In the catacombs of Dol Amroth...
November 11, 1999
*Note - log supplied by Borgilas*
The very bones of Imrahil\'s keep, more ancient almost than the earth itself, it seems--the sarcophagi stretch on into the gloom in both directions, growing darker and more decrepit toward the west, newer though less ornate as the line of the Knights of Yore marches steadily toward the east as if for some final confrontation with the Enemy who lairs there.
Torches are placed in sconces affixed to the archways, but the light they cast is not wholly bright nor pure--it is tinged faintly with green, it seems, a verdure that clings to the metal and stone faces of the dead men of Amroth. Nearly lost amid this is a solitary figure in no finery, but carrying an imposing staff of Lebethron topped with a bronze-worked flame, leaning close to one of the newer crypts and studying it.
And even as that lone figure stands their comes another, yet no light nor sound heralds his entry for it is as a spectre of those long past that he, a figure clad in sable, finds himself in this place. No words pass his lips as he watches the man, his kinsman of some relations unknown to him, yet ever is this one\'s mind at work.
But then, as will happen in times, silence is broken with words, yet even those spoken words seem drab and miserable in this place for the dead will not have cheer in thier halls. \"Mae govannen,\" comes the words from this young mans lips, falling as they will in this place, but nothing more passes for now.
No startlement, but the tilting of a raven-haired head, the swivelling of a staff so that the fire frozen into the worked metal catches the light of its kin and flashes anew for a brief instant. \"Greetings,\" he answers. \"I am pleased that thou heeded my summons, my Lord-Captain.\"
\" Ever was I one to come at the call of another, when time and mood struck me,\" the voice of the Knight-Captain comes yet again, though his lips and face be shadowed by the lingering darkness of this place. \" But only truth do I speak as these words pass my lips, I come only because you can lay claim to the very blood that flows within my veins, thus I am here moreso as kinsman than officer.\" His words, softly spoken yet sure and strong in power.
With nary a moment passing the man, Melethron steps forward more into the shadows than into the light, save for the luminous green glow that seems to rise from the very lichen clinging to the walls, \" Yet I pray thee speak kinsman, for my time is strained, war comes again so sayeth the Prince.\"
You say in Sindarin, \"Indeed? I have heard not such rumblings of yet...\" he frowns, then. \"As to the other, kinsman, alas for my chicanery, for it is as much for thy office as Knight-Captain that I sought thee--the perpetrators of my foul poisoning still are not brought to justice.\"\"
Silence grows for a moment as the last words pass from the elder Bragollach\'s lips, yet only a moment in this place can feel like eternity, \" As I am told,\" come the words of Melethron yet again, \" But I fear that this shall find itself lost in the chaos that approaches Lord Borgilas.\"
Unannounced is the switching of speach, but there is little thought to this as the man continues. \'I know that you long for justice, perhaps you seek it to fall into your own hands, but know that if this should be true I can aide thee in no way. But here I speak before I know the way of your mind, so now I shall silence myself and let thee draw breath and voice yourself again.\'
The man arches a brow at that. \" I should have thought that any duties involving transgressions of the law within the Prince\'s own domains would fall under thine authority as Lord-Captain of the Knights? Perhaps I misread the charter?\" The man\'s tone is somewhat frosty. \" At any rate, the only impending chaos of which I know for a certainty is the Steward\'s damnable summons--now of all times!--to the White Tower...\"
\" It does lie within my power to bring justice to the transgression that fall within the bounds of the Military, but this matter, until proven otherwise is something that falls into the court of the Knight-Herald, for it is he that conducts matters of civil attrocities such as this. I wish that I could help thee my cousin, but until I have the proof that leans this into my domain there is little I can do.\" His words, seem sad and a bit tired, \" But I say to you, be wary of your words in regards to the Steward, for he is reputed to be far sighted within his realm, and though I am loathe to speak it we too fall under his rule.\"
The older man shakes his head, leaning away from the casket he had been standing near, and ambles over to study another. \" I do not speak ill of the Steward himself, kinsman, merely his atrocious timing.\" A smile then tugs at his lips, \" Though to be perfectly precise--and I hesitate to remind thee of that which thou knowest so well--we do not fall under his jurisprudence, but under the Prince\'s. It is the Prince that followeth the banner of Anor, though, and so shall we all.\" He sighs, then. \" I am not so certain of thine interpretation of the codex, kinsman, but it may be that I shall seek help elsewhere ere I turn to the Knight-Herald. I am not convinced of his own innocence in the entire affair.\"
At this the Knight-Captain\'s eye brow quirks, \" You speak as though you have claim against the Knight-Herald,\" his tone is questioning, yet only so,
The old man snorts, stirring up gray-green dust from the bronze, bearded face of the knight\'s effigy over which he leans. \" Play not the fool with me, my dear kinsman, it suiteth thee ill--thou knowest--doth not the whole countryside?--that the Girithlin and I are not well-disposed toward one another...\" He turns, then, and eyes the other man. \" Though it may be that some things we have said to one another remain in our confidence alone. Suffice it to say that I seek another to investigate--I have already found one of low rank--that clumsy fool Maernus--he shall cast enough suspicion on his own bumblings that a real investigator might unearth some truths.\"
At these words, the former more than the latter, anger grows within the eyes of the Knight-Captain as the blood of old, the very blood that spurned the first Bragollach to greatness begins to stir within him, \" I play no fool,\" his words come quickly, the last spoken crisp and clean as if cut upon the end by a headsmans axe, \" I know well the feelings between you and the Lord Herald, yet I think it odd that he had only arrived when you fell victim to the poison, but that is not to say that he did not have a hand in this plot. I know well the stories of Thorondur Girithlin, but I will bring no charge against him save for when there is proof of foul play.\"
His words echo for a moment, some more than others as the spoken language of ancient days refracts about the room, \" Your choice in men is questionable though Lord Borgilas, for this Maernus is a known maker of trouble and sower of discontent. You would be wise to seek out more than he if you hope to unearth the poisoner, and I wonder now if that is why you have asked me to come here in such a manner.\"
Borgilas now eyes the man askance. \" Of *course* this is why I have asked thee here, Kinsman! Have I not already said so? I wish thy help in searching out the bloody savages who dared wrong me at mine own convocation! As for my choice of Maernus, I have already explained this as well--the man is a fool, verily, and such was the reason for my choice! The noise he would make in attempting quietude and secrecy in his \'investigation\' would be enough to deafen even our comrades here, while those who sought in sooth could search unmolested!\" His voice, which has risen to a near shout by the time he ceases his wild rant, echoes from the cold metal-and-stone sarcophagi, while a thousand faces seem to look judgment upon he who would raise his voice in anger in their hall. He tugs at his collar, and then continues more softly, \" As for why here--it felt proper. I have been too long away from this place, methinks.\" He lays a hand again on the near sarcophagus.
\" Know that I will help you in anyway that I can in the manner that my office and positon allows, but I will not slink through the night to seek out some mysterious figure who\'s own identity we can only guess at.\" With this, those silvery grey eyes find themself no longer resting upon the face of Borgilas, but upon the bronze faces of those long dead, \" I wonder though, my kinsman, how long will it be before you and I find ourself forever resting within this place?\"
Borgilas inclines his head. \"I had not expected such,\" he says in a whisper, slipping almost sadly back into the common Westron speech, sounding now nearly as course as the tongues of the East compared to the fluid grace of the Grey-tongue. \"And yet...\" he simply trails off. \"Too short a time, I fear, kinsman. I hope that I may warrant as grand a sarcophagus and as noble a place in these ranks as the many who lie here, may Ulmo grant them shelter.\"
His eyes are lost within the shadows of the room, and his tone is that of one lost in thought, \'Yes, may Ulmo grant them shelter,\' comes his distant voice.
And yet, without warning he speaks again, this time however his words are not for the other in his presence, but they are spoken in a whisper that only those standing close could hear, \" Ulmo, master of the waters and watcher of men, why then have you plagued my dreams with visions such as these, for I am a man as much as others and in no way set apart from he that I serve.\" At this, the words of old to match that of the blood that flows within his veins, Melethron\'s head bows, his body moving forward towards the exit. No words are spoken as he makes his exit, but his words continue to echo through the room, the ancient language of the Sea-kings seeming to hold within them a touch of the mystic.
oom, the ancient language of the Sea-kings seeming to hold within them a touch of the mystic.