Parlay

Crossing of Poros, N. Bank

In the pale light of the darkness, faintly to the north you see the road continue north through the grasses of South Ithilien. To the south the pale light glints off slow moving waters and moss covered, wrecked masonry. To the west the light casts a dull glow upon yellow flowers, growing on a monolith caped mound. It is too dark to make out any details of the monolith, without getting close to look at it.

The night sky is clear with only slight wisps of clouds overhead. The twilight winter air is cool and dry around you.

Contents:

Phazganun

Mu\'ad

Azradi

Daerien

Su\'ad

Yildirim

Alphros

Gandalf

Bor

Thingalad

Laegtiri

Agladar

Gondorian Encampment(#9001enM)

Obvious exits:

South, North, and NorthWest

The sun reaches its high zenith in the midday sky, reflected in bright swathes upon the flowing waters of the Poros. In the months of summer such radiance would be punishing to bear, but in winter\'s midst its touch is much kinder, deprived as it is of the burning touch of the midyear.

North of the Poros lie the reaches of Ithilien, where Gondor\'s strength is marshaled. South lie the open lands of Harondor, and -- in the distance -- the war camps of the Haradrim and their Umbarean allies, where many campfires and pyres burn.

It is from that direction that they come. A great shadow is seen first, far taller than any horsman, and soon it can be marked as that of a great mumak -- perhaps a battle-beast loaned to this host by the Desert Tower of Umbar. Around it is an entourage of riders, but as the mumak comes to a halt in the distance, so too does it entourage. Only a much smaller group of riders detaches, approaching the south bank of the Poros.

A horn sounds from the group, but it is no instrument of war but rather tuned to an ancient mode of converse and assembly. Pennants fly, and though the Raven of Farside is chief among them, so are the white flags of parley and truce.

At the fore of the group of riders is Alphros, mounted upon a warsteed. His bandaged wounds are concealed by the ceremonial mail he wears, and a long white cloak flies from his shoulders. With him write the trusted and the great of the Farside Tower -- Corsairs and other nobleborn veterans -- along with a handful of the Haradrim\'s chieftains, and a few others.

[Azradi(#20135)]

To Alprhos\' right rides a woman clad in red-dyed armor. Several beaded braids fall down her front on either side. Kohl-lined eyes, narrowed in the bright light, study the far bank of the River Poros. In her left hand Azradi carries a furled banner.

[Su\'ad(#20109)]

Su\'ad rides next to Alphros, newly washed and wearing a new, clean cloak and Khamis of Farside, though the same armor she wore in the battle peeks through the gaps under the arms and at the hip. Her hair is neatly done, but pulled back hard against her head, giving her face a severe look. At the back it is twisted and knotted into an almost flower shape. The cloak flaps lazily about the rump of her brown horse, and at her side is a very ornately decorated sword, seemingly unfitting in comparison to the rest.

[Bor(#30834)]

And upon the north bank fly many more banners, foremost amongst them that of the Ship and the Swan. Yet it is not the lone heraldry of the men of Gondor, for there whip the liveries of the Houses of Belfalas alongside it and those of the Hosts of Minas Tirith and their nobles too. On horse they ride, bearing too the white flag of peace, to the last vestige of shore before the Poros.

Nestled between the banners of Ship and Swan and House Bragollach is the Knight-Captain Bor, his eyes affixed firmly south. The crimsons of his livery catch the sun as he raises a hand to halt the company formed around him.

[Daerien(#21777)]

So far away as to be little more then a shadow within the construct of this most northern of arid Harad, or southern Gondor. Daerien watches with waning interest the approach of the strangers. A pebble lodged beneath his tongue to encourage saliva, his hand resting upon the pommell of a utilitarian blade of no remarkable quality. His body clothed in loose billowing brown fabric that swirls and clings to his ankles around the feet, clad in boots designed more for distant, cooler lands. The armor, if any were visible to view is most simple, secondhand with obvious rents indicating the previous occupant fared badly in some combat. The free hand raised to shield his grey eyes, though loathe to touch pale flesh badly burnt from being outside, even the scalp, with that minimal sprouting of freshly grown hairs resembles the hindquarters of a tomato. He is not here to take part in discussion, too far away to hear a voice spoken in anything less then a bellow, but perhaps just within reach should battle be joined and sustained long enough for him to venture from his distant riser.

[Thingalad(#32030)]

Thingalad hangs around, watching the proceedings from the main party and keeping an eye out at these strange Southrons.

[Alphros(#31271)]

As the company of Southrons reaches the shores, Alphros stares ahead, scarcely blinking. For all the warriors and Corsairs and others at his side, his gaze seems locked upon the lands of Ithilien -- the lands of Gondor -- before him.

As the Umbareans and Haradrim reach the southern shore, there comes a final call from the chieftain who bears that horn of parley, and then the party begins to mount the crossings. Their destination lies in the Poros\' midst a low isle, almost entirely covered by water, at the heart of the flowing river.

Indeed, the Ship and the Swan are not the lone heraldry of Gondor embroidarded in silver, the White Tree of Gondor stands against a black background, marking thus the presence of the Hosts of Gondor. Left of this, comes the standard of the Seven Stones Company, under which rides Gurtir, its Captain.

The man\'s visage is weakened and his left arm is in splint and bandage still, he sits straight upon his horse, and his eyes gleam undefeated. A lordly figure of unlordly fate in battle.

Side by side with the group led by Bor, his goes, coming to a halt nigh simultaniously. They watch.

[Midhwen(#29054)] Riding in amongst the various nobles, Midhwen\'s face reveals no emotion, although those who know her would detect a touch of unusual paleness to it. Garbed in the simple grey of the Healers, the one mark of nobility that this young woman wears is a heavy silver medallion around her neck: featuring the heraldry of House Cuthalion.

[Su\'ad(#20109)]

As Su\'ad\'s horse reaches the river, it balks for a few moments, unwilling to step into the flowing stream without several harsh kicks from the woman atop his back. But at last, once he\'s up to his knees, he settles down and continues with a trudging gait till the island shallows lift him out, which incline he takes with more enthusiasm. But Su\'ad will not let him step completely out of the water. Instead she sits the horse, her face impassive and grim.

[Azradi(#20135)]

Slowly Azradi\'s roan wades through the muddy waters of the Poros, rising up to her knees. The banner is kept rigid the pole resting in a cradle near her stirrup similar to the one\'s the Knight\'s use for their lances. Her gray eyes are kept on the Gondorians, her expression wary.

[Ceredir(#1394)] Among the men of the Company of Ithilien is Ceredir, though he does nothing except watch and listen. And keep one hand on his sword hilt, in case of treachery.

[Phazganun(#31287)]

At Gurtir\'s side rides another, his horse larger than that of the man next to him, as his frame is no doubt more to bear. The visible layers of his mail shine brightly in the mid-day\'s sun, the silver emrboidered upon his tabard hardly less so. Only his beard is visible beneath the visor of his helm, his face hidden well beneath. Unmarred by the effects of battle is he, and with a quit spur to the sides of his horse, does his pace quicken and lead him to the front of the Gondorian forces-- though not so far that he leaves them behind.

Upon reaching the water, his horse enters with no hesitation, and so does Phazganun, Lieutenant-General of the Hosts of Gondor, approach the isle.

[Thingalad(#32030)]

Thingalad rides along and looks over at his fellow scouts, giving them a look urging patience and prudence as if to say, \'don\'t give them a reason.\'

[Daerien(#21777)]

From his hillock, the ant like forms of humanity draw closer. Daerien shifts the pebble to his cheek and swallows. Pulling up the hood of his cloak to let it lay low over his face, casting his features into shadow, resembling now some overgrown desert scrap dealer. He doesn\'t move much further, either from lethargy, or a desire not to attract undue attention. Lips part to hum an ancient nursery rhyme from his childhood: \"bird in the fire, mouthful of sand. king of the briar, mouthful of sand. the scale and feather, the lock and key. the lord of weather, the beast at peace. shed not a tear for humanity, go fetch my stars. shed not a tear for humanity, go fetch my stars.\"

[<#24191>] Climbing from the Poros, Yildirim brings his steed parallel to Azradi\'s. He scans the Gondorian contingient, his eyes passing over each face in turn, \"\" He nods towards Phazganun, \"\"

[Bor(#30834)]

\"DOOOOOOOOM!\" bellows a horn.

And following behind the Lieutenant-General comes the rest of the Gondorian party, their banners fluttering in the desert winds.

[Alphros(#31271)]

Reaching the low isle, the party of Southron captains and chiefs and mounts its southern flanks, remaining there upon the threshold. Above, among the pennants of parley and the Raven of Farside, flutter a dozen or more other banners. Those of Corsair captains, and desert tribes, and the noble houses of the Great City of Umbar.

As the Haradrim and Umbareans spread out in file along the south of the isle, Alphros urges his horse a few extra paces forward, so that he is at the fore of the wedge-shaped entourage of riders.

\"Who among count themselves to be the chiefs of the Land of Stone?\" he calls to the approaching party of Gondorians.

[Azradi(#20135)]

The Corsair woman does not look to the boy when he speaks to her, rather her gray eyes shift to the large man riding in the fore of the Gondorian party. She looks him up and down in appraisal, her expression curious. \"Truly?\" she comments in accented Westron.

She falls silent then, when Alphros speaks her gaze shifts to him. Her banner remains furled.

[Phazganun(#31287)]

Despite the words of the Haradrim Lord, there is no immediate reply from the forces of Gondor, and Phazganun simply continues to charge across the water. He slows his steed as they arrive at the island, turning quickly in a circle to gather a quick survey of the forces behind him. Satisfied, his horse is once again directed forward, and as he approaches the form of Alphros, so does he speak.

\"A leader of Gondor you seek, and a leader of Gondor you have found... and you would be he who has come to relinquish my lands?\"

As his speech is ended, he brings the beast he rides to a halt, allowing time for both a reply and the forces at his back to end their approach..

A mute crossing of the river. Water is the only speaker.

Taking his position by Phazganun\'s side, Gurtir\'s lips remain sealed as he regards the southrons in the best of his dignity.

[Morwenn(#24368)]

Mounted and riding beside Midhwen is her cousin, Lord Mormegil\'s young daughter, Morwen. She sits her horse tall and straight, her garments as clean as the long journey here has allowed, and her head held upright as any queen\'s. Only her hair, and her horse\'s mane, moves as she watches the proceedings, bearing witness.

[<#24191>] The Haradrim boy offers a shrug to the corsair, continuing even as Azradi focuses on the proceedings, \"\" He continues to appraise Phazganun, \"\"

Yildirim frowns as Gurtir takes his position, \"\"

[Bor(#30834)]

Bor remains back a bit from the forward van of Phazganun and Gurtir. He merely watches the proceedings, hawk-eyed and utterly silent.

[Ceredir(#1394)] By the gathered Scouts here, Ceredir catches Thingalad\'s look and lowers his hand, moving it away from the hilt of his sword. Yet his eyes are ever on the enemy.

A slight breeze makes the hair not under his helm flutter in the wind.

[Alphros(#31271)]

The veiled leader of the Haradrim regards those who approach him with unseen eyes, though his lips do twist into a faint half-smile, and he laughs. Alphros says: \"/Your/ lands? Praytell,\" he asks of Phazganun, speaking in the manner of the highborn of the South, still laughing softly, \"Are you the one who is named Denethor of the House of Hurin, the Steward of the dead Kings of Gondor?\"

\"You must now be told that I am Alphros of the anAzulada, of the Salkathorim of Aglarrama, and these are my captains and my allies.\" The Southron Lord sweeps a hand backwards to those in his company, and one of them speaks first.

\"I am Melkizidek, Captain of the Crusaders of Farside,\" speaks one among the puissiant Umbarean warrior-lords gathered behind.

[<#20109>] Su\'ad turns her head sharply as Yildirim as he speaks, and her eyes narrow. \"\"

[<#20135>]

\"\" she replies in a low voice to the boy Yildirim. Her gaze remains on the leader of Gondor, but no longer appraising. His demand for the return of \'his lands\' elicits a snort, but she turns once more to the boy, \"\"

[Azradi(#20135)]

Pulling herself up proudy, Azradi says: \"I am Azradi anAzulada, brother to Lord Alphros, also of the Salkathorim Corsairs of Aglarrama.\"

At this pronouncement, there is a murmur among Haradrim ranks behind the Farside lord and his entourage.

Gurtir listens to Alphros\' words still in stately silence, only a narrowing of eyes at the laugh. And if thus emotion was already flaring within his stare, it only grows as his eyes focus heavily upon Melkizidek. His right hand instinctively touches the splintered left arm.

[Midhwen(#29054)] Midhwen remains silent, watching and listening to the assembled party of Haradrim, the standards of both Mormegil and Cuthalion fluttering close by.

[Su\'ad(#20109)]

As Su\'ad\'s knees squeeze her mount, he dances sideways and tries to edge up onto the island proper, but she holds him by the bit. In a decent version of the common tongue, she says, \"And I am Su\'ad, War Captain of the Haven Corsairs, Commander of the Twelve Raider Fleet, Corsair of the Gimilzain...and other things long past.\"

[Phazganun(#31287)]

Though hidden from view, there is a sense of bemusement to the Lord Ephalkhir, as he tilts his helmed head to the side at the words of Alphros. It is when the Farside Captain speaks that he raises a hand, a simple mailed palm pointed in the direction of the one called Melkizidek, \"I care not who you are, you will be dead soon enough-- and you are not your leader.\"

At the words of Azradi, Phazganun offers no reply-- not even a motion to silence her, but rather acts as though he heard nothing at all. His words, now, directed to Alphros.

\"And I am Phazganun, Lord Ephalkhir, Lieutnenant-General of the Hosts of Gondor. I am the closest to our Steward you will ever come.\"

Motioning behind him, much ashis Haradrim counterpart, he continues, \"And these are my fellow Lords and Soldiers of Gondor. However, we are not here for measures of titles and displays of strength. Tell me plainly, Alphros of the anAzulada, why do you come to us under such conditions of peace?\"

[Yildirim(#24191)]

Yildirim does not introduce himself as the Gondorian Lord brings the proceedings to a head, but he does nudge his horse forward a step, that much closer to the White Tree and the man who Stewards it.

As Phazganun\'s gesture introduces him, Gurtir straightens his back, his right hand going to the reigns of his mount and his injured left one retreating and resting upon his thigh.

No word still, though the temper drawn in his eyes is somewhat appeased at the Lieutenant-General\'s riposte.

[Daerien(#21777)]

Daerien reaches down to drag two fingers through the dusty earth. Slowly drawing circles in the sane he drops his pale gaze from those conversing in words. A handfull of dust gathered in the palm of his hand, small billows of reddish earth swirling away like the pennons of some ethereal army of six inch high warriors atop the crest of his hill. The winds have forced enough of the sand into the air since he attained his perch, that, combined with the brown cloak has turned the man into a mattock of dirt and stone wrapped around the middle with leather and steel.

[Bor(#30834)]

Another from the troop of Gondor speaks:

\"The Steward of Gondor stands not alone. I am Bor Bragollach, and it is I who commands the calvary of the Lord Imrazor.\"

The young Knight rides forward now.

[Thingalad(#32030)]

\"In debateable lands

Surrounded by sands

Through which runs a muddy stream,

\"We watch from afar

With visors ajar

As the Southrons... something...\"

Thingalad works on his little verse in an undertone heard only by those close by as he tries to figure out a good rhyme.

[<#1394>] It is with some difficulty that Ceredir keeps from laughing at Thingalad\'s sudden recitation of a verse, but, being near to the man, he looks up and suggests something quietly. \" As the Southrons turn tail and scream?\"

[Alphros(#31271)]

At Phazganun\'s response, Alphros\'s demeanor takes on an air of superiority aimed specifically for the Lieutenant-General. \"It is a pity, then, that the Steward on his false chair sends as his emissary one so unschooled in the ancient ways of the Kings of Men. The ways that unite us across war and borderland, Phazganun of Ephalkhir. Whither have gone the noble if misguided Lords of Old Gondor, who would cross blades with we of the highborn South, yet still deal with us in the honourable manners of treaty accorded to us by our great ancestors from the Sunken Land? Whither is the heraldry and pride of Gondor, to be so commanded by a crude-tongued?\"

Alphros\'s veiled gaze sweeps across those gathered behind the Lieutenant-General, taking in the faces of both man and woman one by one. They stop upon the second man who rides forward to greet him: Bor. \"Ah,\" adds the Captain and Lord of the South. \"The Great Lord smiles on me, to have one among the chiefs of the Imrazori of the Shores here also. Then take heed,\" he speaks to both Phazganun and Bor, and all those gathered. \"For I have a treaty to offer you, and if you are wise, you will listen to what I speak carefully and consider what I offer, free from the shadow of thralldom that hangs over your Kingless realm.\"

He speaks also to those behind him, gesturing for Azradi, his sister, to join him at one side.

[<#32030>]

Thingalad nods. \" But that doesn\'t rhyme in the Common Speech...\" He shrugs and goes on watching.

[Azradi(#20135)]

Pressing her knees into the flanks of her roan, Azradi twitches the reins in her right hand and urges her horse forward and closer to her brother. Her gray eyes fall upon Phazganun and Bor her expression is proud and haughty.

[<#1394>] \" Far be it from me to interfere with the parlays of our lords by insulting one of our esteemed....guests....No matter if they well deserve verbal insults and worse,\" Ceredir answers, voice carefully low as he speaks to Thingalad in the ranks of Gondor\'s men here. \" But if you need a rhyme in the Common Tongue, then I will leve it to you.\"

[<#31271>]

\"\" adds Alphros to Azradi by his side. \"\"

[<#32030>]

Thingalad considers the words of Ceredir slowly and nods slowly as he looks at the women of the Haradrim. \" Funny that they should bring their womenfolk to parleys. Are they healers or are they amazons despite their claims to civilization compared to our lieutenant-general?\"

[Phazganun(#31287)]

Listening to the man\'s words, Phazganun offers little more than a shrug in physical reaction, \"Yes, Alphros of the anAzulada, you have demonstrated well your ability to use words as one who belongs in a great library rather than upon the field of battle. I am quite honored that you have deemed us worthy of such... speechcraft.\"

Again his hand is raised, and this time he uses it to make a dismissive gesture-- this one directed towatd Alphros. Exhaling deeply, causing a few stray hairs of his beard to rustle, the Lieutenant-General\'s voice is heard again, \"Now, if you have sufficiently amused yourself, speak your terms so that we may be done here. I am not so amused by this sort of environment as you.\"

[Azradi(#20135)]

Tilting her midnight-tressed head, Azradi smiles slowly at her brother, her eyes shining. She grips the furled banner more tightly and turns her attention back to the men of Gondor.

[Su\'ad(#20109)]

Su\'ad\'s eyes shift toward Alphros as he speaks in her own native tongue. But if her expression changes, it is only toward curiousity. Then she eyes Phazganum carefully, noting his dress and bearing.

[<#1394>] \" Civilization?\" Ceredir speaks low still, but harshly, and he briefly glares in the direction of the Haradrim. He makes a motion as if to spit, but does not. \" They are women warriors. But what kind of civilization lets their women fight? They can claim whatever they want--let them puff themselves up to their imagined grandeur.\"

[<#32030>]

Thingalad shrugs again and waits. \" He will make big words next to show off his big talk skill to us simpletons.\"

[Daerien(#21777)]

Rubbing his dirty hands on his dirty knees, Daerien shifts slightly and then with an ease of motion he rises up to his feet, feeling the slightest of cooling touch from the breeze though the breeze stirs up more dirt, encasing his sunburnt face in enough dirt that he might walk the streets of Umbar with impunity, at least until he finds the baths. Eradicating a plant with the heel of his boot he starts to stalk across the ridgeline of the hillock. Keeping his distance still from the madding crowds he does manage a smile and returns to singing nursery rhymes to himself.

Yudas appears from the south, quickly slivering through the darkness in zig-zag motion, like a desert-snake seeking its prey. He uses a tall, black, staff to carry his weight forward, so that it gives his stride a certain inhumane eerieness under the moonlight. \"O men of Gondor\", he hisses hatefully, upon seeing the hordes of Gondorian fighters, \"How you feign bravery with the expertise of an actor, but then why does the stench of your fear flood my nose?\" He joins the ranks of his fellow Haradrim and leans against his staff, which now appears to have a BLACK EYE ornament on the tip. Consciously, Yudas points the eye at the Gondorians, and laughs softly, again speaking in a dark tongue to himself, or perhaps incanting some spell to an unseen accomplice.

[Ceredir(#1394)]

\"I am certain they will,\" Ceredir grins again, answering Thingalad this time in the common language. But he does turn back now to listen to what he might of the negotiations, otherwise falling silent.

[Alphros(#31271)]

\"Having mastery in lore and speech does not deny one mastery of the blade also, Phazganun, thrall of Denethor,\" answers Alphros. \"Or do you weep behind the shadows of your helm, to see your strength cast back in tatters by the mighty of the South?\"

The southron lordling straightens then, and there is a potency to his mien, and to his voice a trueness of the blood of ancient Numenor, manifested here in one who can claim it to the equal of the highest born of Gondor. \"For know that the mighty of the South has come here indeed. Not only among the Corsairs and Lords of Umbar, and the chieftains and masters of the Haradwaith, but also we who call ourselves the children of ancient southernmost Aglarrama. Foremost we who are by right princes of the Salkathorim. We of the anAzulada, whom through the gift of old Queen Beruthiel were made great among the nobleborn of the South.\"

A fire burns in Alphros\'s voice, though none can see his eyes or whatever mettle may quiver in them, or not at all. But something from the times before the Third Age rings thick in the air. \"I am Alphros anAzulada, heir of Tarannon Falastur the Ship-king, rightful heir to the vacant throne of Gondor. Rightful master of the realm and all its Lords and Stewards. From the exile of the South and the interregnum of centuries I have come to claim what is rightfully mine by descent from the Kings of Gondor of old, and so I claim the Throne of Gondor, the Winged Crown, and sovereignity over all its fiefs and reaches.\"

\"This choice I present to you,\" Alphros proclaims with finality. \"Ride forth and kneel before me in true oath, and I shall grant you reward beyond your compare, for I shall topple the Lords of Gondor who have wandered down their misbegotten path, and replace them with the faithful. Deny me, and perish and go to the fate of men unworthy. You,\" Alphros says to Phazganun. \"Ride to your old Steward and tell him of my coming or bring me my head and you and yours shall be raised to his mighty stead by my own hand. And you,\" to Bor, \"Tell the Prince of the Hill of my coming, and know that if he is true to his rightful King, and grants me the hand of his daughter in marriage, I shall made him a Lord beyond compare.\"

Gurtir shifts on his saddle as he hears Alphros\' words, a yawn stiffled by his right hand: though the Haradrim has the strong blood of Numenor in him, so has the Gondorian Captain, even if no Lord.

The final request, however, is met with cold silence...

[Azradi(#20135)]

For a moment, Azradi stares at her brother in surprise - but it is swiftly gone and she raises her hand to pull on a cord about the furled banner. Cord and banner unravel. The sable cloth is caught by the desert winds and...

Behold! Revealed is the White Tree of Gondor! Instead of the Winged Crown and Seven Stars, however, there is a Raven with open wings perched in the heart of the tree!

[Su\'ad(#20109)]

Su\'ad\'s gaze turns to Alphros and she looks on him in amazement...like he\'s an alien foriegner...like he\'s crazy...then a smirk pulls at her lips, and unbidden a sudden laugh bursts from her lips, so short it can scarcely be thought of as a laugh. Suddenly her energy telegraphs to her horse, and he paces anxiously back and forth as she smiles.

[Midhwen(#29054)] The young woman\'s blank mask is shattered by Alphros\' statement, but the shocked expression is smothered quickly. Midhwen regains her composure, her eyes trained on the Lord Ephalkhir for his reaction.

[<#32030>]

To no one in particular, Thingalad remarks absently, \" Gondor executed the last of the Black Numenoreans hundreds of years ago. This princeling is either the son of a renegade or a liar.\"

[Phazganun(#31287)]

The terms are listened to, and they are met with silence. There is no nod, no shrug, there is but nothing-- not even the laugh one might expect at such a request. If there is a murmur that travels quickly through the Gondorian ranks, it is silenced as Phazganun raises his hands. It is then that he reaches over and removes his helm from his head, revealing his features for the first time. Cradling his helm at his side, and squeezing his horse tightly between his knees, he lifts his other hand from the reigns and points directly at Alphros.

\"Remember this face, you crazed speaker of filth and lies, for you will see it again when it is you who is made to kneel to me.\"

At that, he grasps the reigns of his horse and turns quickly around, riding back through the Gondorian ranks toward the encampment. Over his shoulder, a final word might be heard, \"Tomorrow.\"

[Thingalad(#32030)]

Thingalad turns his horse and spurs its flanks to get it moving back towards camp.

[Bor(#30834)]

\"A pleasure,\" says Bor to Alphros, nodding.

\"Good day.\"

And reeling his horse about, the Knight-Captain retreats.

[Su\'ad(#20109)]

Su\'ad\'s horse splashes about in the water, and she keeps him in check for the most part, watching the enemy peel away from the parley one by one. \"Well, that went well, I think.\" she finally says in her own tongue.

[Midhwen(#29054)] With a final look toward the disfigured banner, Midhwen follows the retreat of her countrymen.

Yudas picks up a stone and flips it in his hand. He mutters to a Harad soldier to his left, \"Look at these pale-faced fools, kinsman. They appear to have spent more time grooming their hair, than preparing for war. What cowards we see see. What pitiful excuses for men of honor. Nay, these tablescraps from Numenor are less impressive than I thought. But then, they know not what they do, nor who they are up against. With that, he throws the stone at the backs of the retreating Gondorians.

[Daerien(#21777)]

Daerien drops his hood, makes a rude gesture towards the Southrons. A smile on his lips as he stalks behind the crest of the hill back into the parched landscape to the north of the encampment.

[Alphros(#31271)]

The Southrond Lord does not seem the slightest bit surprised by the Gondorian reaction, though there is an aura of disappointment about him. \"So the ravages of weakening blood truly have robbed Gondor of the power of speech, and of thought. So be it. We will write our treaty with blood upon the battlefield, and no book shall record the names of the fallen.\"

\"You speak the truth, Corsair,\" Alphros answers to Yudas as he spins his horse around. \"The mighty are more fallen beyond the pale. Let us ride, and prepare for war once more.\" He looks to Azradi and nods his confirmation, and his thanks. \"We shall take the land that is ours by right, as Corsairs and Lords and men and women of Umbar, and open its doors with a key wrought of the blood of the army that has denied us, and the blood of their cowardly people.\"

[Azradi(#20135)]

The royal claimant\'s sister wheels her horse around. She meets Alphros\'s gaze and perhaps worry can be read there. But she smiles lightly and replies: \"As you say, brother.\"

Azradi does not question him. Not here. And as she rides, the new banner of the future King of Gondor flutters in the wind - the Raven taking flight.

[Su\'ad(#20109)]

Satisfied that all is done today, Su\'ad wheels her horse about and urges it back to the southern shore. As it climbs to the dry sand, she lets him have his head, and he charges off and back again, glad to be able to vent some energy. Finally she finds a good place, and dismounts, waiting for the Haradrim to return to their tents and fires.

Yudas nods a salute to Alphros, and lifts up his staff, waving the frightning Eye into the air with one last display of defiance against the Gondorians before turning back towards the south. He soon disappears into the darkness, with the rest of the Southron troop, leaving only his hissing curses and black incantations in his wake.

[Yildirim(#24191)]

As the King of Gondor Claimant and his sibling pass, Yildirim falls in line behind, others following suit, as they head for shore and camp.

\"Nay.\"

Who speaks this is Gurtir, who had so long been silent, as he glances at Phazganun\'s back. He looks back deep into Alphros\' eyes... and still stay there, the lone Gondorian rider, frozen there until the Haradrim start to leave.

In haste, he prods his mount with his heels, charging accross the river and back to his camp.

[Midhwen(#29054)] Shaking slightly, Midhwen looks across at Gurtir as he catches up with the main group. \"What was that abomination of a banner, Captain?\"

Gurtir rides back to the camp in a haze, from which Midhwen\'s question brutally tears him. Frowning as he bids his horse to slow down, he regards the maiden in silence.

\"That? The banner of the claimant to Gondor\'s throne.\"

[Midhwen(#29054)] \"On what grounds...\" She shakes her head, cutting off that train of thought. Midhwen relaxes as they draw near the camp, the figures of the Haradrim fading behind them. \"No. There are no grounds, \'tis stupid even to ask.\"

\"Did you not hear him?\"

Gurtir simply stares at Midhwen and, at her reaction, her final word, he shakes his head. Hardly instigating his horse, he suddenly charges forward and past the maiden, back into the camp.