believe that their strength will overcome their fear.\" The calm speech of Amano seems measured, and yet somehow speaking of himself, were it possible.

His grey eyes flicker, in their sharp fire not unlike the bared steel of the sword. \"Even in the legends that hearken back to the days before the noontide of the Firstborn, it was said mortal man had a power to shape his own path, his own destiny, aside from that dictated by the song that wove the World that our hearts should not rest in the circles of the world, but seek ever beyond it. That, and death, was a gift of Eru. So was said unto me by someone wise, whose words I might have heeded ere I was taken by the rashness of younger days.\"

Concurring is the nod...

\"Words I heed aswell, dear friend, for one aswell told me that of what you speak. How Eru had seen to it all, Men and Eldar, Eldar and Men... Yet it is the further meaning I search for, Amano, for shaping ones future, is it not alone to possess a mind, wisdom, and both shared and specific virtues?\"

Swift is the slash of sword, a silver blurr in it\'s way, and with such movement, two blue eyes narrow, and a hand is adjusted. And once more Maegalfuur is turned round and round, while it\'s master studies it silently and with intens. Till more words leave his lips, spoken in inquiring manner, briefly a glance falls upon the one the Nimothan speaks to.

\"It is that what I believe, for will there not always be matters we can not control? Like nature, or other races seeking to expand and conquer... So not all is in the hands of Men, and in such manner, one believing he could shape his future in fullest detail, would be a foolish man indeed...\" Strong are those words, a sharp gaze supporting their meaning, and it is with such sharpness of mind, Rowaen looks up, almost stern.

\"What say you?\"

[Amano(#30032)]

No less unyielding, but calm as the swell of the sea and breaker, Amano answers, unstirring from where he sits: \"So it was said, amid what chances might lead another to a fate other than what he wished for. Not every detail can be seen to by the wisest man, or the most meticulous fool. Yet I do believe that one may attempt to take charge of his fate, and direct it best as he may from the tradesman and merchant, to the mighty who walk in the Citadel. I also believe, the shadow that falls upon us, as a taint from the East, is but part of the discord sung into the world. Such discord is found, in every malicious thought, every contrary way or road that leads into a dead end. And to greater extent, the Enemy with which Gondor strives.\" His brow arches slightly, and shaking his head, he half-raises a hand, inquiring.

\"Why these questions, Rowaen? Is there some point to be made, something you wish to speak of your own struggles to shape your destiny?\" Far more direct, Amano\'s words are as his might be ere he returned to the citadel and cast away the ways of the rogue, yet tempered by his own lightness of heart.

Seemingly reluctant to answer direct and honest, Rowaen muses on... \"And it is that very same belief that fails all reason, there lies no logic in trying to discern of that what was woved in the Great Theme. For we are mortal and do not know all. So there logic conflicts with belief in an act to search for answers, answers to risen questions during one\'s live,\" deep indeed is the sigh leaving the lips of the Nimothan, his gaze turning more pleasant now, a sturdy surface once more smooth, the sea within conquered and eased. And if indeed Rowaen has fought a vicious battle, weariness comes upon the lad\'s fair complexion.

\"Your belief is strong, or so I reason, and I find many concurrence in the words you speak... For I ponder on questions, ones not easy to answer, and ones not bearing complete resolvement ever. For they go beyond us mortal men. Yet the answers I seek are related with the problems of the future, and different altogether. Only it came to mind since a future is what we all have common. Though, it is the past that holds my interest, and my worries. For if some are uncertain of things to come, then call them blessed, for I am unsure of both what stands to come and that what has past...\" Once more, Maegalfuur is stirred in the Blue Squire\'s hand, this time it\'s thrusted downwards, a silver blurr cutting deep within the soil. And there lies force in that thrust, expression tensioning.

\"Memories, Amano, I seek memories...\" as if his blade is the tool to achieve what he strives for, Rowaen now glances down, gaze resting in apparent peace.

[Amano(#30032)]

No swift realization dawns visibly upon the seated Isilrim\'s calm, set expression, and a nod is all the movement he makes, knowing full well the tale of the other, and the cause of such a worry. \"Roots too, are what you seek, then, is it not true? In memories, pleasant or otherwise...\" A humorless laugh flits from his lips, as he continues, \"I suppose it would not be enough to be told of how your life ran, till the clarity of vision was taken and the night of forgetfulness rolled down in a dark curtain. It is well though that you found two anchors: your family, and Dania.\" He falls silent for a long moment, as if pondering his next words.

When they are uttered, a wryness is beneath them in undertone: \"Bittersweet, I would think. Yet far better than those abandoned far from home, a ship without a guiding wind in a chartless sea far from shore. You did come home, and make of what was left a life worth living. Else you would not be sitting here now.\"

Sincere comes now the breaking of gloom, words finding meaning with the Blue Squire. Once more his hand reaches for the sword Maegalfuur, pulling it free and holding it high, seeking reflection of the silver light. And it is this light Rowaen lets shine upon his face, peering at the steel with intens.

\"Truthfull words, Amano, ones I can not deny, you seem quite learned in the ways how to bend a Nimothan in his foolishness.. for a strong will, many times it is a blessing, though on occassion it can be a curse aswell. Truth...\" amidst the phrase words cease to flow, eyes blinking thoughtfully. It is here Rowaen\'s glance falls heavy upon the figure of Amano, and he smiles...

\"You spoke of Dania, did you naught? My friend... once she told me how she wondered if she would do without the silver light of the stars one day. Then she looked at me and spoke of how my eyes were always to be those very same lights, and that she would never part of those... and she was right in a way, in the light of the stars, being that of beauty and reflecting peace. I miss her, Amano, sincerely I do...\" here the Nimothan sighs, a sad glance falling downwards, \"Perhaps I should not speak of this, still I trust you as my friend... she was the one that saved me from a harsh fate, she was the beacon which returned me to former life. If t\'was not for her, still would I wander round, ignorant of my past, not even knowing mine own name. Her absence... how it falls me heavy...\" Words falter, and cease to come, and so effortless lips are pressed tight again.

[Amano(#30032)]

\"In that at least you may account yourself in luck, Rowaen of the Nimothan,\" Amano says gravely, \"That such a lady of heart and virtue as Dania.. how she would laugh, hearing me say such of her, and call me a fool for flattery..would be there to give you strength and counsel. If all goes well, you shall see her ere long. Aye,\" into his voice steals a note of amusement, \"Even what arguments you had, I would think you miss now. Before we do return, and I have no more chance to say so in front of Dania, lest she laugh at me.. I say that I would be favoured indeed, if the lady with which I one day am betrothed to would do no less than what she has done for you.\" To which he adds with a smile, \"And be no less fair!\"

At length, he falls silent for a space, leaning back into the shadows, only the adornment upon his brow glimmering in the darkness. \"Fickle,\" he utters after a while has passed, \"as the moon in its changing phases... some things in life are such, bringing light and joy while they last, and naught but grief when they pass us by. At least some are not.\" If he were speaking of someone, it cannot be told, but it does seem by his inflection to be so.

More laughter rises from the Nimothan\'s lips, and now truly he seems relieved, and it is with kindness he glances at Amano, speaking words in reply. \"Ah, Amano, fear not, for Dania speaks nothing of good of you. yet surely you will find such a maiden for your own, one as caring and, yes, even fair as she!\"

Still in reaction to the latter words of his friend knight, Rowaen turns grave once more. Frowning a brow the Nimothan speaks seriously, holding brief pause between the spoken words, \"Aye... indeed is it as you say, Amano, therefore goes the saying, when the memory unpleasant, then let the past be past. A shame it is, honestly, for are sayings not always easier spoken then done? Though, perhaps I have pondered enough... perhaps indeed it is time to invest in deeds, to make points for words...\" Slowly Rowaen\'s glance moved towards the glimmering blade, silver light playing upon his features, \"Perhaps the name of the sword should now prove it\'s worth, let the truth be seperated from the lie, and trust from deceit...\" And so Maegalfuur is moved, a silver light, piercing dark air before finding way in soil.

Resting one hand on the weapon, Rowaen pushes himself to his feet, eying Amano inquiringly, \"Care to relieve a Squire of weary muscles? Far too long have I sat silent...\"

[Amano(#30032)]

From the night comes the dry laugh of the Isilrim. \"And far too long sat and mused I wonder what our fellows, Maernus, and Morrandir, would have said were we as long-winded in speech whilst they were here.\" A rustle of garments, and he rises from the stone upon which he was resting, a tall figure looming up out of the shadows. Offering a hand and shoulder to the Nimothan, he aids him in stepping forth slowly from his place.

\"I did not inquire earlier, but it would seem that you are healing well enough. Enough to walk without,\" he gestures with his free hand to the blade with which the other had hoisted himself upright, \"that, soon enough, and use it instead for what it was meant for.\"

\"Maegalfuur is it\'s name, piercing thruth it\'s meaning in the tongue of men, let it be the guidance in my recovery, to strike through the gloom and dark that stands ready to burden my thoughts. For truth, all lies within that one virtue, it is a certainty on it\'s own, one unmistakenly as it should be. My life is dedicated to find those certainties, the ones of my past... I fear many is still lost... Yet,\" and here, using own support and help offered, the Blue Squire stands tall, eyes turning skywards, \"enough pondering as I said, as for your quiries, Amano, the crutch was one of the lies I hurled myself in, it posing an excuse to be dark and gloom. So what better way to get rid of it, then to burn it to ashes... as I did. As for Maernus and Morrandir, let them have their own ways, quite eager on the part of deeds. One time they will find that a properly set mind enhances greatly in deeds done. As the Silver Knight has shown us many times, to act to rash is to lack wisdom, and to lack wisdom many times keeps the easiest way or answer hidden... A fine instructor, we could not have a better one, I deem.\"

Cheerfull Rowaen smiles now, thoughts finding peace being hurled into the silver light of the shining stars. High Maegalfuur is then raised and a soft greeting is trusted to the early night...

\"Hail Tilion, bringer of peace and light in darkness, may you shine forever...\"

Grinning, Rowaen turns to face Amano, holding blade steady and with care. \"Then tell me, my friend, is there a way one can do practice in arms, with one arm to wield, and one leg to move properly. If so, then hesitate naught to speak.\"

[Amano(#30032)]

An arched brow, does Amano evince, and a smile once again, that though mirthful, lacks not the light irony that is so oft come to him in these days, as he turns his glance to the silent glade, that now, but for the red glow of the banked fire, is by starlight and Isil lit. \"Not so easily thrown away as the crutch, but in its own way a hobble no less, is the thirst to prove oneself, and that sooner an enemy than a possible friend. And that, I do mean for our companions, and I hope that in time those overeager may learn patience, even as you have.\" A chuckle sounds from him, seemingly loud in the sleeping camp, yet not enough to stir others to waking.

\"In that light, I would say, nay, for I have not had the need to wield blade at such a time that I lacked the use of one arm, and one leg. But here we may reach some sort of understanding inquire of Maernus..no, Erutirn, for he must knows, obviously. As for the arm.. well, I imagine you might learn fighting without a shield this the most skilled knights entrusted with a banner are versed in.\"

After a thoughtful pause, he bends his step to the fire, the dawn limning his raven hair even as the waning firelight dances across his tall form the sentry passing by nods in salutation, his watch over for the remaining hour. \"I am wearied, Rowaen, perhaps we shall speak further on this matter later in the coming day. Need ye help in getting to the tents, or shall I take my leave?\"

Respectfull is the nod, granted to the figure of Amano, and as he speaks his words, Rowaen listens with care, nodding now and then to show his opinion. As his friends speaks his query, mirthfull comes the laughter, \"Nay, Amano, I need no help to get to the tents, have we not spoken of putting aside all that is dark and untrue? It is time I face my nearest enemy, being the injuries I bear. As for the advice, aye it might proof quite usefull to practice arms without a shield... quickened reflexes and more heed paid to defence should have it\'s worth in battle...\" And for a moment silent is he, one having refound himself, Rowaen of Nimothan.

Glancing up to the silvery sky, seemingly never the youth tires to stare at that magnificence, captivated is he, like the owl having need to let out it\'s call when night arrives, such need burns in Rowaen aswell, to enjoy the light shed upon them. Soft words leave his lips then, eyes tranquil and at peace, \"Amano, seek your rest, already have you proved quite helpfull to me, I wish not to hold you from well-earned slumber. As for mineself, worry not! A few moments in the grace shed by Tilion will bring me naught but good, I assure you. And yes, tomorrow, as we rise anew, perhaps then we shall continue our converse... Good night, Isilrim, may your slumber be one of peace...\" Steel upon steel, as Maegalfuur is sheathed, the attention of the Nimothan entirely with the sky once more.