An Invitation Renewed

[Faelwine(#31903)]

Morning light streams in the windows, spilling across thick oaken tables within the tavern, the white stone of the city outside making the day seem all the brighter. The breakfast hour has past, but lunch has not yet come, and so there are but a few patrons seated here, conversing in murmurs over drinks and light fare. The man behind the bar sweeps idly, as if for something to do alone he brushes his broom over the same spot again and again.

The door swings open, spilling blazing bright light across the floor, a woman\'s cloaked silhouette in the doorway. As the door closes behind her, she pushes back her hood one of the Eorling folk, if her fair rose-gold braids are any indication. Green eyes survey the tavern for a moment, then she proceeds to the bar. \"Good morn,\" she greets the \'tender in Westron slow and cadenced as her own tongue, \"Just a cider, if you will, and... have you any stew?\" The \'tender nods, and disapears to fetch the order, while Faelwine slips onto a stool at the bar with a sigh to wait.

Not far from the seat that Faelwine has chosen sits a soldier clad in greens and browns, cloak pushed back off his shoulders so that he can better eat the bread and stew set before him. A mug there is near him, too, only it is filled with ale, not cider, yet such is not uncommon in Gondor, even at this hour. \"Good day to you, m\'lady,\" comes the man\'s greeting, though he is more youth than man still. \"How fare you?\" Ceredir\'s voice is low.

[Faelwine(#31903)]

\"Oh,\" Her thoughts seemingly having been elsewhere, Faelwine looks startled for a bare moment before a faint smile tugs the corners of her lips. \"Fair morn, lord. Well... well enough,\" she answers with a hesitant pause, her voice also quiet. \"I hope the day finds you well, also?\" As her gaze hovers on him, she bites a little uncertainly at her lower lip.

\"Well enough. Another day of sitting idle in the taverns and guild halls of Minas Tirith when I could be at my assigned duties in Ithilien....but such decisions are not given to me to make. And your husband? The scop? How fares he?\" As he speaks, the scout studies the woman carefully, taking in her mannerisms and expressions with a slight frown. \"Something troubles you?\" Ceredir asks.

[Faelwine(#31903)]

\"He is... not very well, I am afraid. The shadows of yon city upon the river,\" Faelwine looks away from the scout, lifts a hand, gestures vaguely eastward. \"They trouble his mind, and all he can see is shadow, shadow with no escape, and it terrifies him.\" A trailing, sad sigh, and she presses her eyes closed for a moment, mastering herself. The clunk of a bowl and mug as they are placed before her startles her back to the conversation at hand. Handing over the coins for the meal, she turns her head, managing a wan smile for Ceredir. \"I cannot say how much your help... your friendship... means to him. When so many fear him for what he cannot help, every friendship is deeply treasured. I must beg forgiveness for what happened the other evening... being here, so close to... to that black land... it is suffering for him, day and night.\"

It\'s a good thing that Faelwine looks away, for her words call up a twisted series of emotions to the young man\'s face, from fear to jealousy to anger and hatred. He quickly looks down into his bowl of stew, long dark hair falling forward to briefly cover his face, which is burning. \"The other evening,\" he forces himself to say, making his voice devoid of the anger and hate, \"I have to admit it was frightening. You don\'t ever hear anything like that in Gondor....and to have him say that to me....\" He shudders, but of course, it\'s not for the reason that any proper citizen of Gondor would.

[Faelwine(#31903)]

\"He was not himself,\" Faelwine says, her voice very soft, though she studies the scout carefully. \"And he has no control over what he sees. Sometimes... nightmares seem to come alive to him, and sometimes... he sees things far off in time. Foresighted, I heard one of those in Dol Amroth say. What he saw in truth likely... likely had nothing to do with you at all.\" There is the barest pause, and her gaze searches the scout as though for confirmation of her words. She shakes her head then. \"I am sorry, so very, very sorry... as is he... but it shadow and evil that does this to him, and there is naught he can do against it, but try to make amends after.\"

Pale grey eyes gone wide and round look back at Faelwine in earnest as she talks, and very slowly Ceredir nods to her words--though the scout has also gone a shade or more of pale. \"Foresighted...\" he repeats the word in a whisper, pressing his lips together, brows knitted. \"But then...he was staring into the darkness behind me when he spoke....and the east was out there. If he could feel its presence so....\" He blinks, his expression softening as his attention comes back to Faelwine. \"It must be terribly difficult for you, watching him be thus.\"

[Faelwine(#31903)]

\"The years of this place weight on him, a crushing weight... and the power in the east a shadow and a terror to him. And his own memories, of falling from that bridge, being overwhelmed by pain and fear...\" Again Faelwine looks away, lifting her spoon to prod at her stew. \"It is,\" she says at length, quietly. \"And has not grown any easier with the time that I have known him, nor shall it ever, I deem. But I am afraid you have seen him when it is worst things are not so bad, when we are home in the Mark.\" A faint, sad smile touches her lips, and she lifts a small spoonful of broth to her lips, blowing on it to cool it before sipping from the spoon.

\"Then perhaps,\" Ceredir smiles, \"I will be lucky enough to see him in his home. If your invitation still stands? What with our unit not being sent back to Ithilien of late, I am hoping I can arrange to come to visit soon.\"

[Faelwine(#31903)]

Faelwine glances back to the scout, and her smile comes easier now, and she nods. \"Yes, of course it still stands. We would enjoy your company, and perhaps... perhaps if you come to know him when he is not so troubled, some of your fears shall be put to rest. I hope no harm has come of... what happened. I can only say how sorry we both are for it you have been most gracious to us, and we owe you much for your kindness. If there is anything which we can do for you in return, you have but to ask.\"

\"Ahh...if I should come, you see, it will be on business.\" A small smile is given to the woman, and the scout pushes his empty bowl of stew to the side. \"I may sit idle here in the taverns of Minas Tirith..\" He takes a drink of ale to emphasize the point, \"but if my commander allows me to travel out of Gondor, it will only be because he thinks I can aid our cause by doing so. No matter the kindness of the hosts,\" he smiles to Faelwine. \"And you, in turn, have been kind to me. No harm has been done, I assure you. But I ask you this--that I be allowed to visit our mutual borders with your Riders, perhaps. Or otherwise gain information to put my commander at ease that this, as I said, is a matter of the safety of the realm of Gondor. And not a joy ride into the land of the Horse Lords.\"

[Faelwine(#31903)]

\"To be assured of the security of our borders but a small request from our allies and Oath-bretheren,\" Faelwine replies with a nod, reaching out a hand to pull her cup of cider towards her. \"Gladly shall I see to it that it is granted. My eldest brother is a patrol leader with the Riders I will speak with him when we return. He would be able to show you the borders as well as any, and better than some. You think it likely, then, that the Lord Laeghen will grant your request? I, for one, would not wish to ask anything ill-pleasing of that man.\" A small smirk lifts one corner of her lips, and she shakes her head.

At the mention of Laeghen\'s name, Ceredir pinches the bridge of his nose between his fingers, though his bruises have long since faded. More so, a bruised nose and black eyes are the least he can expect as a scout of Ithilien, yet still the young man winces. \"He is difficult. Nay, more than difficult. He\'s a real..\" Looking up, Ceredir catches the angry words in his mouth, the fire of his reply disappearing as he remembers that he is speaking to a lady. \"Your pardon, ma\'am. He makes me angry. He is obstinate and impossible for no good reason other than that he enjoys the petty power that being cruel brings him. That such a man is promoted and given the role of leader in our lands....\" He snorts into his ale, drinking to try to cool the anger again rising in him.

[Faelwine(#31903)]

Faelwine\'s eyebrows lift a little, but then she grins at his apology. \"I grew up the only girl among three brothers, all of whom were Riders at some point, and all of whom had their share of infuriating commanders. But the Lord Laeghen,\" She shakes her head, taking a pause to sip from her cup. \"Never before had I heard of one so... ah... impossible as him. I do not understand men like that. Some would say, if he does his duty well and protects the lands, that his manners should not be of concern. Still, all the skill in battle does not matter one whit if you scare off half your recruits, and break the noses of the other half.\"

\"Thank you, m\'lady. You are too kind.\" Ceredir lifts his mug of ale toward her in an acknowledgement of her words. \"What angered me most was that I had personal business to attend to in Dol Amroth--attempting to claim my heritage. And he interefered with it. As if it was only a petty thing. Aye, a petty matter to him, high in his mighty house, running things as he sees fit, and yet denying me the privilege of doing so myself in my own case.\"

[Faelwine(#31903)]

Arching a brow and casting a side-ways glance towards the scout, Faelwine returns her attention to her stew while he speaks. \"Ever will such men see things only from the hill they stand upon,\" murmurs she with a sigh. She tilts her head then, blinking curiously. \"If you do not mind my asking, sir, I am afraid I do not quite understand the question of your heritage, as you say. I have heard you mention of a Lord, once or twice... but, it seems to have caused you a great deal of trouble.\"

This, it might seem, is the scout\'s favorite topic, for he leans forward eagerly to answer, signalling for the barkeep to bring him another ale. \"And another cider for the lady,\" he adds, smiling only as he says that. He pauses for a moment to think, expression back to serious, with flickers of anger in his eyes once more. \"I only turned 18 recently, lady. Several months ago. And at that time, the man that I had always taken to be my father--Lathnoss, a tanner of Minas Tirith--informed me that he was not, in fact, my father. But that I was the \'natural\' son of one Elenur of Dol Amroth, who had paid Lathnoss to raise me and to keep quiet. Lathnoss, being the poor man that he is--tanning is filthy work for the poorest of the poor, ma\'am...\" he says apologetically. \"Well, Lathnoss took the money and kept his mouth shut. But as soon as the funds cut off when I reached my majority, he saw no need to hold up his end of the deal any longer. Nor did he want me wandering back to my so-called \"family,\" anymore, looking to have them support me if I fell into a time of need.\"

[Faelwine(#31903)]

A frown creases Faelwine\'s brow as she listens, her spoon laid to rest and her hands about her cup. \"This lord of Dol Amroth... sent his own son to live in such poverty?\" she says incredulously after he has finished. \"But, why would he do such a thing? Every Lord... nay, every man in the Mark is proud and glad to have a son to carry on his line. Not to mention the obligation to the child, and the Lords of Dol Amroth have no lack of means to provide that I have seen for myself. Have you learnt this Lord Elenur his reasons for orchestrating such deceit?\"

Eyes filled wtih bitterness, Ceredir takes his gaze from the woman and to his ale, which he finishes quickly, reaching for the new mug the keep has placed in front of him. \"No ma\'am, he has not. I went to Dol Amroth with my claim, and this so-called noble of Gondor denied that I am his son. Violently denied it. But where and why would a lowly tanner of Minas Tirith come up with the name of a Knight he has never seen or met before? And there\'s the fact that I look like this Elenur, though he is much older. Though some say I look close enough to Laeghen that I could be his brother or cousin, as well.\"

[Faelwine(#31903)]

Faelwine\'s expression is one of deep disapproval, bordering on disgust. She, too, drains the last of her cup, then reaches for the new cider. \"Well, someone is lying in all this,\" she mutters darkly, \"And as you say, how would a tanner know of this Lord if it were not true? Then indeed, the chivalry of Dol Amroth does run but skin deep.\" She shakes her head sadly, the frown still upon her lips, then glancing to Ceredir, intones rather seriously. \"I hope for your sake that you are not related to the Lord Laeghen... it sounds bad enough being under his command, I cannot imagine being in his family.\"

The scout inhales a long, slow breath, raggedly, as if trying to control a sudden flare of anger--and indeed, he moves his gaze away from the Rohir lady, not able to look at her for a minute or more as he struggles with his fury. \"They are a disgrace, ma\'am. Power hungry, selfish, short sighted. I would almost rather -not- be related to that despicable man, Sir Elenur. He disgusts me. He and all his like.\"

[Faelwine(#31903)]

Her frown fading away, Faelwine meets the scout\'s fury with a kind, sympathetic gaze. \"A disgrace, aye, but wisdom would have that you not let yourself be ruled by this, Ceredir,\" she says softly. \"Titles, names, houses... I understand that they are more coveted here than in the Mark, but still they are only just that: a title, a name. The name is empty if the man does not embody it. This Sir Elenur may have his name, but that will never bring him peace nor happiness in the way that true honour can. You are a kind, worthy man, Ceredir. Perhaps it is fate that you should rise above your father, where it truly matters, in honour and valour in deed.\"

Ceredir turns his eyes back to the woman, burning with something now, other than just anger alone, though that is certainly still there. \"I have no house nor name, Faelwine,\" he says evenly. \"I am neither the son of the tanner nor the son of a Bragollach. I belong to noone and nothing at all, save myself,\" he continues, though he seems proud of this. \"I am freer than they are and I don\'t have to prove myself to anyone or any house. I answer only to myself.\"

[Faelwine(#31903)]

Faelwine inclines her head to him in a slow nod, aknowledging his words. \"Well spoken. As is every man, in truth, but a man, whatever name he may hide behind. All the more wise is he that chooses not to hide at all, but remains true to himself.\" She lifts her cup a little towards him, then sips before replacing it upon the bar. \"I think you shall enjoy the Mark, for men there will take you for your deeds. A good friend is a good friend, whoever\'s son he may be.\"

\"I will try my hardest to get my commander to agree to send me there, Lady,\" Ceredir replies, draining the rest of his second ale easily. The word \'commander\' is spoken with less respect, perhaps, than it ought to be. \"And if fate calls for it, then we will meet again, perhaps even soon. But to you and your husband I wish you a swift journey home and the rest that he needs to ...recover. Good day to you, Lady,\" he says, rising from his seat now. \"I am called to training now, and if I\'m late, Laeghen will do far worse than break my nose.\"

[Faelwine(#31903)]

\"I should be on my way as well.\" Faelwine nods, then offers a warm smile to the scout. \"Thank you for your company, Ceredir. It was a pleasure. My thanks for your well-wishes... and you shall be most welcome at our home in Edoras, if you should be able to come on... ah, business.\" A wry smile flickers upon her lips, then she lifts a hand to wave in parting. \"Fare well, and best of luck to you with the Lord Laeghen. May fate keep you.\" She lingers at her seat a minute or so longer, finishing off her cider in sips, before she, too, rises to depart the tavern.