Idle Conversations

[Menelion(#31785)] Pennants snap and flutter in the wind and the grandeur of the Tournament of Dol Amroth remains standing for a few more days. The Yard is trampled and abused by the flow of traffic, both noble and peasant, and the ground is choked with all manners of things - from litter to food, blood to sweat. But the sun sets beyond the sea, casting the bright colorful livery into shades of failing gray and putting much into shadow. Light still lingers from an open sky, but it is a dull light that gives way swiftly to night.

Many of the crowds have abandoned the stands and the tents and vendors for the lights of the city, save one young man who stands at the center of the area formerly marked out for the Single Combat. The chill of the evening does not drive him away, lost in his own private thoughts. His own blue livery under cloak of bright white names him a squire of the city. For many who have come to watch, he has been dubbed \'Houseless\' and was struck down by one swift shot from a man of Ithilien only days before - humiliation, if ever there was one.

[Hadrac(#22620)]

A stocky, bearded man makes his way to the remains of the tournament. His face falls when he sees no one there, but brightens when he notices the man standing in the middle. He glances around at the forsaken banners as he makes his way over to the man. His walk is slow and aimless, and his eyes continue to drift around the abandoned field.

Among those making their way through or out of the area is another man of about 18 years. He wears not the proud, meticulous uniform of the military or guard, but browns and greens, mended carefully but still visibly travel worn. One toe of his boot scuffs at the ground as he meanders idly, lost in thought--he seems to fit in more with the dirt that he kicks up here than the splendor of this place. Still, Ceredir is not so lost in thought that he takes no notice of things around him: his eyes lift, falling on the two men near the middle of the area, and he watches them for a moment before starting that way, too.

[Menelion(#31785)] The young man in the middle notes that he, too, is not alone. His head turns faintly, and the slide and click of a sheathed blade sounds from beneath his cloak. As he turns, the hilt appears in its scabbard, having not wanted to startle those who approach. A hand rises slightly and Menelion calls out a brief, \"Hail, friends.\" After a moment of inspecting those who come his direction, he adds, \"What brings you out to the tournament after hours?\" His tone is friendly, not harsh as if from some sort of sentinel.

[Hadrac(#22620)]

\"Ahh, m\'lord, to have a conversation with yourself,\" Athranir states as he draws close to the man. \"Or at least one like yourself. I was just looking to see if any of the competitors from the tourney might still be here. I\'ve taken a great liking to such mock battles. Tell me, how did you fare in the competition?\"

\"Evening,\" Ceredir says, waiting until he is close enough to speak in a normal volume before he does so. \"I didn\'t come out here on purpose--was just wandering the city and thinking, and my footsteps drew me here. And then I thought perhaps I recognized one of you from the masq last night.\" At this he gives a small bow to Athranir.

[Hadrac(#22620)]

Athranir turns to the new man joining the group. \"Aye, hail Lord Elenur! I quite enjoyed your costume last night.\" His eyes fall on the new man\'s apparel. \"So what the ladies said about the affair in Osgiliath is somewhat true? It is partly your fault?\" He asks this with a twinkle in his eye and a very amiable manner.

Briefly, anger burns in the young man\'s eyes. \"The masq is over, good sir, and I wear that guise no more. Though by all rights, I should, perhaps. But I am called Ceredir, and I am attached to one of the wardenries in Ithilien. I know you said you were from Minas Tirith..but I didn\'t catch your name.\"

[Hadrac(#22620)]

Athranir notices the brief spat of aner in the young man, but chooses to ignore it. \"Heh,\" he chuckles, \"The Queen and I had a brief discussion about guises after you made your leave. You might have caught a good conversation if you hadn\'t been chasing the dawn. You yourself acknowledged that she seemed to be one of the fair folk. Do you consider yourself Beren?\" Athranir chuckles at his joke. \"But who can blame you. She seemed more than a little ready to be toyed with. Did you ever get her name?\"

\"Her name...no..\" Ceredir shakes his head. \"But I know where to find her music again should I ever wish to hear it. And I believe she knows me. But....\" he smiles briefly, \"Your name, sir? I could swear you introduced yourself last night, but it escapes me now.\"

[Hadrac(#22620)]

\"I did indeed mention my name, but was answered with only riddles. And trust me,\" Athranir smiles, \"when you drank as much as I did last night, riddles are the last thing you want. That brew was some strong stuff. Anyway, the name is Athranir, and I believe I have heard of you around, but would hear your identity from yourself.\"

\"Athranir. Of Minas Tirith. Where in Minas Tirith? What level? what sort of work do you do there, sir?\" Ceredir smiles. \"I\'m familiar with the place myself, having been....raised...there.\" Again there is a flash of anger now.

[Hadrac(#22620)]

\"Ahh, you ask questions of which I don\'t even know the answer m\'lord. Having recently relocated there, I\'m searching for those answers as much as anyone.\" He notices the flash of anger. \"You know, m\'lord, these little clues seem to keep pointing to you being a certain person, and I have to admit that I\'m not as bad at riddles as I lead on.\"

\"Relocated? From where? and why?\" Ceredir asks, a bit of anger showing at the other\'s questions. He keeps it in check, though, only asking, \"and what do you mean, a certain person? What riddle do you speak of?\"

[Hadrac(#22620)]

Athrnair ignores the first questions, and chooses instead to focus on the young man\'s signs of anger. \"Well, my man, if you don\'t want practically everyone to know certain bits of information, then I would advise keeping my voice down when in delicate situations. Maids don\'t know how to keep their mouth shut.\" He chuckles and adds, \"Especially not after what we did.\"

\"Wait?!\" Ceredir answers, clearly alarmed now. \"What did we do? I didn\'t have that much to drink, did I? I mean...I had quite a bit to drink, but not as much as the other night....\" He takes a breath, glancing about to see if anyone is close enough to have heard their conversation. \"You think it was unwise to dress as I did? The old man deserves it..\"

[Hadrac(#22620)]

Athranir laughs out loud now, a throaty bellow. \"Unwise? Quite the opposite! I think the old goat\'s had it coming for a while now. Besides, it definitely brightened my night once I got the joke.\" He pats Ceredir on the back. \"No, what I\'m referring to is a certain conversation you had with... well... a parental figure of yours.\" Athranir\'s words hang in the air as he waits to see if the other man takes the bait.

\"You know him, then?\" Ceredir whips around to face the other man, though first he glances about again at the passersby. He drops his voice. \"You know of my claim, then? Of what he did to me? But...no...\" His face falls. \"How could you. You are not from here.\"

[Hadrac(#22620)]

Athranir looks at Ceredir sternly. \"Come boy, be realistic. It\'s a simple matter. From the sound of things you were yelling loudly. So a maid, or the butler, or the stable boy overhears the shouts, and tells someone. And that someone tells four more. And then I\'m sitting at a lovely little pub enjoying a brew after the tourney and a man comes in with a story to tell. Soon everyone\'s buying him drinks and he\'s drunker than a captain of the gaurd. And then he\'s spilling his guts about his master \'even though he really shouldn\'t, but we\'re all among friends here.\'\" Athranir looks at the boy with pity. \"Like it or not son, your secret is out.\"

\"It shouldn\'t be a secret,\" Ceredir says after a moment of staring right at Athranir. He looks down, scuffs a booted toe at the ground, kicks up some dirt angrily. \"I\'m his son. His _son._ And what does he do? Throw me out. Denies he ever had a son. Just pretends I don\'t exist. I...no..I won\'t say it.\" Bitter anger burns in his eyes.

[Hadrac(#22620)]

\"It looks like our boy here could use a little alcohol as well, if not just to loosen his tongue, then also to ease the pain.\" Athranir says with a grim smile. \"But the higher ups seem to always get things the way they want it. If he wants to keep this a secret, then trust me, it\'ll stay that way.\" Athranir glances around the field and then the grief stricken boy. \"But us underlings always have the various pursuits to drown our sufferings in. Life is all about just trying to make it through on your own. Don\'t ever expect anyone to help you. Just cause a man couldn\'t control his urges one night doesn\'t mean that he\'s going to be there for you. It means you got brought into this cold, hard world and now you\'ve got to do something about it.\"

\"He\'s....\" Ceredir starts--but the youth can\'t talk, as there is murderous rage in his eyes. Again he looks down, nodding to Hadrac\'s words, taking a few moments to try to get his temper under control. The temper that his family, the Bragollachs, are known for, in fact. \"So..he just gets away with this? I\'m an inconvenience. A nothing? None of the family name or the inheritance or any of what should rightly be mine..bastard or not--none of that comes my way? I just have to swallow my bitter anger and pretend that I\'m not the son of Elenur of Bragollach?\" he snarls. \"Is that what you advise?\"

[Hadrac(#22620)]

\"Not at all!\" Athranir gets his wry smile again. \"What I advise is taking what you can get. That\'s what your father\'s done. Just remember that\'s what any man will do to you. After you\'ve served your purpose to him, you are discarded. It\'s every man for himself out there.\" Athranir points to Ceredir\'s uniform. \"You\'d best remember this lesson when dealing with those who draw blades with you as well. One moment, they will claim to be your brothers, then the next fleeing you, leaving you to do battle with 10 by your lonesome self. It\'s a hard world and these are dark times. A man needs to take what he can, even if it\'s at the expense of those around him.\"

\"My father certainly did,\" Ceredir snorts, nodding in agreement. \"And now, thanks to him, I will always be low-born. Sure, some few folk...you, for one,\" he looks up, nodding to Athranir in appreciation, \"will understand and see past his lies. But to most? I\'ll always be the man who stinks of the tannery. Snobs, all of them,\" he continues, bitterness growing. \"If I\'d known the b*stard would do this to me, I wouldn\'t have become a scout. Out there in the stinking wilderness, torn and tattered clothes, stinking just as bad as the tannery. What is there to take? Nothing.\"

[Hadrac(#22620)]

Ahtranir eyes the boy carefully, calculatingly. \"Be careful to dismiss your position. Many times opportunity smiles on those who would seem to be in a position of little.\" He glances around the field again. \"How many men have risen to power by the edge of their blade? How many have won the affection of their peers by their heroic deeds? These are things a man can use to his advantage. Your position could indeed be one of great opportunity.\" His words trail off and he gets a rather thoughtful look on his face.

Ceredir snorts. \"In Minas Tirith, perhaps. With their fine uniforms and public presence. But in Ithilien, we crawl through the dirt on our bellies. There\'s no glory or heroic deeds or fine mail. There are no women to welcome us home or tend to our wounds and spread word of our deeds. We bleed our lives away into the dirt and the leaves and the grass, and none hear of it. Even at this tournament--how many scouts of Ithilien have you seen riding fine horses here? Proving their prowess? There\'s no opportunity--you heard the \'Queen\' the other night--she blamed me for things. What glory and what opportunities are there to be had.\"

[Hadrac(#22620)]

Athranir again looks at the boy. \"I\'m just saying that a man always has a way to make himself into something. To get more for himself. You\'ll have to find that opportunity in your current position. One thing I can tell you... You have a unique power over your father right now. As distasteful as it might seem, you can use that to your advantage. Most men do not want their...\" he licks his lips and proceeds carefully, \"prior sins to find them out. He might be willing to, shall we say, negotiate an agreement with you in order to make sure his past stays a thing of the past.\"

\"An advantage over him?\" Ceredir asks, surprised. \"You mean...force him to give me money? Do you think that\'s even possible? I mean..he could get me thrown out of the Scouts, too. He\'s a powerful, rich man. But..Dawn, I think, is from his household. She was sitting outside it the other day, playing her harp. And now that she knows who I am, perhaps I can pressure him that way. Still...\" he think, kicking at the dirt, \"I don\'t see where I\'ll get much of anything at all from him. Other than trouble.\"

[Hadrac(#22620)]

Athranir smiles at the mention of the Dawn. \"Well you yourself just said that there was nothing to be had in the Scouts,\" he points out with a joking smile. \"But I wouldn\'t advocate getting kicked out either. And maybe you could use your sway with the Dawn against him. Woo a woman, and you\'ve got a strong ally.\" He grins. \"But if nothing else will work, he might even pay to keep your claims from becoming common knowledge. Surely a little research would prove your claims true, and a Lord cannot afford to have his name besmirched in another way.\"

\"Scouts are better than being a tanner. But,\" Ceredir smirks, \"not by much. As for this other business, I don\'t know. Never thought about that, but there has to be something...\" He shakes his head.

[Hadrac(#22620)]

Athranir laughs loudly again. \"I\'ve been saying it for this entire conversation. There\'s always something! And look you\'re already making progress. If you were truly interested in making something for yourself in the Scouts, I might know something. What do you want to accomplish with your life, boy?\" The last question is startlingly direct, and Athranir\'s eyes stare directly into Ceredir\'s.

\"Recognition,\" Ceredir says, unflinching. \"I want to be important. I want to be recognized for being a nobleman here. I want the fine clothes and the fine sword to match. I want women to look at me and want me, not to snicker at me or my clothes. In the scouts, I\'ll never have the money to do that, and now my b*stard of father won\'t help me either,\" he despairs. \"So now I\'m just a dirt-poor tanner\'s son again. Or a dirt-crawling Scout.\"

[Hadrac(#22620)]

Athranir\'s eyes narrow at the boy\'s answer. \"We should discuss this later. My eyes grow heavy, and the air is getting bitterly cold. But before we go, I want to leave you with this thought. I can make you a hero of the Scouts. I can elevate you above a dirt crawling maggot. I can get you the recognition you so earnestly desire. You will be a hero of battle. You will have the resources to drape yourself in mithril if you so desire Everyone in Gondor will know the name of Ceredir and praise his mighty deeds. If it is the praise and admiration of men you so desire, then I can give it to you. You will survive battles that none else can. You will always be in just the right position to save the day. All this and more I can give to you.\" He turns and begins to walk toward the city. Over his shoulder he calls back, \"I\'m staying in Mr. Drinfol\'s inn. Seek me out if you want to pursue this matter further.\" He trudges off in the direction of a nice brew followed by deep, long sleep.

Ceredir just stares, his mouth slowly opening in either wonder or disbelief at the other man\'s words. \"Drinfol\'s...\" he says quietly to himself as the man calls that information back. He nods, slowly, still staring at Athranir. \"I will seek you out.\" But the words are said quietly, more to himself than to Athranir.