A Tooth and a Gem
A tale freshly told of the Gondorian
Findon and Menelglir approach Arathis after their journey the speak of Bor\'s death and Findon being a Dragonslayer
Dol Amroth: Knights\' Tower - Hall of the Faithful
The vaulted ceilings of this, the entrance hall to the Knights\' Tower, are picked out in glorious frescoes of the Ainur at play in the bliss of Valinor. Its eastern and western walls are columned with smooth pillars that reach to the arches above--buttresses that support the ceiling. In each of the alcoves formed by these columns there sits a statue--for this is the Hall of the Faithful of Numenor! Built to honour the heroes of the Men of Belfalas it was--and those heroes look upon it now from down through the ages in eternal stone.
At this hour, the great smokeless lamps suspended from the vaults above shed their flickering, unsteady light on the hall, casting shadows on the statues and of them. The windows, high above the buttresses, are dark and silent.
Contents:
Menelglir
Findon
Obvious exits:
Corridor of Guard [Findon(#29212)] The hour is late. From afar, rain can be heard mercilessly hammering rooftops, stairways, windows. \'Tis a muffled noise, here mingled with the crashing of waves upon the shore more distant still, but ever present. The hall is largely deserted. Footsteps echo between the pillars, and the walls, and the frescoes and all. A traveler returns Findon, with a winged helm under his arm and a sheath at his side a sack slung over one shoulder. He seems just shy off the road dust still clinging to his boots, his hair still windswept, sweat still on his brow. Dol Amroth: Knights\' Tower - Knight-Herald\'s Spire A sublime synthesis of martial and diplomatic refinement defines the essence of this spacious noble sanctum of Dol Amroth\'s Knight Herald. Curved walls of fair white stone bear carved relief scenes of the Edain\'s valiant struggles in wars across the ages. Spaces between each tableau hold rich and finely-woven tapestries depicting the renowned deeds of storied Heralds of yore. Tiles of deep blue marble grace the floor, softened by beautiful carpets bearing intricate patterns of Numenorean design in burgundy and gold. Seven high and clear-glazed windows look westward across the city towards Tirith Aear and the broad sea beyond. Upon the southern wall are large and finely carven mahogany bookcases holding myriad volumes spanning the broad spectrums of art, science, lore and wisdom. A great desk of polished mahogany occupies the chamber\'s center, furnished with a high-backed seat of soft red leather. Similar chairs sit before the desk to accommodate visitors. A comfortable leather couch with a pair of matching armchairs sits hospitably before the large white stone hearth and mantelpiece that dominates the southern of the chamber. Curious items of diverse description sit in ordered array across the room a large telescope crafted of teak and brass, a fanciful chess set of dwarven design, a round shield blazoned with the horse-motifs of Rohan, and a side board of polished lebethron holding a crystal wine decanter and several golden goblets. Mahogany double doors carved with the swans of Imrazor set with brass fittings open westward to a portico and a glorious view of the Sea. Contents: Calardan Sea_Serpent Obvious exits: Portico of the Sun [Findon(#29212)] There is a heavy knock on the door -- once, twice three times. [Arathis] “So, enter then,” commands the voice from behind the door. [Findon(#29212)] Enter Findon. His mien is drawn and wearied his gaze seeking first the utterer of that invitation. From within the folds of his cloak, he retrieves a baldrick, as he comes forward. He says: \"It is done.\" [Menelglir(#17324)] Directly behind, Menelglir, fist swiftly set to chest in salute. [Arathis[ Arathis appears recovered, his weight returned and his black beard clean. He looks between the two knights unsmiling. “You have let the Bragollach die?” [Findon(#29212)] Gaze averted, Findon exhales slowly through the nose. When he does answer, after a notable pause, it is quietly: \"Aye.\" [Menelglir(#17324)] \"No, sir,\" contradicts Menelglir with vehemence. \"I have long been a medic in the Order, and if it was within my skill, I would not have let him die. It would not be my place to make such a judgement on a brother in arms.\" \"But...alas...he was dead as he fell, or nearly so.\" [Arathis] The Herald surveys the two, looking long upon Menelglir as he speaks. What seems a grin comes then to work upon him: “You have learned to speak rightly since I have left you, Hir.” Motioning to the leathered chairs before his desk, he says in passing, “Good,” ere taking to his seat behind. “Tell more.” [Findon(#29212)] A crease sets between Findon\'s eyebrows. \"I have never before seen such a thing,\" says he, once settled in one of those chairs. \"He was gravely wounded, \'tis true, but...\" His glance strays, settling on Menelglir briefly ere fixing on Arathis. \"It seemed that he fell on his sword, by unhappy chance, and so died.\" [Menelglir(#17324)] Standing this scrutiny unblinking, Menelglir does at last respond in kind, a thank you spoken quietly only as: \"Hir.\" He glances behind, sitting as invited, looking to Findon, nodding his agreement. \"True the light was rather difficult, but it seemed to me that the Lord Bragollach was not as gravely wounded as Squire Conalmir--so I chose to tend the Squire first, with Lominzil, who has some skill as medic, speaking to Sir Imrakhor.\" \"And then it was as Sir Findon tells: Sir Imrakhor simply...fell on his sword. Intentionally? Fate at work? It is...well, even now it seems unreal.\" [Arathis[ Arathis raps twice the desk before him, his gaze alternating between Findon and Menelglir. He so considers, before opening a palm them: “Was he not armored?” [Findon(#29212)] \"He was,\" Findon confirms, nodding once subtly, \"And it is all the more strange for it. Though, from the blows he took, it may be that it was in such poor repair as to allow a blade to pierce it.\" He shakes his head. \"I did not think to look.\" [Menelglir(#17324)] \"I did not think to look, either, for he was clearly passed even as it happened. The others carried him, but I was preoccupied with the Squire--I thought we would have two deaths that day,\" Menelglir says. [Arathis] “Must one think to look?” Arathis scans between them, closing his palm. “I shall see if perhaps the squires have thought. “And what Enemy found you then so far from our harries? Have the Corsairs become so brazen?” [Calardan(#30834)] In through the Herald\'s doorway arrives Calardan, carrying a decanter of red wine and two glasses. He stops upon seeing Findon and Menelglir. \"It seems our company has grown,\" he says to Arathis. [Findon(#29212)] \"Perhaps they have, indeed.\" At once, Findon\'s curt answer pauses, and he averts his glance and it becomes distant. So too his tone when he says: \"It was not Men. We had come upon a deep cavern, and found there artifacts the last remaining to Queen Firiel, we believed.\" He pauses, upon the entry of Calardan who draws his regard. [Menelglir(#17324)] \"No, if the thing we found had drawn the Corsair\'s attention, it no longer matters, for it is dead now. It..\" Menelglir\'s answer fades he turns to Calardan. \"Evening, sir.\" [Arathis] “Rise,” commands Arathis to the seated, lifting too himself before Calardan. “You should learn this man well.” He moves to retrieve the decanter wordlessly, gaining too the necessary goblets. [Calardan(#30834)] The decanter and goblets taken and a beleagured eye turned to the Herald and his words, the Hlorithain salutes both Findon and Menelglir. Yet he only names one: \"Hir Menelglir,\" before turning to Findon with, \"Hir...?\" [Findon(#29212)] Evenly, Findon rises. \"My apologies if I seem coarse the road has been long,\" says he, and with a hand raised to his chest, he bows his head to Calardan: \"I am Findon, Gwethilmir\'s son.\" [Menelglir(#17324)] Somewhat bewildered in countenance, with a swift glance to Arathis and then Calardan, Menelglir nevertheless rises without delay. \"Sir Calardan and I have already met,\" he says, returning that man\'s salute. [Findon(#29212)] Another nod, somewhat lower. Findon says: \"\'Tis my pleasure, to be sure.\" [Arathis] “Findon of the Teluhmetar.” Arathis hesitates at the other’s attestation, before adding likewise, “Menelglir of the Telpekhor.” Wheeling an arm about his desk, he portions each within his chamber his goblet’s due. Displeasure seems however to take well upon him: his visage flat, and the wine unenthusing. “Now,” he considers sorely between the younger knights, lowering again to his seat, “mean you to have crossed the Queen’s specter?” Retrieving his goblet, he marks them clearly, “Know I would not be jested before such company.” [Menelglir(#17324)] Not re-taking his seat, nor reaching for his goblet, Menelglir grimaces at Findon\'s answer, then turns to meet the eyes of older knights, one after the other as he speaks. \"A dragon.\" [Calardan(#30834)] The wine is halted at the Hlorithain\'s lips. [Arathis] Arathis is silent. He finishes his goblet, pours it again, and smiles. [Menelglir(#17324)] \"Sir Findon, whose mighty blow slew the beast at last, can explain,\" Menelglir says. [Findon(#29212)] A sigh. It is heavy. Findon sits. [Calardan(#30834)] Yet the man on the wall recovers soon and his wine is drained. \"He speaks truly, Hir Findon? You have slain such a beast?\" [Arathis] Arathis keeps his goblet near. “Custom demands that you adduce a tooth,” he says beside a laugh, his eyes however sharp and narrowed. [Findon(#29212)] With hesitance, Findon\'s glance lingers on Arathis for a time before it turns to Hlorithain. And back. He rises, turning to the door, outside which, perchance, a sword rests in its scabbard, and a sack for travel. When he turns back within, he draws near the Herald\'s desk and there sets down his hand forcibly: and along with the object in its grasp -- half an arm in length wicked, and sharp. Findon\'s glance alights on Arathis\' own briefly, ere he turns again to leave. [Arathis] “STAY!” demands the Herald immediately. [Findon(#29212)] So Findon halts, and turns his face. Whatever words he might have thought to speak, he does not. A sinew works upon his cheek, ere it grows still. That is all. [Menelglir(#17324)] In absolute silence and stillness does Menelglir now sit, eyes only upon the Herald. [Calardan(#30834)] Calardan is close enough to see without moving yet his empty glass draws him close. There upon the desk is the tooth, and there shortly after is a sigh. He pours from the decanter then looks to Arathis. \"Dragonslayer,\" he whispers to Arathis. [Arathis] Now it happens then that the Herald long forgets his companions. He is occupied with the bone before him, pressing its fissures and rounding its roots. Its heft, even, he considers wordlessly, lowering and raising it with both hands. It is replaced upon the desk, and Arathis leaves his seat. To the open airs he offers, “The Bragollach is slain by his own sword, and a beast of Morgoth is vanquished.” When in end he turns again to his fellows, he raises his goblet, “Praise be to Findon, servant of Ulmo, Dragonslayer and Knight.” [Calardan(#30834)] \"To Hir Findon,\" echoes Calardan, raising also his glass. \"Come, Hir Menelglir. Join us,\" he adds. [Menelglir(#17324)] At this Menelglir does stand, finally lifting his goblet in silent salute to Findon. Still, his countenance remains grim. [Findon(#29212)] With a frown, Findon answers: \"Think you I alone should bear the mockery?\" \"\'Twas not I alone each man sorely tested it, and aye, the Rohir Lady also.\" [Findon(#29212)] \"Yea,\" Findon ammends, \"Both women did, indeed.\" [<#30834>] \"Does he not claim such honor?\" asks Calardan. [Arathis] \"Aye,\" Arathis answers openly to the elder knight -- solemnity, as it were, somehow easing his countenance. \"I mock none. A feast shall be held in your honor, Hir Dragonslayer.\" [Arathis] \"A festival, indeed,\" he corrects quickly, \"Let Man rejoice Eru be pleased.\" [Findon(#29212)] To this, at length, Findon sighs. \"If it pleases you, Hir.\" \"Ware, Hir Dragonslayer is weary after fullfilling the tasks you have set before him, Herald,\" says Findon says the Dragonslayer. His face is straight, his tone not dry. Well, only so far as the utterance of that title, in any case. \"All Lords who hold the Prince as their liege shall be arrived within the fortnight: though Duinhir of Morthond sends his sons in his stead.\" [Calardan(#30834)] At the Herald\'s answer to his query, Tarnost\'s heir raises his goblet to lip and pours a slow procession. He is long of thought, like those he calls kin. [Arathis] “They shall all submit to your honor,” assures the Lord Isilrim, a hand extending towards the Dragonslayer to recover the Herald’s token first offered. “Yea, Findon,” his bass projects warmly, “you have done greatly for your Order. “Allow me the tooth to present to the Prince,” he says evenly, looking upon the wyrm’s boon. His mirth unfaded, he continues: “And who bears the Bragollach’s stone?” [Findon(#29212)] Then, a smile briefly alights upon Findon\'s lip with a nod he both accepts the praise given, and returns that token by which the Lords were summoned. \"It is yours,\" He assents. A sigh, at the mention of stones. \"I bear that also. I had thought to deliver it to Hir Gwendion.\" [Calardan(#30834)] There is still the crimson at the bottom of the Hlorithain\'s glass, so he sets upon it and lets the Lord Isilrim weigh the issue. [Arathis] “Nay,” retorts the Prince’s Herald, approaching Findon deliberately. His gaze has cooled, but there remains still an oddly amused lilt to his tongue: “You shall deliver it now to me, and I in proper to the Bragollach heir, as ambassador to Imrahil. “Bring it, and let us mourn a fallen swordsman.” [Findon(#29212)] \"Your words, Hir,\" Says Findon, evenly. From a cord around his neck, the stone is retrieved, and thus presented upon his palm. \"Here.\" [Calardan(#30834)] Calardan looks worriedly to Findon as he reveals the Red Stone about his neck. As it is handed to Arathis, he cautions, \"Do not wear it, Hir Isilrim.\" [Findon(#29212)] Creases on his brow, Findon looks to Calardan: \"Come, Hir.\" \"Whyfor do you speak so?\" [Arathis] The leather cord twines between the Lord Isilrim’s fingers, allowing the crimson gem to hang freely, his hand aloft and open. “The Bragollach are my kin by many marriages,” he directs towards Calardan keenly, squaring his brows likewise. “The fallen’s mother is of my house.” The gem floats, its flight according the Isilrim. “Explain yourself or depart.” [Calardan(#30834)] \"I will no part in the burdens of the Sudden Flame it is matter to be borne by those of the House alone. There is meaning in all acts,\" says the Hlorithain. \"Do not wear it, I beg you.\" His hand is frozen to his glass. [Arathis] “I do not pretend to.” The answer from Arathis is flat. The gem is slid from his fingers to his desk, adjoining there Morgoth’s tooth. “I would be alone.” [Findon(#29212)] All this Findon considers. His frown remains, until his silence is broken. \"Permit me a question ere I go, if you would,\" Findon tells the Herald. [Calardan(#30834)] Once a man of the High-Guard, sure-footed and swift-voiced, the Hlorithain Knight releases the glass and steps to the desk\'s fore. He salutes and makes to leave before hearing the Dragonslayer\'s request. Then, Calardan stops. [Findon(#29212)] \"I would unmake that which the Bragollach did,\" Says Findon, after a brief pause. \"But I can not now see how -- You set a course for us in Druwaith Iaur, and now I ask you: whither now?\" [Arathis] The Herald ponders Findon’s question, nodding once before him. “He has unmade much himself,” he answers first, his hands settling to fists upon the his desk, “Pursuing Truth shall reveal the remainder. “For now, Findon, it is your task to stand a Champion, when our enemies would say instead that Amroth is weak.” [Findon(#29212)] His glance shifting evenly t\'ward Hlorithain and back, Findon answers with a salute at the last. \"I bid you good night, then.\" He hesitates ere turning t retrieve his gear and make his departure: \"It is good to see you returned to health, Arathis.\" [Calardan(#30834)] Calardan is first out the door. [Arathis] “It is good to see you a Knight, Hir Findon.” A departing salute bids the exiting., Stairway , and Prince\'s Council Hall