Reunion in the Pony (Three Horses and an Ass TP)

Parlour

A cheery fire crackles in a stone hearth at the eastern end of this small parlour. A few low and comfortable chairs sit around the fire, covered with a light brown and green checked material. Standing in the centre of the room is a small table with a few chairs set around it, a crisp white cloth laid over the top of it. In the middle of the table rests a large silver handbell, set on a platter in between two tall candlesticks. Someone has lit the candles and they, along with the fire, provide the only light in the parlour at this time. Curtains are drawn over the window to hold back the night.

Obvious exits:

Out

[Gwendion(#24427)]

A cheery fire crackles in the stone hearth of the Prancing Pony. Gwendion rests in one of the chairs, a local book splayed open in his lap, his head drooped forward, eyes closed. He shakes away sleep, letting out a mighty yawn and reaches for the mug on the end table beside him.

There are more than a few Breefolk here, enjoying nightcaps and discussing amongst themselves quietly, many with an odd glance or thumb jab towards the foreigner. Save for this, the parlor is a calm affair.

[Arathis]

Suddenly, a boy scampers to the parlor’s doorway. Peeking his head over its side, the youth scans around the room quickly, stopping to look directly at Gwendion. He then hurries his shoes back across the hallway, disturbing the parlor’s peace. There seems to be commotion at the Pony’s entrance.

[Gwendion(#24427)]

A brow is cocked in response to the boy. Others in the room immediately get up to investigate, Gwendion is slower to do so. His will wanes quickly enough to curiosity and he stands, folding the corner of the page and closing the book he strolls over towards the foyer of the Pony.

[Arathis]

Those who turn to the hallway are however met with the approach of another foreigner, this one armored with a winged helm beneath his arm, and his mail otherwise dirtied. Some retreat for his way, and he halts then only before Gwendion.

“ Well, Hir Gwendion,” be begins, the tongue of his homeland leaving casually from him, “let us sit.”

[Gwendion(#24427)]

No small amount of relief lifts from the shoulders of the other knight. He slaps the mailed shoulder of Arathis, \"It is well to see you so, Lord Isilrim,\" he greets with a wide smile.

\"Sit? Only if it is first to share a drink,\" it is only now that he spends a moment to search the face of the man, seeking the appropriateness of his mood.

[Arathis]

The moment returns kindly: a smile, though capped by the droop of weariness, answers Gwendion first. A temper likewise, calm but worn, marks the manner of his words: “Aye, Hir, it is well but it shall be better if we sit while we drink, and on no saddle.”

Arathis gestures towards some chairs in the parlor, ere walking there.

[Gwendion(#24427)]

\"I have already staked a claim to a pair nearest the fire,\" Gwendion says, directing Arathis to where he was sitting. He calls out into the common room for a pair of drinks, then guides the weary Knight to a seat.

\"Then be still for a time and speak when it suits you. If sleep comes first,\" he laughs lightly, \"I doubt they will come to move you.\"

[Arathis]

Arathis peers queerly at the seat, inspecting it with a touch of his hand, as if the sight were odd to him. Folding into it, he reaches for a mug from the server its contents are first sniffed, and then, with a muted shrug, heartily taken.

So the Lord Isilrim sits for some moments, silent and in apparent peace, ere remarking in line for his fellow Swansman, “You must reckon me mad by now, Hir.”

[Gwendion(#24427)]

Taking his seat once more, he too takes up the brew and sips at it, setting it beside him, \"If I were to speak true to you, Lord Isilirim, I would say madness is how we must live in such times. Only in places such as this,\" he says with a gesture to the Prancing Pony, \"Can sanity survive. Although,\" he ponders, \"To name your Inn the Prancing Pony begs a question of madness as well, I suppose.\"

[Arathis]

The response earns a singular chuckle from Arathis, its end blended into speech: “Call the careless mad, and you shall find it among both the simple and the elaborate.”

Blithely scanning around, the Lord Isilrim swigs another and leans forward some. “So we have pranced many leagues, and with little appearance of necessity. You were right to question my leaving. But now, it is due that you understand why we, two blades otherwise, are reclined in ‘Bree’, whatever this colony should call itself.”

[Gwendion(#24427)]

\"I wish I could say that long ago I gave up wanting to know the minds of men but I can only claim I have given up the hope that I will know.\"

He too manages a tired smile, \"It seems a perilous time by most to venture such a trip. But then, it has been many lifetimes since Gondor was not in peril, if you can claim such a time has ever been.\"

\"Knowledge or no of our task, I will serve as true as ever. Though I sense with understanding of it, my part could be played better than without.\"

[Arathis]

A nod answers first, left first unfollowed as Arathis again looks about the room. His head, unhelmed and with muddied beard, remains so canted away when he speaks: “Your service, Hir Gwendion, is no different from my own. Thus you have right to understand.”

Turning to the man directly, he continues simply: “By what reason a knight of a city in need was sent away to Minas Tirith, I am unsure. For know that I have come to my office not long before our Prince’s disappearance, having seen him last in the capital and so have only recently become aware of the finer workings of our Order.

“Already, I have found much discord and unsurety among sword-brothers, regarding the same matters which drive us now north. So you will understand why I chose you, Gwendion, as one long away from the counsels of Dol Amroth, to join me upon this journey and also why I could nonetheless not betray our mission at our departure, without first gaining sense of your heart.”

[Gwendion(#24427)]

\"A fair reply,\" Gwendion says measuredly, \"But now my curiosity has been piqued. I have heard little of discord or hesitation. Indeed, I was brought back from my post to war with the pirates in the trade lanes.\"

\"I see a lack of resources certainly. Perhaps even desperation. My hopes for the future are words best left unsaid, even between brothers, and yet such grimness spoken aloud marks much unseen from my eyes.\"

He leans back, taking up his drink and drinking deeply from it.

\"You have prefaced our mission with sobering words. What then lies for us?\"

[Arathis]

“Aye, discord,” repeats Arathis, “womb of treachery, foreign none to the history of Gondor. But it is unwelcome in our Order and, pray, we shall end it upon our return.

“Know, then, that it has befallen the Herald of the Prince, who would carry his word even in absence, to judge on his behalf: between much blood, shed in war mayhap upon Umbar herself, should our Prince be therein and peace, whose cost, mayhap, be the head of our captive Prince himself.

“Some would advise the latter. Elphir finds himself amongst them for he claims there to be much suspicions about his own capture and rescue, saying it unlike the manner of the Corsairs, and he has grown paranoid against some knights.

“He is aware, however, of my line, of the oath sworn by my brothers against Umbar, and judged rightly that my blood would prefer by instinct war against the Corsairs and their haven. So he has asked me to seek first temperate counsel in an odd ally of the Imrazor, as the failure of Dol Amroth in war shall, in time, threaten all Free Peoples upon this earth.

“I have agreed so we trek north, blind and in the midst of winter, to find Imladris, dale of Elrond, Lord among the Eldar.”

[Gwendion(#24427)]

\"Imladris,\" Gwendion repeats with surprise in a hushed whisper, \"Men cannot track the Eldar by foot, much less find their hidden fortresses. I do not know their Lord\'s name nor his manner, but of the few tales I have heard, none speak of a fondness for men with those folk.\"

\"I am sure you have the means to you and we will find this place. But, Arathis,\" he says, losing some formality in his words, \"They will answer your queries and then end us so we cannot speak of their secrets, much less bring news of their council to Gondor.\"

[Arathis]

The thought at once narrows the eyes of Arathis and arches his brows. Atop slight bemusement, he then answers: “Elphir is wiser and more wicked a man than I had previously thought, if he has engineered so a plot for my death, fearing I would contradict him. He would, after all, become Prince with the disappearance of his father.”

He pauses slightly, jawing the air, ere concluding: “But he has my word, and we are to go.”

[Gwendion(#24427)]

\"My confidence in him is not shaken in the truth of his character. Only in the truth of his knowledge.\"

\"It would not be my first of choices but men\'s tales are what they are. We shall see the truth of them,\" Gwendion raises his cup once more, finishing the brew, \"One way or another.\"

He wipes his lips with the back of his hand, before continuing, \"Rohan and its ways were known to me. The Dunlending barbarity was a given and expected. But these Breefolk. An unexpectedly idyllic people from what I\'ve seen of them. Their concerns are of harvests and ale and the miller\'s daughter. You have just arrived but it is difficult not to feel,\" a pause, \"Lighter in such a place. It is not unlike many of the towns on the west coast of Anfalas.\"

[Menelglir(#17324)]

It does not take long for word of a commotion over an arrival in Bree to reach Menelglir, and only a bit longer for the squire to get word that the new arrival can be found in the parlour. A knock at the parlour door announces his arrival, and he steps in with a grin.

\"Sir...I thought it might be you, from the noise of the chatter in the Common Room.\"

[Arathis]

Reclining further, so as to corroborate the words of Gwendion, Arathis offers his own: “The more distance from the borders of Gondor, whether west or north, the more peace. Yet that war, in part, is not of our choosing and were it not for those of our kind who kill and die to fight it, these Breefolk would instead be burdened by metals and toil.”

Flying a gesture of three fingers to a nearby server, the Lord Isilrim greets the coming of Menelglir with the same, calling out for him, “Hail, Squire. Have you found time to rest and tale with these folk?”

The same server soon returns, three new mugs in hand for the Swansmen.

[Gwendion(#24427)]

Gwendion too waves the Squire towards the pair, \"Find a chair and speak of tales of courage and strength of the people of Bree!\" The few Breefolk in the room glance at the Knight through tightened eyes, but the Knight\'s tone and smile speak only of friendly jest.

[Menelglir(#17324)]

\"Some, sir,\" Menelglir replies to Arathis, grinning quickly to Gwendion as he pulls a chair closer to the fire. \"Though I think when it comes to tales, the scop has captured the imagination of the people of Bree. As for bravery...well..\" A cough, a quick blink--Menelglir looks around the room and then away quickly. \"Well, tis a lovely land?\" he offers. \"I ..need to hear more tales, of course.\" \"

In Sindarin, though, he next continues. \"I have not seen that strange man--Foxbrush, was it? Since the night we arrived. But I did meet a woman here--she claims her husband is from Gondor and she speaks our language.\"

[Gwendion(#24427)]

\"She knew you to be of Gondor by your look? Or,\" he darkens, \"Did you tell her this fact?\" Gwendion says, concern rapidly growing in his eyes, \"A cause for caution if our Ranger knows her not. She could draw attention to us by those we rather not have the attention of, if she is indeed not already one of these people.\"

\"What did you learn of her?\"

[Arathis]

The brows of the Isilrim sharpen at the exchange, so as to even press his eyes closed.

At length, he remarks only, “It would be unkind to learn, already at arrival, that it is known we are from Gondor.

“But I would meet this man, if it is known.”

[Menelglir(#17324)]

\"I never mentioned I was from Gondor,\" Menelglir continues in Sindarin, his chin lifting up in defiance as he replies, though he directs his words to Arathis specifically as he continues. \"I know better than that. She guessed it by my looks--she said I look like her husband and that her husband is from Gondor. Then she spoke in Sindarin. But even so, I never told her I was from Gondor, not even after that.\"

\"As for meeting her husband, she invited Findon and I to her home..but her husband is ill, she says. He was a prisoner for a time in Umbar, but there was more that she did not speak of. Something that happened to him a few years ago.

The Squire blinks slightly, looking at Gwendion. \"A Ranger? You mean Foxbrush--the man who looked like one of Lord Faramir\'s company? I heard they are called Rangers here, but...I thought they are allies.\"

[Gwendion(#24427)]

\"Indeed, allies they are. And by such I would garner their opinion of this woman. But, if her husband is in town and they have been here long there may be little story to it.\"

Gwendion sighs, finding his fresh mug and drinks from it, \"If her loyalty and character are true, as my hope is, we should speak to her soon so news of men of Gondor in Bree does not spread all over town.\"

[Arathis]

The words of Rangers garner a smile, wry in manner, upon the visage of Arathis.

He then repeats: \"If it is known, I would see him for an ill man may find comfort in his countrymen, who too are enemies of Umbar.

\"But then it must be understood clearly, whether it is known or not.\" An expectant gaze fixes upon the youth.

[Menelglir(#17324)]

\"It is known but it came not from me,\" Menelglir insists, setting down the mug that he has just picked up. \"It seems that all the Common Room of this inn now know the word \"Gondor.\" But not from me, as I say, and I venture not from Findon, either. If I had to guess, I would say it was the scop\'s doing. Free with his words is he. And free with his implied insults that he then twists about to protest that he meant no insult at all. But...well, that is no matter. The man is who he is and why he is with us is beyond me.\"

[Gwendion(#24427)]

\"Worry not Squire, your words are trusted to be true until proven otherwise,\" Gwendion reply, patting the youth on the shoulder.

He looks to Arathis now, tired, \"It seems today is a day for naught but grim news. Before the next town, perhaps we should find a manner more mundane than Knights. Trade our armor for merchant wear of Bree and keep our swords hidden, if close.\"

[Arathis]

A firm draught pulls the Isilrim lord further into his chair.

\"Had I any wits,\" he considers, \"I would name the Rohir a spy, meant more to derail our journey. For the advisors of King Theoden are trusted little even within the Mark, and Hraefengar had betrayed a curiosity undue before we had left Edoras.

\"But he is, now in Bree, no longer of our company.\" A sharp exhale, as if the matter were decided, ere he adds: \"I had asked King Theoden for the escort of some Riders, should the road through Dunland prove dangerous. A better judgment than his would have informed me that it is dangerous, only if escorted by Riders. -- Alas!

\"But let us be humble before their dead.\"

And then, to Gwendion: \"There shall be no next town but there shall be road, upon which no traveler ought to pass without blade and mail.\"

[Menelglir(#17324)]

\"Grim news?\" Menelglir looks between the two knights, curious, but he shuts his mouth quickly. \"Our horses alone mark us, though--there are none like them here in Bree, it seems. A few cart ponies is about it,\" he adds before Arathis explanation draws a grim look to his face.

\"Sirs...Hraefengar appears to have made good friends with our ally. The Ranger. It would not surprise me were he to be our further traveling guest.\"

[Arathis]

“The extent to which this Foxmush is an ally I do not know, nor much do I care,” says Arathis freely, displeasure well writ across him.

“Let him carry the Rohir back to Edoras, as neither of the twain shall join us.”

[Gwendion(#24427)]

\"Then the only grim news is that you have yet to find a bride,\" Gwendion says, with an unexpected chuckle, \"Have you found any candidates yet to pick up on the way home, Squire?\"

\"If you cannot, I am sure the Lord Isilrim and I can find a young girl with a proper dowery for you and your family.\"

He glances around the room, \"Though in what form it may come I could barely begin to guess.\"

[Menelglir(#17324)]

\"A...bride?\" It\'s unfortunate that Menelglir has picked up his ale again, for he now chokes on it, at least managing not to spit it all over the parlour in surprise. He swallows hard, eyes Gwendion, then smirks.

\"Well, there is a certain young lady that took quite a liking to me. Unfortunately, she is only 5 years old. But I assure you, I need no help.\"

[Gwendion(#24427)]

\"Five,\" Gwendion frowns, \"Well, we could talk to her parents. Perhaps should could apprentice with a Lady-in-Waiting. And then in a few years, the marriage can go through as arranged. What was her name?\"

[Arathis]

“I believe,” starts Arathis atop a yawn, his normally hard words now rounded with weariness and ale, “that we have brought sufficient coin to find a lady for young Menelglir and I do not doubt that an arrangement could be made, whereby some of that coin would be returned to the Telpekhor.”

Another yawn, and the mug of the Isilrim droops in his hand. “You are aware, young Menelglir, that the Telpekhor -- along with the Girithlin -- claim to descend from the Princes of Cardolan, the land we had passed between Tharbad and Bree.

“In our time apart I rode those lands, and found ruined towers from the Girithlin, but not of the Telpekhor. The land is wide, aye -- know you that I too was once a squire, to the Lord Thorondur Girithlin himself? A man of varied repute, perhaps, but…”

In this manner, the Lord Isilrim falls asleep as he speaks, yet dirtied and mailed in a seat of Bree.

[Menelglir(#17324)]

\"Her name is Caoimhe and she is daughter to Muirgheal, wife of the man of Gondor,\" Menelglir answers, adding with a smirk, \"and she has a twin brother that I\'m sure Lady Gweneth Bragollach would desire to wed as well. We can make it a double wedding, in fact. Would that suit?\"

Grinning now, Menelglir picks up his ale once more--holding it carefully this time lest Gwenedion arrange more nuptials for him. \"I\'m aware, sir, yes,\" he leans forward to Arathis, listening eagerly--and brows furrowing with a quick, frustrated or puzzled look to Gwendion as the Isilrim falls asleep. \"He must have rode long, to fall asleep like that...\"

[Gwendion(#24427)]

\"Quite so. Let us leave him be,\" Gwendion stands, taking up the asleep Knight\'s cup as well, \"As for Gweneth Bragollach, I thought she was a widow...\"

The pair disappear into the hallway.