(Archive) Fighting for Beliefs

Dol Amroth: Prince\'s Castle - Parlour

The dominating feature of the parlour is the large bay window set into the northern wall--in actuality three panes of flawless glass set into stone frames, looking out onto the Bay of Edhellond and the harbor of Dol Amroth below. The decor is muted--the omnipresent white stone, here hewn into an ovoid room, the long axis running east-west, with the same midnight blue carpet as the gallery beyond.

Several sets of chairs, sofas, and small tables are placed about the room, each of dark wood with upholstered cushions that match the carpet. The walls hold maps by way of decoration--of Anorien, Ithilien of old, Belfalas, Lebennin, and even Calenardhon-that-was. Two are larger, upon the south wall flanking the doorway--illuminated maps of the city of Dol Amroth and of Old Umbar, ere it fell again into foul southron hands. A small cabinet set into the curve at the east end of the room contains various multicolored bottles and glasses to ease the tongues of those who converse here. Light pours in through the ample windows, casting highlights on the silver lamps that rest on various tables, but making them little more than decoration.

[Borgilas(#22134)] The soft light of evening-lamps creates islands of illumination in the soft darkness, picking out highlights in the silver chased lamps and in gilt-thread designs on the furniture. Seated just beneath the window looking northward onto the Bay beyond is a figure clad in red--not overly corpulent, but a man who carries more on his frame than would seem healthy, with a short black beard over dour features. He glances out the darkling window, one arm on the back of the small couch, black lebethron-wood cane lying next to him, with a crystal glass in one hand partially filled with dark ruby. A matching decanter stands on the table before him, perhaps half full of the same liquid

[Kamion(#19433)] Into the oasis of light rapidly blossoming into the ocean of deepening darkness that swells the hallway, steps a broad framed figure. His gait is marked only by flickering shadow he casts on the wall as his soft boots whisper all but noiselessly on the azure carpeting underfoot.

A cool winter night sends Aearwen seeking the comfort and warmth of the parlour. Pulling a white shawl around her thin shoulders as she glides down the carpeted hallway, the rustle of her skirts the only sound as the night ebbs into a time of quiet after another busy day in the tournament. Carrying a slender tome in her hand as her footsteps carry her inside the doorway, the serene expression on her face instantly changes to one of distaste as she spies the man seated there.

Borgilas tilts his head at the sound of others\' entry--but does not glance back. He watches instead the sparkle of stars on the rippling water, for they are bright with the moon\'s setting. A sudden movement: the flick of the man\'s wrist, and his glass is empty. A wince as the fire burns down his throat, and then he grunts, turning once more toward the decanter, and his eyes flick over the newcomers.

Raising one haughty eyebrow as her cool blue eyes rake over the form of the man, obviously in his cups, Aearwen makes no greet to the man as she settles into a comfortable chair by the fireplace Dropping the shawl from around her shoulders, she opens the tome on her lap and begins to read the words there. A smile does curve the lips of the woman as her eyes follow the lines of poetry, sighing softly as her lips mouth the words of a particularly lovely line.

[Kamion(#19433)] \"Ah...\", stammers Kamion, caught between the man before him and the woman who has entered behind him, watching her as she moves to a chair. \"Forgive me, my Lord, my Lady. I came merely to gain some point of geography from the maps that adorn the westing wall here. I knew not that you were ensonced herein, or I wouldst have used the library. If you permit, I will withdraw and leave thee both to thy repose.\"

[Borgilas(#22134)] Sourly does the Red man eye the woman--reading as much with her lips, it seems, as her mind--and then turns his gaze upon the man who has spoken. \"Nay,\" he says in a deep voice filled with gravel. He gestures out toward the maps along the walls. \"See what details that are to be seen here--though I can assure thee that the maps in the Library are of no lesser quality.\" Though the man\'s speech seems coherent enough, he slurs ever-so-slightly.Borgilas lurches, then, to his feet, and shambles toward the man, empty glass in hand, cane left on the cushions. He peers closely at the other. \"Thy face is not known to me,\" he mutters crossly.

Looking up from her reading, Aearwen smiles at the stranger and politely speaks to him, a look of censure she shoots at Borgilas before she cuts her eyes back to the stranger. Waving one dainty hand, \"The parlour is, of course, for the use of everyone. Please view the maps and the information they contain to your hearts content.\" Slipping one finger into the open book she nods her head, \"I have yet to make your acquaintance, I am Lady Aearwen of Ethring-Bragollach.\"

The head of the noble woman shakes as her disgust is evident at the drunken display of Borgilas. Lowering her voice slightly she says to the newcomer, \"Make thyself comfortable and do not allow him to dissuade you from your goal of looking at these maps\"

Borgilas whips his head \'round at the woman\'s first words, and advances on her with one hand pointing accusingly toward her. \"Bragollach?\" he snarls. \"Thou?\" His tone is at once dismissive and incredulous.

Aearwen rises from her chair quickly as Borgilas descends upon her , glittering eyes flash as she eyes the man, \"Tis an embarassment to have to admit to having the same blood flowing through my veins as your drunken self, but deny it, I cannot, so yes, the answer would be to your question.\" An ironic chuckle slips from the womans soft pink lips as she leans forward and mocks him, \"Does not it please you to discover the truth of my heritage? Believe me, it did please me none to make your less than pleasant acquaintance\"

Borgilas narrows his eyes as the woman speaks, and withdraws his hand. \"Ethring-Bragollach, thou say\'st. Pfaugh. Pretenders to nobility--thy blood hath as much like to mine as wine to brandy.\" He turns, then, back to the still unidentified stranger.

Smiling a wicked little smile Aearwen retakes her seat, watching the sad little man turn back to the stranger in the room. Unable to resist adding one small comment she says, \"Judging from what I have seen from your person since my return from Rohan, I can be thankful that my blood has been diluted to allow decency and goodness to coexist with nobility.\"

[Borgilas(#22134)] The Red Knight turns not at this last barb, merely chuckling. \"Coexist, thou say\'st? Ahh...

Kamion watches the interplay between the two, becoming more and more uncomfortable. \"Seemingly, I hath entered a fued long formed, and well apreciated by both parties. I beseech thee put up thy quarrel before it doth tax tiresome upon thee?\"

Turning to Borgilas, Kamion excutes a small bow. \"I am merelyKamion, my Lord, of no estate nor warrant of note save that I hath bequested my life unto Imrahil in holy service. I serve as my leige\'s weapon arm by my fealty unto the brethren of the Swan.\" He turns and bows deeply to the lady seated in the chair. \"Gracious Lady.\", he inters simply.

The undeniable good nature of Aearwen cannot be denied by the statement of Borgilas, a soft laugh slips out quite before she is aware. Looking up in surprise she opens her mouth to respond and pauses as the stranger doth introduce himself. Having the grace to flush, Aearwen nods her head politely as his introduction, \"Tis a pleasure to meet you Kamion. I will make no apology for the scene you have stumbled upon, save it is the nature of the Bragollachs to let words slip out well before thought, that sudden flame temper and all .\" Smiling sweetly at Borgilas as she says those last words, one had to have looked quickly to have seen the quick wink from her right eye.

[Borgilas(#22134)] makes his way slowly--and with no small amount of discomfort, if the spasms on his features are any indication--back towards his own chair, calling out behind him, \"A Knight-Errant, then? Truly the years have grown long since I have seen one of thy like in the Prince\'s service...art thou returned but recently from a quest?\" He reaches the small sofa finally and plops rather unceremoniously onto it, filling his glass once more from the decanter. \"From Rohan, perhaps?\" he asks, throwing another look towards the russet-haired . \"To be recently returned from Calenardhon seemeth to be all the rage of late...\"Borgilas sips at the brandy once more. \"And to love it better than one\'s own homeland, as well,\" he adds more softly.

Making an effort to contain the soft laughter that continues to slip from her lips, Aearwen turns her head to the fireplace in a pretext of watching the flickering flames unaware of the dazzling beauty of the glow of the firelight on her auburn hair and porcelain skin. Her lips twitch as the last words spoken by the knight reach her ears, turning to gaze upon his ruddy, unattractive face she inquires in a sickly sweet voice, \"Perhaps there are those in Rohan that have a more pleasant manner about themself? \" adding with a touch of mockery, \"My lord\"

Kamion smiles wanly as he shakes his head. \"Nay, Gentle Sir. No pursuivant am I, merely one oft passed over and left in the service of guarding the folk of the city. OFt great men ride hither with scant regard for the cares of the peasantry they leave behind the peasantry on whose crops they sustaineth their bellies upon whose taxes they take arms unto themselves.\" He pauses and a weary light enters his eyes. \"But I am young in years and hath no recourse to embrace the bitterness of age. I speak no evil against my order, yet I cannot feel but help that destiny and life doth pass me by whilst I tarry here amidst serfs, children and the skirts of women.\"

[Icarus(#30063)] A faint noise is heard as the door to the room opens slightly. A shadowy figure enters the room. The cloaked stranger goes and stands at one of the corners silently not wanting to disturb the conversation between the two men and the lady. The starnger leans against the wall and examines the room more closely. He recongnizes the Lady, as Lady Aearwen but the two others he has never met or at least doesn\'t remember them.

[Borgilas(#22134)] A raucous laugh, then, from Borgilas. \"Oho, good Sir -have we a viper in our midst? A traitor to the nobility?\" He laughs again. \"Things simply are the way they are. The peasants support the Knights for the simple reason that *they* do not ride out into battle, they do not fight the Eye. It is not their place to do so--nor is it their place, say, to sit here and discuss the finer points of the Horse-lords--stink and all--in such pleasant\" he smiles, sickly-sweet, at Aearwen-- \"company. Of course, this may merely be the \'bitterness of mine age\' speaking itself forth. Come, Sir Knight--where else would thy destiny carry thee? A garrison, perhaps, in doomed Osgiliath, or in the dead-lands of Ithilien? Nay.\"

[Kamion(#19433)] Solemnity is etched upon the visage of Kamion as he hears the words from the older man in front of him. \"Thou dost sport with me, Sir - yet I defer to thine girth and wrinkled brow that doth so squarely mark thee as my elder and thereby my better. As to my destiny\", he continues, \"I hath naught but the name of my kinsman - and yet in that name I am rich beyond blessing and wouldst see it again reach the ascendancy which is it\'s right.\"

[Borgilas(#22134)] -small--swallow and Borgilas winces again, eyeing the other. \"Sport ,\" he returns. \"Such serious words and mien demand it. But come--what name is it that thou seek\'st to return to glory? Girithlin, perhaps?\" he chuckles at his own wit, and drinks again

[Kamion(#19433)] A look of quiet amazement passes across Kamion\'s face, a smile and delight registering themselves there not long after. \"Why, my Lord, how didst thou know? Mayhaps thou wert not as bereft of knowledge of my birthing as thou didst portend, for, indoubitably, Girithlin is just such a name as I would confess to bear.\" He pauses and shoots a gaze to the guard in the corner. \"But perhaps we are remiss in our manners, bandying names and families about that matter much to we of the Citadel on the bay but little to our well travelled guest from the east?\"

[Icarus(#30063)] The dark figure walks by the wall all the way to the large bay window. He looks at the the great city of Dol Amroth, his mind wonders for a while. His thoughts a suddenly interupted by the loud voice of one of the man. Turning around he starts walking towards the small group but he stops half way their. Not sure if he should continue or not.

[Borgilas(#22134)] distinctly unpleasant look crosses the Red Knight\'s face at this revelation, and he sighs. Seemingly having no further taste for brandy, he sets the crystal glass on the table, and then glances, for the first time, at the newcomer. \"From the East, eh?\" he says, arching one eyebrow while leaning forward and rubbing idly at his bristling beard.

A look of little interest on her face Aearwen rises from her chair and goes to the sideboard, reaching for a crystal goblet she pours a small amount of white wine into a glass. Swirling it around and inhaling of the rich bouquet before she takes a sip, her eyes resting on the men and the continued conversation. Smiling at Icarus she asks, \"Have you found things easily enough here in Dol Amroth since your arrival? Tis been quite some time since I have seen your face, I suppose the Commander has been keeping you busy.\" More a statement of fact than question, but her eyes do grow distant at the mention of Galdorim

Kamion(#19433)] \"So I would warrant\", answers Kamion in a friendly manner, \"to judge from the cut of that heavy cape. My mother is oft praising the tailors of Minas Tirith - and seems well smitten with one \"Rorgan\" or somesuch.\" He turns towards the stranger. \"Come, friend. Settle a debate betwixt my newcome friend and I. From wence camest thou? I wager from Minas Tirith.\" He laughs, a good natured sound. \"And tell how thou camest so far! Mayhaps thou didst craft wax wings with which to fly, and flew too near the sun, falling to earth here in midst!\" He laughs at his own jape, and his eyes sparkle with mirth. He claps Borgilas on the shoulder in a familiar way.

Borgilas arches an eyebrow at that, but a smile manages to find its way, rather uncharacteristically, onto his bearded features. \"Perhaps thy father is a madman-genius? Our catacombs here in Dol Amroth, some say, are a labyrinth from which no man may find his way without aid...\"

Kamion turns to regard Borilas with naked admiration. \"Then thou art of the Brethren of the Swan? I am doubly glad to share the room with thee, Sir Knight.\" he says in an aside to Borgilas.

[Icarus(#30063)] The young guard turns and faces the Lady that just greated him. Bowing respectfully he answers \"It is good to see you again Lady Aearwen. I am enjoying the fair city of Dol Amorth, but I am starting to miss Minas Tirith. I have not seen the Commander for quite some time but I was busy with my duties.\" Turning to the two starngers \"Hello sirs, I am Icarus from Minas Tirith...\"turning to Kamion he adds \"...I am afraid I took the long way here, since I seemed to have misplaced my pair of wings...\" and turning to Borgilias finishes \"...even the deepest catacombs or the biggest labyrinths can be escaped by just using little more than your mind.\"

Borgilas says, \"A mind? Nay, not alone. For the deepest of Labyrinths ever containeth the fiercest of beasts...\"

A snort of derision cannot be denied as Aearwen listens to the flowery words spoken by Kamion. The beautiful sea blue eyes of the woman roll in their sockets as her expression turns similar to one that has tasted spoiled food or perhaps an unripe apple. Sipping another drink of her wine, she remains standing there, cutting her gaze to the bay window and the beauty of the night stars kissing the dark sky.

Startled from her reverie Aearwen returns her attention to the young guardsman as he speaks, \"If you should need someone to guide you around our fair city, let me know and I shall arrange one of my retainers to show you the sights before you go. Dol Amroth is a magnifcent city resting on the Bay of Belfalas, but I do understand your longing for home. My heart is fond of Minas Tirith as well. Tell me, have you had a chance to see the new comedy that is playing in the theatre there? I had a chance to view the actors in their rehearsals and it does appear to be a funny production.\" Smiling softly as the young man at arms greets the two men in the room, her eyes rest on Borgilas for a long moment as if studying an insect in a jar.

Borgilas turns, then, toward the newly-revealed Girithlin. \"Verily, I am a Knight of the Swan. Borgilas of Bragollach, I am called. And I know thy House-Lord quite well--though thou seem\'st unalike from him in nearly every way imaginable.\" He smiles, then, wanly. \"Though my...kinswoman...\" the word is distasteful, \"...has it aright in that our tongues and words run sometimes with fire. I fear that Thorondur hath little love for me or mine.\"

[Kamion(#19433)] Ignoring Aearwen\'s derision - more from captivation with Borgilas than any studied indeifferance, Kamion listens closely to the reply of the Swan-Knight. \"I love my name, Lord Bragollach, for it is all I have, but it does not guard my back in battle, nor amuse me in the empty hours of loneliness. I respect my Lord Thorondur, but reject- and all to oft ALL nobility\'s - penchance to judge a man by his name and not his merit.\" He pauses and smiles, \"Besides, thou seemest to me a most capital fellow!\"

[Borgilas(#22134)] \"A rare Girithlin indeed!\" he chuckles. \"Be not so quick to dismiss either thy name, though, or thy birth--for nobles judge men no quicker--and oft more truer--than any other man. Find a peasant on the street, and he\'ll judge thee right enough, I think, based on thy birth and name

Icarus looks at Borgilas a bit surprise \"I am still a young guard and have a lot to learn about the art of fighting but I do believe that a sword is just a piece of metal if you do not know how to use it. Although brute force is might help, you must agree that you mind is your most important weapon.\" Turning to the Lady,Icarus continues on \"Thank you my Lady I will keep your offer in mind. I am afraid I have not seen the comedy you have mention. But if you though it was good, I will go see it as when the chance presents itself.\"

Kamion arches a brow? \"Thinkest thou thus? I cede to thy experience, Lord Bragollach, but wonder if he might not judge more by my ability to make his life more or less punative?\"

[Borgilas(#22134)] \"Family,\" he continues, \"Is oft the last line of defense for a man in trying times--much as the ramparts may rot or fail--\" he casts a glance at Aearwen, arching a brow, and then returns --\"At times they are the only defence.

Borgilas shakes his head. \"Thinkest thou, then, that a plebs seeth the man when he seeth a Knight, or the armor?\"

Kamion laughs \"In truth, I thinketh he doth see a man in a shiny suit that might smite him or elevate him upon his momentary whim. But gladly wouldst I be to have thou instruct me other-to-wise, Lord.\", answers Kamion.

Borgilas smiles and raises a finger, \"Ah,\" he says, \"Then he judgeth based upon first-sight--thus, no better than a Noble, it would seem...\"

Kamion laughs. \"As thou art my better in years, Sir Knight, so, too, thou dost cast aside my buttresses of thought with the batteries of thy philosophy! Mayhaps, if thou canst set aside thy name and I mine, we might eat together and talk more at some date? After all, what\'s in a name? A rose is that which by any other name would smell as sweet...\" Kamion leaves the thought hanging and turns his attention aside to the Lady Aearwen.

Walking closer to the men, with wine glass in hand, Aearwen flashes a smile before her words are uttered, sincerity ringing clearly in ever word she says, \"Trust me when I say this Borgilas, and these words are not spoken lightly, One will will never find a more loyal heart than the woman standing before you, be she of Ethring-Bragollach or not. Ask the men these hands have worked to save on the battle fields of Osgiliath, the massacre at South Road, Umbar, Pelargir or numerous others. Devotion and dedication to the fight against the evil shadow that threatens us all is her main concern. \" Her eyes blaze honour as her words ring louder, \"Witness to the evil of the witch-king in Umbar, my determination is even stronger to serve my liege Prince and the good of our country. So mock me if you will, have your words of derision and veiled insults, there are many that know of my goodness and loyalty.\" Smiling at Kamion she laughs and tips her head, \"Such sweet words flow easily from your lips\"

Borgilas says, \"Indeed? Would a rose smell so sweet if it were called, perhaps, a stench-blossom? But I digress...I would very much like to speak more with thee, Sir Kamion of Girithlin--but it may be that events that approach us may belay such plans.\"

Borgilas glances now to Aearwen, weighing her. \"It may be,\" he concedes. \"And yet I saw thee not at the Great Convocation of Bragollach, lady. Where was thy support--for either side of the debate--\" he does not say what the debate *was*, of course--\"at that time?\" The question is pointed, but not overly so.

Kamion inclines his head slightly to Aearwen. \"Lady, light thoughts and sweet mummurs are easily found in the presence of inspiration yet I fear that even the most melodious of minuets, or the loftiest of prose doth descend into the clanging of cymbals or the babbling of senseless madmen in thine presence. Why,\" he continues, \"even the queen of flowers would become as Lord Bragollach\'s \"stinking-blossom\" pressed unto thy bossom.

Borgilas(#22134)] A smile quirks at the corner of Bragollach\'s mouth at this, but he says nothing as he waits for the lady\'s reply.has arrived.

Angry tears flood the blue of Aearwen\'s eyes as they remain on Borgilas, \"Would you have me leave my gravely ill mother\'s side to attend said Convocation, dear knight? Is the manner of the directon of said house more important than the concern from a mother that has held her daughter close and supported every decision she has made, even that of delaying the birth of her own brood as she travels the lands as envoy to the Prince of Dol Amroth? Nay, good man, tis family of which we speak and family shall be supported above all others. My absence from this meeting was of no concern as I have little input to the workings of the Bragollach house.\" A weak smile does she give Kamion as one lone tear streaks down her porcelain cheek, suddenly the import of his words hit her and she laughs....and laughs loudly, \"A stinking blossom upon my bosom? Pray tell Kamion, do you mean to add insult to injury tonight?\"

Borgilas sighs, then, and looks heavenward imploringly as the woman begins crying. \"Save thy tears, Kinswoman. It is not meet for the Bragollach to cry--even the fairer ones.\" The compliment is clumsy and somewhat half-handed--perhaps like Borgilas himself--but seems genuinely offered.looks flustered, but this fades as he hears Bragollach\'s words. \"My tongue doth seemeth to have lost it\'s gilted edge, my lady. Or mayhaps Lord Bragollach\'s veiled fist hath bruised thy soul overmuch for thou to hear soft words. Yet it doth strike me thus that that which I spake upon entry holds true - that there is a game that thou dost both play, and my Lord Bragollach hath pressed home an advantage. Still, hath he not even now shown himself worthy of honor and respect? Come, wilt thou not hear him on this word and put aside the barbs of the evening?\"

Angrily wiping said tear from her cheek, Aearwen gives Kamion a petualant look before she practically hisses out the words, \"My tongue has only respect and honour for the Swan Knights and many soldiers of war.\" Tipping her head in the direction of Borgilas she says with graceful civility, \"Tis true that he does -probably- desire honour and respect for his position, but remarkedly enough, tis very hard to get around that biting tongue of his.\" Her brow furrows a moment as she ponders that thought, \"I truly cannot bring to mind another that offends me at every opening of his mouth.\" A smile curves her lips , \"And you think it tis a game we play, this tossing of words at the very heart of one another. Nay, do not be fooled into thinking tis but a game, this city is filled with ambitious, power hungry people willing to trample down their own blood for their gain...evil slips in when we least expect it sometimes.\"

Imrahil says, \"they never insult you when i\'m about ICly, wen...just my luck\"

Kamion says, \"you are SO rude wen.. i\'d challenge you to trial by combat for that one\"

OOC> Aearwen grins, \"Sweet little ole me?\"

Imrahil says, \"wen isn\'t nasty...she\'s angry..there\'s a difference :)\"

Kamion casts a dour look at the Lady Aearwen. \"I see that forthright speech dost not fight hard to find purchase in thy family, Lady. Mayhaps marriage and children might curb the streak of churlishness in thee.\" Almost as an aside he adds, \"Women so little understand the true nature of politics and mere gentle mockying for position dost seemeth either utter foolishness or the pinnacle of barbarism to them.\"

[Borgilas(#22134)] The Bragollach Knight snorts, and words spill out like dragonfire. \"Honor is a paper-doll for women and children. I speak truth as I see it, kinswoman--if it offends thee, then perhaps there be something offensive in thyself. I shall take no responsibility for thine own faults--nor for pointing thee toward them. A peace offering laid before thee and swept aside--so much even for girls\' honor.\" He takes a breath then, obviously trying to regain some control of himself, jaw clenching and grey eyes hard. \"And perhaps,\" he adds, more carefully and slowly, \"The lady should pay less attention to the gossip of servants and seamstresses--and more to the affairs of the house and court, she speaketh.\"

The jaw of Aearwen clenches tightly as Kamion speaks his words, eyes flash with anger, her right eye twitching as she contains her words. \"Men. Do you think men alone serve this country with the only true form of nobility and honour? Nay, do not be jackasses and think only the valour and bravery of men on the fields of battle alone run this brave nation. Or perhaps, it would soothe the arrogance of your soul to think you alone are able to see the reality of the evil that shadows us.\" Anger flushes her cheeks, \"Respect for all manner of loyalty, bravery and dedication is deserved, not just those of the male persuasion.\" Her head drops as her auburn curls dance across one shoulder, \"Paper doll? I will remember that the next time I am on the burning docks of Pelargir with my skirts sodden with the blood of our brave men, my hands drenched with their blood as I fight to save their lives. I shall reach into my bag and pull out a paper doll and offer it to them to take away the pain. \" Snorting, \"Paper doll indeed. Go ahead and sit in your comfortable tower and sip brandy, my Lord\"

[Sirion the Elder(#16476)] The door to the parlour opens slowly and old Isilrim himself, Sirion the Elder passes through with his retainers behind him, \"Paper dolls are best left to children, and swords to knights...\" He takes a seat while a retainer whips out a fan for his lord and another pours him a glass of uncut Belfalan wine. He stirs it under his nose and sniffs with a smile.

Kamion sighs \"Really, my Lady, thou art more prone to the melodramatic that even I. It dost strike me as seemly that if thou wert as prone to the alleviation of the suffering of others as thou crieth, thou wouldst needeth less tootling of thine own trumpets. Yea, it doth strike upon me, Lady, that thou art as hungry as any for recognition and power as any - \'be-codpieced\' or skirted.\" He smiles wryly. \"And for that, I salute thee.\"

Borgilas fairly trembles, now, with fury as he turns his eyes toward the woman. \"Do not think to lecture me on SERVICE,\" he says, in a virtual whisper, the last word nearly choked out. He calms himself somewhat, and continues. \"I have fought and killed for Gondor, and now I serve her in another capacity, just as thee and all women, whom I have never slandered for their sex--but for \'honor\'\" he spits out the word, \"I can fight no more--I am a lame man forced to fence words with unthinking youngsters.\" He turns away from the woman, then, and his head toward the aged Isilrim. \"My lord,\" he says, \"It seemeth that thou hast chosen a stormy harbour this evening.\"

[Sirion the Elder(#16476)] Looking to Borgilas, Lord Isilrim smiles blithely as is his wont, \"Ah, I see thou art of formal tongue this night. So be it. Yet what safer harbour can there be for Man save in Dol Amroth, the native home I love so much.\" He smiles warily, \"My dear lord Borgilas, thous\'t choose to run away from a battle? For shame! To let your pride be bested so, such a proud man and stern of most utter resolution.\"

Kamion casts a sidelong glance at Borgilas as the reference to unthinking youngsters greets his ears - and a frown creases his brow. He seems on the verge of making comment but cedes the floor to the more venerable Sirion, retiring a pace away from the still imposing figure.

Drawing in a long, deep breath as Sirion enters the room, Aearwen somehow remembers her manners and curtsies quickly, \"Good even, your Grace.\" Bringing the almost forgotten wine glass to her lips she partakes of another sip of the wine to quench the dryness in her mouth. Blazing eyes cut to Borgilas over the rim of the goblet, before they return to the Lord Isilrim, silence holding her tongue as the elder knight speaks. A smile does peek around the glass as she it away to say, \"Perhaps the virtue of mercy does have many merits your Grace and your arrival can well be called an act of mercy for many reasons.\"

Sirion the Elder smiles at Aearwen, \"Ah, the Lady of Ethring. Have you been the cause of this discontent? Mayhap the virtue of humility will spare me from saying aught else on this matter?\"

Borgilas glances toward Kamion. \"Thinkest thou no ill of me, I beg, Sir Knight of Girithlin--thy tongue is as courteous as one could hope for, and far more than I expected of thee--but it seems that blood doth not get on with blood. Knowest thou the Lord of Isilrim, Sirion son of Tirion?\" He gestures toward the old man with one hand, pointedly now ignoring Aearwen, despite a hardening \'round his eyes as she speaks. To the Isilrim himself, he calls out, \"A retreat from a battle where even a victory is a defeat is no ill choice, my lord. Discretion, as they say.\"

Kamion nods his head slowly. \"Only by dint of his reputation, Lord Borgilas, which art both formidable and distinguished.\" He draws nearer to Sirion and bows deeply. \"I am honoured to make thine aquaintance, your Grace.\", he adds, drawing his que from Aearwen\'s use of the titular for the venerable Knight.the Elder rises and crosses his arms over his chest, \"Well met!\" He bows his head and looks up with glittering, strong eyes for a moment before saying to Borgilas, \"Times are such when that makes the measure of the man...\" Then he glances to Aearwen, \"Or woman. Take for example the follies of Haradraic War.\"

A smile stays on the lips of Aearwen as she gazes at Sirion, \"Would you think me to be the reason for discontent?\" Her shoulders shrug in dismissal of her own question. Glancing once more at Borgilas, she again studies the elder lame knight, eyes squinting in thought. Her finger taps against the wine goblet in a steady rhythm. A soft exclamation as she becomes aware of her lack of concentration on the flow of conversation. \"Pardon me, your Grace, what example you mean to point out in the Haradraic War?\" Pausing for a moment she adds, almost to herself, \"There were many misadventures to be had in Harad, that is for certain.\"

Kamion says, \"Many are the follies of excursions into Harad, my Lord--of which in particular speak\'st thou?\" He then adds, recalling the Lord\'s earlier query, \"In regards to formality--I find this new manner of speech muchly uncouth, and prefer the more elegant speech of our fathers...\"\"moves aside, towards the decanter and, taking up a goblet, fills it. He turns to those assembled in the room and raises the decanter slightly. \"Dost thou careth for some wine, Lady?\"

[Sirion the Elder(#16476)] \"Perhaps Borgilas,\" replies Sirion, \"but if you recall, when we saw the filth and the sacrifice of Eridanus with our own eyes, I would not call that folly. Rather folly of the great wars of late when Men died in a campaign now all in vain. As to speech - it makes not the measure of man, for even the foulest tongue may speak the gospel truth, or perhaps you may recall the harsh words of my son on the field of Pelennor in the days of his manhood now come to naught?\"

Borigilas glances back. \"Be wary, Girithlin--the decanter from which I sipped was fortified beyond wine. It hath loosed one tongue o\'ermuch already this night.\"smiles \"I hear thy words of council, brother Knight, and shall moderate my consumption lest I fall, too, to it\'s liberations.\" He smiles and raises his goblet in a small token of toasting, sipping from its contents once he has done so.

[Borgilas(#22134)] A shadow then crosses Borgilas\' face, and he nods gravely, somewhat contrite. \"Eridanus\' death was foul indeed, Lord of Isilrim--and I grieve anew with thee for thy loss, but alas I know not the words of thy son, for already the wound I was gifted with in Harad had bound me here. Speak them again, if they shall add wisdom here.\" His tone is oddly reverent to the man--deference shown normally only to those of Imrazor themselves.

Her satin skirt rustling against her leather slippers, Aearwen walks to the sideboard and holds out her wine goblet for a refill. Tipping her hand in thanks as the glass is again filled with the finest white wine, the rich bouquet wafting up to her nose as she takes a small sip, \"Thank you Sir Girithlin, my apologizes for this less than pleasant first meeting. I do hope there is a chance to amend some of the words spoken between the swan knight and myself.\" Turning to listen to the words of Sirion, she makes no comment, again a small sip of the delicate wine does she take. Puzzlement does slide over her expression as she notes the tone of voice in which Borgilas speaks to the Lord , a look of pleasant surprise does gaze upon his countenance when next she glances his way.

Sirion the Elder smiles and his eyes look distant, \"Some words I shall be coy with, for they are for me alone.\" He sighs heavily and a great sadness lays upon him. He looks to Aearwen, \"Lady, if queens may once again walk in Gondor then we would be blessed, but in these latter days we must struggle for what we will, but never let the stains of heart churn against your approbations be it of ill nature or not. For it is in the heart of Men to be good, but the Shadow turns this to lies and madness... death comes... and only those of true heart shall fight well again.\"

Kamion smiles at that, but it is not an unkind one. \"Behold the wisdom of Numenor, come clad once more in flesh to walk among us.\" He finds a glass on a nearby table--and though empty, he raises it in salute.

Sirion the Elder casts down his head though and looks not up. Rather, he stares into his empty lap. Then he spreads out his hands before him slowly, a certain morbid virtue upon his mood.

Borgilas glances, then, towards the others--for a moment their kindred in being unable to pierce the elder Knight\'s gloom. He sighs, then, as his gaze falls upon Aearwen. \"I fear that the hour groweth late for one of my years--I am not as hale and hardy as the Lord of Isilrim, and must retire.\" He inclines his head toward the Girithlin, but moves towards Aearwen despite the seeming farewell, to have some final words with her.

Sirion the Elder slowly rises and without saying a farewell turns and departs from the parlour, his mood like a black storm over him.

[Kamion(#19433)] Returning the bow, Kamion adds \"I remain thy servant, my Lord.\" Sensing the desire for quietude betwixt the twain, he movesthe door, taking the goblet with him.

Long do the eyes of Aearwen study the face of Sirion, his words bringing silence to her lips as the echo of those words ring repeatedly in her mind. Sorrow fills her eyes as she watches his hands spread before his eyes, in a futile movement.

Glancing up at the approaching Borgilas, the expression on the face of Aearwen is unreadable, showing no sign of distaste as before, but surely not one of friendship and warmth either.

Borgilas approaches but holds off a few paces, his face grim. \"There are ill words betwixt us, kinswoman, that cannot be called back after being uttered. And yet of late such words as these have made me too many enemies...and thou art blood.\"

Nodding gravely, Aearwen responds, \"Tis true that many ill gotten words have been spoken between us. I have no wish to quarrel with you Borgilas.\" Her eyes level with his as she continues, \"Whether you find it impossible to believe or not, my personality is not a quarrelsome one.\" Chuckling as she adds, \"Wouldst thou believe that I am envoy to the Prince, and many correctly chosen words I must speak. This situation with you, as alarming and upsetting as it had been, has also been filled with ironic humour.\"

Borgilas arches an eyebrow, cooly. \"Not a quarrelsome one? Perhaps it is thy levity, kinswoman-of-mine, when not altogether appropriate...and still, it may be that thou\'rt correct. Blood is blood, whether thinned on one side or another. I cannot claim to have great fondness for thee, but thour\'t a Bragollach, and that I do love. Good night, lady.\"

Another soft laugh does the woman issue in response, \"We can both agree on that one, I cannot claim to have great fondness for you either, but I shall endeavor to hold my tongue and work together, as Bragollachs. Twould give our enemies no greater pleasure than to see our house divided by discord and I cannot allow that if in some small measure I can help prevent it. \" Smiling as she holds out one hand, \"Would friends be too much to expect?\"

Borgilas eyes the hand. \"Friends? We are kin,\" he says, as if the two are irreconcilable. But after a chilly moment, he arches a brow and then takes the hand, allowing a small smile of his own. \"And yet it may be possible, given enough time.\"

Raising her eyebrows in an unreadable expression Aearwen says, \"I suppose stranger things have been known to happen, but we shall not rush at it. I can be content with civil words spoken to one another and a getting to know the personality of one another.\" Sighing softly she adds, \"Goodnight my Lord, the hour does grow late.\"

Borgilas nods, whirls in a swirl of crimson and sable, and then returns to his cane rather limpingly before exiting the room. Once he has said good night to the woman, though, his eyes go distant and he does not look at her as his cane thump-thumps across the carpet.opens the door and goes south.has left.

From afar (to Aearwen and Kamion), Borgilas grins. \"Cool scene, all-in-all:)!\"