(Archive) - As the Swan Turns Part Google

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Weather: Clear

Time: Nighttime

Season: Spring

Date: Mersday - April 19, 3021

Real Time: Tue Sep 12 11:32:36 2000

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Dol Amroth: Halls of Healing - Master Healer\'s Office

A rectangular chamber, perhaps ten paces wide east-to-west but only a handful north to south. Hewn of the ubiquitous white stone of the rest of the Citadel, the effect is fairly spartan--save the western end, where a low mahogany desk rests on a thick Southron carpet of green-and-black. Behind this stand tall shelves lined with scrolls, while before it rests a plain cushioned chair.

The eastern half of the chamber is a work area, as evidenced by the raw, scarred workbench at chest-height, covered with objects of arcana. The eastern wall is lined with a lattice from which hang bundles of fragrant herbs in the midst of the drying process, while around the room are placed small wickerwork baskets lined with kingsfoil, giving the musty air a hint of green spring.

Northward four windows yawn onto the night, tall and deep-silled, cut into the rock of the wall. Through the murky, rippled glass, the torchlit streets of Amroth-town far below may be seen. Lamps depending from plain-steel chains are set in each corner of the rectangular room, with another atop the desk.

participants:

Amano:

Lithe and broad of shoulder is this youth, lean and wild as a proud wolf. Wiry muscle ripples as he moves with supple, self-assured grace tall he is, long of leg and limb, well-built and with an athlete\'s narrow hips. Fierce and fiery are his eyes of dark gray, large and slightly tilted beneath a few stray locks of hair keen and of savage beauty is his countenance, patrician and fine, the line of nose and jaw elegantly sculpted. His is an upstanding mane of spiky raven hair, such a deep hue that blue light shimmers within it, stormtossed as though blown by some unseen wind. A thin band is tied around his brow, presumably more to keep his unruly hair out of his eyes than to symbolise anything, the ends of the streamer of cloth falling to his shoulders.

Draping his wide shoulders and narrow body is a fitted tabard of a snowy white, worn over a shirt of the same hue, broidered with silver-white thread, with the elegant silver Swan of Dol Amroth borne upon his left breast. The sleeves of his shirt are slightly short at the cuffs, exposing hard, sinewy forearms tightly wrapped in silver bracers. His long legs are clad in trousers of the same spotless soft white, tucked into black leather boots that have been polished to a mirror-like shine. For all that this nineteen-year-old youth might still seem gangling with his height and leanness, the ferocious, fire-born intensity of his spirit adds age to him, and gives due credit the name of Amano, a lofty and noble spirit.

Dania:

Slender and graceful is the maiden. Her curious shinny eyes are as dark as a moonless night, gazing out with a look unperplexed by anything or anyone at all, radiating intelligence which she often choses to hide. Her raven-black hair falls on her shoulders and down over the small of her back. Her skin is fair and flawless, like one who had never been exposed to sunlight and lives by night. Her brows dark and shapely, her lips full and her chin strong. Like most of those in her familyline, her facial features lacks no trance of youthful strength though she is of a beauty surpasses by little in her own way.

Dressed in a simple sleeveless white dress, flowing like a cascade of snow, hugging her shapely figure and descending down to her feet. Pale gold and silver threads embroidered the edges of her neckline. She wears no jewellery though, but a long silver chain that disappears into the crevasse of her breasts beneath her dress. But one will never see her without a silver ring around her finger. Insignificant perhaps, but she wears it always. Intricate paterns adorn the face of the otherwise plain metal.

Ivriniel:

Cascades of lustrous, raven coloured tresses fall almost to the waist of this woman. Pulled back with glittering jeweled combs, it is elegantly styled, pulled taut along her face, framing her beauty. Silvery grey eyes, lined with rows of long dark lashes, are deep pools of beauty against the alabaster whiteness of her skin, shining with the wisdom, experience and peaceful serenity of her many years. A haughty tilt of her chin proclaims the ancient blood which runs through her. Graceful fluidity marks her movements, delicately shaped and tall, she carries the full bearing of her bloodline with dignity and compassion.

Upon her shapely figure is a dress of the finest white satin, intricately designed but deceptively simple in appearance with glistening strands of silver woven into the fabric. A v-neckline stops short as rows of silver capped lace rise from her tiny waist. Slender fingers, often tinged with colour from her work with herbs, wave through the air as she punctuates her expressions with use of her hands, either in amusement, animation or ire. A shimmering cloak of royal blue, lined with silver and trimmed with soft white fur falls from her delicate shoulders, Completing her ensemble is a tapesty bag, well worn and heavily used in her work as Master Healer, as it contains many of the most used ointments, tinctures and dried herbs.

Rowaen:

A tall and grave young man, with jet-black hair and sullen blue eyes which radiates a coolness as they stare out into the world around him. A lean, warrior frame, his arched dark eyebrows crown his long-lashed eyes. His strong features do not diminish the youthful aura he has about him. One can indeed say that this young man is rather attractive, despite his reserved looks and sometimes an expression of respite that he wears, as if hiding a hidden torment.

He is clad in a tunic of the purest white, covering most of his lean upper body. Upon it, in shimmering silver, two proud signs of the Silver Ship and the Swan of Dol Amroth adorn the otherwise plain material. Beneath his tunic he wears a white shirt, almost seeming like velvet, and so do his trousers, being spotless and pure, common to a White-squire of Dol Amroth. They end in black leather boots, smooth and pure. More silver sparkles, a plain, thin silver chain laying lazily around his neck, descending to his chest, seeming to further providing light to his form, besides his fair complexion. However, should one notices with a greater care, a unique silver ring is on his fourth finger, that seems to be carefully taken care of.

scene description: The two squires Rowaen and Amano pay the Hall of Healing a visit. Both with different reason, yet how great is their surprise when they find the Princess herself in her office...

The shadows of the night are eased by the light burning brightly on the corner of the mahoghany desk as Lady Ivriniel works late. The scratching of a quill sounds as she dips it repeatedly into a pot of ink and scrawls more lines upon the vast array of papers on her desk. One paper is picked up and her pink lips purse to blow gently against the wet ink, silvery grey eyes perusing the information written there before she folds the paper and then, picks up a candle allowing a few fat drops of candlewax to puddle onto the fold as her sigil is then applied to the mold.

Quiet and still the Princess sits for a moment before her hand brushes back a few tendrils of raven hair from upon her brow. Slowly she rotates her neck and shoulders as if the long hours have taken a toll of weariness upon her. A pitcher of water is picked up and the goblet upon her desk is refilled and then brought to her lips as she partakes of the refreshment. Setting the glass down, a circle of moisture seen upon the fine wood, Ivriniel picks up the quill and again begins the tedious work as her shoulders lean forward to dip the quill into the ink.

On the other corner of the chamber, quietly she moves as she arranges several scrolls neatly on another spare table, obviously meant to serve that purpose. Finishing her last chores of the day, Dania prefers to remain by the side of her Princess still, her dark eyes sweep the room, noting that there are still a few things here and there which need to be put in place. For she is not one who can settle easily on a messy working place, and she does not like the idea of the Princess being unable to find the things she needs promptly.

She glances for a while at Ivriniel, aware of how late it is past beyond the Princess\' sleeping time, but decides not to bother her. Slowly she moves towards the windows and closes them slowly, for the cold midnight wind is by no excuse harmful for one\'s health. She walks towards one of the table and lit a few more candles. Shading the flame, she brings one of the candle and goes to where Ivreniel is seated. Slowly she casts the candle down on the table, watching the flawless features of the Princess.

\"Is there anything else that you need, my grace? Excluding a good rest,\" she smiles at her.

Startled by the soft voice of her Lady in Waiting, obviously forgetting that the young woman was still in the chambers of her office, Ivriniel looks to her with a smile upon her soft lips. Motioning to one of the chairs across from her desk, the sister of Imrahil says gently, \'Do sit for a few moments Dania. With the tournament and the illness of Lothiriel, I feel that I have not had a chance to speak with you in weeks.\" A twinkle lights up the tired grey eyes of the sister of Finduilas as she inquires, \"So tell me--- what is this I hear about a young man?\"

A flask of wine is taken from a silver tray upon the corner of the desk and Ivriniel pours herself some of the finest Dol Amroth wine made an then inquires, \"Would you care for a glass while we speak?\"

A soft knock on the door disturbs the ones inside. Slowly the door opens, a lad clad in the purest white, bearing the crests common to a White squire, stands in the doorway. His blue eyes gaze coolly into the room, yet do not see any present. For a moment he stands in awe, then a voice quite familiar to him comes from the office and another soon follows. With a smile the lad walks up to the office and again produces a soft knock, yet this time he does not enter at once, knowing his love is not alone.

Looking up at the sound of a soft knock upon the door, Ivriniel calls out, \"Enter, please\"

Hearing a lady\'s voice granting him entrance, Rowaen\'s slowly opens the door. His blue eyes roam the office, at once recognizing Dania, the sight of her bringing a smile to his face. Then he notices the other woman... he remembers seeing her once in the tavern, guided by knights... Figuring the Lady is of great importance Rowaen makes a gentle bow.

Amano saunters into the Halls of Healing, the tall, lean youth bearing a slight wound on his right hand, as though he had scarred his knuckles again training though he deemed it merely a scratch, he had been instructed to come here for a healer to look at it, much to his dismay. His keen, searching gaze alights on Rowaen standing before the office door, and with an easy grin the young man strides over to stand behind his friend...only for the Nimothan to open the door, revealing the two ladies within. So it is that the white squire refrains from thumping his friend\'s back soundly in a friendly fashion, opting instead to sketch a bow to the Lady within the room. He straightens, giving Rowaen a grin before turning his eyes to the Princess.

A guarded expression keeps any emotion from showing on the countenance of Ivriniel as she glances up to the man. Nodding her head regally, she does offer a soft greeting, \"Good eve to you sir.\" One eyebrow raises in question as she drops her eyes to hold those of Dania and she inquires, \"Is this your young man?\" Before the Lady in Waiting can respond, yet another man enters the small office of the Princess. The lateness of the hour or perhaps the weariness takes somewhat of a toll as the giddy humour of Ivriniel bubbles out in soft laughter as she says, \"Another guest in the middle of the night. How interesting.\" Raising sea grey eyes now twinkling with amusement she asks of this new arrival, \"And how may we help you sir?\"

A sense of weariness overcame the expression of the young woman, and at the sudden question of the Princess, she falls silent, as if unsure of how to react to this. \"My grace..\" she manages merely and eyes Rowaen questioningly, even more so as Amano enters. The remark of visitors at the lateness of the hour fails to amuse her. She looks at the Princess, knowing what hard day it has been for Ivreniel and turns to look at Amano, but quickly facing Rowaen again, raising her eyebrow at him.

A bit amased even seeing his friend Amano here on this hour, Rowaen turns to face the lad, nodding him a greeting, his blue eyes gentle. Still he is bothered... the lady, somehow she seems familiar, his mind giving him the feeling he should know her, yet it does not provide him with a name... So still his amnesia troubles him, still the helplessness arose...memories of his past hidden for him. Somewhat sad the young lad shakes his head, discomforted of his situation.

Another attempt he makes, alas with no avail. The name would not come... His eyes stand questioning as he gazes at Dania, noticing her surprisement. Yet no name...so Rowaen merely returns the look, his almost desperate now.

The silence that seems to have befallen Rowaen does not affect Amano in the slightest, however. He does notice his friend\'s discomfort, though, and moves forward slightly, as much as to give the other youth time in which to settle himself, the usual fierceness of his gaze now vanished. \"My Lady,\" he addresses Ivriniel, for all his youth and rough appearance as polished and courteous as a noble before one of the House of Imrazor. \"I am Amano, a White-Squire of the Order. We apologize if at this late hour we came in, but it was merely happenstance that I came upon both of my friends here in this office. If I may be so bold as to say, that perhaps Rowaen merely wished to visit Dania and to make his acquaintance with you my presence here is not as important a matter, but merely chance as I said before.\" He falters slightly, glancing to the other youth.

The brow of the Princess furrows as she looks to Dania, as if questioning her sudden change of mood and then the last arrival speaks, drawing her attention. A dimple appears as she says, \"Pleased to meet you Amano, White Squire of the Order.\" Glancing from Dania to the man, identified as Rowaen and then back to Amano she grins and inquires as her fingers steeple and then lower, \'So you are saying that there is no -real- need of a healer? That the appearance of everyone here tonight was strictly conincidental?\"

Dania merely glances at Ivriniel as she takes a step back such as to be able to face all of them at the same time. Regaining her usual confidence, she smiles at her Lady and nods her head at Rowaen. \"I do not expect that both of you are aware of who she is, who stands before you now?\" she says, but glancing at Rowaen in particular. \"The Lady Ivriniel, sister to the Lord Imrahil himself,\" she smiles and watches Rowaen, before turning to Amano, giving him an amused look.

Rowaen, hearing Amano\'s words, get\'s even more confused. Now his eyes shift between Dania and Amano, them clearly trying to tell him something he should know. Then the relief came, Dania identifying the Lady. Realising his mistake Rowaen bows once more. \"My Grace, I too am a White-Squire of the order. And indeed it is as Amano said I came to visit Dania.\" Finally Rowaen seems to regain his normal grave and calm expression, no more troubled of remembrance to his amnesia.

A grin appears on Amano\'s lips, as innocent a grin as he can manage, though it still appears somewhat wolfish as he manages *not* to glance at the cut on his hand. He seems to have recognized the Lady from a distant memory, for as a youth he had visited the palace many a time in the company of his father. He however gives Dania an indecipherable look, before attempting to conceal his hand without looking like hiding it behind his back, managing to appear both calm and yet embarassed at the same time. His tongue, however, seems to have no lack of words just yet. \"Your Grace shall forgive me I hope,\" he murmurs smoothly, \"for entering in such a haphazard manner.\"

A chuckle of amusement slips from the lips of the White Lady as she looks at the three gathered in her office at this hour of the night. Silvery eyes seem to pierce into each as they travel from one face to another before she finally tilts her head in acknowledgement to Amano as she murmurs, \"Forgiven? But of course, White Squire. Far be it from be to deny one of the Order my forgiveness.\", a tinge of sarcasm rests in those words as she smiles, \'Now. The -truth- of your visit to the Halls of healing?\"

The maiden eyes the two White Squires for a while before glancing back to Ivriniel. But she says nothing much, not very keen in invoking more impatience from the Princess\' already stretched humor. She eyes Rowaen though, and offers him a smile. Taking a step closer to Ivriniel, she places a hand gently on her arm and bids her to relax. She stands and looks at the two then, \"Indeed I know of your purpose, Rowaen...\" she says with a look and smiles at Amano, \"Did you come together, however?\"

The calm gaze wanders, finally resting upon the maiden he loves. A bit questioning Rowaen looks at Dania overhearing her words. There he speaks, answering her question. \"Nay we did not come together, at least not to my knowing.\" Briefly he glares at Amano, perhaps looking for his opinion, yet he finds none of use. \"It is a mere coincidence I would run into Amano here. I only came to see if I could aid Dania, perhaps to relieve her from some daily duties.\"

\"As for myself..\" Briefly catching himself from his usual drawl the tall youth gives the pair an amused look, one eyebrow raised, before coughing and turning to the Lady, the smile returning to his face, as he almost comically raises his right hand in a weak gesture. \"I was supposed to have the healers look at this, my Lady, though I feel tis merely a scratch.\" He says nothing however, about the fact that the \'scratch\' is still bleeding somewhat, the score cutting straight across his knuckles and down his hand. \"An accident it was, during my training, and I promised to have it looked at, so here I am.\"

A flicker of irritation flares in the eyes of the Princess as Dania lays her hand upon the arm of Ivriniel in an attempt to soothe. Long, slender fingers rest upon the desk, splayed open a s she looks to Rowaen, \"And you do not have squire duties to attend too?\" Glancing back to Dania for an instant, a look of warning, perhaps given to the woman as she then addresses Rowaen again, \"Dania is in service as my Lady in Waiting and I find that I have no need for your services at this hour. Thank you.\"

Somewhat familiar to the reactions of the Princess, Dania offers a smile, even though she looks nearly so uncomforable as she takes a step back, bowing a little, murmuring, \"Very well, my grace,\" and gives a look, almost a warning at Rowaen.

The countenance of the Princess immediately changes to one of concern as Amano finally brings forth the injured hand. Rising from the carven chair she says with a hint of censure in her voice, \"Come. Let us see to taking care of that hand.\" Going to the long wooden table that is filled with all means of healing potions she says over her shoulder, \"Tell me, was the cut caused by a longsword or other weapon...that will help determine what salve to apply.\" The glance of the Princess falls upon her Lady in Waiting and the White Squire and she asks softly, \"Is there something else I should know?\"

Anxiety furrows Amano\'s brow, as he glances aside to Rowaen from the corner of his eye, knowing the extent of the other youth\'s protectiveness regarding Dania. Wisely he does not touch upon matters other than that of the injury, murmuring in reply, \"That it was, my Lady, one of the blunts that we used in sparring turned out to have a nick in the metal that was sharp enough to cut.\" He moves forward so the Princess may see the injury better, keeping his expression carefully neutral. Yet he turns at Ivriniel\'s question to his two friends, his curiosity piqued as well to what they might reply.

A brow is raised as now Rowaen directly faces the lady Ivriniel, not at all pleased with her sayings. \"My Grace? A squire so I recall is there to serve others, to help where-ever he can. It shows his concern for other people... Perhaps you think of me as a foolish lover, here to whine away with his lady love. I can assure you my Grace, that is not so... Therefore your words discomfort me, they seem untrue... I can not deny I want to be with my love, still I will not see her into trouble, help her with her work even. Perhaps this short poem I made in my absence will make it more clear, my Grace... I made it in my desperate longing for her, when I did not had the chance to return, yet still the desire...\" The lad looks unmoved for a second then suddenly he speaks... The expression on his face changing as he is remembered of his former misery, a shadow almost coming over him.

Ivriniel picks up the injured hand of the White Squire and carefully examines the cut. Her fingers gently probing the area around the wound and remarks, \"Thankfully, there is enough flesh left to stitch the area closed. That will provide a better chance of healing.\" Glancing up as Rowaen professes his love for Dania she remarks in surprise, \'Your lady love?\" Frowning a bit as her gaze shifts to the woman she says, \"Who is this man, Dania?\"

Rowaen speaks:

\"Oh my love, so far away now

will I ever see your smile?

love goes away, like night into day

it is just a fading dream...

I am the darkness you are the stars

our love is brighter then the sun for eternity...

For me there can be only you...my chosen one

must I forget you?

Our solemn promise?

Will autumn take the place of spring?

What should I do?

I am lost without you...

So is my wish... Speak to me once more.\"

So he keeps his silence, his blue eyes calmly studying the princess\' face. \"Blame my three year unwanted absence, yet please do not blame me or Dania...\" Rowaen looks away, slowly closing his eyes, his head turning to face the door, as does his body.

Raising her eyes slowly to meet the ones of the Princess, Dania is quiet for some moments before she speaks. \"He is my childhood friend, my grace,\" she tells her calmly, \"And one whom I hold dear, a lover if you may,\" she looks at her, and sighs a little. Dark eyes lowered once more to the floor as the youth recites his poem and she frowns, as if hearing distant voices from distant times. Then she looks up at the Princess again,

\"So it is,\" she smiles wearily, \"Three years, and now he is here, pardon my ignorance and harsness then, my grace,\" she looks at her, \"For a maiden who had been blinded so by love perhaps, I still have my eyes to see where my path of duties lay,\" She falls silent then, her hands limp by the side of her and she shakes her head to herself.

At the mention of stitches a grimace appears on Amano\'s fierce countenance ere he can stop himself. \"Stitches..well..I am not unacquainted with them, but an unpleasantness they are, that I can bear if I must. As long as my hand shall not be dulled or hindered in its use, which I fervently hope not..\" He falls silent, feeling that perhaps his injury is at the moment insignificant to the ongoing conversation. Yet he adds, \"Do as you think best, my Lady, I trust you shall..\"

A dimple appears as Ivriniel takes note of the grimace upon the face of the White Squire and smiles to herself. The words spoken are oddly soothing and comforting, \"You will feel little pain as I shall give you a little draught beforehand.\" An impish grins splits her lips as she adds, \"And I shall apply a foul smelling ointment to the area. Foul enough to make you forget everything but the stench of it filling your nostrils.\" Seriousness once again grips the sister of Imrahil as she pats the man on the arm, \"Forgive me, dear man. Your hand will not be dulled or hindered by any means, the years of experience have taught me well.\"

Listening to the words of Rowaen and Dania as she attends to the young squire, Ivriniel makes no comment until silence has loomed for quite some time in the room. Then finally she raises her head and says, \"I will speak to the both of you in the privacy of my chambers three days hence and we will determine what is to be done about this -situation-.\", the sternness of her voice is unmistakable as she dismisses the two.

Sullenly Dania eyes Ivriniel, almost ceasing to notice the presence of the rest, for she almost remember, encountering something similar to this in the earlier years of her womanhood, and the thoughts do everything but please her. She offers a smile however, and nods her head. \"As you wish,\" she tells Ivriniel calmly, and moves towards Rowaen, \"With your dismissal, my grace,\" she nods at Ivriniel and turns away.

Amano\'s expression would be cause for laughter, an odd mixture of tangible relief and uncertainty, if it were not for the keen hopefulness in his grey gaze. He winces as he flexes his hand experimentally, disquieted as much by the injury as the situation Dania and Rowaen are in. But no matter..in his eyes, the fate of folk were left to luck, the cast of the dice, and courage. Confident that the pair would come through, given the years they had endured without each other, he speaks not, offering only a grin to Dania and the other squire before his farewell.

The youth seems not at all pleased with Ivriniel\'s words, figuring they do him unjust. Yet her position refrains him from harsh words, discussion even, perhaps even more his friend aswell being there. Still as Rowaen speaks his displeasement does not remain unnoticed, his voice calm and grave. \"It will be as you wish my Grace, although your words seem not fit. Still I am not here to cause trouble, surely not for the maiden I love... So come I shall in three days, to find what is your grudge towards love... For my mind does not seem to understand what we do wrong.\" As he opens his mouth for another phrase, Rowaen seems to reconsider, overthinking his words. Then he shakes his head in disapproval. \"Good eve my Grace... And to you Amano my friend, I wish you pleasant dreams.\"

Swiftly he walks up to Dania, firmly grabbing her hand, the two leaving the room together, Rowaen\'s eyes still holding a grave expression.