Dol Amroth: A Masquerade (Archive)
A tale freshly told of the Gondorian
Part of the Dol Amroth Tournament, TA 3053. A masquerade ball is paid a jest.
(beginning is missing)
[Calardan(#30834)]
A man dressed in black from the shined boots at his feet to the errant hair atop his head. In between there are tailored trousers which run to the boots and a sleeved black tunic. Of particular interest are the sleeves, which have unstrung tassels every three inches that rise and fall on the air when in movement, and a black shafted arrow, affixed to his breast with red lace pooled in a circle around its faux entry point. A belt runs round his waist and is fastened by a silver buckle in the shape of a solitary willow.
A black mask covers his face almost entirely, with a long beak running out in place of his nose. Only his mouth can be seen, drawn in a tight smile.
This man enters unaccompanied and is announced.
\"Here we have...The First Death of the Tournament: A Crow Arrowed!\"
The man looks around to the guests and mumbles, \"All this and where is she?\"
[Calarion(#31193)]
Now enters one of the guests.
Now cried out in annunciation \"Amroth, the Elven-Prince of Old. Died of love in the Sea upon which we now sail.\"
He is dressed richly as the Elves of Belfalas of Old. Covering his body is a simple but elegant tunic of blue cloth. Trimmed in silver, it has a high collar that raises to the man\'s chin. His trousers are black and plain, bound by a similarly colored belt with a silver buckle. His feet are covered in plain unpolished black shoes. Covering all this is a great green cape bound at the neck by a silver clasp in the shape of a leaf. Upon the green of this cloak is silver thread, twisting across the vestment is the design of the branches of a great tree, complete with leaves.
His face is covered by a half-mask, a plain white save for a sapphire below the left eye... a tear perpetuated in time.
Amroth moves into the party, taking for himself a glass of red wine from one of the tables, he sips from it idely.
[Arashen(#24692)]
A tall figure steps from the relative shadows of the corridor into the brighter hall as a noble woodland creature would emerge from the deep forest into a sunny glade. An apt image for this young man, for he wears a half mask of wood, cleverly painted in tans and browns to suggest fur and depth a pair of antlers sprout from his temple, divided into four wicked tines. Despite its weight, the man hold\'s his head high and steady. From a distance, his eyes are shadowed within the mask, but the subtle movements of his head suggest he is looking about the room as he waits his turn to be announced.
Soon enough it is his turn and he whispers something to the Herald. The Herald nods and turns to face those already gathered. \"May I present, the Lord of the Forest!\"
The Forest Lord smiles, a fey curving of his lips. He is clad all in leather and the short-fringed seams of his pants and tunic seem to lend his movements an extra vitality for their animation. He enters, sure-footed and confident, the embodiment of animal grace.
[Farielle(#28421)] A girl comes next, on the arm of a young man some taller than she is. Her hair so black and soft it seems almost to absorb light rather than reflect it. She is a bit on the shorter side, and very slender, with extremely pale skin. Behind the mask, the exact color of her eyes is more difficult to tell - but surely they are grey, or some shade there-of. Her hair is loosely caught by a silver net that hangs down her back, nearly to her hips. A delicate half-mask painted with a shimmering green paint is wreathed with ivy leaves. Nestled among the leaves are small white berries and flowers. It is tied to her face with a broad, silk ribbon. The dress itself is simple and plain: a shimmering white silk with a high, scooped neck long, slender sleeves and a straight fall to the floor. It is the decorations that make it wondrous.
The girl who wears this gown seems to have arisen straight from the forest floor. Green ivy winds about the bodice, with more of the same white flowers it gradually gives way to other leaves - oak and beech and maple - and other flowers - trilliums, lily-of-the-valley, starflowers. Shade upon shade of green, and the white glimmering like stars among them. The leaves trail out into a short train behind.
\"The Elven Lady Mithrellas,\" announces the announcer. \"And her escort....\" He waits for the young man to bend and tell him who he is.
[Conalmir(#31396)] A man in the costume of a sailor hovers in the hallway, in the shadows... and refuses to come in, ducking behind a statue when anyone new arrives.
A lithe man, Farielle\'s companion, draped in azure velvet so dark it nearly passes for black. Like the sheen of stars, small, pale gems hem his long cloak, sparkling as the patterns of stars in the moonless sky. He is helmed in silver, delicate wire branches twining to nest a raven head, the crest sloping down in a white plume, and the front masking half his face.
A longsword is slung at his back, silver-traced, the quillons bound and sealed with a tassel of blue. From that tassel hangs seven jewelled stars, the doom and sickle of the Valar.
\"Menelmacar, swordsman of the sky,\" is he thus announced.
[Prince_Amroth(#31193)]
Amroth wanders through the currently light company here now, moving close to the door to greet the newcomers. \"Good Evening, my Lady.\" He says, bowing to Mithrellas, \"And you, Sir.\" He nods to Menelmacar.
[The_Crow(#30834)]
The Crow makes quickly for a nearby table, after catching glimpse of himself in the well-polished floors. A glass of wine finds his hand.
[Mithrellas.(#28421)] \"Good evening, Sir,\" Mithrellas says. She smiles a little, her hand tightening ever so slightly on Menelmacar\'s arm.
[Forest_Lord(#24692)]
The Forest Lord wends his way through merry-makers as through a forest until he too finds himself at a table. He reaches for a cup of wine and looks the crow over appreciatively. \"A good evening to you, Master Crow.\"
He gestures to the room full of gayly dressed guests. \"Do you find your afterlife pleasing?\"
His eyes shadowed by the silver, Menelmacar asks of the Elven-lord, \"Does beloved Nimrodel rejoin you this eve? Or does she still tarry on the shore?\"
[Prince_Amroth(#31193)]
Solemnly, the Elven-Prince shakes his head, \"I fear she still remains on the shorelines of these Seas. Yet, be we lucky, she may yet return unto me.\"
[The_Crow(#30834)]
\"I hear rumors, even from the afterlife, that I was made into a fine dinner,\" suggest The Crow, sipping at his wine. \"And you, Forest Lord.\"
The Crow looks him up and down.
\"You move quite well. Those many years of roaming have treated you well.\"
The Crow smiles.
[Mithrellas.(#28421)] Mithrellas giggles. \"I fear I know not where she may be, sir,\" she says. Her eyes dart around the room, and then fix themselves back on Amroth\'s face.
[TheAss(#17324)]
Into the room sweeps a creature. Or half of one at least, the business end. Depending on what one chooses as one\'s business. Tail green and spiked, trailing behind it, only two grey eyes peeping out from its green midsection as it moves about. It gives a mock yelp as its long tail is stepped upon.
[Prince_Amroth(#31193)]
\"Well, my dear lady.\" Amroth responds, \"If you do, per chance, catch sight of Fair Nimrodel, do direct her to me... or me to her and pray that the tumultuous Sea doth not lie between us on this occassion.\"
[Alphros(#30120)]
This man wears a black tunic bearing a tree, some stars, and a bird. They are all looking as if they were lazily cut of fabric and sewn on haphazardly. The man wears simple trousers and mismatched stockings of red and green. His feet are covered in opposing colors, red with green stocking, green with red stocking. At the pointy tip of each shoe is a bell. The man wears on his head a great mask that completely covers his features except for eye, nose, and mouth holes. Over the mask is worn a hat of red and green with various floppy extensions each tipped with a bell.
The herald announces with some mirth, \"His Imperious Majesty the Claimant Jester of Gondor!\"
[Forest_Lord(#24692)]
\"I am not surprised,\" declares the Forest Lord. He lifts his cup in a salute. \"For it is often the case at Tournament that someone must eat crow.\"
A slight smile and then he sips, tilting his head back with no apparent discomfort from the shift of weight his heavy antlers present. \"You honor me, Master Crow. The forest calls, it always calls and so I must roam it.\"
\"Do you seek revenge on the fair lady who brought you low?\" Another announcement and the Forest Lord turns his head to watch the jester enter.
[Mithrellas.(#28421)] Mithrellas looks up also, and is struck silent by the ... creature. Whatever it is. She turns back to Amroth and her escort and says in a low voice, \"What is /that/ supposed to be?\" Shortly after, the jester is announced, and she edges a little closer to Menelmacar. \"A jester - what an interesting costume...\"
[The_Crow(#30834)]
Both the first statement and the last question from the Forest Lord merit chuckles from The Crow. \"Revenge? Perhaps my wings still flutter in her nightmares but I think myself but an afterthought to the young lady.\"
\"As for revenge,\" he points with his cup at the Jester, \"Should not someone arrest that man?\" Eyes tilt to The Ass, then. \"That one too, I suppose.\"
\"How very curious indeed,\" answers the star-studded swordsman, an edge gained to the blue eyes beneath Menelmacar\'s mask.
[Prince_Amroth(#31193)]
\"Indeed.\" Amroth says, frowning... he does not seem amused at the er... animal behind.
[Laurelinn(#10854)]
A couple arrive who happen on the announcer\'s familiarity to such degree that they do not need to tell him their costumes --
\"Laurelin the Gold Tree of Valinor,\" he declares -- and now, his voice lowers with more open fondness: \"and her last fruit, the mighty Sun!\"
So enters Laurelin -- locks of red-flecked gold dancing about her shoulders as she moves, like crystals off a chandelier -- and her tiny, fresh-faced companion half her size and age, crown gleaming. They wear no masks for now, though both their cheeks are delicately smeared with gold and tiny jewels, but as willowy Lauren holds her fruit to her with one arm, so too does she carry a pair of plain, gold visors in her other. Together, in a blur of yellows, oranges and reds, the pair passes the announcer -- the Sun seems generous enough to wave her small left hand to him -- and begin manoeuvring through the gathered.
A point of the Sun\'s finger as she is passed into the arms of another woman Laurelin\'s head turns, in a blink, toward the imposing Crow some ways across the hall. Her hands, padded by the cuffs of her golden sleeves that rise over her palms, clap together as the Gold Tree lets out an immediate, loud laugh.
[TheAss(#17324)]
The dragon\'s end has been remiss. It scuttles back toward the herald, passing Crow, Jester, Forest, and Prince as it does so--a sudden (deliberate?) sweep of its surprisingly hefty spiked tail threatening to knock the Prince off his feet if he\'s not quick enough.
Reaching the herald, the Ass whispers something to the man once the Tree and Sun are announced. \"The Drake!\" he announces, only to correct himself, after some whispering from the dragon, \"Sir Drake, rather.....erm...The Second!\"
[Gwendion(#24427)]
The announcer, still laughing from the last few costumes and their gayity turns quite sober, clearing his throat as the next party-goer arrives. He takes the name card and calls out, somberly, \"The Resolve of Gondor.\"
Winged Helm but in twain, as half of the Swan and half of the Guard of Minas Tirith, sits atop a face masked in black. His mail is akin to the helm, half rings and leather, the other a chain shirt, expertly woven together. Below the hanging chain and shirt a pair of leather leggings, light and colored the dark greens and browns of the forest with gauntlets of green to match upon the arms.
On his \"Knight\"-Side arm, a lance, cut at the middle to fit in the room, and on the \"Guard\"-side, a scabbard longsword given to fresh soldiers of Denethor. Lastly, strung round his chest, a longbow with matching quiver, the feathers of its shafts jutting up over the man\'s shoulder.
He steps forward, bows to the crowd, a nod for Sir Drake, and moves towards the drinks.
[Alphros(#30120)]
The jester imperiously ignores the herald and starts strutting around the room as if he owns the place, making light of various reactions.
[<#28421>] \"Who do you think he is?\" Mithrellas asks, standing on tiptoe and whispering into Menelmacar\'s ear. She gives Amroth a friendly smile. \'Everyone\'s costumes are so well-done, don\'t you think?\' A sudden squeak of alarm emerges as the drake\'s tail snakes out at Amroth\'s feet, and the lady puts a hand to her mouth, and blushes.
[Prince_Amroth(#31193)]
Even at his disguist, the tail of the \'Drake\' swings by Amorth, luckily, he steps away just in time to dodge. Again he frowns.
Amroth nods to the Resolve of Gondor as it passes saying, \"Good Evening, my Good Sir.\"
\"Yes, quite.\" the Elven-Prince responds to Mithrellas with a smile. \"If I may say, my Lady, you have done especially well.\"
[Forest_Lord(#24692)]
The suggestion to arrest evokes a slight frown from the Forest Lord and he turns his head to look at the jester once more, this time with more scrutiny, perhaps only noticing now that this jester is meant to be a particular jester. His gaze wanders to the Ass before returning to his fellow creature. \"The art of the jester is protected by law. As for the Ass...you do not care for his costume?\"
Others enter, and the Stag\'s gaze falls upon the golden pair. He smiles. \"That is a precious sight, however.\"
\"Cleft in twain?\" asks Menelmacar light-heartedly, laying a black-gauntleted hand on the Drake posterior\'s ... well, posterior.
The entry of the gilded twain, and the entrance of the Resolve, however, gives him pause, and he merely gazes at the last, and his trailing cloak.
[TheAss(#17324)]
The Ass returns a bow to the Knight Host, some mirth going out of his eyes for a moment. Then he works his way toward Prince Amroth, Forest Lord and the others in that group. \"A fine evening,\" he says, rolling an elaborate bow. \"Somewhere lurks my better half. And perhaps...\" he eyes the Forest Lord, \"an axeman?\"
[The_Crow(#30834)]
\"My sense is humor is oft misunderstood,\" says The Crow to The Forest Lord. \"I merely jest. I find these outfits...\" he trails off and catches sight of Laurelin. \"I daresay that the Last Tree of Valinor is laughing at me.\"
\"Forest Lord, do you see the same?\" he asks, nonplussed.
[Alphros(#30120)]
Seeing that he has a nice avenue, the jester performs a practiced cartwheel that brings him right up to the ass. He takes a sniff and then shakes his head and waves the air in front of his nose while scowling. \"Whew!
[Gondors_Resolve(#24427)]
A nod for Amroth from Gondor\'s Resolve, but he does not stop to speak, for now. He stands to decorate the wall, like a flower, while having a glass of brandy poured him by one of the serving staff.
A sniff of the amber liquid and then a sip, taking a moment to survey the costumes and the grandeur of the room.
[The_Crow(#30834)]
The Crow adds, with The Ass and Alphros now close: \"There is something to be said for the evening, and for the mood of that costume.\" He seems to indicate Gondor\'s Resolve with the latter statement. \"An interesting choice.\"
[Mithrellas.(#28421)] Mithrellas, it seems, is speechless, looking at the tree and the sun. \"Look, L-Menelcamar,\" she says, nodding. \"Isn\'t that beautiful?\"
[Forest_Lord(#24692)]
The antlered Forest Lord peers at the golden tree for a moment. \"Perhaps they had crows in Valinor,\" he offers dryly. He gaze shifts to Gondor\'s Resolve, as indicated by his companion \"Aye. A somber reminder for this gay company,\" he agrees. He gestures to the other pair with his cup. The wine sloshes, but does not spill. \"But the jester offers balance,\" he adds, grinning.
[Prince_Amroth(#31193)]
\"Jester, Drake.\" Amroth says, nodding to each as they pass, his voice marked witha touch of disapproval.
Then, as if to change the subject for himself, he glances to the sun and tree. Smiling he nods, though says nothing save a muttering of \"Wonderful!\" under his breathe. He gives no more heed to the jokers, be they Jester or Drake.
[TheAss(#17324)]
\"I cannot heed what I cannot smell, and as I have no nose...\" the Drake\'s ass moves in its green swaddling, apparently shrugging. \"Besides, we\'re a very emaculate species.\" The glittering in his eyes fades a moment again as he glances toward Gondor\'s Resolve and then to Forest and Crow. \"Rather a sobering choice for what should be an escape from troubles for only one night, yes.\"
And then to the Prince Amroth again, eyes glittering now: \"All work and no play makes the Prince a dull boy.\"
[Prince_Amroth(#31193)]
\"Tis too late for my dullness to decrease at all, good Sir.\" Amroth replies, \"Drowning for love tends to depress a man... or elf as the case may be.\" The Prince\'s face remains stone cold.
[Laurelinn(#10854)]
As the Resolve of Gondor stands, the Gold Tree\'s eyes linger on him for a time, and her face takes on a sideways tilt as she reads the names along his cape. But then she turns away, and with a quick glance down at the beaming Sun, is smiling again. On a rotund table close to the edge of the hall, she puts down their visors so that she might be free to take a glass of water for herself from a passing server. As she sips from it, she scans the costumes of those near and far -- and her brows pucker with effort when she surveys masks, as if squinting may enable her to see the faces beyond.
But alas. Laurelin lowers to a kneel, so that when she speaks to the Sun, who seems to be animatedly gesturing about, their eyes meet in line. The drake -- and his tail -- appears to be of great interest to the younger of the two. The Tree, however, offers only a good-humoured snort.
[Gondors_Resolve(#24427)]
As the room fills, the quartet takes up a quick waltz and without much hesitation the dance floor begins to fill. Meanwhile, fresh meats, fish, duck and beef, are brought out and set upon tables. Gondor\'s Resolve finishes his glass and heads towards Laurelinn and The Sun, \"Good eve, fair pair,\" comes the voice of Gwendion Bragollach, \"Though somber in mood, the air of this place lifts my spirits and I wonder if a dance,\" the mask is lifted to reveal the man only to the Princess. He smiles brightly at the young girl, \"Or two could be taken from you?\"
[TheAss(#17324)]
Somewhere about the crowded party wanders Sir Drake the First. Perky, green, bejeweled and dazzling on its scales and head. Walking with resolve.
[Alphros(#30120)]
In a childlike voice, the jester lalalalalalas in time with the waltz as and sways along across the floor of the hall away from the Drake and the Amroth.
\"Yes, of course,\" says the silver-helmed swordsman to Mithrellas, blue gaze lingering on the unmasked Tree a little longer than a cursory glance.\"
[<#28421>] Mithrellas watches Laurelin and her Sun the other members of the party moving into and out of her vision. The jester lands nearby, and she gives him a single, swift glance before looking up into Menelmacar\'s face. \"You should dance with her,\" she murmurs.
Menelmacar says, \"And be burnt to a crisp?\" Laughing, he reaches for the elf-maid\'s hand, \"Perhaps I shall dance with Mithrellas, first. Then, perhaps, to become a comet.\"
[The_Crow(#30834)]
The Crow quips to his compatriots, \"Gondor\'s Resolve could use a little brightening, don\'t you think? The young Sun is quite the little angel.\"
His words are respectful and honest, but you\'d notice The Crow has proud eyes for Laurelin and not her little Sun. He takes another sip of wine.
A grove of doe-eyed nymphs gaze adoringly at the Forest Lord.
[Mithrellas.(#28421)] A smile of delight spreads over Mithrellas\' face. She takes the offered hand and follows Menelmacar to the dance floor. \"You would be very shiny as a comet,\" she says as she brushes past several women all gazing at the Forest Lord. \"It would make it hard to sneak about in the night.\"
As they pass the Crow, she smiles at the dead bird. \"That is such a clever idea for a costume,\" she agrees, \"The Tree /and/ the Sun!\"
[TheAss(#17324)]
Two green-gloved appendages reach out from the Dragon-end\'s abdomen, securing the drake a glass of wine, which he sips. Catching sight of the sun looking his way, he gives his tail a mighty swoosh across the floor, making at least one tray-carrying servant jump, glasses happily not scattering.
\"Ah, Prince,\" the dragon continues to Amroth, \"I am sorry to hear this indeed. But there are many young ladies here who would be honored to dance with you, despite your pain. Indeed, I should dance...\" He and his tail take a few dangerous steps toward the dance floor.
[Prince_Harondor(#30050)]
The Lord Isilrim enters, obscured only by the bones of a ram.
Both arms are held aloft in general survey, hampering his winding path to the center of the hall.
[Laurelinn(#10854)]
Two dances taken from the Sun?
The tiny creature blushes at the very prospect, her hands clasping at her skirts and the apples of her cheeks growing fuller as she smiles -- and she quietly whispers her desire not to be the Resolve\'s dancing partner for the moment. She has the good manners to thank him for asking, however though her voice competes with the music, to some degree, and the sound of her own laughter. The Tree rises to a stand, though, and seems to throw a quick look toward the Crow --
\"If you\'d like, my lord,\" Laurelin says -- most politely, indeed. Leaving the Sun with another woman, a plumper and shorter lady dressed in the guise of a strawberry, she takes a step toward the floor. Only a slow exhalation and a temporary tightening of her jaw may hint at any uneasiness, but the look leaves her face when she notices the Lord Isilrim\'s curious regalia.
[Prince_Amroth(#31193)]
\"Perhaps I shall...\" Amroth says with a nod, the shadow of a smile crossing his face, \"I am sure Fair Nimrodel shall not mind too much for the moment.\" He chuckles a little, before looking out into the fray. It has become a lively party, and an interesting one at that.
[Forest_Lord(#24692)]
\"Indeed,\" agrees, The Forest Lord, gazing upon Gondor\'s Resolve and his young dance partner. \"She is the reason for his Resolve.\"
Preternaturally, the young man\'s attention turns to the lovely nymphs. He smiles widely at them and regally dips his antlered crown. He nudges the Crow with his elbow. \"These fine ladies appear to bear an appreciation for the wild places and the creatures that live there.\"
[Alphros(#30120)]
At the end of his swooping around, the jester ends up before the newly arrived ram and he nods and makes animal noise in greeting!
Indilzar has arrived.
[The_Crow(#30834)]
Even the Golden Tree of Valinor cannot sway The Crow\'s gaze from Prince Harondor and so he misses much, including her being taken to the dance floor.
Distracted as he is, the masked man still has a jovial phrase for the Forest Lord, \"And for the man who lords over them, I\'d say.\" His glass is placed upon the nearby table, not empty. He says, \"You will excuse me, my lords.\"
\"Yes,\" says Menelmacar absently, smiling beneath his half-helm as he sweeps the elleth about the floor. \"I wonder who they are...\"
[Gondors_Resolve(#24427)]
The cloak is detached and Gondor\'s Resolve takes the hand of Laurelinn and leads the pair to the floor. \"So who\'s idea was this, yours or hers? And how long did the two of you spend on the costumes?\" Near the center he turns and offers his hand for her to take, his gently moving to her waste, \"All eyes are upon you this night, for certain.\"
[The_Ass(#17324)]
The half drake\'s path takes him not onto the dance floor--he sips his wine and thinks better of it--but around its edges, his stuffed tail threatening as always. He winds up near Prince Harondor and Jester King, executing a bow, wine carefully balanced, in greeting.
[Forest_Lord(#24692)]
Likewise is the Forest Lord\'s cup set upon the table and wordlessly, he approaches the knot of appreciative nymphs.
[Prince_Harondor(#30050)]
The horned Prince laughs freely at the jester before him. \"Elusul, you disgrace your house,\" he says lightly, \"but never mind, I shall right it.\"
He then makes to grasp the jester\'s bicep, so as to tow the man toward the center.
[Alphros(#30120)]
The jester frowns greatly at being identified. He frumps along behind the ram, but makes faces at any who specifically look at him.
[Mithrellas.(#28421)] Mithrellas glances at face after face as they dance across the floor. \"I can\'t tell who anyone is,\" she says, sounding a little alarmed.
[The_Crow(#30834)]
There is less humor to The Crow than to Prince Harondor. The bird approaches, his sleeves fluttering ridiculously as he crosses the room.
\"You have been long missed, my Lord of Harondor,\" says The Crow, the words unmasking Alphros not catching his ears. He looks at the jester curiously.
[Indilzar(#10108)]
The gilt doors swing open and in marches an uncostumed figure, wearing black and leaning against an ironwood staff. As he enters he pauses for a moment and then laughs, casting back his graying hair.
\"Come Huan!\" he calls.
Thence, a noble looking wolfhound pads in behind the man, and looks upon all with strangely intelligent eyes.
\"Has the resolve of Gondor grown soft whilst we were away on errantry, dear Huan?\"
The hound does not reply, but the man says, \"Yes, I thought so. Yet perhaps there are some of my old campaigners here? Whither is Thorondur Girithlin? And the sons of Sirion? Perhaps they will recognize the Black Knight of Belfalas?\"
Huan, Wolf-Hound of Dol Amroth has arrived.
[The_Ass(#17324)]
\"Ah, I see how it is,\" the Drake says under his breath as the Jester is dragged away and the door bursts open to admit man and wolf-hound. The dragon stands for a moment, surveying the man ere he says, \"Is it not the duty of the Order to keep hope alive--and are not joy and happiness and even silliness, one day out of all the year, a part of hope and that duty?\"
[Laurelinn(#10854)]
When Gondor\'s Resolve arm is extended, Lauren moves a branch -- or rather, her own arm -- to take it, and follows him across the dance-floor at a matching pace. Her expression becomes an amused one, and a knowing look is thrown over her shoulder when his question meets her ears. \"Hers,\" she answers, without pause. With her free hand, which desposits her glass of water to a server along the way, she makes a vague gesture to the room, and her voice takes a sheepish turn, \"This is my first masque. It took longer than I would care to admit -- but we had some help.\"
The center of the floor. Laurelin lets one hand be taken, and the other rises to the Resolve\'s shoulder -- and should he begin to dance, she will follow, with the odd glance downward to her shoes. The compliment causes her shoulders to shift in a half-cringe, but she is gracious enough to say, \"Thank you very much. I hope not, in truth. I thought I saw a few other fire-themed costumes on my way in.\"
A wolfhound? Laurelin\'s eyes narrow from a distance.
[Indilzar(#10108)]
The man in black walks further into the hall and then there is a soft whispering...
\"Indilzar the Bragollach...\"
\"The Black Knight of Belfalas has returned?\"
\"It\'s all right,\" Menelmacar tells Mithrellas calmly, walking her about the dance-floor. \"You know who I am, yes?\"
His gaze travels, not to the Black Knight, but to his Hound.
[Prince_Harondor(#30050)]
\"One must earn a few notches to the horns ere wearing them, blackbird,\" answers Arathis to the Crow before him, his voice leveled. The hand at the jester\'s bicep leaves to probe the other\'s wings they return to tow casually.
\"Elusul, it shall be best if you do not object to what shall follow.\"
But when Indilzar comes, the Herald\'s voice rises to boom to him: \"Good knight! Join, for a spectacle is upon us!\"
A twain of trumpeters can be seen entering the hall, flanking the main port.
[Forest_Lord(#24692)]
There is one who recognizes the Black Knight: The Forest Lord. He bears an apprehensive air.
Already a nymph is linked arm to arm with the young Stag and he leads her to the dance floor.
[Mithrellas.(#28421)] \"Yes.. of course.\" Mithrellas\'s smile blooms again, and as the Drake speaks, she nods and even laughs again. \"More than one day of the year, I hope!\" she says to him.
Someone else comes up to Menelmacar and taps him on the shoulder. \"I think it is my turn,\" he says... this man who is dressed like a harp.
[Gondors_Resolve(#24427)]
Gondor\'s Resolve laughs, a smile hidden behind the mask, \"My Kin comes dressed as himself. Color me unsurprised - with hound in tow as well. And yet, a strange place to come forward. Perhaps, it is his ghost dressed as the living man?\" he asks of Laurelin.
\"But to you reply, why not have the eyes of the guests upon you? Shyness?\"
Menelmacar elbows the Harp, and passes Mithrellas obligingly off.
[Indilzar(#10108)]
\"A spectacle indeed good herald,\" replies the Black Knight. \"Seldom have I seen such a one in the many leagues I have been in my days abroad. Yet...\"
His grey eyes look about the hall and he laughs, \"...I think and the faithful Huan, true to the line of Beren\'s hound have brought more spectacle than any guise. I would be most gratified to know whither I may find the Prince of Dol Amroth, and thence I shall seat myself and perhaps find some here who I can recount former days.\"
[Prince_Amroth(#31193)]
Amroth\'s eyes linger upon the Black Knight, though he says nothing to the matter. He himself has already struck up conversation with a young lady dressed in flowers, Spring, she says she is.
[Indilzar(#10108)] At the mention of Beren by the Black Knight\'s lips the wolfhound howls!
\"Hush Huan,\" says the Black Knight with a slight smile. \"Beren\'s heir is not here to greet.\"
[Alphros(#30120)]
The jester whistles and snaps his fingers to call for the dog.
[Forest_Lord(#24692)]
A woman of graceful bearing glides across the floor. Dressed in layers of sheer greens and blues, a half-mask of similar hue hides her identity. She comes up beside and in a voice perhaps familiar, speaks to the old Lord Bragollach. \"My lord Indilzar, have you ever dressed for a masquerade?\"
[The_Crow(#30834)]
The Crow cants his eyes to Indilzar and to the hound but they return to the Herald sooner rather than later. He is quiet as that man\'s voice rises above the fray, choosing to fold his arms about his chest. The party goes on, it seems.
[Prince_Harondor(#30050)]
\"The Prince of Belfalas is not with us this eve,\" answers Arathis by a wry smile, \"but do not regret it: you shall tonight collect another tale from the Prince of Harondor.\"
A courtly blow of the trumpeters -- BOOM-BA-DOOM -- & suddenly the horned Prince is atop a table.
\"Ladies, Lords, and Gentlemen!
\"Ladies, Lords, and Gentlemen!
\"Your ears, if you would not protest me!\"
[Indilzar(#10108)]
\"Indeed,\" says Indilzar to the woman. \"I had to disguise myself as a hedgerow \'gainst the Nazgul. It was quite comical I must admit. Yet... I know you...\"
His grey eyes look at the costumed woman....
[Laurelinn(#10854)]
The whispers of the Black Knight are caught by Laurelin\'s ear -- as are the clearer words of Gondor\'s Resolve. The Gold Tree looks between the man in black, and the man she dances with, with a curious frown. \"Who is he?\" she asks. He leaves his first question unanswered -- but her inquiry makes it fairly obvious why. Who is she to guess the actions of a man she seems to know not of? Talk of shyness causes an instant change of expression and a second, more articulate recoil. \"I am not shy,\" she declares, with a hardiness in her voice, \"It\" -- a shake of her head here, for all the things she cannot put in words -- \"It is all very new. You would not understand.\"
But now Arathis\' voice fills the hall. Laurelin pivots to a halt as the musicians cease their playing.
His fairer companion gone, the Swordsman retreats away from the crowd, his arms folded, alert as a guardsman.
[Forest_Lord(#24692)]
Lady Sea smiles. \"As well you should. You called for old companions, and perhaps I am not so old as those you named nor a comrade-in-arms, but an old friend even so.\"
\"To both of you,\" she adds, holding out her hand Haun.
But an announcement is made and the lady turns in time to see the Ram jump upon the table. \"Oh dear,\" she comments. \"I hope he hasn\'t stomped in the pudding. I haven\'t had any yet.\"
[Alphros(#30120)]
The jesters leaves aside his attempt to lure Huan for play and instead joins his leader atop the table where he stands jingling and jangling.
[Gondors_Resolve(#24427)]
\"Indeed, it seems something I could not...\" Gondor\'s Resolve begins and then his attention is also taken by the spectacle of the Herald. \"More surprises?\"
[The_Ass(#17324)]
The Dragon\'s end has drifted over to stand next to Menelmacar, silent.
[The_Crow(#30834)]
The Crow gains some distance from the Herald and from his table. He seems to be moving closer to Laurelin, perhaps without even realizing it.
A glass of wine is regained, the red liquid splashing about in his hand. Yet the man, for all his compulsions, does not drink of the cup. He watches.
[Prince_Harondor(#30050)]
The horned Prince holds beside him the jester, meaning to raise the fellow\'s arm. By the height of the table, his martial bass carries to permeate the hall:
\"Ladies, Lords, and Gentlemen!
\"Ladies, Lords, and Gentlemen!
\"Heed! It is my foremost Duty to alert thee that an impostor is among us!
\"This shameful man claims the identity of Lord Alphros, lawful King of Gondor and uniter of the faithful Dunedain, in mockery and disdain!
\"But heed! Our King does join us tonight, forsaking the throne in Umbar to travel for the White City, to there retake his rightful crown!
\"I have received him but yestereve he means to join his vassals first here in Amroth and announce himself.
\"I shall not deny him!\"
Again, the trumpeters blow, and the doors to the main hall are thrown open.
[Prince_Harondor(#30050)]
The trumpeters step aside and begin a loud dissonant southern tune.
It is the Ram\'s proclamation that causes Menelmacar\'s eyes to go cold flattened already against the wall, he reaches with gauntlet for the star-decorated sword. The stars are cast off, the tassel unknotted.
\"Is this a joke, do you think,\" he asks of the Dragon\'s Ass, \"or a grave folly?\"
[Laurelinn(#10854)]
Indeed, the mood of the hall changes as the Herald speaks.
Laurelin\'s brows knit together in confusion at his declarations, and her lips part in dismay -- but she does not speak. Her face turns as a gush of whispers and fell hisses surge through the throng of masked faces, but as she gazes over those nearby -- on the dance-floor, and a little beyond -- she finds no one of familiarity. And so she looks back to the Herald again, her arms fallen from Gondor\'s Resolve, hanging emptily at her sides.
[Alphros(#30120)]
The jester looks in mock horror at the herald as he listens. He stomps his feet and holds his hands to his mouth at this perceived outrage at being said to be just a jester. But then he subsides at the trumpets and covers his ears as he glowers.
[The_Ass(#17324)]
\"Some sort of cruel joke, no doubt,\" answers the Dragon end, care taken to keep his voice too low to carry. \"And what of the Gondor\'s Resolve costume? What is the meanign of that?\"
[Forest_Lord(#24692)]
Lady Sea\'s waters are calm this night, she looks only mildly curious and glances first to Indilzar beside her before turning storm-grey eyes to the door. \"Royalty? And here I am without my tiara.\"
[Prince_Harondor(#30050)]
A curious thing happens then for a procession unseen in the long tame & sensible annals of Amroth emerges now into the hall:
First, it is say two-dozen cats that mosey into the hall, some scampering away in quick avoidance, while others take to charm the legs of the masquerade\'s attendants
Second, it is a half-dozen dwarfed men, clad in miniature as Guardsmen of the capital\'s Citadel, each bearing the banner of Elendil in one hand and a ivy-twined chain another, which together carry then what is --
Third: a chariot of the most eminent regalia: in each corner ivory is married with gold, impeccable ornamentation leading upwards past the many-spoked wheels to the chariot\'s master
For fourth comes the recently arrived Lord Alphros, queerly docile and bent behind his veil. A silver star hangs over his brow, held aloft by his large, grayish ears and what some may mistake as wear is revealed by closer torchlight to be sable fur, covering his arms and patchily his chest.
A stupid grin from the ape, showing dirtied and disfigured teeth, and the King of Gondor is arrived.
\"Lord, Ladies, and Gentlemen! Heed, for Alphros is come!\"
[Prince_Harondor(#30050)]
The horned Prince laughs uproariously, bare chested and fey atop a table.
\"Speak, Alphros, your vassals heed!\"
[Gondors_Resolve(#24427)]
Gondor\'s Resolve\'s eyes widen and then blink. Thrice.
\'Cruel,\' affirms the sky-swordsman soberly to the dragon, his voice flat. \"They make light of a threat for which we muster even now. Is this Resolve, Sir Drake the Second?\"
Heavy of gaze, Menelmacar picks up a black cat that curls about his leg.
[The_Crow(#30834)]
The Crow feels the cup of wine shake in his hand whether by the rumbling procession or the audacity of the event, it is unclear. His eyes dart to the Knight-Herald, now so occupied, and his gaze is most heavy and without the humor so occupying the Lord Isilrim. Once, twice and three times, The Crow attempts words and fails. Instead, the cup is brought to his mouth and the wine drained. A cat, nuzzling at his leg, is altogether ignored.
[Prince_Harondor(#30050)]
\"Lords, Ladies, and Gentlemen!\" continues the Lord Arathis, his arms scanning across the room, \"I fear some have heard the King speak! Who shall volunteer it?\"
[Prince_Harondor(#30050)]
The procession advances slowly to the center of the hall.
[Forest_Lord(#24692)]
It is difficult to read an expression hidden even behind a half-mask, but perhaps the absolute stillness of Lady Sea gives some indication of her mood. Her gaze sweeps the room, falling from one unknown figure to the other. Her lips are pressed, keeping her counsel to herself for the moment.
[Gondors_Resolve(#24427)]
Gondor\'s Resolve turns to Laurelinn, gently taking her arm and waste and pulling her from the procession, \"I have seen much in my day and yet, is there not always a surprise waiting for us?\" he asks of the young lady.
[<#17324>] Flat-gazed, the dragon watches this procession, and then his eyes travels slowly to the Crow, the Prince Harondor, and Gondor\'s Resolve. He speaks, wine glass set aside in sudden distaste, to Menelmacar.
\"NAy, not cruel. Hubris. They will berate me later for a costume of such base humor and yet this...\" he gestures toward the parade of animals, \"this is not in imitation of the Faithful. This is hubris. Or worse.\"
[Prince_Harondor(#30050)]
\"Who shall volunteer it?\" bellows the horned Prince again, his finger lifting to the ape. \"Who has heard it speak?\"
So stands this Lord and Captain of Gondor, the mirth of his voice fading with each question\'s mark.
[The_Crow(#30834)]
Ever so placidly, The Crow\'s wine glass is placed back upon the table. One might notice it empty, but few are occupied with the masked man. Until...
Until that man tosses aside his mask, it fastened no longer to his head. What is revealed is not a thin smile, but a frowning Knight-Marshall.
\"Herald,\" he calls out in contest, \"Who is it that commands such an answer?\"
The cat squirms. Menelmacar, silent, strokes it between the ears and sets it down.
He twirls the tassel of his sword absently, untied from its crossguard.
[Forest_Lord(#24692)]
Lady Sea\'s sharp eyes fasten on the Knight-Marshal, her yet-masked expression not unlike his. She takes a few steps closer, her own drink forgotten in her hand.
[Laurelinn(#10854)]
Laurelin observes the chorus of cats winding through the legs of the colourful guests with an unreadable expression. Unsurprisingly, when she should twist her gaze back to where she came from, she finds the Sun reaching down to lure one of the cats to her with wiggling fingers but the Gold Tree catches the little ones eye, and shakes her head. With a pointed look to the minder behind her, Laurelin\'s fruit is taken further back into the hall. Not seeming to know what else to do, she gives no resistance to being led away, though her eyes continue to search the costumes and paper faces around her.
Arathis is given a lengthy scan, too. Laurelin murmurs, \"It isn\'t only a surprise. There is more to this than there appears. Some reason. Surely.\" She finds the Crow, finally. He speaks, she listens. This seems of some comfort. When a cat brushes against her skirt, Laurelin studies it, leans down to touch its neck in passing. A wanderer\'s look travels over the Lady Sea, the dragon, then Menelmacar, and there it remains for a beat. Then away it goes, to the floor -- to the Crow.
[<#17324>] The Dragon\'s ass place one green hand out, as if to block Menelmacar. \"Easy. Do not forget where you are or who they are.\"
[Prince_Harondor(#30050)]
\"The horns of a ram command it, blackbird,\" answers the Lord Arathis, a bent hand likewise dismissing the query. Looking to the Marshall, he closes a single eye.
He signals the trumpeters, who again blow, and suddenly a cadre of two-dozen Hostmen, led by a true Guardsman of Denethor, enter the hall.
\"By decree, the Lord Alphros calls to his side his allies:
\"The Lord Vinyatar, returned foolishly to Amroth for our masquerade, is hereby arrested by the Imrazor\'s law\" -- the Hostmen heed and move to retrieve each man and woman named, among the ten also being heard \"Farielle of House Girithlin.\"
[The_Crow(#30834)]
Calardan\'s first move is not towards Arathis. Nor is his second, or his any move for that matter. He moves to Laurelin aside Gondor\'s Resolve.
\"My lord. I know not your name but allow me my daughter, please.\"
\"Hir, stop me, or forgive me for what I may do,\" says Menelmacar, surging forward, scabbard still in hand. \"If the Isilrim intends to do away with a jest, I will make him repay it in tears.\"
[The_Ass(#17324)]
\"But the Lady Farielle went to the Prince himself to seek remedy for her situation,\" the Dragon-half protests, unable to take off his costume and reveal his identity. \"Clearly she is innocent of any charges, by the Prince\'s leave already.\"
[Prince_Harondor(#30050)]
The horned Prince looks upon the arrests from atop the table, and he is pleased.
He gently directs the Guardsman toward the man holding the scabbard and lowers himself. For some moments he considers the ape in silence, ere departing from the hall.
[Forest_Lord(#24692)]
Lady Sea tears away her mask, her eyes flashing. The angry, fair face revealed is none other than Laeraelin, Lady Regent of House Azrabar Heralds of both House Telpekhor and Hirluin the Fair. \"Ill done in this place!\"
\"And an insult to the hospitability of your Prince!\"
But such words appear to go either unheard or unheeded as Arathis departs the room.
[Gondors_Resolve(#24427)]
Gondor\'s Resolve steps forward, his page bringing his baton of ligum vitae which for now he keeps in the hands of the young boy as the \"Prince Harondor\" takes his leave. He too removes his mask, revealing Sir Gwendion, a terrible frown upon his mien.
\"I will find the Prince,\" he says to the Crow.
\"So,\" Menelmacar addresses the Citadel Guardsman, his voice flat and even, \"this is how far we have fallen. This is what passes for the Resolve of Gondor?\"
A crash sends his sword and scabbard to the ground, thrown so hard that it splinters, painted oak, from hilt to point.
\"I am done,\" pronounces Lominzil Girithlin, tossing the silvery helm to dent on the floor.
[The_Ass(#17324)]
Not entirely unheeded, for the Dragon\'s bottom nods its agreement, to Laeraelin, then attention rapid back on Lominzil. The dragon finally manages to find a way to push the hood of his costume off his head. \"Squire,\" he says sharply, glancing around to search for the Marshal.
[The_Crow(#30834)]
The crashing sword and helm catches the Marshall\'s attention, moreso than Gwendion or Laeraelin\'s words. He has a nod to the Captain, though.
\"Squire,\" he calls out across the hall, \"I command you: do not leave.\"
[Gondors_Resolve(#24427)]
A nod, then Gwendion grabs his baton and heads towards the door, anger in his step.
\"Stop me,\" Lominzil shoots back calmly. \"I tire of revelry.\"
[Forest_Lord(#24692)]
The Forest Lord drifts to join the others. He carefully lifts off his antlered mask to reveal Arashen Telpekhor. His expression is less angry than it is disquiet, though he does offer a sheepish glance his former companion, The Crow, now revealed to be his commanding officer.
\"I have been at sea a very long time, it seems. What intrigue has been afoot that such actions seem justified?\" he asks.
[Laurelinn(#10854)]
There is no mirth on Laurelin\'s face.
Her eyes follow the maid in the distance, dutifully -- through another doorway, she and several of the Prince\'s servants shepherd the Sun out, away from the tension in the hall. When she is cast a wide-eyed look over the shoulder of the plump warden, Laurelin -- turned Niphredil in her solemnity -- has the grace to send her a comforting smile before the door closes. A step behind her father, she gazes down at the discarded sword with a daunted arch of her brows, then an unblinking stare fixes on the fellow who threw it.
What are you doing? The lady seems to say it without even attempting the words.
[<#17324>] Near enough to Lominzil, the butt-end of the dragon shoots out an arm swiftly to try to grab for Lominzil, whispering something harsh to him as he does so. \"Fool! This behavior will only hurt your sister in the end. Be calm and stay by your Knight. Hir Gwendion has the Prince\'s ear and the Prince has already forgiven your sister.\"
[Calardan(#30834)]
Beyond the words \"Stop me\" Calardan has no more regard for Lominzil Girithlin. He turns to Arashen, \"I have only a vague picture, Hir. But it is more well-formed after this evening\'s events. But I tell you now.\"
\"Lord Arathis would not move without justification.\"
Caught by the dragon-half\'s limb, Lominzil stops and stares, quite still. \"You and I would stand here and watch it happen a second time?\" he asks quietly.
[Forest_Lord(#24692)]
But it is Laeraelin who responds to the Knight-Marshall rather than her son. \"Perhaps you know the lad better than I, for I have been sundered from my young cousins for most of their manhood but his actions this night and the manner in which he chose to act gives grave doubts about his wisdom.\"
She raises her intense eyes to meet Calardan\'s, \"Would he not have used men-at-arms of Dol Amroth to make these arrests if he were certain of his reasons? Curious he used Hostmen to arrest the liegemen of Prince Imrahil, is it not?\"
[Calardan(#30834)]
\"We are all soldiers of Gondor, Lady Laeraelin,\" says Calardan, though he is still troubled. \"Never forget that and let it be at least a partial answer to your questions.\" His eyes are stern, hers intense. \"For now, I bid you quiet.\"
[The_Ass(#17324)]
\"It will not happen a second time--Hir Gwendion is already seeing to that and see...\" Menelglir, costume hood pushed back to reveal sweaty hair, gestures around the room. \"There is outcry already. Do not be hasty or rash in your actions--but I cannot command you in this and your Knight chooses to let you make your own decisions. Choose well.\" With that he looses his grip on the Squire\'s arm and turns toward the Marshal and his cousins, listening at least, but the question on his lips fading as he hears Calardan\'s last words.
[Alphros(#30120)]
Elusul pulls off his mask and hat and jumps down to the floor from the table. The knight looks around at the confusion present, his own face passive in the face of the evening\'s events.
[Forest_Lord(#24692)]
\"Evidently, Lord Vinyatar is not a Soldier of Gondor,\" she replies acidly, her gaze steady. \"Or else that has less meaning than you hope.\"
\"We will speak more of this when we meet,\" she declares. \"For my son tells me you wish to speak to me.\"
Her gaze shifts to Menelglir and the young man next to him, studying the later for a moment.
[Elusul(#30120)]
Elusul runs a hand through his hair now freed from his hat. The knight\'s wife must be at home as he has come alone. As the crowd mills around, the knight calls to the players, \"The hall\'s been rented, the orchestra engaged, play something before we all go home!\" Then the first lady he sees is promptly asked to dance.
[Calardan(#30834)]
\"My lady...\" he almost ventures to Laeraelin. But there is much more to which Imrahil\'s Marshall must attend. He looks to his daughter, leans down and runs a hand through her hair. \"Love, you must see to Lady Lothiriel.\"
\"Duty.\"
\"But duty I shall accompany you upon. Let us walk together.\"
Waiting is something Lominzil has learned to accept. His shoulders sinking, he folds slowly against the wall, slipping down until he sits, hunched, on the ground, like a beggar at his bowl.
His eyes, hollow, watch the far door of the ornate hall.
[<#17324>] Menelglir, too, watches Lominzil, his face impassive as the Squire sinks down to sit on the ground. Slowly, he turns back to Arashen and Laeraelin. \"... ... ... ... ... ..., ...,\" he tells them. \"... ... ..., ... is ... ... thick ... ..., with ... ....\"
[Arashen(#24692)]
A shadow passes over Laeraelin\'s eyes, but she says naught when Menelglir speaks. Arashen moves towards one of the tables to fetch two glasses of wine while his mother approaches the other Telpekhor Knight and the Girithlin Squire.
It is to the latter she speaks, her voice softening. \"You have the look of a Girithlin. Was the lady arrested your kin?\" She glances up to Menelglir for further confirmation.
[Laurelinn(#10854)]
The golden vines swinging to her shoulders jingle when her hair is touched -- and now and only now, Niphredil\'s lids give a blink and she lets her chin bounce in a nod. Quiet, she is. In deep thought, in acquiescence duty, yes. \"You can stay if you wish to,\" she says at length, to her father, but after a quick scan across the Telpekhor lady and the unmasked men of the Order, the question seems rhetorical. Lominzil, as he sinks to the ground, is given a look both empathetic -- and repulsed. She frowns at him. Her hand jerks out -- then stops, retracts -- as if she may have considered dragging him back to his feet.
But no, she moves across the hall -- picks up the ruined wooden sword from the ground, lest someone trip on it, and passes it to the servent who comes from the wall to take it from her -- and pauses only at the door to wait for the Knight-Marshall to walk in time with her.
Then the lady turns to disappear through the passage.
\"Yes, she is my sister,\" answers the sitting Squire, not raising his eyes. \"The last thing she would wish to do is to speak with the Pretender. Do you believe me, Lady?\"
[Elusul(#30120)]
Having had his offer accepted by the somewhat mute NPC lady, Elusul and his partner are now slowly circling the dance floor. The knight, an accomplished dancer who usually leads with spirit, is watching the comings and goings with interest.
[Menelglir(#17324)]
\"His sister, kept safe at great personal cost and danger,\" Menelglir nods, affirming Lominzil\'s answer. \"You will both excuse me, though. I have some duties to attend to,\" he continues, scanning across the room to find the green dragon head-clad ball goer. Two steps he takes that way, before pausing, turning back and speaking quietly to Lominzil. Laeraelin, surely, can hear, but he does not seem to care, his tone harsh.
\"You will either wear that uniform with pride, or you will not wear it at all, Squire. If you wish to continue to wear it now or ever more, then you will stand up and act like a civilized man and a member of this Order. Or if you cannot bear to remain at the ball, then you will excuse yourself politely and return to your quarters. You will not, however, continue to disgrace the Order and the uniform of the Order by moping about on the floor. Have I made myself clear?\" But he does not wait for an answer before bowing to Laeraelin, adding, \"my apologies, cousin,\' and leaving.
[Calardan(#30834)]
Calardan evaluates the room, with his daughter proceeding in front of him. His eyes go this way and that, from the dancing Elusul and his wife to, almost reluctantly, the spectacle in the corner. Words have passed about the Resolve of Dol Amroth throughout the night yet here is its true character, drained of its strength at Caldur. Harsh words, accusations and capitulation, resignation.
His head swims, and not from the wine. Then he is gone.
[Arashen(#24692)]
Before Lady Azrabar can respond, Meneglir begins to upbraid the Squire. Laeraelin steps away, still within earshot but attempting to give the men at least the semblance of privacy. Arashen brings her a glass of wine, looks between his mother and Lominzil and then steps away after Menelglir. Only after both men are gone does she answer the Squire\'s question.
\"Yes,\" Laeraelin responds, with no hesitation. \"I do believe you.\"
\"It is her arrest that disturbs me the most. I have heard of Farielle Girithlin\'s tale.\"
\"I lost two brothers to the Haradrim. One has not walked in life for forty-five years my son is far older than he was ever allowed to live.\" Even after so long there is still grief to be read in her countenance. \"The other was captured and enslaved to the oars. For five years we thought Lachluin dead.\"
\"And then he returned,\" She says simply, her voice even quieter. \"Escaped and then carried upon adventure ere he found our shores again.\"
\"I know what a rare fortune it is to regain a loved one from the Southroners. It is hard enough to lose them to those cruel people, but once regained...to have them face suspicion amongst their own: It is not a precedent I will tolerate.\"
\"Forty-five years,\" echoes Lominzil, looking into the face of Laeraelin.
\"Thank you, Lady,\" says he, and stands so that she needn\'t stoop to talk to him. \"I would bring them honor and trust.\"
But the straightness is gone from his shoulders, the fire put out from his eyes.
[Arashen(#24692)]
\"I know you would,\" answers Laeraelin, smiling softly. She reaches up to touch his arm lightly. \"Take heart. She is alive and this will be sorted out. Imrahil is wiser than his servants.\"
\"I have done my family and my Order enough disgrace this night,\" says Lominzil quietly. \"Please excuse me, Lady.\"
With bow and salute, he kneels to collect his costumed helm and sword, and walks to the door.