Archive: Bor\'s Folly: The Journey Begins

The sun unveils itself to a new day as dawn comes to the Great Walls and Gate of Gondor. What the sunlight reveals before those Gates is a small contingent on horseback, and two wooden horsedrawn wagons. There are a number of pages bedecked in the crimsons of Bragollach who busy themselves preparing this contigent for departure. Atop a black steed, Imrakhor watches them impassively.

A clattering trot denotes the arrival of Menelglir on his steed, silver, blue and black of his cloak and the Telpekhor family flowing out in the wind. He slows his horse, then draws near to Imrakhor, nodding solemnly.

There is the sound of another horse approachiing, and atop of this mighty steed of Rohan, sits a golden haired woman. It may seem impressive that her patite frame can manage on the horse, but she seems to ride gracefuly - despite past rumours of her issues with riding. To the group goes, offering them all a smile while doing so.

Following Sir Menelglir is his squire Calarion. Atop his grey steed, the squire sits, his hood is raised and his cloak flutters in the light wind, its cloth grey like his horse. He stops just behind Menelglir, watching in silence as the two knights converse

Enveloped in a dark, furred cloak, Lominzil sits astride his horse with practiced silence, his stare far-off and detached from the present company.

And not too far behind, a polite clap of hooves echoes before a small palomino mare. A green wool cloak is draped around the small frame of Calenloth, who nods to the assembled group as she pulls up on the reins to slow her horse\'s gait.

\"It is good to see your riding has improved, Lady Cwen,\" says Imrakhor flatly, spurs jingling at his horse\'s sides. It is that jingle that draws a deep howl from inside the wagon before a large hound jumps out and comes to a heel besides the Lord Bragollach. \"You are fully healed from your fall, I presume?\"

Menelglir twists about in his saddle, looking for Cwen\'s reply.

Casting her blue eyes over to Lord Bragollach, Cwen offers a half smile, then biting her lower lip a moment while reaching down and patting her steed on the head.

\"The assumption you had made first, was more..correct to my well being. I am healing well however, the bruises have gone, on the outside.\" there then is a frown as for a moment some memories return briefly, but their pushed aside. \"I have had the help of friends, as well, in dealing with this.\" for a second her eyes pass to the Knight Menelglir, with a brief smile, then back to the Lord.

Turning in his saddle, Calarion watches Calenloth and Cwen as they arrive. To each he gives a nod and smile but he refrains from speaking, listening instead to the conversation already at hand.

Imrakhor looks from Cwen to Menelglir, and it almost seems he may laugh. \"Sir Menelglir, you may not know, is quite the hero in Dol Amroth. I am not surprised that his friendship has relieved you of your undue worries,\" he says.

\"I would know whether each of you is prepared. Think once more, for we shall not return to Gondor for some time,\" says Imrakhor with a raised voice.

Calenloth returns Calarion\'s smile warmly, but stays to the rear of the group. She looks downward, but nods to Imrakhor\'s statement.

\"Lord Imrakhor,\" Menelglir starts, shifting his gaze quickly away from the women--maybe he has gone a little pink at the ears, though his tone is suuitably dry. \"Would you like me to warn the women again, as I am apparently wont to do?\"

To the Squire Calarion, a smile is returned. And Cwen then replies to Imrakhor.

\"As I have heard.\" a nod follows, though to the Knight a look is given to him with a raised brow. \"I do not feel the need to be warned, I go into this knowingly myself.\" and her eyes then move to Calenloth, and gives her a smile - and perhaps seeing if the woman gives any reponse as well.

Calenloth looks up at Menelglir\'s comment, passing her head to the side. She says nothing, but notices Cwen\'s eyes upon her. \"Myself as well,\" she replies softly. She again looks down to her horse.

\"They seem plenty warned, Sir Menelglir,\" says the Lord Bragollach, panning his eyes to Menelglir and then ahead to the north. To the rest: \"We head north through Rohan, and then to the west until we reach Drwaith Iaur and its caves.\"

\"I shall ride in the fore with Lominzil and Sir Menelglir to the rear with Calarion. The wagons will remain in between. We ride until nightfall,\" he adds.

As if on cue, Lominzil guides his sturdy bay mare further up the line, grey fur cresting the hard edges of his face.

\"Up north? Not through Pinnath Gelin?\" Menelglir asks. He turns his horse about, readying to move to form the rearguard, and gesturing for Calarion to follow.

Looking to Calenloth a moment, a concerned brow is risen. However she looks back to the Lord Bragollach, and at hearing they will be going through Rohan Cwen cannot help but smile to herself and a hand reaches down again to pat her giant steed, before moving to leave.

Calenloth pulls her reins to join into the group. As she passes Menelglir, she says quietly, \"Hoping for a visit home?\" She waits not for his reply, however, but her eyes travel down to the green ribbon still tied to his sword belt, and smiles. Pulling ahead of him and his squire. \"Lady Cwen, is this path familiar to you?\" she asks of the young woman.

\"The Anfalas is an unforgiving land we would do well to avoid,\" is all Imrakhor says concerning their path before he rides out ahead of the company.

Cwen has leaned down to her horse, whispering something in it\'s ear. The Mighty steed turns its head as though replying to her in a way. Hearing the Lady speak to her the Rohirric woman turns her head up to look to her.

\"Come paths may not be all to..unfamilar. However it has been long since I had been there. I do welcome it.\"

Conal swings onto his horse from behind one of the wagons, and urges it into a trot, moving towards the front of the cavalcade.

\"Always I wish to visit home, for I am partial to the Green...Hills,\" Menelglir answers as Calenloth passes him. \"But as Sir Imrakhor says, we do not travel by that route. \"

More this knight might have to offer, but the appearance of a certain White Squire now makes him scowl. \"Conalmir!\"

The sun slowly rises in the sky, spreading its brilliant light upon Gondor.

The tail of Lominzil\'s mare swishes at the side of one of the wagons her rider keeps a steady watch on the lands beyond their caravan, and upon the riders behind.

Calenloth turns around to smiles mischeviously to Menelglir before nodding to Cwen, saying \"Perhaps the paths shall return their familiarity as we travel them.\" She pauses, listening to the rhythmic fall of her horse\'s hooves.

A simple nod is given, as Cwen falls silent.

At the sound of his name - and not so very pleasantly spoken - Conalmir looks up, and then rides towards Menelglir. \"Yes, sir?\" he says. His boots shine to the point of mirror-like-ness his uniform is spotless, not a fold out of place. But still, somehow, despite signs of rigorous combing, his hair looks just ever so slightly shaggy.

\"You are to ride rearguard with me and Blue Squire Calarion,\" Menelglir says, looking Conalmir up and down once and giving nodding. \"You will pass messages between myself and Sir Imrakhor as needed, but unless Sir Imrakhor orders it otherwise, your place is back here. Is that clear?\"

Menelglir\'s attention is focused on the Squire, alas, though from the faint smile that plays just at the corner of his mouth, it might seem that he caught Calenloth\'s look to him.

\"Very well, then. And here is your first message to carry--inform Lord Bragollach that I suggest you serve as messenger, and arrange whatever signals might be needed. HIs Squire can help you with that, no doubt. Then second,\" Menelglir says, \"find out when and if there will be breaks for the horses and the ladies--and convey that information to the women.\"

\"Yes, sir.\" The third time. Conal is quite a conversationalist. He nods once and rides forward at a slow canter until he finds Lominzil. Imrakhor is nowhere in sight and he slows beside the other squire.

Having ordered Conalmir up ahead, Menelglir frowns and turns to Calarion. \"We are still near to Minas Tirith and far from any danger. Ride up ahead and help Conalmir. See to it he does not make a mess of my orders,\" he says.

Calenloth nods to greet the White Squire as he passes her, continuing to ride beside the silent Lady Cwen.

\"Well,\" wonders Lominzil aloud, from the muffled furriness of his cloak, \"have the conversations of the ladies and Sir Menelglir already worn you out, Conalmir? I see this is going to be a long trip. I can recite poetry, if you like.\"

Conal grins appreciatively. \"Please do, oh noble squire.\" He glances back, having caught Calenloth\'s nod and gives her one in return. \"I am ordered to serve as messenger between Sirs Bragollach and Menelglir and as my first message to discover when and where there will be breaks for the horses and ladies. You, I am told, are the repository of all this vital information.

\"Right,\" replies Lominzil, brushing back his hood, manner instantly collected and businesslike. \"We stop to lunch, during the afternoon, and for the night, with other halts as the weather requires.\" He gestures, hand holding reins, to the clear sky.

\"These will be simple affairs, for Sir Imrakhor wishes to keep a steady pace I hope this is appropriate?\"

\"It sounds fine to me.\" Conal\'s voice is a bit dry. He and horses are not bosom buddies. He is a competent rider, after years as a page having horsemanship drummed into his head but not a born horseman. \"I shall inform them - please do have a poem ready upon my return!\" He grins once more, then turns and rides back towards the ladies, his face its usual politely reserved mask.

\"Of course,\" says Lominzil with an amused tilt of his head then he spurs his horse ahead and is gone.

\"Squire,\" Calenloth acknowledges the rider. \"I see you have joined our... adventure?\" She smiles, her eyes twinkling.

Conal nods somewhat stiffly. \"Yes. I am to inform you and your friend - \" his eyes go to Cwen briefly \" - that we will stop for lunch, an afternoon rest and then for the night with other halts as the weather requires. Sir Imrakhor wishes to keep a steady pace.\"

\"The Lady Cwen,\" Calenloth says, to introduce the Squire. \"She is a Bard and will be keeping lore on our journey as well.\"

\"I suppose horseback is not the way you had hoped to travel,\" she continues, disappointed at the slow pace.

Conal nods towards Cwen. \"Indeed, I would have preferred to sail,\" he answers politely. Courtesy dictates he not simply ride away while a lady is speaking to him - and when he glances ahead, Lominzil is already riding away. A quiet snort at this perfidy.

Calenloth shakes her head, smiling to herself at the Squire\'s formality. \"Indeed,\" she replies, \"I had guessed as much!\" She paces alongside the Lady Cwen, glancing ahead at the increasing distance between the three riders and the front of the caravan. Urging her horse slightly faster, she comments, \"I must admit, I had not known you meant to join us.\"

\"Prince Imrahil sent a letter to Sir Bragollach, granting his permission for Sir Menelglir and Squire Calarion to join him and attaching me to his company as well,\" is Conal\'s reply. He nudges his own mount into something a little faster than the sluggish walk they\'d been at as the lady does so. There is a pause. It grows longer. At last, somewhat desperately, Conal asks, \"You are accustomed to riding?\"

\"Why, yes!\" Calenloth replies, eager for conversation among the mostly silent caravan. Her own words fall more hurriedly than usual, perhaps only due to excitement, but the young woman carries a slight air of nervousness, it seems. \"My father traveled extensively, I with him. I did grow comfortable upon a mount. A smaller one, that is!\"

Conal nods and runs out of things to say again. They ride in silence - which doesn\'t seem to bother the young man at all. Indeed, he seems as at home with it as a fish in water.

\"And... yourself?\" Calenloth prods Conal. \"A horse is not a ship, certainly,\" she remarks, \"But you seem to hold your own?\"

\"My skill, such as it is, is due to several years of Prince Imrahil\'s Horsemaster drumming it into my head.\" And quite probably other parts of his body as well - though he doesn\'t mention this. \"I admit I prefer a ship.\" He gives his mount a look of resignation.

\"Well, perhaps our journey will point us in your /preferred/ mode of travel,\" Calenloth replies, a slight wave of nausea crossing her face.

\"You do not care to sail, lady?\" Conal asks. He glances behind them - Sir Menelglir is not scowling - then looks back to his companions.

\"No, no...\" Calenloth interjects, quickly, \"It is not that I do not... care... for sailing.\" She smiles, blushing slightly. \"I just...\" She laughs. \"You would not understand, I am sure!\"

\"I see,\" Conal answers. \"I confess I do not share that affliction, though I have known some few who do.\" His tone is one of courteous non-comprehension. That some people get ill while sailing is known to him - one must make allowances for their weakness - but not understood.

\"Well,\" Calenloth says, a brave but stiff tone to her voice. \"One can only cure an \'affliction\' with experience!\" Undaunted, she declares, \"And patience. For how am I to earn my own /sea legs/ if I but keep them on the ground?\"

A small nod of approval. \"With that attitude, you cannot fail, Lady.\" Conal even smiles, a swift flicker of expression.