(Archive) The Fellowship of the Sword 48

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Real time is: 08:22:24 MST on Tue Jan 09 2001.

Mannish Guest hall

This is a great room with many curtained areas and a large fountain on one end and a small firepit on the other. Chairs are stacked and a linen closet holds enough blankets and sheets for a small army. Tables and chairs are placed comfortably for conversation and discussion. The decor has an unusual amount of wood for the inside of the forest, and great ships are carved hanging from a ceiling that is invisible... The sound of the fountain reminds you of the open sea.

Contents:

Rowaen

White Pavillion

Obvious exits:

Out leads to Ambassadorial Meeting Hall.

Bright light shines in this room, it\'s magnificence accuented even further by the many glimmerings caused. How more vivid the fountains seems now, water sparkling, peaceful the sound of flowing water. Tis here in such grace, amidst Firstborn, men of Gondor have their stay. Still... despite all the beauty and peace, only a few men are about, perhaps this here room being only few in comparison to the other Amon Thranduil has to offer. Or perhaps the valiant men or reluctant to disturb the silence here... Not willing to stir men in their recovery. For yes, some find no enjoyment being here, bothered by injuries of battles past.

One of them, lies alone, on a bed, covered with blankets, soft pillows for his head. A lad lies here, black being his hair, tis Rowaen, still recovering from his encounters with the accursed in Mirkwood. Though no longer he would be fighting for his life, the Healer\'s having done their work particularly well, only recovering remaining for the young Nimothan. A few dreadful silent months being his part...

Eyes turned downwards, and a frown upon his face, ever thoughtful his glance but now it is disturbed by concern. So does Drenlyn return to the room set aside for the Gondorian party. Glancing up, his eyes seem clear and empty, as if his mind and will were on there own errand in a land far away, perhaps even to the blessed city that took him as its son, by the shores of Belfalas.

Slowly pacing does Drenlyn move towards the ever active fountain, and lo, his hand touches it, and the coolness of the elvish spring awakens him out of thought and dream. Looking over the fountain he sighs, muttering something about the sea, and of times that may never be, and of gulls and waves. Pausing he stares, his hand being still rinsed by the clean waters.

Shaking his head Drenlyn begins to pace once more, steadily moving, though seemingly unwillingly, towards the beds of those still injured in battle. His brow bent, he mutters, \"Prince Arvegil...Cardolan...Carn Dum...Angmar defeated?...Who is this Glorfindel?...\"

Endless does his soft voice seem, but never do different words grace the lips of this squire until he looks up, finding himself next to the bed of Rowaen, and smiles.

\"Hail brave squire! I would ask how your injuries treat you now that the healers have attended to them?\"

And stirred is he, greeted so cheerfully, perhaps somewhat loud? For the blue eyes blink, Rowaen turning, now facing his fellow squire. Though as his eyes come across the familiar face, a smile curls around his lips, startlement swiftly replaced with cheerfulness. And still, never does the mysterious glimpse of darkness, laying deep within his eyes, leave the blue, a torment, anchored beneath a moving surface, almost like the sea Drenlyn spoke off...

\"Ah... Drenlyn, brave?... Let me reply to you in the same manner... Tis my life I owe you and the others, a deed not quickly forgotten...\" so Rowaen speaks, voice soft, throat not fully recovered. A blink, eyes leaving the other\'s face for a moment, they move towards the fountain, it\'s water crystal-clear. Distant the gazes becomes, the Blue Squire kindly remembered of things past, his lips reluctant to speak his mind, answering the other\'s question instead.

\"My injuries... aye, well honestly I know naught, yet only can I say, t\'will be some weeks indeed before even an attempt can be made to walk properly, or to... lift a shield in practice... The leg and arm are still limp, it concerns me somewhat...\"

Though his greeting may seems loud, Drenlyn\'s voice remains soft and flowing, like the deep see that was left behind. But now his smile dims somewhat as he pauses, starring deep into the squires eyes, searching...

Breaking his gaze, though his smile does not return with the same vigor of his greeting, Drenlyn stares towards the squires limp arm, and sighs.

\"Brave you are dear squire, for few could or would have done what you did, and sacrificed all to save your fellows. What is more that you would escape the dark servants that had captured you. As for my part, I fear \'twas small, for more would I have done if I could.\"

His smile dissipating, Drenlyn frowns as his eyes bear down harder on the arm that ails Rowaen, \"I fear that it will be as you say squire...possibly weeks before you can walk and bear arms once more. But we will doubtless make haste now with some new tidings, for it seems an evil will is following the quest knowingly. Your arm and leg should return to life, and serve you still well, for such limpness is oft a symptom of the weapons of servants of the Dark Lord. No blade such as the Thorondur took, injured thee, and so your soul is still whole, and your body will recover.\"

And look... as Drenlyn speaks of his Knight, dark becomes the expression upon the Nimothan\'s face! Yet the words leaving his lips, they seem unaware of the full meaning of what Drenlyn spoke... \"Tis a loss, the Knight-Herald leaving for such \'unknightly\' reasons... perhaps one day we will see him again, might even the one known as Kaide know of his whereabouts?! For I doubt naught she holds information in concern to our fellowship, for tis as you spoke, darkness is not far behind... And, yes, glad I should be indeed, to have escaped a dreadfull fate, to rot forever in the stench of Dol Guldur... They spoke so fondly of their dark tower, the dark creatures, I could feel their pleasement, a prospect to see a human die a slow and painfull death... Yet, it only proves, how \'human\' I still am, not easy pleased, always in need for more when the previous is gained. I can only pray to posses the sense needed to control the feeling itself...\" Almost careless the pleasantness is replaced with bitter and dread, for indeed tis dark what the young Squire speaks of! Grave matters, causing blue eyes to freeze, deadly cold the expression within...

Glancing quickly to the squire\'s eyes, Drenlyn frowns deeply at the mention of the Knight-Herald, and more so at the name of Kaide.

\"Do not talk of the dark death that all the servants of Dol Guldur seek for all who live in the light. It is best now to think of healing, for dwelling now on the darkness that awaited you can not help you\'re arm or leg.\"

Smiling slightly, though his furrowed brow remains, Drenlyn stares at the laying squire. Pausing, he sighs and says, \"But I see the tidings have not reached you, though I thought that they would spread as wild fire on the plains of Lebennin in the Dry months. The Knight-Herald has returned from his dark errand, though he has spoken naught to me of it. All that is found is that he took the sword of the fell captain of the Dark Lord. But I only hope that his spirit recovers, and am thankful for his return. Long now have I thought of his fate, and long have I been unable to think of much else. But now he has returned and I may attend to other matters, though my thoughts ever turn to the strange names and fell place that he spoke of...\"

Sighing now, Drenlyn\'s face swells in a torrent of both relief and sadness as his eyes seek the peace, and clarity of the fountain. No longer smiling, Drenlyn\'s brow bends, as his gaze no searches for listening ears in the room. Seeing none he says to the squire, though in a soft and quiet voice, \"You spoke of Kaide, and that she may possibly hold knowledge, greater than most, of both the quest and the Herald. I ask you now if you believe her to be true to her desire for escape from the service of the Dark Lord?\"

Long is the silence, words coming naught in reply, for at the inquiry made, thoughtfull the young Nimothan lays. As he finally speaks, his voice comes out strange, hollow... \"Honestly... I know naught,\" how sad the blue eyes stand, blinking several times, not another word spoken before the fifth blink is made, \"Drenlyn... you speak of grave matters, in concern to the Knight-Herald... still I will pay heed to your question first, for even I know of your fondness of the Knight, information perhaps of use... And yet... how it once more slaps me, to realize Kaide has such a dark past... Still! She is human, in both ways and words, though I fear, dear friend, her bonds with the dark one are not easily broken..\"

Weary is the sigh coming from his dry lips, doubt lingering within his glance, mixed with an inner sadness. \"Fear... tis fear the Dark one makes use of to bind those loyal to his person... she spoke once of her dreadfull fate, of tortures and punishment, nay, I know naught if her fear is so suddenly forgotten, only in seeing me in captive? There is no logic to be found in that!\" More growling his voice now becomes, as if disturbed by his own statements, \"Her meanings are still \'double\' for me, she lives in doubt, for I believe naught the orcs were in pursuit... for would they naught have made noises then? Raged to see a captive escaped... far too simple...\" And again silence.... eyes glancing up at Drenlyn, wonder lying within, searching if his fellow squire might know facts hidden for him.

Turning his face away as the Rowaen\'s eyes attempt to search his own, Drenlyn glances once more to ensure that unfriendly ears are still absent. Satisfied he returns his solemn gaze to the injured squire and responds, \"I speak only of what I know, and of what I\'m willing to share regarding the Herald. But I know little, and will have to corner Indilzar, and ask him my self...\"

Sighing Drenlyn stares down at Rowaen, his face filled with sorrow, though now his eyes glimmer with hope, \"It relieves me to hear you say so, for I know naught what she discussed with you during your escape, nor what was said between you after. My thoughts...well my thoughts I will keep as my own, until I may be sure of all. But I fear that this Kaide wears a pleasant mask over a dark heart. This is not so because as you say the orcs were not as quiet as may be, for there were large orcs in the hunting group, who\'s armor is hard to quiet...\"

His eyes wandering to the spring once more, Drenlyn\'s eyes attain a dream like clarity as he continues, \"I am now reminded by words my mother spoke to me, when I left for Dol Amroth. She said, \'oft mysterious maidens have dark purposes, for a lady who reveals all has nothing to hide.\' Such a maiden is Kaide, and I do not place much trust in young ladies that wield poisoned knives. I will not abandon her yet though, for I believe she has good in her, a good that you may have awakened dear squire, and perhaps she may still be saved. I will hope now, and learn what I may of her, for now I may do nothing more. Hope for her soul...yes, perhaps that is all that I may do now...\"

Trailing of Drenlyn stands erect as the voices of Gondorians is heard in the halls. Glancing to the doorway Drenlyn frowns before turning his gaze once more to Rowaen, \"I fear I must depart good squire, perhaps I have said too much. I now hope your limbs will recover their life, and that this Maiden of Shadows does not do harm to you or to our company...only time will reveal that to us I fear. But now I must return to my duties, and my Herald. Farewell, and rest!\"

With these words, Drenlyn departs, passing close to the fountain a smile appears as he dips his hand in, and touches his forehead with the elvish waters. And so he departs the room, a frown on his brow, as is his mark, but now his eyes delight in happiness, as if a great weight was removed from his soul.