(Archive) As the Swan Turns...

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Weather: Stormy Time: Late Afternoon

Season: Spring Date: Mersday - May 13, 3018 Real Time: Fri Sep 10 23:13:14 1999 =

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Dol Amroth Embassy: Hall of Heraldry

The slick marble floors and grand, cylindrical pillars that support the cathedral-like ceiling of this room are meant to recall the Hall of Armour in the Marble Citadel itself--and do so wonderfully. The floor is a black speckled with white and silver, polished to almost a reflective sheen, and the pillars span many feet high into the air, dark marble as well. From the beams of the ceiling high overhead fly many banners of the most storied and prominent Houses of the Belfalas, displaying their devices proudly: Morthond, Girithlin, Telamarth, Ringlodain, Hlorithain, Edainemyndon and others.

High, narrow windows in the walls above let shafts of sunlight fall readily into this mighty chamber, illuminating the great vault in a soft bath of of warming light. A single carpet-walk of royal blue runs from the entry in the southwest to a Grand Staircase in the northeast--a stairway that slopes down from above and, by the banner of the Ship and Swan above it, can only lead to the chambers of Imrahil himself. A set of double doors graven with the image of the Silver Swan lies east.

Sitting in a quiet alcove before a raging fireplace, a lone woman sits leafing through the papers in front of her. Her shoulders shrug as she looks into the blaze of the fire, unaware of the torrential downpour outside. Picking up another paper, she examines the seal in the glow of the fire, fingers rubbing over the wax, obviously lost in thought.

[Erinhaim(#20260)] The light lasts longer in the Spring... as the sun is languid on the West. Outside the doors of the Armor Hall\'s great doors the light is grey but bright as the storm clouds open, filling up the sloping stoney roads of Minas Tirith.

There is a gust of wind that wets the faces of those closest to the open doors. Their eyes turn toward the gaping portal, there to rest upon a tall and stalwart figure, wide of shoulder, strog of limb. He stands bedecked in dark reds and black, water dripping from every hem. As his heavy hands close the portal with a loud boom, they reach up to reveal the tanned and age-scarred face of Erinhaim unto the light.

The slamming of the door startles Aearwen from her reverie. Turning on the couch to view the person responsible for the noise her eyes widen as they once again behold the stranger she has seen several times recently. Glancing down his frame, making note of his new clothing, her eyes cut back up to his face before she flushes and turns back to her papers.

[Erinhaim(#20260)] Out of old habit the black eyes of the old man roam across the firelit room. Finally they fall upon the dark haired woman by the fire. Many times has he seen her but never have they spoke. Yet they do not speak now, for the tall man, Erinhaim, walks directly toward the Steward of the Embassy. Quietly, they exchange words, the wide shouldered man in wet clothing in low tones giving orders to he who quickly carries them out. The shorter, lesser blooded steward disappears and the age lined face turns upon the room, the dark eyes find the familiar lady\'s face immediately.

Making a big production of shuffling papers and pretending to read them, Aearwen\'s eyes glance up as Erinhaim walks over to speak to the Steward of the Embassy. Holding her papers still as she strains to hear, she suddenly winces as if aware of her own actions. Shaking her head, Aearwen begins to read the documents before her in earnest, putting all thoughts of this stranger from her mind.

[Erinhaim(#20260)] Almost silent the large body of the man in his wet clothing makes hiw way upon the woman sitting by the fire. Unnoticed, his dark eyes glance over the dark ink upon the scroll between her hands. Many spans are breath have passed before the deep voice of the tall man inturrupts the solace of Aearwen. Erinhaim says, \"Lady, many times have I noticed your eyes upon me... though they have no cause, have I offended thee?\"

Gasping softly, her eyes flying up to the tall man looming above her, Aearwen fingers drop the scroll in her hands. Unable to break her gaze from his piercing eyes, her cheeks flush as she stammers, \"I..uh, no...you have not, \" her eyes closing as she struggles to compose herself. Drawing in a deep breath, her lovely blue eyes open again and a small smile curves her lips. Nodding her head slightly, she lifts one delicate hand and says \"I am Lady Aearwen and you would be? We have seen one another on several occaisions and have not had the pleasure of meeting.\" Laughing softly she continues, \"You have not offended me in anyway sir, forgive me if my glances gave you that impression. I ...hmm, how to say this? Shall I just say I am intrigued by life itself and you happened to be one of the curiosities?\"

[Erinhaim(#20260)] \"Curiousity? Is that what I am,\" The tall man, Erinhaim, asks with a chuckle, \"Well, I suppose many a year spent beyond my native hills would not leave me in good stead...\" His warm words belie the emotions on his face. The warm tones are cold, the lines of age seem limned in stone and the dark eyes like black eyes. Still he smiles without it mirrored in his eyes as he replies, \"I am Erinhaim and glad not to have offended thee, m\'Lady.\"

Her brow raises at the tone of Erinhaim\' voice, a direct contradiction to his facial expression. Aearwen\'s eyes travel the many lines on the mans face, peer into the darkness of his eyes, every more intrigued as he chuckles. Blinking slightly, her head shakes in confusion, \"Without a doubt, you are a curiosity.\" Waving her hand at the couch across from her, \"Would you care to join me in a late afternoon tea? It should be arriving any moment\" Her eyes lighten with teasing laughter as she says, \"You would not deny me the opportunity of examining, I do mean, getting to know you.\", a chuckle escaping as she leans over to pick up her almost forgotten parchment.

[Erinhaim(#20260)] \"Perhaps the Evening Tea it would better be described, m\'Lady,\" Erinhaim smiles as his large hands wave towards the darkening windows of the room. The tall man\'s long legs take him quickly with narry a half step to the couch. There he sits and quickly taking comfort, the warm, cold face looks on Aearwen, the dark eyes glinting in the firelight, he says, \"Your curiousity may come to harm you upon a distant day, m\'Lady... But I shall never be the cause.\" The deep voice bellows with a chuckle hidden in its tones.

A smile tugging at the corners of her lips, Aearwen nods graciously, \"But of course, how remiss of me, the evening is upon us.\" And perhaps a bit of sarcasm rings from her words as she settles back on the couch and casually examines the man before her, \"Do you suppose it is better to stay locked in one\'s world and never be curious about other events and the people around us sir? I would dread to think of such a world, to never wonder what makes the sky blue, or how the bird does sing and what events shape people\'s lifes. Do you not look at the world in amazement and wonder? Curious about things?\" She grins suddenly, \"Ah, let me answer my own question there, you had wondered if you had offended me... so you are a man of many of questions.\" Her fingers tap the scroll on the arm of the couch as her eyes puzzle, \"Did you not say you were a stranger to your own land? What did you mean by those....\" her conversation cut short as a serving girl places a silver tea service on the table between them.

[Erinhaim(#20260)] Dark eyes glimmering, Erinhaim watches as the servant comes and goes, leaving the tea set in her wake. The tall and sun-dark stranger looks upon the woman whose invitation he has taken on the couch. His high head bows, deeply the strong jaw falls nearly to his muscled chest. Narry does the black gaze fall upon the woman set before them, when the muscled man answers the lady in her concerns, \"I am a stranger in my homeland for the reason that I have not set foot upon its roads for nigh a decade, Lady.\" In finishing, the thick fingers of the tall man rub his forehead but they fall into his lap with a breathless chuckle from their master.

Picking up the ornate teapot, Aearwen deftly pours steaming liquid in the cups on the tray as she awaits an answer to her question. As her eyes rise from the teapot to his person, she moves to hand him a teacup, her hand pausing in midair as his deep voice rings out. Setting the cup down on the table, china rattling as her hand shakes, \"May I inquire as to why you have been a stranger in your homeland for a decade? Forgive my questions if they bring you pain or make you uncomfortable, I truly wish you no harm.\" her concerned eyes falling on his face once again. \"Perhaps, some tales are better not mentioned, I cannot help but feel a sense of...\" Pouring herself a cup of tea, she leaves her words unfinished as she takes a tiny sip of the hot brew, watching the flames lick at the wood in the fireplace, musing.

[Erinhaim(#20260)] \"A sense of what, m\'Lady?\" Erinhaim askes, his hands holding the delicate cups of tea within them. For a long, still moment, the tall man sits as the shadows are cast upon his face from fire that back lights it. He smiles, the expression bunching up the lines about his mouth making up a tapestry of invitation. At last, he laughs, and it is a warm, inviting sound as his dark eyes twinkle with the warm of his words.

Dragging her eyes from the dancing flames, Aearwen looks upon Erinhaim once more, one long finger tracing the edge of her teacup. \"Let me say this first, I have a gift of intuition or better put, I simply feel unspoken things about people, from observing their mannerisms.\" Her dark curls tumble as she shakes her head, \"No, that is not entirely the truth...where the feelings come from, I cannot rightfully say, except...I just \"feel\" things about a person.\" Cocking her head to one side, she says softly, \"I would care to bet, you have not had many reasons for such a warm laugh to come forth in awhile. Let me be so forward as to say, it greatly improves your appearance.\", her soft laughter tinkling out as she takes another sip of tea, watching Erinhaim across the rim of her cup.

Erinhaim

Broad of shoulder, long of limb, his black hair is streaked with hoary grey. Tall Gondorian, proud and stong his back unbroken but his skin burnt bronze by heavy labors in the sunny southern climes. The skin about his wrists is thickly scarred from the iron shackles they once bore. Long beneath him his legs they stride for once were used to the long paths of garden Ithilien in the north. Dark his eyes are as if made of slate and worn by the waves that beat the shore. His face is haggard, marked with age, but on his cheeks he bears no ancient beard. Unyielding, is this worthy of the Gondor Stone Land he calls home.

[Erinhaim(#20260)] A wide and thick scarred, muscular hand, covers up Erinhaim\'s face. The tall man rises, drinking his tea in a swift gulp with no notice of its heat. Another silent chuckler marks his features as his old face smiles. The tall man bows his head as he takes leave of the woman\'s company, \"Indeed, m\'Lady... I have not had need of many smiles in the years that kept me from my homeland.\" Silently and with a dampening of mirth the smiling face glances at the doorway and Erinhaim continues, \"But I must leave and off into the night drenched rain must I travel. For there are duties I must be about until the dawn.\" His deep voice echoes in the hollow hall as he bows once more to Aearwen. His tall legs then go about he business of taking him into the night.

His deep voice echoes in the hollow hall as he bows once more to Aearwen. His tall legs then go about he business of taking him into the night.