Bor\'s Folly: Whisperings in a Tavern

It is growing late, but that does not subdue the business of the tavern. The air is thick with the smells of food and alcohol and the sounds of a busy bar. Among the crowd is the Squire Calarion. He sits alone on a bench, cradling a large mug of ale from which he occasionally takes a small drink. The Squire seems t be lost in thought.

Set back from the crowd and obviously refreshed from a hot bath and a warm bed, the Lady Calenloth is here, tucked into the shadows. The young woman does not look any more at home despite a few days stay, but almost blends into the crowd... as long as she stays in the dark. Her eyes fall upon the Squire Calarion, where they rest for but a moment, as she considers breaking his reverie.

The door to the tavern is pushed open, and admits yet another patron into the busy establishment. This new patron is yet another of the men of Gondor, easily spotted by his dark hair, and gray eyes. For those who have traveled far from Gondor his face has become familiar, he is Sir Celondir Telamarth -- one of Imrahil\'s Swan-Knights. This evening he eschews his armor, but his sword remains at his side. A heavy blue wool tunic, emblazoned with the Swan-Ship, padded gambeson, and a heavy cloak are worn as well -- no doubt in a vain attempt to keep the cold at bay.

At least the tavern is doing a brisk business from the men of Gondor: Not too long after Celondir, another man enters, similarly attired, except that the colors of his garb are black, silver and blue, for the Telpekhor house. Menelglir pauses just inside, searching the room for someone or something.

However, despite the many Gondorians, and Swan-Knights at that, Calarion is unresponsive, still devoting all his attention to some unforeseen problem or dilemma. What it that problem may be is anyone\'s guess.

Calenloth, from her corner, does not notice the entrance of either of the Knights, but continues to observe the Squire. Motioning for a serving girl, she asks, \"That man, there,\" pointing to Calarion. \"Please ask him to join me at my table.\"

The young girl weaves among the crowd to Calarion, tapping him lightly upon his shoulder. \"Sir,\" she asks, with a gesture towards the shadowed nook where Calenloth hides, \"The dark haired Lady, she has asked for you to join her.\" The girl smiles, and disappears back into the crowd.

Upon hearing the server\'s message, Calarion rises, taking his half-empty mug with him. He pushes through the crowd slowly before arriving at Calenloth\'s hiding place.

\"Good evening, Lady Calenloth,\" he says with a faint smile, \"you requested my presence?\" At this, he takes a seat at her table.

\"I do not expect to see Cwen here...but Calenloth?\" Menelglir is more than half talking to himself, though perhaps Celondir can hear him, for he says, \"I will fetch us drinks. Brandy?\" Not really waiting for an answer--distracted--he wends through the tavern toward his goal of finding a server and/or Calenloth.

\"You will forgive me, Squire, for having to call you over here,\" Calenloth begins. \"But I hope you understand I am more comfortable here among the shadows,\" she continues, her hand circling to indicate the sea of fair haired persons throughout the tavern. \"But I wish to help you.\" She smiles.

There is a skirl of wind, a whirling of cold as the door opens and closes. A pair of men enter, both hooded and cloaked warmly. One is young and one is old, and the old man\'s hair, what shows of it from out the folds of the ice-rimed cloth, is as white as the snow that is beginning to fall outside. The young man speaks to the tavern-keeper, who gives a swift nod. The young man then comes to the elder\'s side, and the two make their way to a fine table, not far from where the Stoninglenders sit.

At the entrance of Menelglir, Sir Celondir glances back towards the other knight. \"Sir Menelglir,\" the Telamarth intones smoothly with a nod, \"will you join me for a drink?\" The Knight motions towards an empty round table, and begins to drift in that direction -- a hand drifting up to unclasp his cloak.

\"Help me?\" Calarion inquires, lifting an eyebrow, \"Help me with what exact-\" He stops short and leans closer...

\"You mean … …?\" He asks, his voice dropping to a whisper, \"I … … honored... what exactly … you … … mind?\"

The young woman\'s face brightens at the Squire\'s admission, \'Honored?\' she laughs. \'Why in that case I am honored to help you if I can.\' Noticing the newcomers to the table besides them, she glances quickly, offering a shy, but friendly smile, then drops her voice. \"… intent, … … …, Squire,\" she whispers slowly. \"This … must … … … advise … any ….\"

\"Very well. Find us a table,\" Menelglir calls, hurrying off to find himself and Celondir drinks.

The elder Swan-Knight nods his head to Menelglir, and moves to an empty table. Celondir tosses his dark cloak over the back of a chair, and then unhooks his sword belt. The weapon is leaned up against the table, and then the Knight takes a seat -- waiting on Menelglir to return with their drinks.

The pair of Eorlingas take their seats, and someone comes to toss a couple of more logs onto the fire in the hearth. No maid comes to ask them their order, but wooden mugs are brought to them, and a whole roasted fowl, just the size for two, and an assortment of cheeses, butters, and some bread is brought to them. The old man stretches out his feet and looks about and laughs, the sound richly resonant.

\"My …?\" Calarion says, his voice dropping to a whisper, \"… … admit, … fancy … … …. I would … … act upon … … … ask … to … … … wedding.\" The Squire blushes a little.

It is not long before Menelglir returns with two glasses of some sort of brandy. He squeezes in between the tables, which takes him past the two Eorlings. \"Your pardon,\" he says, edging past to get to their table right next to the pair. \"That looks to be a fine meal, sir,\" he grins, setting the two brandys down, one in front of Celondir.

\"Blackberry brandy,\" he says to the other knight--and then, his gaze going from the Eorlings to beyond, he spots Calarion and Calenloth--and laughs. \"One lost Squire and one Lady found,\" he says as he takes a seat.

\"Then … is as … suspected,\" the girl whispers with a smile. \"… … … should … her. I … … … … consent. … … … warn … … … approach … … ….\"

The commotion around the newcomers is impossible to ignore and Calenloth closes her eyes, listening to the sounds of the ringing laughter. \'Who do you suppose they are?\' she notes quickly to the Squire. \'Quite important, I would guess.\'

Celondir\'s gray eyes wander over to the \'lost\' Squire, and the Knight gives a rueful shake of his head. \"When I was a squire my Knight never allowed me much time for romance, or even flirting.\" He says in a warm and even tenored voice, as he picks up his cup of brandy -- an easy smile dancing across his usually grim features. \"What should we drink to, Sir? To our old Knights, or to ...?\"

\"Fair … ... I … … wish … frighten … ….\" Calarion answers, he takes another sip from his mug, \"… … ask …? I … …is … good ….”

\"It is good,\" answers the old Eorling man, speaking in Rohirric. \"It is roasted wood duck, and there is a berry and bread stuffing. Quite tasty. And the mead is fine as well, about fifteen years old, I think, and lightly spiced. The cheeses are from the north borders of the realm. This one, particularly, is made of mares\' milk, and is fine indeed.\"

\'Yes, of course!\' Calenloth exclaims. \'Ask …!\' Her voice drops low once again. \"… is... recovering. … … … … ready … another … … mind, but I … … … suit … well. So …, … her to …. And I … give … … inclination … your …, for … believe … … help.\"

\'Oh!\' she exclaims once again. Something else has caught her eye. \'Excuse me for one moment,\' she asks politely, as she stands from her seat and crosses the tavern, weaving in and amongst the patrons. And casting another glance at the feast spread upon the Eorling table.

\"I do not think that particularly conversation is about romance so much as the plotting of romance. Unless I do not know the Lady Calenloth as well as I guess,\" Menelglir says, shaking his head as he looks again that way. \"And so, I would drink to youth and innocence. Both too easily lost,\" he says, raising his glass to his lips and drinking. \"But I would … … about …, Celondir, and how … … them. I … newly … … Knight, … … know, … … am … … … the … … or do … … thing--and … … … grow … … … or … … me....\"

That question asked, it is a moment before Menelglir realizes that the old Eorling is answering him, the flow of words in Rohirric at first not registering as directed toward him.

\"Again, I beg your pardon sir,\" Menelglir answers in the Common Tongue, \"but I cannot speak your language at all, alas. One of the women of our group speaks it well, but she is indisposed tonight.\"

\"It is rather rude to visit a land and not speak the tongue of its people,\" answers the old man, shaking his head. \"I would think that our good neighbors and allies would at least be able to speak it somewhat, those who come. Or at least bring more than one translator. I know that people of the Riddermark must needs speak the Stoningland tongue when they come to your land. At any rate. What is your business here, Knight?\"

The door opens, letting a swirl of cold air and snow in, before Conalmir shuts it. He pauses there in the doorway, putting his cloak hood down, taking his gloves off, brushing snow off himself and looking around.

\"To youth and innocence,\" Celondir says with a nod, hoisting his cup up on high. He places the cup to his lips, and takes a drink as well. \"Plotting romance? It sounds devious. About whom are they plotting do you think?\" The Swan-Knight asks, glancing at them in a sidelong fashion for a moment. Placing his cup back down on the table, he turns his attention to matters of the Order. \"Well, I will offer what advice that I can? Tell me of your troubles in full, and I will advise.\" Celondir says with a nod.

Celondir turns his head towards the older man that is speaking to him, and bows his head ever so slightly. \"Unfortunately, I believe our translator is back in our camp. Still, I\'ve found that the best way to learn language, or anything about a culture is to see it firsthand. If you could teach us some of your tongue, we would be in your debt.\" The Swan-Knight leaves it to Menelglir to explain their purpose here.

A pair of slender hands covers the eyes of the Menelglir as Calenloth sneaks up behind him. \"Guess,\" she says, nodding a greeting to the other Knight.

\"Plotting romance...I believe involving Lady Cwen in this case,\" Menelglir laughs, shaking his head. \"And...let me see...my troubles began when I listened too much to Calenloth and sort of ...talked a White Squire into asking to escort Cwen to her cousin\'s wedding...and they both felt awkward and then obligated. My own fault,\" he shakes his head.

\"Sir, I have made an effort to learn from Lady Cwen on this trip, but my head is not made for languages, it seems. But my business...\" He jumps! --and nearly spills over backwards, then laughs.

\"It was within your rights to order a White Squire to escort Lady Cwen to the wedding, but a better route may have been to ask the White Squire if he would care to do such a task. While learning the ways of courtly life are important, a White Squire\'s days should be directed more towards their martial training, and learning the ways of the Order.\" Notes Celondir quietly, with a slight shrug of his shoulders. \"I would not say you\'ve done anything wrong, but when it comes to activities involving Squires and Ladies in close proximity... I\'ve always found it best to let the Squire and the Lady have input on the matter is all.\"

Celondir himself lets out a hearty laugh as Menelglir is attacked from behind.

Conal tucks his gloves into his belt and after one more glance around the room - noting the two knights and Calenloth\'s antics (his lips quirk) - he heads towards the bar to order himself a drink.

\"Listened too much to me, Menelglir?\" Calenloth laughs, as the Knight regains his balance. \"I do not see how that would cause you trouble!\" She shakes her head and smiles.

\"Sir,\" she says politely to the elder Rohir. \"Forgive our apparent rudeness, as we do travel with one of your own. But she is resting after an injury today, and I have not progressed far enough upon my own lessons to take her place.\"

\"Yes. Your business. Here, in the Riddermark,\" answers the old man, nodding his head. He takes a leg from the duck, and also some of the stuffing. Then he sips at the mead, shaking back his hood. Piercing blue eyes regard the outlanders, and his lips twitch. \"I suppose I could find someone to teach you. There are those who might suffice. Gleowine, perhaps, or Hraefengar. Two fine scops, fine teachers, though both have little patience for this endless game. It has been so all my long life. I think it would be good if from now on only the tongue of the Mark be spoken in the courts of Edoras. What do you think, Sigwine?\" He looks to the younger Eorling, and then to the Gondorians again.

Calarion lets loose a little chuckle as he glances over to the Knights\' table just in time to see Sir Menelglir attacked. With a grin, he rises and walks the short distance over to the table, \"So, Lady Calenloth, this is the reason you had to be excused. Had I known the sinister nature of your motives, I might not have allowed you to leave.\" The Squire laughs before proceeding to greet the Knights, \"Good Evening, Sirs. I trust you are doing well.\"

Calarion\'s eyes drift over to see Conalmir, and, most likely in response to what his notice of the Squire, he leans close to Calenloth and whispers a quick message into her ear...

\"… … here.\" He remarks softly, pointing, \"… … … other … … … wary … asking … to … ... already … … roused his …, I … … wish … deepen ….\" After another moment he adds, \"I … … does … … a … here...\"

The door opens unobtrusively, admitting as few flakes of snow and breaths of cold wind as Lominzil can manage. Scanning the room with pale eyes, the squire moves smoothly toward the bar.

\"Well, if such arrangements could be made while we are here, we would certainly welcome them -- though our stay here in this village will be brief. We\'ll also continue our lessons with Lady Cwen as well. She is quite the excellent tutor.\" Celondir says politely to the old man. The Swan-Knight then looks up to the approaching Squire, and nods his head. \"Indeed, good Squire... Sir Menelglir and I are enjoy a good drink, and fine conversation. If my sword-brother doesn\'t mind, you are welcome to join us.\"

\"Yes, you are right, Sir Celondir,\" Menelglir answers. \"I\'m afraid that with no experience in many of these things, it will be trial and error for a while. A lot of error, alas.\" But there is too much going on around him for him to say more than that--or to give Calenloth more than a quick laugh at her antics. Then his eyes settle on the old Eorling.

\"I do apologize most humbly. My business, at the moment, is rather light hearted for once--we escort Lady Cwen to the wedding of her cousin in Edoras.\"

Conalmir turns away, holding a glass of the blackberry brandy Menelglir has told him of and smiles as he sees Lominzil. \"Have you had this?\" he asks, nodding towards his glass. \"Sir Menelglir told me it is quite good.\"

\"I … … … you …, Menelglir,\" Calenloth whispers with a smile. \"But … … not … our …, though … … tonight … … be... appropriate?\"

\'Yes,\' the young woman agrees, \'A better understanding would be most welcome in our company, and we are quite grateful for your willingness to assist.\' A polite smile to the Rohir elder, and a nod to the younger.

She turns to the Squire Calarion quickly, replying softly.

\"Do … …? I think … … … overestimating … … … this …,\" Calenloth says.\" to Calarion.

\"It is brandy,\" answers Lominzil, looking back at the tables, \"and strong. I see our kinsmen and kinswomen have come back for more. Ale, please.\"

Conalmir\'s smile widens briefly before fading. \"I look forward to it,\" he says. \"I wonder how it compares to Finstel\'s apple brandy...\" He waits a moment for the other squire to get his ale, looking around for a table for them meanwhile. \"Do you wish to join the others?\" he asks over his shoulder.

\"Menelglir, Menelglir... that name recalls a memory to mind.\" The old man tilts his head. \"Some years ago. Were you with a party of your sword-brethren who sought... the wisdom of the north or some such thing? Wanted escort at least through Dunland?\" The old man blinks, looking more closely at the man, then glancing to the others.

\'If you like,\' answers Lomin, then leaning in, \"Who is the man with them? He does not seem to be of the village...\"

Calarion makes his response to Calenloth, \"… you … right. … … seems …... … and … … defend … …, which … … somehow …. With … … mind, … … afraid … … … interpret … asking … … … … attack … …. Us … being …, it … … … we … … have … friendship, … … … brotherly …. I … … wish … put … … feelings … … duty … … … unity … … Order.\" He sigh, \"Maybe … right... I … … exaggerating … … … all ….\"

\"I don\'t know,\" Conal murmurs. He threads a way through the crowd towards the table, letting Lominzil follow. Once there, \"Pardon me, but may we join you?\" He glances from the knights to the lady and squire, to the unknown man, and bows respectfully to this latter.

As Calenloth says something low to him, Menelglir gives a little shake of his head and replies in the same low tone. \"Aye, … … here. … … Celondir … … … point … ….\"

Again, the young knight\'s attention is drawn back to the two Eorlings, though his gaze settles on the elder. \'Again, your pardon good sir, for I have not introduced myself. I am indeed Sir Menelglir Telpekhor, of the Order of the Swan. But...I do not believe I recognize you, though, yes, I was in Edoras so many years ago.\"

Celondir holds a hand up to Calarion and Calenloth, as if to silence their whispering for a moment. The Telamarth Knight\'s attention is Menelglir and the old man for a moment. The Swan-Knight is silent, and is his gray eyes are filled with interest as the conversation takes a strange turn.

Click, whirl, click, whirl. The tap of a boot, the spin of a spur.

The Lord Bragollach carries shadows and whispers in his wake, and into the tavern. Therein his eyes lie a fell worldliness and with those eyes, he moves from man to man, lady to lady, until at last, they stare out blankly ahead.

With a whisper of mail, Lominzil moves to stand by Conalmir, still as shadow in the echo of Menelglir\'s question.

\"One of the men who went with you was Hraefengar scop. He was abandoned in a town called Bree, and wandered long before he could find a way home. His family, his friends, they thought him dead. I was displeased. Most displeased.\" The old man shakes his head. \"But you were a squire then, no, and not the man leading the expedition. So we will not trouble with those noises. As for me, who am I?\" The old man gives a sidelong glance at his younger and silent companion, and the younger man laughs softly. The old man takes a long drink of the mead, and he nibbles at the cheese. \"I am the marshal of the Edoras muster, if that helps you any, good Menelglir. Or any of the rest of your companions.\"

\"Lord Theoden, I am one who understands such titles. If you so allow us within your city, I would draw from the wisdom of the House of Eorl.\"

Imrakhor stands straightly and his is not a beggar\'s request. He waits. For acceptance or for rejection, whatever it may be, he waits.

As the old man states his title and as Imrakhor then speaks his name, Celondir rises to his feet -- pushing his chair back as he does. \"King Theoden,\" the Swan-Knight says in a deep and respectful voice -- bowing his head and taking a knee before Marscaelc of the Edoras Muster. Apparently the Telamarth suspected a revelation of this sort when he motioned for the White Squire and the Lady to be silent. Even now his gray eyes flick back towards the Squire, watching for the young man\'s reaction.

Whatever confusion Menelglir may or may not have over the title, it does not show on his face. Nor does he speak the answer that might have seemed to be just on the tip of his tongue. Instead, he, too, follows Celondir, taking a knee, sharp glance sent to the Squires.

Without any prompting needed for her own person, Calenloth offers a low curtsey, casting her eyes to the ground as she holds her position.

Lominzil\'s head is level with the table, his eyes downcast, lips a tight line as he avoids looking at Imrakhor and the King.

\"If you understood such titles, man of the Stoningland,\" answers Theoden, turning his head to look at Imrakhor, \"then why do you call me \'Lord Theoden\' instead of \'Theoden King\'? As for allowing you within my city, I suppose I shall, but I grow weary of your folk coming here without having any idea of how to speak our tongue. I expect that to be remedied in future.\" He smiles at Celondir and Menelglir, at Calenloth and Lominzil. \"Rise, please. And I shall have fowl sent to you, and some fine drink. It is like to keep snowing for a day or two they were blizzard clouds coming in from the North.\"

\"Theoden King, you honor us with your gift then, and your presence here as well.\" Celondir says deeply, slowly rising to his feet once more. \"Sir Menelglir has spoken truthfully, and we have all been trying to learn your people\'s words. Unfortunately, a few weeks of travel are not time enough to learn your tongue.\" The Swan-Knight\'s hands move to clasp behind his back here, as he continues to speak to the King. \"As you no doubt know, we come from the south of Gondor, and sadly have little occasion to speak your words regularly. No, we must teach are Squires and our Knights to understand the languages of Mordor and Umbar... So that they might understand their enemies.\"

\"A meal fit for a king--I should have known. Thank you, Theoden King, I am deeply honored,\" Menelglir says, standing but bowing his head to the King.

\"Forgive my youth and lack of diplomacy,\" says Imrakhor, his voice flat. \"My companion, Sir Celondir, speaks truthfully. I will retire and await your counsel, if you deem me worthy, within the borders of Edoras.\"

Lominzil rises, but at the statement of the elder Swan-Knight he steps back into the shadows, stone-faced.

\"Theoden King,\" Calenloth murmurs, rising from her curtsey. \"Thank you for your graciousness.\" She steps back from the group, looking first to Menelglir, before turning to disappear back into the shadows.

Calarion, who also had bowed and risen in respect to Theodon also retreats into the shadows with a nod to the two Knights just before disappearing into the crowd.

\"Youth and lack of diplomacy can be forgiven, when it is phrased as a request. I am unaccustomed to be spoken to as an... equal by outlanders of the Stoningland,\" answers Theoden, looking darkly at Imrakhor. \"\'Forgive me. I will retire.\' These are words a lord speaks to his equals... or inferiors. You might want to learn better ere you enter Edoras. As for the rest of you...\" The king rises, and he inclines his head. \"I have things I must attend to. Chance perhaps brought us together. I ride hence back to Edoras after the storm clears. You are welcome as my travel companions. Even Knight Arrogant. As for the Lady Cwen, give her my regards.\"

\"We would of course be honored, King Theoden. Please, send word to us when you plan to ride for Edoras, and if we are able we will accompany you -- though be warned we do not travel as swiftly as many of the Lords of Riddermark. If our full party cannot ride with you to Edoras, then perhaps I will shall, and perhaps spend the time learning more about your country, your people, and your tongue.\" With that said, Celondir bows his head, and steps back slowly from the King -- moving then to join his companions.

\"We will pass your greetings to her, and she will be honored,\" Menelglir answers Theoden after Celondir speaks. Then he too draws away, glancing first to Imrakhor and then Celondir, and then wending through the crowd to find Calenloth.