(Archive) - A Sort of Homecoming

A Sort of Homecoming

Starring:

Thorondur Girithlin, Knight-Herald of Dol Amroth

Gweneth Bragollach, Lady Chamberlain of Dol Amroth

and special guest star

Indilzar Bragollach, The Black Knight of Dol Amroth

Amroth: Prince\'s Castle - Hall of Armour

This room serves as the entry hall for the Palace. Wide and long, as well as sixty feet from floor to arched ceiling it is indeed vast. The polished marble of the floor is slick and icelike, well-maintained. Flanking the hall to north and south are alcoves cut into the wall, where rest many suits of armour--monuments of past valor. The space between these empty husks is draped in richly coloured tapestries, bearing the devices of noble families and kingdoms long since turned to dust. They stop as the ceiling here the walls curve into a vault, and there a mosaic, intricately worked, takes over. On a polished silver pedestal in the center of the hall rises a large statue, some twice the height of a man, exuding a sense of noble melancholy even before the details of it are fully realized.

Light here filters in from windows spaced high on the walls to the north and south--dim light, though, compared to the brilliant glory that lies westward further into the castle--with lamps placed among the alcoves that add a gentle glow, glimmering on sword and helm. Eastward stand the great doors out of the castle, black giants of lebethron and silver thrice a man\'s height and width.

Spring has come, and the breeze off the bay this day is refreshing and warm. Much of the Citadel\'s population has taken to the outdoors today, the weekend, enjoying the fair weather -- and many have seen from afar the returning party from the east. Long before they have even attained the lower courts, a rumour of their arrival has gone ahead of the riders.

So it goes, and so there is no surprise when, alone and dusted like a dervish from the long miles of the road, Thorondur Girithlin comes striding swiftly through the grand doors. Already a group of assorted pages, knights, and others are awaiting him.

As the riders enter, so do two dozen servants leave the castle walls, taking the packs off their steeds, some bringing food and wine, others merely waiting to be told what is needed. At their read, Lady Gweneth pauses under the arch of the great door leading out of the Hall of Armour, watching over the procession.

Pages. Squires. Knights. Orderlies. Courtiers. Left standing, all of these, as the Lord Girithlin finds no-one among them -- rather does his steel-blue gaze dismiss them, and fall soon after upon the Lady Gweneth. Halting, Thorondur turns to the lady, and steps toward her in the shadow of the doors: two paces, no more.

The Lady, dressed in a gown of deepest midnight blue, smiles at the Lord, \"You have returned far quicker than I had expected, milord. I pray that all went well on your trip?\" She does not move and still stands in the middle of the archway.

\"Well enough,\" the Girithlin replies, his mien not altogether composed -- his eyes now darting, distracted. It is unusual for him. \"The Prince, I think, will be pleased...\"

Thorondur\'s words trail off, and his face appears almost plaintive, now. \"My lady, tell me -- for surely you must know. Is she well? And has Imrahil returned?\"

\"She? Oh,\" Gweneth smiles, amused, \"The young Princess? Yes, she seems to be doing better, though I have not seen her myself. As for the Prince well,\" she eyes look away from Thorodur, \"He too seems to have returned, though I have been so inundated with work I have yet to speak to him too in person.\"

A wave of relief washes visibly over the herald his handsome face seems almost immediately to relax, the etchings of fear and stress smoothed clean by this news. When he raises a hand to his brow, though, it comes away with a thick smudge of dirt, and Thorondur cannot but smile wryly at the sight.

\"I will see both of them for myself, and soon -- but not like this. Pray, lady, you have a strong heart if you can stand it yourself,\" he says -- not lightly, but close enough to it. Yet now he darkens a bit. \"And your kinsman, my self-styled nemesis? What of him?\"

The Chamberlain bows her head slightly, \"As my work has taken me from seeing the Prince, so has it from seeing my family. Though, he has returned to Dol Amroth, I have not seen him as yet.\" She pauses, her brow furrowing slightly, \"A strange thing for him, but I have not heard of his exploits except that he spoke once to Ivriniel. About what, I cannot say.\"

This news the Herald greets in silence: Thought or deliberation, surely, for his eyes are sharp and narrowed, curious. Hardly unaware. At length, he slowly ventures, \"One can only hope it is something to the good. You know I do not trust him, nor his tongue -- ever poisoned, as it is, toward me and mine.\"

A pause from him, and then: \"I cannot but wonder why he hates me so.\"

To this the woman laughs, \"You truly do not know, Lord Girithlin?\" The amused smile back on Gweneth\'s lips.

The expression upon the Herald\'s youthful face is so disingenous as to be boyish in its innocence. He shrugs his slender shoulders, almost helplessly replying, \"How can I? I had never met the man in my youth, and yet when I returned from my journeys, there he was -- assailing me. And he has never let be, never once in all this time since.\"

Gweneth turns from Thorondur, stepping back into the hall, \"Because you are not a Bragollach.\" She walks slowly, the train of her gown dragging on the marble floor behind her, \"I wonder if the subject of your mission is still a covert one or if now you can speak aloud of it to me?\"

Falling in beside Gweneth, flowing into the subtle, graceful motion of his easy stride as she moves within, Thorondur\'s reply is amiable -- if guarded. \"I can speak of it to you, if you can tell me more of Borgilas,\" he says. \"This pointless feud must end -- or if not that, at least be put in abeyance. I will not pursue it, but for him... that may take some doing, I fear.\"

\"The feud is only pointless from your view, Rondo. Tell me, what do you feud about?\" Gweneth questions, folding her hands in front of her ribs, \"Ideas? Abilities?\" She pauses slightly, \"Women perhaps?\"

A smile, tired yet tolerant, for the childhood moniker -- but the questions the lady frames it with only deepen the knight\'s visible frustration. \"Whatever your kinsman decides to prick me with on a given day, it seems,\" Thorondur answers, none too pleased to recall it. \"Of late -- ere I left on her father\'s errand -- he even saw fit to question my devotion to Lothiriel. The very cheek...!\"

At his sides, the Girithlin\'s hands clench tight into gloved fists. \"What does he know of a knight\'s devotion? What does he know of the oaths I\'ve sworn her?\"

\"I think you worry too much about his opinion, Thorondur,\" Gweneth says, turning into one of the alcoves, \"How many other knights do you spend your time wondering why they think the way they do about you? Why is Borigilas such an important part of your life? If the man\'s words are foolish, why do you not think his a fool? There is no truth to his words that would twist your nerves though you deny it yourself is there?\"

\"None,\" affirms the Herald without hesitation, drawing briefly to a halt. \"But I swear to you, my lady, I cannot fight him. I -will- not. He is dear to Lothiriel, after the fashion of an uncle -- for her sake I wish an end to this nonsense. But--\" and here he sighs, \"enough of this. You have the right of it. I cannot allow his hatred to govern my movements.\"

The Chamberlain halts before a suit of ancient armour, perserved nearly flawlessly, \"Good, I will keep my word and speak to him still, but do not allow his words to touch your heart. He is aged, but his fire is no less hot and errupts a great deal easier than in when he was younger. If he truly bothers you so, just stay away from him. This feud does not aid Gondor nor Dol Amroth. Too, it is not something for young squires to see or hear of.\"

\"I thank you,\" says the White Knight, with genuine warmth. \"As for the squires -- I do not fear for them. Young they might be, but often in youth and innocence is found a judgement unclouded.\"

\"Perhaps that is why I have returned to mine, after a fashion,\" Thorondur ventures with a faint smile, plucking at the snowy fabric of his cloak, however dirty. \"After the fire,\" he concludes, without explanation.

Then looking back swiftly to Gweneth, the reverie is ended the Herald says, \"But what of your questions? You sought news of our ride, I think -- and I may have it, though wiser minds than mine may be called for, ere its impact be divined.\"

Gweneth turns from the armor, \"I was only curious why you were sent south without word to all the members of the Great Council. I assume it was quite important but I see no battle scars on any of the men, nor any other signs of war. So I am only curious as to what the nature of the mission was.\"

\"There are times when the Prince must move without consulting his Council, as you know,\" Thorondur answers the lady, seeming -- perhaps -- more relaxed, now the talk of the Dragon has passed. \"As to the nature of our mission, that is his alone to reveal. But I can say this: we are one knight stronger in returning than departing.\"

And at that, the Herald seems uncertain -- whether to grin, or to frown.

A puzzled look forms on Gweneth\'s face, \"Is that all of the news you can share?\" Her words pause once more as she eyes goes back to the relic, \"I suppose then that all I can do is to congrate you on your success, for it sounds that you are pleased with the outcome. But wise mind or no, there is little else to speak of with what you have voluntered.\"

With a tapping beat, a figure enters the hall. A tense figure as if within him the pressure of the flame of his own spirit would burst. He pulls his dark garments about him tightly as he marches.

Click, clack, click clack...

His boots press loudly upon the stone. He draws nearer and his burning eyes espy those two figures in converse. At this he exhales and his cloak billows out with a twist of his hand. There is no doubt that this is the son of Indilkhor.

\"I had thought you might ask, at least, who this mysterious knight must be,\" comes the Herald\'s reply. Pressing his fingertips together, he pauses within the pale and flooded colours of a sunbeam, filtering a scintillating aura about him from the stained glass above. \"Unless you have already found it out, somehow? I\'ve heard it said your hearing puts the ears of an eagle to shame -- eh?\"

\"Eagles see,\" says Indilzar Bragollach coming now up, uninvited. \"And foxes hear. To this you might say that my sister is a fox, rather than an eagle.\"

Indilzar bows slowly and says, \"Well met my sister and to you Lord Girithlin I give salute as old comrades might.\"

At the sound of boots, Gweneth turns calmly but at the sight of her brother, at least in her eyes that calm is broken, \"Indilzar?\" She begins to chuckle, \"A homecoming of knights indeed, though some more of a surprise than others.\" She offers her hand to her blood, \"Brother, though it a surprise, it makes it no less pleasent to see you once more.\"

Turning at the voice -- for the approach, he must have missed -- Thorondur Girithlin, Elf-Friend, smiles. In the multicoloured light that surrounds him, his travel-worn and weatherbeaten appearance is transcended. \"My lord of Bragollach,\" he greets Indilzar in turn.

\"In truth, I can never be certain whether the pair of you share love or loathing,\" he remarks.

\"Aye Gweneth,\" says Indilzar with a strange tone in his voice. \"My wandering paths have come at last to the native land that I love so much. And behold! A friend has come to meet me here even as I rode across the plains of Belfalas.\"

Indilzar sets his fingers to his lips and whistles...

...From the far end of the hall there comes a baying, and then a great hound of war leaps forth... He rushes forth and greets Indilzar.

This brings a rare smile from Indilzar\'s lips, \"Huan of Dol Amroth has returned. Alone. What tidings this may mean for the House of the White Ram...\" He shrugs, \"is beyond my ken.\"

Indilzar smiles thinly at Thorondur, \"I marvel at you Girithlin that you may think that I do not love my kin. Indeed, even moreso, for we were in the womb together and were born that same day, twice blessing our mother and twice honouring the house of our fathers.\"

\"Did I say I thought either more likely? Rather, that I could not decide,\" laughs the Herald, though weary -- indeed, all exhaustion seems forgotten. \"But then, I can never decide where you are concerned, Black Knight,\" he adds. \"Ah well. To speak of returns, then, Gweneth -- this is my news. For Torelin Amrodath returns with me.\"

Thorondur pauses, blue eyes searching these twins for a reaction as he says, \"I did not know him, in the past. But he is not unknown to either of you, I think.\"

Huan sniffs Thorondur\'s foot and leg... he then rubs his massive body against him.

\"Indeed I have heard of that Knight,\" replies Indilzar. \"Though I had not known him in the flesh. I had heard he was held captive by the Corsairs of Umbar.\"

\"A blessing, or in Indilzar\'s case, a terrible curse,\" Gweneth says with a humorous smirk, \"The man you see before you was more than a handful for our mother and servants a like. I cannot remember how many legs and arms were broken by this one running about...\" At Thorondur\'s words Gweneth\'s words halt only continueing after a momment of silence from her... \"Wha..what did you say?\"

Absently scratching behind the ears of the massive mastiff, the Herald offers Indilzar a nod of affirmation -- yet mild surprise takes him, to see the lady\'s reaction. As a slender eyebrow rises in inquiry, Thorondur repeats himself, for her sake. \"Torelin Amrodath returned with us,\" he says.

Pursuing his curiosity, the knight asks, \"Then you did know him?\"

Gweneth\'s eye shoot towards the door, \"With you?! He is here now?!\" It appears as if she may knock the men aside at any momment as soon as her questions are confirmed.

Glancing at his sister for a moment Indilzar looks discomforted. After a pregnant pause he says, \"How was he recovered? Was there a raid?\"

\"He was returned to us,\" Thorondur tells Indilzar, simply. \"Lord Arnafel vouches for him, and that satisfies me -- though I might otherwise harbour suspicions.\"

Only now does he look to Gweneth -- her, who is suddenly agitated. \"He is about, I am sure,\" the Lord Girithlin says, guarded of a sudden, his interest piqued by her behaviour, \"though I cannot speak for his movements.\"

Gweneth only replies, \"Have him arrested and detained at once.\"

Indilzar nods and his eyes narrow slowly, \"Very well Lord Herald. For who can gainsay the man who speaks in the name of the Prince? Yet I would speak to him for my own satisfaction and to learn what I may of my eternal foe.\"

\"Arrested?\" The Herald\'s blue eyes blink once, slowly, and he does not move. With just a hint of disbelief, he asks, \"Your eternal foe?\" The words fall like raindrops into the silent sea of the vast hall, absorbed without event.

\"I believe,\" Thorondur says into the silence, \"that there is more to this than I had guessed. Tell me of this man, this Torelin, my lady. My lord.\"

Laughing, Indilzar says, \"Not Torelin, but the Corsairs. I have an oath to uphold and all that. Rather, I would know what ill he has done that would so grieve my sister.\" He glances over at Gweneth.

\"It was perhaps two years ago that my life was attempted on more than one occation, Lord Thorondur,\" Gweneth begins, \"It had gotten to the point where I had a knight escort day and night, always in fear for my life. The attacks died off with no warning nor reason. Then about six months ago, Lossaran, Torelin\'s cousin, or nephew, I forget the relation, brought to Imrahil a letter from Torelin found by Lossaran that explains his reasons for hiring assassins to murder me,\" she pauses and adds gravely, \"His dying wish was that I join him in death.\"

Loosening the throat of his high, tight collar, Thorondur pales. \"I can see how that might be a bit... unsettling,\" he replies, well aware of the understatement -- with audible effort, he keeps his voice level. \"Lossaran is known to me, and an honourable -- nay, admirable -- man. Yet how could Arnafel Isilrim vouch for a murderer? This vexes me, lady.\"

\"He was in great sorrow at the time before his death, or supposed death. I think he blamed me in part for losing his wife, though I assure you, he did that well enough on his own,\" Gweneth continues, \"When he and Arnafel rode together, I do not doubt he was a good man. But this letter was produced some time before Arnafel\'s own return and I believe he even was thought dead and lost before Torelin lost his memory and began his downward spiral towards his final decision to have me killed.\"

Indilzar arches a brow and says, \"If this is so. Then it is clear that Torelin must die justly.\"

\"Stay your hand, Indilzar,\" warns Thorondur, swiftly and yet cautious. \"My lady, while I do not say that you lie -- hardly that -- it may be there is more to this sad tale than any of us know. An annointed knight could never willingly do such deeds.\"

Indilzar grunts and says, \"So you may say. But the Enemy\'s arm has grown long and what we have considered strong, now is unsure.\"

Gweneth nods, \"I wish your words comforted me, but at one time the man lost his memory. How can one keep his oath if he does not remember ever taking it? And though, I believe his memory returned before heading to Umbar, who knows what state his mind was in at that time? All I know is that I think I wish to go back to my chambers and bar the door till I know he is safely away from me.\"

\"I cannot vouch for any of this,\" the Herald says. \"Yet until we can send word to the Prince, it appears that I must make some decision,\" he adds, bowing his head in consideration.

\"If it truly troubles you Thorondur, I will stay in my room with a knight escort. My maids can consult me there is they require me,\" Gweneth\'s offers, worry in her eyes as they move from time to time to the door leading out of the castle.

\"No. The Prince\'s Chamberlain shall not be made a prisoner of fear in her own Citadel,\" the Herald of Imrahil states, an ironlike certainty in his voice. \"Yet neither can I countenance arresting this man outright. Indilzar, what say you?\"

Indilzar holds his fists tightly at his sides and says, \"Another mad knight. How wonderfully preposterous. I would kill him myself rather that he should once more look at my sister, but I relent. I say let him be held in the hold until the Prince can render judgement. Only then, and by the Prince alone will he be spared my righteous wrath whether or not it was done under the duress of the Shadow or not!\"

Gweneth looks to Thorondur, \"I cannot say which you should choose, Lord Herald. His treachery was grave, and his intent graver still.\"

And at these final words of Indilzar\'s fiery proclamation does Thorondur close his eyes, turning away. \"The deceits of the Shadow can force a man to madness, truly. Was not my own late brother bewitched by that diabolical sorceress, Bethphel of Umbar?\"

He falls into silence, alone with his decision -- whatever it will be. The Lord Herald takes two, three, four wandering, preoccupied steps toward the hall\'s center.

Indilzar blinks, \"I do not know. Was he?\"

\"He was indeed,\" comes the voice of Thorondur, if distant now and pitched tightly: he speaks into the shadows of an alcove, and the words echo. On the fate of Calimendil he says no more. Only again does he return to that brooding silence, considering -- surely -- the heavy, awful judgement he must now make.

\"Lord Herald,\" says Indilzar at length. \"This is not your responsibility, but your Liege\'s. Do not lay the burden upon yourself, but go to him for counsel and judgement.\"

\"If he is here, and possibly just outside that door I have no interest in seeing him and will take my leave now.\" She walks from the alcove she stands in and begins to walk from the pair of men, the sound of her train running over the marble echoing in the silence of the hall. \"If either of you see him before his fate is decided, make it known to him he should not seek me out or else I may repay him for his greivous actions against me.\"

Without speech remains the Herald for a long, long while. The words of Indilzar are doubtless heard, but he says nothing to them at first. At length, this whisper is given unto the shadows, difficult to discern:

\"Very well.\"

Now turning, the face of the Herald is the visage of the man who knows he must, if only briefly, hold the Doom of another in his hands. Sobered, and tightly wrought. \"This is so, Indilzar Bragollach -- but the Voice of the Prince is vested in me, and in times such as these, I must use it. If I pause, and your sister is threatened -- will you still have counselled caution? This, then, is his fate, and I say it not lightly.\"

Indilzar nods and says, \"M\'lady, let Huan go with you. There is no better guard against treachery than the wolf-hound of Belfalas, whom long ago Adrahil unleashed.\"

Indilzar turns to Thorondur, \"You know my opinion on the matter enough. Let him be brought into duress until the matter is settled if you wish to hear it again.\"

\"Nay,\" says the Herald, now declaiming his command with the weight of his solemn office, and the Hall stills to hear it. Even the ancient shells of armour are listening. He raises both hands, palms outward.

\"Let us go to Torelin Amrodath, and bind him. He will be held under guard until the judgement of the Prince is made known in this matter -- for only the true sight of Westernesse will discern his final fate.\"

Indilzar smiles and says softly, \"Yet the sight of old is dimmed, even those of the line of the barons of Cardolan. And indeed even the heirs of Battanuazor.\"

Then under his breath, the Knight-Herald sighs, and the gravity of the pronouncement goes out of him. \"Princes of Cardolan, Indilzar,\" he wearily reminds the other, \"but may their slain descendant, my kinsman and brother, forgive me. I take no joy in this deed.\"

Gweneth stops after a few steps and looks to the animal, then to Indilzar as Thorondur makes his decision, \"Thank you Thorondur, though your decision was a hard one, I do appreciate it. It looks like I will not need the hound, and still I will make my way back to my chambers. Good day to you milord,\" she curtsies to them both, \"And Brother, stop by later this evening. I have news to speak to you on our family.\"

Indilzar nods and says, \"Then do your duty swiftly and be done with it. As for myself. I shall go to old Hadrian and ask him something of these matters.\"

\"Very well,\" says the Lord Thorondur, bowing to the Bragollachs, brother and sister, as he takes his leave. \"May the sun shine upon your paths Eru grant it shine more brightly on mine.\" And his mood thus blackened and damped, the Herald moves out toward the grand portico.