(Archive) The Bragollach Conclave at Linhir Manor

Adramir, Aearwen, Borgilas, Herubrand aka Indilzar, Melethron aka Erchirion, Narinzil aka Lothiriel and Thorondur

Nighttime on Trewsday, Day 11 of January.

Real time is: 20:08:30 MST on Fri Dec 10 1999.

Linhir: Manor

Atop a semi-circular staircase rest the double ironbound doorway of the manor house, the entrance stairs being only three high, crafted from marble. Before this small staircase sits a large circular table with a centerpiece of flowers resting upon it\'s surface. The room is large, stretching from the first floor to the roof of the second, lit by the light of torches and the sun shining down through windows upon the second floor.

To the east there is an arched doorway leading into a dining hall, where a large oval table dominates the scenery. Upon the northern wall of this room rest the doorway into the kitchen, but this remains closed save for when the servants of the house are bringing dinner to set upon the table. The windows of this room look out over the river, a lovely view especially at sunset.

To the west there rest a small wooden doorway, iron bound like that of the main entrance yet closed. Behind this door rest the Master\'s Study, though it is rare for that door to be open even when the man himself rests within the walls of that room.

To the north is a staircase, leading up as far as a small platform where there rest a semi-circular table with a bust of the Prince, Imrahil the Fair. The stairs break off at this point, half running east, the other west, leading to the bedrooms of Linhir governing family along with that of any guest who might be visiting. Over the railings of either staircase rest the banners of Dol Amroth, the Silver Swan and Ship, of House Bragollach, the Crimson Flame upon a field of black, and the Banner of Linhir, Three Silver Crescents upon a field of blue. Contents:

Adramir

Giant Wooden Chest(#29469OVahn)

Obvious exits:

Out

[Adramir(#16822)] Nighttime in Linhir. The servants have almost all retired, though a few do move throughout the main rooms of the manor, cleaning up after the tenants who reside within. The torches burn low, and the curtains are drawn over the windows. A loud knock at the doors to the main hall interrupts the serenity and almost seems to shake the house. One of the servants moves smoothly toward the door and opens it fluidly. Through the portal steps a man of medium build and wearing clothes that are almost noble in fashion, though their grey and brown tones seem to deny it. Upon his waist can be seen a cracked leather belt which holds a longsword sheath.

Dismounting her stallion with a grunt, Aearwen hands the reins to the near by servant and walks around in a circle for a moment, stretching tired legs. Her bodyguards, assistant and lady in waiting all dismount their own horses and begin unpacking the baggage. Walking up the three steps to the doorway, the noble woman pulls a fine leather glove from her hand and raps the knocked on the door a little sharply. Shivering slightly in the cool winter air, she turns to her lady in waiting and frowns, \"I shall not warn you again to keep your mouth closed unless spoken to Gwendolyn. This meeting is for the Bragollach family and your place is of service only.\" Smiling sweetly as the doorman opens the door, she sweeps in gracefully, the ermine of her cloak shining in the lights of the house.

[Adramir(#16822)] Evening within Linhir. The servants move about bustling with their duties as the people begin to arrive. Many of the nobles already are within, and speaking to each other. In the corner, and sipping from a goblet of wine, stands a lone figure. He looks desperately out of place, dressed in earth tones of grey and brown. Other than that, everything seems to be in perfect order.

[Borgilas(#22134)] Emerging from the upper floor rooms is a figure clad once more in brilliant gold-embroidered scarlet, leaning upon a tall staff of blackwood topped with a flame frozen in bronze and red-gold. Borgilas of Bragollach is he, known to Melethron\'s servants by reputation and tale, and he is given a wide berth by them as they bustle to and fro. His staff rings dully on the thinly-carpeted marble stairs, drawing the eyes of no few Bragollach lords and ladies as they arrive below.

[Adramir(#16822)] The figure who stands in the corner looks up as the lord emerges from the upper level and can be seen to roll his eyes. With a quick motion he drains the wine within his goblet and sets it down on a passing servant\'s tray, being sure to pick up a refill as he does. Wasting little time, he takes a slight draught from the second glass and licks his lips once before smiling in the direction of the self-important Borgilas.

[Narinzil(#4309)] A young woman clad modestly in a muted red floats about the floor, chatting for a moment with first a young lord, then an older lady, and so on about the room, a smile bright upon her face. Muted as her gown may be, there is a light shining bright in her eyes, and the sharpness of steel behind her features. At Borgilas\'s entrance, she casts him a soft smile, probably the only genuine one seen all the evening this far, and the young fire-flower continues her circulation about the room.

Quickly removing her cloak, Aearwen hands it to a servant and walks to a near by mirror to quickly check her appearance. Dainty hands quickly pat an errant auburn curl into place and a quick brush of the satin gown and she turns to those gathered in the room. Smiling a brief smile to those she knows, glancing up briefly as Borgilas makes his grand appearance.

[Borgilas(#22134)] The Red Knight moves through the crowd, tossing nods of acknowledgment hither and thither to the familiar faces, but does not smile until he espies Narinzil. He begins talking to her quietly, casting a glance and a nod at Aearwen as well, when atop the stairs a new figure emerges--this one clad in sable young, athletic, hawk-nosed, and fierce, wearing the sigil of Knight-Commander in silver upon his chest--Melethron, Lord of Linhir. A pair of guardsmen in Bragollach colors near the doorway suddenly snap to attention, though their heads have not moved to espy the man...

Adramir is content to watch for the moment, though a small spark can be seen in his eyes as he observes the scene unfolding around him. Still, he says nothing, but just takes another sip from his goblet of wine. All the while he has a little, mischevious smirk on his face, as though he finds something about all of this pomp and circumstance a bit humourous.

Narinzil approaches Aearwen as the latter enters the room, giving a bright, if somewhat small, smile. \"Good evening,\" she greets the other woman, though her eyes roam for a moment more before they finally rest on the lady. \"A wonderful night to be inside before a fire, is it not?\" The cold winter wind howls outside to punctuate her remark.

The ice blue satin dress of Aearwen shimmers as the silver strands woven in the material catch the lights in the brightly lit mansion. An odd expression comes over the face of the noble woman as Melethron makes an appearance. Her eyes drop to the glass of wine in her fingers and a flush rises from her neck to the delicate porcelain of her cheeks. Turning as a woman bumps against her arm, obviously glad of the distraction, Aearwen speaks brightly though her back turns to the staircase, herbody stiff. Glancing around the room as the other woman continues in a brash tone, Aearwen finds Adramir and winks as she catches his eye. Grinning in approval as she notes his manner of dress tonight. Thankful as Narinzil approaches her and speaks, Aearwen smiles and nods her head, \"Good evening to you. Tis a lovely night to be inside.\"

[Borgilas(#22134)] Melethron descends the stairs into a sea of scarlet and sable, nodding coolly here and there in an unconscious echo of his more corpulent cousin, halting at the landing whence the stairs split right-and-left. Placing his hands behind his back, he clears his throat faintly...those nearest him turn, while the conversation elsewhere goes on unabated.

Adramir looks up as he sees the lady Aearwen across the room, and arches his eyebrows for a second before looking back at the other people within the halls of Linhir. Slowly, and not completely deliberately, he begins to move across the floor, drifting in the direction of the lady. Perhaps five minutes later he arrives by her side, though it is not entirely obvious that it was by his intention. With a slight bow he greets her. \"Good evening, lady Aearwen,\" he smiles. The smell of alcohol is less on him now, and his clothes, though drab, do appear to be clean. Still, it is obvious that he is not entirely sober this night.

Melethron descends the stairs into a sea of scarlet and sable, nodding coolly here and there in an unconscious echo of his more corpulent cousin, halting at the landing whence the stairs split right-and-left. Placing his hands behind his back, he clears his throat faintly...those nearest him turn, while the conversation elsewhere goes on unabated.

[Narinzil(#4309)] As another approaches, young Narinzil softly smiles once more, and drifts away in another direction, commenting friendily to various people about the room.

[Borgilas(#22134)] Darkening thunderclouds, Melethron\'s brows lower. \"Bragollachs,\" he calls out, in a loud, clear voice. The conversation dwindles to a trickle now, but the Knight-Captain waits for it to cease altogether.

[Borgilas(#22134)] As silence falls, Melethron nods, satisfied. He gestures at the large table, set with flowers and goblets. \"Be seated and be welcome to my Hall, and to Linhir. Let us begin the debate anew, and hope that ere we leave we may find resolution to our discord.\"

Mingling with the crowd, smiling all the while, Aearwen\'s eyes twinkle as she notices Adramir working his way through the crowd and is not surprised to find him at her side a few moments later. Smiling with a bit of sarcasm dripping from her words as she greets the man, \"Tis nice to see you dressed finer than when you made an unexpected appearance at my home. \" Sniffing the air she continues, \"And the air around your appearance is free of unwashed body, but alas, the smell of alcohol does pervade the air.\" Bringing a jasmine scented hankie to her nose she inhales delicately, \"I suppose there is always room for improvement.\" Turning as Melethron calls for quiet, Aearwen says no more.

[<#16822>] Adramir looks up to the Knight Captain Melethron and rolls his eyes again, before turning to Aearwen slowly. \"Behold, the nobleman among nobles. It would be a shame if his ever important night and all of its pleasantries were to be ... interrupted,\" he says under his breath. He leaves it at that though, and proceeds toward the table and moves behind a seat relatively low at the table, and awaits the signal to sit. The smirk is still on his face.

[Borgilas(#22134)] Melethron seems to herd the crowd of Bragollachs to the table, where they choose seats quickly--seemingly without waiting for any formal permission to do so...though there are those who will not sit near others, as several near-altercations break out and places are quickly shuffled. More a den of red-and-scarlet adders do they seem, than a Convocation of one of the Great Houses. Borgilas, meantime, not immune to this, throws several venom-laden glances, and even more venomous smiles, before selecting his own chair--and holding out another, looking \'round for Narinzil, his dear kinswoman.

[Narinzil(#4309)] Appearing out of the crowd of Bragollachs in which she blends so well, Borgilas\'s young kinswoman glances at those seated nearby before consenting to the chair so politely held out for her. Giving the older man a soft nod, she keeps her eyes on the table and those about her.

Deliberately hanging back as the rest of the crowd rushes for seats, Aearwen watches the petty bickering, the hateful looks shot from one to another and the corner of her mouth turns up in a smirk. A soft whisper does she speak to Adramir, \"My ears are curious to discover more, but granted, this is not the time nor place. Perhaps a visit to my home, this time at my invitation.\", her eyebrows raise as she glances at him. Taking one of the last empty seats, Aearwen slides into place, smiling serenely at those around her.

Adramir grins slightly at the words of the young lady and takes another drink from his goblet before setting it down. \"True. It would be a pitiful shame if I were never invited back to one of these family occassions,\" he laments. As he glances about at the dischord within the room he chuckles slightly, \"Besides, I am but one member of an untuned orchestra within this crowd. Perhaps this would be a good time to humor myself.\" With that he joins the crowd, though without any pushing or shoving that others display.

[Gimilkhor(#29017)] Making his around the great table with swift strides, there comes one among the Bragollach who seems set apart from the others -- no rich robes of crimson, but raiment of alabaster for this one. And no petty malice in his gaze, but fleeting amusement. By Borgilas\' side he takes his seat then, with inclined head and courteous greeting -- perhaps overly so -- \"Greetings cousin! And to you as well, kinswoman.\"

[Borgilas(#22134)] The Bragollachs have just gathered around the table set in the foyer, while pages and servants scurry to fill their wine--especially a haggard-looking man in rather plain garb, who stinks of it already--as they are seated. Melethron has just bade them to silence, and appears about to speak that the proceedings may get underway.

[Melethron(#29496)] Taking a sip of the wine in hand, the Knight-Captain and Lord of Linhir draws the delicatly crafted glass away from his lips once more only to replace it upon the table without so much as a second thought. His eyes now go to the people about the table, family, though his face seems trouble as he looks about the gathered group. Finally, the man raises his hand to his mouth, clears his throat and begins. \"I welcome you to my keep and pray that you will find the accomodations pleasing until such time as we can get this matter which brings us all to this table resolved.\"

Then he stops, mouth sliding even more into a frown, \"Members of Bragollach, the blood of old runs strong within our veins, for some it is more than others, but we are all of one family. However that family remains without leadership, without a head since the Lord Indilzar, for reasons only known to him, has taken it upon himself to leave us and wander the realms of Arda. When last we met it was agreed that the house should be governed for one month, or until such time as we could all meet within the walls of this manor to decide the future of the house.\"

Then Melethron stops again, turning his eyes to the banner of Bragollach hanging even now over the railings of the second floor landing, \"Two months have passed my brothers and sisters, two months and the house has suffered greatly for this. By the letter sent with the squire of Indilzar we are to choose a steward until his return, but after seeing how this family reacts to such inferior leadership, I hereby declare that we raise a new lord to lead us. I will name no names, I will support only the one I deem worthy. But we will not be governed by a steward, I and the members of the elected council have agreed on this.\" Words fall silent, then his eyes go unto Borgilas, \"At last meeting you spoke, speak again now my cousin, and be careful with your words lest you anger the mob gathered here.\"

[Borgilas(#22134)] At the table of nobles, the red-clad Borgilas stands, with a nod of thanks to Melethron, rising in turn. \"Circumstances have changed of late for myself as well as for the House in these last pair of months...and I have committed deeds of dishonor that must needs be atoned for, much as it shameth me to admit it...\" He sips again, and makes an odd face at his wine, arching one eyebrow. He glances around him, seemingly searching for someone, and then glances to the table once more. \"And though it paineth me to speak the words, I must withdraw mine earlier petition that I be granted the Lordship of the House.\" He pauses, then, and drinks deeply of the wine that has been set before him.

[Borgilas(#22134)] Murmurs run the length of the table, some pleased--some decidedly not. Borgilas, meanwhile, eyes the wine-cup again queerly, and takes a breath to continue. \"Nevertheless, I feel strongly still that we need no simple Steward to rule the Bragollachs. The house MUST have a Lord. Or...\" here his eyes search the crowd, \"Perhaps a Lady?\"

Idly tapping her fingers on the table as she listens to the words of the Knight Captain, Aearwen carefully assesses each of the Bragollach faces lining the table. Quietly looking from one to another, noting family charactistics common to some, others looking like perhaps they are from the -wrong- side of the bed. Surprised eyes raise to Borgilas in shock as the import of his words bring her attention back to the matter at hand. Leaning to the man on the left she whispers softly, \"Did I understand him to say deeds of dishonor?\"

[Herubrand(#10108)] At the words of dishonour the doors are flung open with a shudder and in stalks a tall figure, clad like many of his house in black. He makes his way in slowly, a fair face, and hawked nose look on with disdain at his kinsman as he comes to his place at the table... could it be? No... it isn\'t... why it can only be....

[Herubrand(#10108)] Naruazrun! Of the Anfallachs!

[Gwendolyn(#13281)] Behind the chair of Lady Aearwen stands none other than her lady in waiting Gwendolyn. She looks down at the floor, her hands clasped in front of her. She doesn\'t seem to be paying much attention to the talks at the tables but she jumps nearly a mile when the doors are flung open. She raises her head and turns to look upon the entering figure.

[Borgilas(#22134)] Hushed whispers begin as the newcomer arrives in such dramatic fashion--and names fly about. A squire? An errant page-boy? No...for he wears the Bragollach colors and has the look...and the sneer. Borgilas, though his back is turned to the new entry, is not insensate to the feel of the crowd--nor to the loud crash of the doors. He turns to regard the newcomer, arching one sable brow.

[Herubrand(#10108)] \"So!\" begins Naruazrun, \"Did you think that the eyes of thy kin in the West were blind?\" He looks to each in turn, \"Nay! I have seen more than thou knowest Borgilas! What word is this that Lord Indilzar is away and here a conclave of the Bragollachs is called, with my oh-so convenient invitation arriving but a mere two weeks before it convenes?\"

[Melethron(#29496)] As the doors fly open, Melethrons hand dips to the hilt of his blade, and even after the man is revealed to be of the blood, the Knight-Captain\'s hand remains where it is for a moment, then falls once more to his side. \"Lord Naruazrun,\" he intones, breaking the silence of the room that has fallen with the man\'s entry, \"Pray you will be gentle with the doors, they are old as is the rest of this manor.\" There is no jest in these words, more of a silent but firm command, then more come, in a different tone, \"The riders we choose were selected in haste, if your letter was late then it would be the fault of that man and our judgement. But you are welcome to the table.\"

[Melethron(#29496)] Borgilas gestures around the table in faint irritation, his face flushed...from the wine, perhaps?...\"There are others of thy kin here, Anfalas-Bragollach. Mine own servant, Attanil, hails from the Langstrand...\" He sways slightly, frowning, glancing around again, seeking--presumably for the boy?--and clutches to his staff to support himself. \"I...I...\" he frowns, then, in resolve. \"It is no secret plot of mine, kinsman. Be seated and be silent while others speak of important matters.\" He turns back to the table then. \"I see not the Lady Gweneth,\" he mutters to none in particular. \"Where is she who is sister-to-Indilzar?\"

Jumping as the door shudders at the entrance of the darkly clothed stranger, frowning at the expression on his stark face, Aearwen blinks rapidly as she looks from Borgilas and then back to the stranger. Noting the hand of Melethron on the hilt of his blade her cautious expression remains neutral as the tension rises in the room. All silent but the three men.

[Herubrand(#10108)] Naruazrun takes his seat with a growl, \"Thy doors are but wood. My honour is soul. In truth I would\'st come here only to prevent what ill may be imputed upon the purity of my house. For I am Anfallach, and to us fall most heavily the ill dealings of our kinsman.\" Then Naruazrun rises and says, \"I have but lately spoken to the kind and gentle Gweneth, who due to reasons - of this I cannot say - for they touch too near the soul, cannot come this day. Therefore... she has provided me with THIS!\" He pulls out a scroll and opens it - so long it is that its end flops on the table.

Gwendolyn turns her gaze away from that of this fearful person but now glances at Lady Aearwen and the rest of the nobles seated around this table to catch their impression of this man. She glances over to the scroll and although she can not see what it says it\'s sheer length puts a look of suprise on her face and gets a gasp from her lips. Then remembering herself she returns her gaze to the ground.

[Herubrand(#10108)] Naruazrun clears his throat for a moment and says, \"If you wish, I can read off the greviances of the fair Lady of Bragollach?\" Narinzil, who still hasn\'t spoken since the meeting began, remains silent still, stewing in her seat and casting the occasional glare in Borgilas\'s direction while paying as little attention as one can -- if such thing is even possible -- to the disturbance caused by the entrance of Naruazrun. At least, she does not bother to look his way, though her ears are most certainly open...

[Thorondur(#13821)] There is a fanfare of trumpets, loud and clear in their clarion call, sounding bright and beautiful with the dawn. Late night has passed, and in that moment of renewal--as so often he seems to--the Lord Girithlin, Knight-Herald of the Prince, enters with the omen of Anor to herald him. \"The Lord Thorondur Edrahil Girithlin, by command of His Grace the Prince Elphir,\" shouts one of the flanking guardsmen. And true enough, a fair young man in royal blue moves into the hall with a confident step, and his head held high.

[Melethron(#29496)] For the second time during this meeting has the doorway of the manor house been opened for another to enter, but this is not one of the Bragollach line, no an outsider in the midst of family turmoil. But still, ever the decent host, Melethron bows towards the man, \"My lord Girithlin, I welcome thee to Linhir.\" page Rorgan=:laughs, \"Borgilas has already asked me to stay, saying something about it getting better....

[Herubrand(#10108)] The door begins to creek on the hinges... rust and age and violence make it sway with unease. [Thorondur(#13821)] A proper bow of gratitude is Melethron\'s from the Lord Herald of the Prince, yet immediately after, the proud Girithlin surveys the stiff-necked assembly of Bragollachs with a wary eye. As his sapphirine gaze flickers to each of them in turn, he tells the gathering\'s host, \"I bring official ruling, Melethron, on matters most dear to you and your kin. It would seem I have arrived in good time.\"

[Borgilas(#22134)] Borgilas turns now, and his face is flushed beneath his beard to nearly match the scarlet of his tunic. \"Lord Herald,\" he acknowledges, somewhat grimly, after Melethron\'s greeting and welcome. \"I had expected thee earlier. I knew not that tardiness was among thy sins.\" There is little rancor behind the half-biting words--spoken more perhaps out of habit than of malice. He turns then to Naruazrun once more and, sighing, \"A list of complaints, is it? How lovely...hear me first, though, kinsman--had thou not also come late\" he holds up a hand to forestall any objection, \"whatever the circumstances--thou woulst have heard me renouncing my claim to the Lordship. Surely this negates the majority of the good lady\'s\"--this is said with the proper Bragollach scorn--\"concerns?\"

[Herubrand(#10108)] Naruazrun looks to Girithlin but he knows him not. He then says sitting down, \"Speak on Borgilas, but know that the truth shall set at once this house free!

[Melethron(#29496)] With a nod, and a look to the two speaking men, Melethron turns back to the Knight-Herald, \"Then speak your ruling my good man that we might place this debate behind us and once more rise to might and power as only a united house can.\" Strange, but there seems to be a hint of emphasis upon \'united.\'

Draining her wine glass and holding it up for a refill, Aearwen watches the exchange between the powerful men and raises one eyebrow in question. Picking up a lovely tapestry bag from the floor beside her chair, she pulls out a piece of fine white linen in an embroidery hoop and lays it on the table. Holding up a needle to the light, she threads 3 strands of thread through the end and ties it with a french knot. Pulling the thread through the material, Aearwen calmly begins to work on her embroidery, neat rows of new stitching appear as she works. Glancing up from time to time as one of men\'s voices raise in anger, Aearwen calmly continues, the thread drawing through the material a soothing sound in the stillness between the angry words spoken.

[Thorondur(#13821)] \"Renounce it as you will, Lord Borgilas,\" comes the clear, musical voice of Thorondur, \"But the grievances of a Lady, however she is blooded, have little standing when set against the tradition of Gondor and Anarion\'s sons. By those rules have I found this true: Thou art the true Heir of Indilzar.\" Pausing to let those words and their meaning ring loud in the ears of his audience, Thorondur then adds: \"Yet while Indilzar yet lives, there shall be no other Lord of the Bragollachs so Law and Tradition demand, and so shall it be under the Hand of the Prince.\"

[Thorondur(#13821)] \"Rather must this assembly appoint a Steward, or Regent,\" states Thorondur firmly, his right hand now covering the trumpet--the symbol of his office--that hangs low upon his chest against the rich blue of his tabard. \"So had most of you guessed, and so it must be.\" Narinzil pages: Not at all! It\'s perfect... I love it when someone remains calm in the middle of a heated debate, and that\'s exactly what Wen\'s doing. Showing she can stay calm and roll her eyes at the \"good old boys\" while still paying attention and getting involved when they need her help. :)

Narinzil pipes up from the table at the Knight-Herald\'s words, \"A Steward or Regent indeed! I would rather jump from the top of the Citadel of Minas Tirith to the very first tier there than watch this House crumble from a leader so weak in power as a Steward or Regent must be.\" She snorts and drinks from her glass after her outburst, shaking her head as if in disbelief at someone\'s stupidity.

[Melethron(#29496)] Mumurs stir about the table as the Knight-Herald\'s words draw to a close, but with a moments thought, Melethron looks to Borgilas, \"These are the words of the Prince\'s appointed, so it is spoken, so it shall be unless this body would care to go against the words of this man and the Prince Imrahil, our lord and leige.\" Growing silent again, the Knight-Captain looks to the rest of the table, \"Lord Borgilas shall lead this house in the absense of Lord Indilzar, and he will have all the power given to that of the Lord of the House save for the right to claim the official title.\" With a smile, the man turns back to Thorondor, \"I thank you for clearing this up for us all, and now I welcome you to breakfast with us this morning, I know your journey from Dol Amroth has been long.\"

Picking up a small knife, Aearwen cuts the thread and switches to a lovely shade of azure in her stitchery. Raising blue eyes in surprise as the voice of Narinzil joins the melee of the power struggle in the room, she calmly assesses the young woman, again pulling her needle through the material as she continues her work. Glancing up at Melethron for a moment, the blue of her eyes deepens with emotion as she gazes at his face. The face of Borgilas and his admissions, quite a surprise and the amusement does show as her lips curl slightly as her gaze passes his way.

The hawkish face of the stranger is a long study for the woman, drawing the needle through her work several times Aearwen assesses this man, \"A Bragollach did he say?\", she mutters more to herself than anyone.

Borgilas appears shocked at the Girithlin\'s words, his flush fading to a ghastly whiteness. He reaches again for his winecup--those nearby notice his hand trembling--and downs the remainder of the contents. Narinzil\'s outburst causes him to jump--and then smile weakly. \"So thou say\'st, Lord Girithlin,\" he answers evenly, somewhat softly. \"I fear I must agree with my kinswoman...the matters of a House are its own, as I have said once upon a time to thee--if not so courteously. The Prince hath said to me that he shall not intrude upon this sovereignity--and so if we should choose to appoint a lady of the House, wilt thou gainsay us? We shall have need of...\" he frowns, then, and staggers again, frowning at himself in anger and puzzlement. \"..Need of strength, when the truth of the Codex of the Lords cometh out before the Prince, and the houses are ripped apart...\"

[Herubrand(#10108)] \"The Girithlin speaks wisdom,\" says Naruazrun with a slow growl, \"No man or woman has the right to claim the Lordship until Indilzar, unless he be befuddled and unmanned, returns to claim his own. And this I shall say for the Anfalas-Bragollachs. That even if the wine dark sea were to destroy all of Anfalas, I would follow no other Lord of the Bragollachs than the rightful heir. Since the time of Tar-Minastir of Numenor did our House live in direct lineage from father to son. My own line claims its blood from Battanuazor III of the second son, Similhir the Stalwart. If Borgilas, or any other puts a ruthless claim on this title, then all here have equal claim.\"

[Thorondur(#13821)] \"Then let Indilzar renounce his Lordship, wherever he might be,\" Thorondur retorts sharply, his sapphirine eyes cutting to Narinzil without remorse or agreement within them. \"For only if he does so mayst this House have another Lord while he is yet among the living. Any other who is appointed without proper claim and lineage shall face heraldic review, Lord Borgilas I warn thee, and counsel thee--accept this ruling, or find thee the Lord Indilzar posthaste.\"

Borgilas glances wearily to the Anfallach. \"Thou\'rt deaf as well as tardy, Anfallach--did\'st thou not hear the words of the Knight-Herald? My claim was valid--and yet I have withdrawn it.\" He turns to the Knight-Herald at large, \"And how are we to know if Indilzar liveth or slumber\'th beneath the earth or in a warg\'s belly? Remember thou also that a Lord hath duty to his House even as his house oweth him fealty--he hath abandoned his responsibility, and should be unmade as Lord... \'posthaste\', that we might stride under a lord rather than limping under a Steward.\"

[Thorondur(#13821)] \"Stride under a Lord without proper right, and the stride of this noble and ancient House shall be a limp indeed,\" Thorondur says calmly, his voice level and his look undisturbed.

Borgilas chews at his lip, eyes narrowed. \"For how long must we assume the Lord Indilzar liveth, then, Lord Herald of Girithlin? He is a man of Numenor of old, after all, and long-lived. Must we suffer as Gondor suffers without her King?\" Borgilas turns, then, after speaking. \"Attanil! Blast that boy...Wine! Bring me wine!\"

[Thorondur(#13821)] \"I wonder if the Lord Denethor would agree with thee, when thou sayst that Gondor suffers,\" Thorondur says to Borgilas, a sardonic smile turning his lips. \"Yet the truth of it is thus: Five years was the Prince Imrazor errant, so the records say, ere he returned from long exile in the Haradwaith ten centuries ere this one. Five years shall we number until Lord Indilzar\'s claim be forfeit.\"

[Borgilas(#22134)] The Red Knight\'s eyes go distant, and his lips compress into a thin line beneath his dark whiskers. \"And to whom would the mantle of Steward fall, should it not land on my shoulders, Knight-Herald?\"

[Narinzil(#4309)] Perhaps because she is young, perhaps ignorant, or perhaps just downright angry, but Narinzil speaks up once more like the rash youth she is. \"And who are you, good sir, to come stomping in and interfere in the business of the House Bragollach?\" Her demands of the Knight-Herald excite only a little murmuring, whereas more at the table simply laugh at her behind their hands.

[Thorondur(#13821)] \"And why shouldst thou not, Lord Borgilas, as by rights thou\'rt the true Heir? Do not pretend any dishonour keeps thee from it such sins might be undone, and it is better perhaps to have a sinner of the proper blood in that high place, than a pure man without true claim.\" Now smiling craftily, Thorondur says, glancing dismissively at Narinzil, \"For is it not true that the mantle of Lordship makes pure and chivalrous knights of us all? It is well-known that the Prince tolerates no less, at his table.\"

[Herubrand(#10108)] \"Long has it been since I have supped at the table of the Prince, Lord-Herald,\" answers the Bragollach, placing a calming hand on Narinzil\'s red-clad shoulder. He glances around crossly at the servants that hang back, watching. \"And longer since I have had wine...\" He turns then to the table, and eyes the Anfallach in particular. \"Will you have me as Steward? Will you follow me as you would follow a Lord?\" His voice no longer quavers, but he grips tightly to the blackwood staff at his right side, and his face has gone pale once more.

[<#13821>] \"... ... go ... ... ..., if ... ... ... ...,\" Thorondur confides, quietly, in Melethron.

[Herubrand(#10108)] Borgilas sniffs the wine cup for s a moment, and then he spins and with a murmur he sputters, \"Poison! Treason is born!\" He collapses atop the table.

[Herubrand(#10108)] Borgilas breathes shallowly - certainly not dead - but not quite alive for that matter.

Narinzil is the first on her feet, grabbing the winecup from the table and setting it aside so as not to be knocked over onto her nice dress. After a cursory glance at her kinsman, she calls out, \"Someone send for a healer!\"

[Melethron(#29496)] Chaos errupts as the lord falls with the word \'Poison\' filling the air, people\'s gasp and cries cover most of the low level noise. Through all this Melethron, Lord of the Manor is moving, his voice crying out over the masses for a healer even as he rushes to the man\'s side. But he cannot reach the man for there are too many in his way.

[Thorondur(#13821)] For his part, the Lord Girithlin merely look on with an uncanny gaze of pity for the old man. Quietly he breathes, though none may be near enough to hear it, \"And so does the malice of the Enemy reach even into our own halls. May the Valar save us all.\"

A healer finally arrives and Borgilas is picked up and rushed away from the crowd which, with such an interruption, disperses, likely assuming the meetings will resume eventually.