DARKNESS DESCENDS: Interrogation, Part Two

Dol Amroth: Knights\' Tower - Cells

Rumours and stories will tell of dank dungeon cells, where mold grows abundantly and rats gnaw the fingers of broken-willed prisoners -- but the holding cells of the Marble Citadel are no thing out of stories. Indeed, this place is well-swept and clean, and though it lacks a window, there is light through the door from the guardroom outside.

A plain bench is set against the wall, for sleeping, and rushes are strewn on the floor. A nondescript bucket completes the spartan furnishings. Not a bad accomodation, for those who defy the justice of Dol Amroth.

There, as the door is opened, is Calardan Hlorithain leaning against the wall opposite the cell door. He is accoutred loosely: a white tunic and brown breeches with black boots, and is accompanied by one of Imrahil\'s Guardsmen. He nods greetings to Hir Elusul and to Calarion and Calenloth as well but says nothing. Then the pair slip inside wordlessly, each bearing no mark of rank save the Guardsman\'s white cloak, and each without any visible weaponry.

And in the Hlorithain Knight\'s hand is a small vase full of water.

\"Wake up,\" says Calardan, \"I have brought you something to drink.\"

Salindil, who has only just eased himself into a more comfortable position on the bench, eyes closing in weariness, now jerks awake, groaning at the sudden movement. \"Drink?\" he blinks, looking to the pair of men, eyes settling on Calardan.

\"You have spoken much already, I am sure, and I come to ask you to speak more. For what you remember of your youth, for what has been taken that has led you down this path, for what we hope to restore...rightfully,\" says Calardan, extending the vase towards Salindil. \"Take it, or do not.\"

\"But I am a man of my word, and I will hear your complaints now...or never.\"

Calardan sighs as the man hesitates.

\"You are tired. Let me be simple: were you born a man of Belfalas?\"

The vase of water remains extended.

Warily does the man eye both the extended vase and the man who holds it--and it is only after several moments of silence, in which he stares at Calardan and the Guardsman that he cautiously moves forward, reaching for the vase.

He sniffs at the water.

\"I am and I was. A merchant. But always the nobles control the trade.\"

\"Surely Ar-Gimilkhor shall reward you for your service, if you live,\" begins the Hlorithain Knight. \"But that is easy and cheap, for you have done for him what you have never done for Prince Imrahil.\" He releases the vase willingly.

\"I will tell you now what few will tell you. My companions shall show you steel and threat. Your own will draw you paintings of an idealistic life.\"

\"Each, to his own.\"

\"But look at your King, who wears six titles as they were one. Who wears fineries that not even I, your supposed enemy, would dare afford. The Prince\'s own guard,\" he gestures to the Guardsman, \"They are given a cloak and a sword.\"

\"I am Calardan Hlorithain, native-born to Tarnost. I have two daughters and a wife, and my oath is as much to them as it is to our Prince.\"

\"Every battle I have fought, I think of the costs. What if I were to die? What would my family do? What would my family say? Would they be proud to see their father at the end of a sword or aged and curled up in restful passing?\"

Slowly--very slowly--Salindil\'s mouth opens. And stays there.

The vase he holds in one hand, but he makes no move to drink it. No--for he watches Calardan as he speaks, his own mouth sometimes moving as if he is forming words or thoughts in answer.

And yet no words come out.

Salindil sets the vase aside, finally, next to him on the bench. He stares at Calardan, and then at the bench or the floor or perhaps his own hands, his gaze dropped.

\"Pray--why do you tell me this?\"

\"I will answer your questions on the morrow,\" says Calardan, still standing. He makes no move to take the vase of water. \"For now: wish you to live or die?\"

Salindil looks up.

\"Live,\" he says, after a pause of a second. Then he nods, suddenly repeating the answer firmly. \"Live.\"

\"Then you shall live.\"

And with that, both Knight and Guardsman depart the cell.

The white cloak, emblazoned with crossed swords and the Swan of Amroth, precedes Calardan Hlorithain as both he and the Guardsman exit the cell.

The Marshall is short, before passing on: \"To be spoken to or touched only by my command.\" And then the man is gone, the Guardsman at his side.