Khorazir
Ranger of the North
Alliance: Haradrim
Last Visited: 18 Jan 2008
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Posted: Thu Jan 10, 2002 11:48 am |
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On a fair, sunny evening in early Viressë of the year 3012 Third Age, a company of horsemen was approaching the City of Minas Tirith, riding along the causeway that lead across the broad fields of the Pelennor from the East. The company consisted of about two dozen men, all of which were clad in green and brown garments of varied hues, and armed with swords, spears and longbows. Quivers with green-feathered arrows were slung across their backs. Green gauntlets covered their hands, and many wore hoods which shadowed their faces. All of them appeared to have spent some time in the wild, for their clothes were ragged and muddy in parts, and both the men and their horses looked weary. But as they drew closer to the City, they looked up and straightened in their saddles, their faces brightening considerably. The sun was just going down behind the mighty, snowclad mass of Mount Mindolluin, and her warm rays reached out to the horsemen, many of whom cast back their hoods to let them shine on their faces. They also played on the slender spire of the White Tower, and let the white banners on its top glow golden as they fluttered in a strong westerly breeze.
One of the men rode up to one who appeared to be their leader. „We should hurry, captain, or they will close the gates before we have reached them,“ he said.
The other turned to him and smiled. He was a young man in his late twenties, with a pale, somewhat stern face, rather short raven hair, and bright grey eyes. „I am sure they will not close the gates before we are through, Damrod,“ he said. „If I am not entirely mistaken, our arrival, although not announced by an errand-rider, is already known to the Steward.“
„Most likely,“ Damrod agreed, looking up at the White Tower in the distance, frowning slightly as he studied it. There was a short silence, then he turned to his captain again. „‘tis such a beautiful sight – the City, I mean. Have you ever wondered how it must have looked in the days of the Kings of old? They say it was even more splendid then.“
The other nodded slightly, his eyes bent on the majestic city ahead, but he replied nothing.
„I wonder if ever we shall have a King again,“ Damrod mused. „Imagine, to return home from an errand and see the White Tree on black afloat on the Tower of Ecthelion instead of the banner of the Stewards.“ Then he seemed to realise what he had said, for he blushed slightly, and added swiftly: „Not that things are bad now. The Lord Denethor is a just and able ruler.“
But the captain appeared to have barely listened to his talk. He was still looking at the city, a trace of anxiety or worry in his face. Suddenly he tore his gaze away from it to rest it on Damrod. „We shall cover the rest of the way at greater speed,“ he said. „I guess all of us are looking forward to spend the night in a real bed for a change.“ With that he signalled to the company, and they spurred their steeds to a canter.
ooc: This thread is a continuation of the thread called „The night the „Troll’s Nose“ burned down“, and involves characters known from this thread, as well as from a thread called „The Quest of Revenge“. Also many characters known from LotR will appear here, which is one of the reasons why I’d like to keep it close to the book, and stay faithful to Tolkien’s writings in its basic style and setting. I’d love to see the posters from the above mentioned threads join again, and others beside, whoever wants to. For any questions, please see the aside-thread at: http://www.tolkienonline.com/thewhitecouncil/messageview.cfm?catid=25&threadid=32342
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Canamarth
Ringbearer
Alliance: Dale
Last Visited: 18 May 2010
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Posts: 11539
Location: Willing Suspension of Disbelief
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Posted: Fri Jan 11, 2002 12:21 am |
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It was beginning to get dark when a fair young maiden with dark brown hair, plaited in quite a fancyful manner, and who was dressed in dark green robes which displayed her - or her father's - wealth, approached the wall of the fifth circle of Minas Tirith. She sat down on a bench from whence she had a good view of the city underneath and the Pelennor fields in the distance. But she did not seem to heed the gorgeous view. She had seen it too often to excite her anymore and besides, she was not of a disposition to indulge in the quiet contemplation of landscapes or the like. She turned her back to the panorama and watched the small garden around here.
She soon grew impatient of that as well and got up to walk to and fro muttering under her breath: "Where can he be? How dare he leave me waiting here for him?"
She did not have to wait much longer. At length, the hinges of the garden gate creaked and in stepped a man in a dark hodded cloak.
"Túrin!" she exclaimed. "Where have you been?"
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Khorazir
Ranger of the North
Alliance: Haradrim
Last Visited: 18 Jan 2008
Joined: 31 May 2000
Posts: 4035
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Posted: Fri Jan 11, 2002 5:06 am |
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"Shh, not so loud," Túrin hissed as he quickly stepped over to her, embraced her tightly, and kissed her. "Sorry that I'm late, sweetheart," he said as he drew back. "My father had me run an errand to the Steward for him which apparently couldn't wait. Did you have to wait long?"
She made a face.
"Oh, I'm really sorry," Túrin said. "Won't happen again, I promise." He motioned towards the bench, where they sat down side by side. There was a faint smell of primroses in the air, and the still leafless but heavily budded branches of the trees swayed gently in the breeze. Túrin cast back his hood, revealing shoulder-long wavy darkbrown hair, and an open, sympathic face with warm hazel eyes. Judged by his looks he was in his mid-twenties. He reached out and put an arm around the maiden's shoulders and drew her close to him.
"So, what d'you think we should be doing this evening?" he asked softly.
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Canamarth
Ringbearer
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Posted: Fri Jan 11, 2002 5:29 am |
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"I don't know," the girl snapped back. "You go figure something. We can't go to any balls because we could be seen and recognized by other nobles. We can't go into decent guesthouses for a glass of wine for the same reason. We can't just go walking about... Why do our fathers have to have this stupid quarrel?" She looked up into Túrin's eyes pleadingly as if entreating him to come up with a solution to their problem.
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Khorazir
Ranger of the North
Alliance: Haradrim
Last Visited: 18 Jan 2008
Joined: 31 May 2000
Posts: 4035
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Posted: Fri Jan 11, 2002 10:27 am |
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Actually Túrin had hoped that she would come up with a clever idea. "This is indeed a rather unfortunate situation," he said, more to himself. "Well, we could stay here for a while," he continued aloud. "It's a fair evening, and here we should be quite undisturbed. Moreover I happen to have" -- he rummaged in his cloak -- "this with me." And he produced a bottle of wine and two pewter cups.
Meanwhile the horsemen had almost reached the Great Gate. The guards were just about to shut it. The riders increased their speed, and their captain drew forth a horn and blew a signal on it, ending in a long high note. The guards held in, and waited for the horsemen to enter the city.
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Canamarth
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Posted: Sat Jan 12, 2002 5:28 am |
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A smile spread over the girl's face. "What have you got in mind, Túrin? Make me tipsy and then - what? You know that I'm not allowed to drink. My father implicitly forbade it."
Túrin's face was all innocence.
"Give it here," she said and snatched a cup out of his hands. Túrin poured the wine and they toasted. She emptied her cup with one gulp.
"More! The stuff is delicious!"
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Khorazir
Ranger of the North
Alliance: Haradrim
Last Visited: 18 Jan 2008
Joined: 31 May 2000
Posts: 4035
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Posted: Sat Jan 12, 2002 6:21 am |
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"Whoa, don't drink it too fast," Túrin said without hiding a grin. "This is quite potent stuff down from Dor-en-Ernil. Father keeps it for special occasions. He won't be happy when he finds out that I took a bottle. But I'm glad you like it." With that he refilled her cup. Then he held in, and looked up. From down below he had heard a horncall.
"Hey, I know that signal," he said after listening intently for a moment. "What a nice coincidence," he went on with a smile. "Exactly when I'm in town for a while he comes as well! Hope we'll meet one of these days."
Then he looked back to the girl, who had almost emptied her cup again. "You know, if you go on at this speed, you'll soon be more than tipsy. Not that I'd object," he added under his breath.
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Canamarth
Ringbearer
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Posted: Wed Jan 16, 2002 6:29 am |
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The girl answered with a smile, then seized the bottle and helped herself to a third cup.
"Who's coming to the city?" she asked.
"The Steward's son," Túrin answered.
"Boromir?" she exclaimed, almost choking on the gulp of wine she had taken. "You know Boromir? You must introduce me to him. Come on, let's go." She got up, emptied the cup she was holding and threw it over her shoulder. It sailed over the wall and landed with a loud clang on a roof in the circle below. A dog started barking.
"Oh, Lossiel. You have a talent for getting us into trouble. Let's get away from here."
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Khorazir
Ranger of the North
Alliance: Haradrim
Last Visited: 18 Jan 2008
Joined: 31 May 2000
Posts: 4035
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Posted: Wed Jan 16, 2002 6:56 am |
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He drew his cloak about him more tightly again, took her arm, and together they left the small garden. Passing swiftly through some small streets amid stately houses, they approached the main street that lead up from the lower circles. Lossiel seemed really exited, and kept babbling about Boromir and his great achievements of which she had heard. Túrin only smiled to himself, knowing that she was in for a surprise when they met the Steward's son.
There were not many people about at this time (not in this part of Minas Tirith at least), but most windows in the surrounding houses were lit. Túrin sent his glance around while they waited. He knew most people who lived here. Many were friends of his family's which was one of the more wealthy and influencial in the city, his father being the Warden of the City's Keys. Certainly it would get him into trouble if he was seen here in the company of Lossiel, daughter of a family his own was currently having a quarrel with.
Just when he thought that perhaps it would be wiser to step back a little into the shadows than stand openly in the street, he heard hoofbeat approaching, and soon a rider came into view.
Lossiel tucked at his cloak. "Is that him?" she asked nervously, and started fiddling with her hair.
Túrin grinned. "Yep. That's the Steward's son."
The horseman had apparently spotted the two of them from afar, and recognised Túrin, for he urged his horse to a trott, and reined it when he was level with them. "Well met, Master Túrin," he said with a broad smile. "'tis a pleasant surprise to meet you here. And your aquaintance, of course," he added, inclining his head slightly to greet Lossiel.
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Canamarth
Ringbearer
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Location: Willing Suspension of Disbelief
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Posted: Thu Jan 17, 2002 12:00 am |
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Lossiel looked up at the figure in front of her, squinting slightly so as to better focus on him. The wine had started to take its toll.
"You're not Boromir," she at length exclaimed. "I saw him two or three times at festivities. He's much more of a man than that."
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Khorazir
Ranger of the North
Alliance: Haradrim
Last Visited: 18 Jan 2008
Joined: 31 May 2000
Posts: 4035
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Posted: Thu Jan 17, 2002 2:08 am |
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The horseman gave Túrin a quick, keen glance, upon which he blushed. Then the rider dismounted, and looked at Lossiel. "I am sorry to disappoint you, lady," he said with a smile which implied that he was quite used to this kind of remark. "I am indeed not my brother. Faramir son of Denethor at your service," he introduced himself, and bowed slightly. "And who may you be?"
"That's Lossiel, the daughter of Lord Thorondur," Túrin explained. They're visiting the City for a few days, and during that time I ...well ... look after her."
Lossiel started giggling.
Faramir raised an eyebrow at the two, and suppressed a grin. "An interesting way to put it, Túrin."
"Well, you know me ..."
"Indeed I do. Be careful that her father does not find out. Or your father, as a matter of fact."
"Oh, I shall," Túrin said. "How long will you be staying in town?" he asked then. "It's long since we last saw each other, and I'm sure there's much to talk about."
Faramir nodded. "Aye, indeed. But as for my staying here, that depends on the Steward. As I know him, he will send me off again as soon as possible. Boromir is down in Pelargir to oversee some work in the shipyards, and secure the coasts against new raids of the Corsairs of Umbar, so Osgiliath, Ithilien and the shores of Anduin are my charge at the moment. Most likely I will have to return there soon. I would like to stay here for a while, though. I need a rest. And have you seen Maradir lately? I have not heard of him for several months now. I wonder if he is alright."
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Canamarth
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Posted: Thu Jan 17, 2002 4:24 am |
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"Now that you say so, I haven't seen him lately either. I think the last time we met was two weeks ago in some tavern. He said something about an errand which would lead him out of town for a while but he would not say more - as usual. You know how close he is when it comes to his job and..."
"Wait a second," Lossiel interrupted and turned to Faramir. "You are Boromir's brother? So, you are the Steward's son after all. Delighted to meet you." She moved a little closer to him and almost tripped over her own feet. Túrin caught her just in time.
"Ooops, sorry. I'm usually not that clumsy. Must be the wine."
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Khorazir
Ranger of the North
Alliance: Haradrim
Last Visited: 18 Jan 2008
Joined: 31 May 2000
Posts: 4035
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Posted: Thu Jan 17, 2002 7:06 am |
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"I see Master Túrin is looking after you very well, my lady," Faramir said, and now he grinned broadly. "I hope you are enjoying your stay here."
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Canamarth
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Posted: Fri Jan 18, 2002 12:11 am |
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"Definitely," she replied. "And what are you doing tonight, handsome?"
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Khorazir
Ranger of the North
Alliance: Haradrim
Last Visited: 18 Jan 2008
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Posted: Fri Jan 18, 2002 3:35 am |
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"Erm," Túrin said, and held her back when she tried to draw closer to Faramir, whose grin broadened even more.
"Well, actually I am on my way to the Steward to report to him what befell in Ithilien. Not something I look forward to, I can tell you. I think you are better off with Master Túrin here." Turning to his friend, he added. "I really must be off. You know Denethor. But perhaps we can meet later. Unless, of course, you have other things planned for tonight," he added with a mischievous smile, and a swift glance at Lossiel, who was beaming at him.
"Perhaps we'll go to the White Tree, down in the Third Circle," Túrin said. "The chance of somebody recognising us isn't that high down there. It'd be great if you managed to come, too."
Lossiel nodded fervently.
"I shall try," Faramir said and mounted. "Have a nice evening, you two." With that he nodded to them, and rode off.
He covered the rest of the way up to the Citadel at greater speed. In front of the tunnel leading up to the seventh gate he dismounted, and gave his horse to a groom. Then he swiftly ascended the tunnel. He knew that it was unwise to keep the Steward waiting, and most likely his father's mood was not bright due to recent developments along the borders. The guards at the gate let him pass silently, and thus he entered the court of the fountain. A few stars were mirrored in the softly rippling waters of the basin, and the silver tinkling of the fountain was the only sound that filled the cool nightair. Looking up, Faramir saw light issuing from the window of Denethor's chamber in the White Tower. Most other windows around were dark.
When he had drawn near to the entrance of the Tower, he saw a person issue from it, and walk towards the gate. It was a woman, and for some reason she looked familiar, although he could not recognise her features in the dim light. Moreover she had bowed her head, and was looking to the ground, as if lost in thought. When they were almost level, suddenly the woman looked up, beheld him, and froze as if in shock or surprise. And so did he.
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Canamarth
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Posted: Fri Jan 18, 2002 4:42 am |
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Lossiel turned to Túrin. "The White Tree? Never heard of it. But I'm definitely up for it. Let's go!" She more or less dragged Túrin on for a few steps till he could make it clear to her that they were walking in the wrong direction. "Oh, sorry." She turned around, walked on for two or three steps, then abruptly halted and looked earnestly at Túrin. "You know what?" she said and drew closer to him.
"No."
"I love you." With that she suddenly gave him a passionate kiss, then unentangled herself from Túrin's embrace just as suddenly and strode on, leaving a somewhat baffled-looking man behind.
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Khorazir
Ranger of the North
Alliance: Haradrim
Last Visited: 18 Jan 2008
Joined: 31 May 2000
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Posted: Fri Jan 18, 2002 6:09 am |
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Oh dear, Túrin thought, perhaps she should really be careful with more drink tonigth. Then his face split into a grin. On the other hand ... "Hey, Lossiel, wait for me!" he called, and ran a few paces to catch up with her again.
Faramir, meanwhile, had overcome his first surprise. He was not sure, though, if he should be glad or troubled to meet her here. It had been almost two years now since they had met last, and her last letter he had received over a year ago. After that, suddenly, her messages had ceased, and he had not heard from her again for a long while -- a fact which had quite astounded and grieved him, as they had entertained their relationship, or however else this could be called, having been deeper and more serious than mere friendship on the one, but no real love-affair on the other hand, since he had been 22. Looking at her now, he realised that his feeling for her had not changed, and he was not sure how to deal with that.
Surely she was still as beautiful as ever: her long wavy auburn hair arrayed in a simple braid, and not yet touched by any grey, although she was approaching her fiftieth year. Her face was more lined with care. Apparently there was something troubling her. Her keen green-grey eyes rested on him thoughtfully, and he thought he detected a trace of grief but also of uneasiness in them. It seemed as if she was not sure how to begin a conversation, either. When silence became unbearable, he took a deep breath, and said: "Hello Lindórie."
She smiled slightly. "Hello Faramir."
Again there was silence.
"I ... did not expect to meet you here. Your father did not mention your coming," she said after a while.
"You have seen him?"
"Yes. Just a short while ago. That was the reason for my coming to Minas Tirith. I am sure you will learn about it soon."
He looked at her questioningly. Her words had sounded rather serious. "Is everything alright in Lebennin?"
"No, it is not. But your father will tell you of it."
He nodded, searching for something else to say. "What about you? I trust you are well?"
"I cannot complain. Although" -- and now she looked into his eyes -- "I have missed our correspondance. But I thought that perhaps you had your reasons for not writing anymore."
"But I did write," Faramir said swiftly. "Even when you did not answer. At first I thought that perhaps the errand-rider had lost the message. So I sent another. But when I did not receive an answer, not even in Nenime ..."
"You were sure that I was not interested in you anymore," she finished his sentence. He nodded slightly, upon which she shook her head, stepped a little closer to him, and took his hand. "You should have known better," she said softly. "And so should I. Someone must have intercepted our correspondance, for I did write to you also, frequently. And for you to think that I had forgotten your birthday ...". Suddenly she smiled slightly. "That would be the last thing to forget."
He returned her smile, but then his face turned grave again. "Intercepted, you mean? Who should be interested in doing so? Tarannon? Do you think he knows?"
She snorted contemptiously. "I have seen my husband almost less than I have seen you lately, if that was possible. Not that I mourn this fact. No, Tarannon is hardly interested in me, now that there are so many corsairs to fight at the coasts. But honestly I would not put it beyond him to pay someone to have an eye on my doings, and my correspondance. And there are others who might be interested in that as well."
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Canamarth
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Posted: Sat Jan 19, 2002 4:44 am |
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Lossiel more or less skipped all the way to The White Tree. It was a cosy and clean tavern but definitely no establishment she had ever been in before. Most customers seemed to be workers, honest people but somewhat below her standards.
Túrin sat her down in a quiet corner, ordered two glasses of wine and looked about him nervously to check if there was someone present who could recognise him. When he was satisfied that there was no immediate danger of being discovered he turned his attention back to Lossiel who sat in front of an empty glass of wine and beamed a radiant smile on him. "Can I have another one?"
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Khorazir
Ranger of the North
Alliance: Haradrim
Last Visited: 18 Jan 2008
Joined: 31 May 2000
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Posted: Sun Jan 20, 2002 5:47 am |
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"Sure, sweetheart," Túrin said with a slight sigh, and signed to a waitress. He took a sip of his own wine, then edged closer to Lossiel and put an arm around her shoulders. "If we're lucky, a minstrel will come and sing tonight, or some musicians from Morthond Vale. Perhaps there'll even be dance. You like to dance, don't you?"
Faramir gave Lindórie a questioning glance. "Who?"
She shook her head slightly. "You shall learn soon enough," she said. She looked up at the lighted window of Denethor's chamber. "You should go and see the Steward now. He does not appreciate to be kept waiting."
Faramir followed her gaze, then looked back at her and smiled. "Let him wait. He will most likely be furious already because I have reported only infrequently from Ithilien, and moreover not quite obeyed the last command he sent."
She looked at him gravely. "So things are still unchanged between you?"
Faramir shrugged a little dejectedly. "I can do what I want, he will never admit that I have done something right. Always he finds something he can criticise. By now I am quite accustomed to it, and try not to worry about it anymore."
"And Boromir?" she asked.
"Gondor's great hero? Father loves him dearly, as he has always done. And rightly so, I guess. He has achieved much lately, especially in South Ithilien."
She studied him gravely, as if she tried to read in his eyes if he spoke in mockery or in earnest. At length she smiled warmly. "I admire you. I guess I would not be able to deal with the situation so easily."
He cast down his eyes. "'tis not easy," he said softly. Then he looked up again. "I guess I should really go." He stepped a little closer to her. "When will I see you again? You are not leaving tomorrow, are you?"
"The day after tomorrow," she answered. "And we will meet again tomorrow morning. Your father will tell you why. Good luck to you now."
"Thank you. I need it. And a good night to you."
"Thanks."
There was an awkward silence as both stood looking at each other. Suddenly she stepped forward, embraced him, and kissed him lightly. Faramir was quite startled at this. So far they had always refrained from getting too close -- the danger of being seen by prying eyes (of which the City had many) had been too great.
Before he could react in any way, she had already drawn back and walked away. He remained behind, his heart pounding furiously. It took him a while to gather his thoughts again sufficiently so as to go and face the Steward in an appropriate manner. Taking a deep breath, he finally turned, and entered the White Tower.
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Canamarth
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Posted: Sun Jan 20, 2002 6:20 am |
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"I'd love to!" Lossiel exclaimed. "But if there's no minstrel here, I might as well sing. I've got a good voice."
Before Túrin could form any answer to that, Lossiel had disentangled herself from Túrin's embrace, climbed on the table and started singing a song. It was a merry tune and soon most people in the tavern joined in.
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Khorazir
Ranger of the North
Alliance: Haradrim
Last Visited: 18 Jan 2008
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Posted: Mon Jan 21, 2002 4:05 am |
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While Lossiel was singing merrily, Túrin took another look around. To his shock he saw that two young women had just entered the tavern, whom he recognised as servants of his mother's. They eyed Lossiel curiously, and started whispering to each other. Lossiel took no heed of that, but Túrin shrank back into the shadows, trying to hide his face from the two.
Even at the prospect of annoying his father further, Faramir did not hurry with ascending the stairs to the Steward's chamber. He was confused, and for some reason troubled. The encounter with Lindórie had more than surprised him. And yet he was under the faint impression that it had not been a coincidence at all. Something seemed to be amiss in Lebennin, something serious. Why else would Lindórie consult the Steward? Yes, she was an old friend of the family's, and one of the few persons Denethor would willingly accept counsel from (she had been his wife's best and closest friend, and he esteemed her greatly), nevertheless her coming here was remarkable. She had visited the City only very rarely of late. Since her husband Tarannon who shared the rule over the fief of Lebennin with his brother Carandil was often abroad to hunt down outlaws or corsairs, or simply exercise his troops (as he delighted in warfare), she had more or less taken over the office. From what one heard she did an excellent job, much better than Tarannon. Yet she was hardly seen in council in Minas Tirith. Many of the other nobles were opposed to "women meddling with politics", as Carandil had once put it, and did not take her seriously.
Faramir chased away the thoughts. Most likely he would learn about what exactly was going on soon. Having reached the door of the chamber, he took a deep breath, and knocked.
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Canamarth
Ringbearer
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Posted: Mon Jan 21, 2002 5:01 am |
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A round of applause followed Lossiel's little performance. She courtseyed and scrambled back down on the bench next to Túrin where she emptied the new glass of wine. "Drinking makes one thirsty," she said and started giggling for no apparent reason. "Túrin, why look you so concerned? Be merry and drink with me!"
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Khorazir
Ranger of the North
Alliance: Haradrim
Last Visited: 18 Jan 2008
Joined: 31 May 2000
Posts: 4035
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Posted: Mon Jan 21, 2002 7:22 am |
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"There are two of my mother's servants over there," Túrin said in a low voice. "I don't know what they'll do if they see the two of us together, but I wouldn't put it beyond them to start gossipping about it. And you never know whose ears such gossip will reach." He looked at her, and suddenly he smiled, and leaned forward to kiss her. "But perhaps we shouldn't worry about it too much tonight. I guess you'd like another glass of wine?" Her eyes shone. "Thought so," Túrin muttered with a grin, and signed to the waitress.
"Enter," came Denethor's curt voice from within the chamber. Faramir braced himself, and opened the door. The room was lit by the candles on the Steward's desk, which was littered with papers and books. Denethor himself was sitting behind it poring over what looked like a letter. He did not look up when Faramir stepped in and closed the door again. The old man was dressed in his usual plain, dark-grey robes. An untouched meal stood beside him on a small table. When Faramir studied his father's face, he thought it looked more lined since he had seen him last.
"Good evening, father," he said after a while in which Denethor had taken no notice of him.
"You come late," came as a reply. Denethor folded the letter and put it aside, leaned back in his chair, folded his hands in front of his chest, and finally faced his son. His piercing dark eyes studied him keenly. "I take it you have met Lindórie downstairs."
"Yes, I have. She told me she has been to see you, and that I would learn the reason for her visit to Minas Tirith from you."
Still Denethor's eyes rested on him. As always, Faramir was under the impression that his father could read his innermost thoughts and feelings, and right now he was far from happy about this. He had, over the years, hardened his will against this, and could endure Denethor's penetrating stare better than most, but nevertheless he now soon cast down his eyes. "As indeed you shall," Denethor said suddenly. "In due time. First we will discuss what befell in Ithilien. There are some aspects of your latest errand you better explain to me at once, for else I shall be holden to think that you set at naught my commands out of pure whim."
Faramir nodded somewhat dejectedly, sat down on a low stool, and started to recount the latest events, trying to justify his decision, and knowing at the same time that it was futile.
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Canamarth
Ringbearer
Alliance: Dale
Last Visited: 18 May 2010
Joined: 05 Mar 2001
Posts: 11539
Location: Willing Suspension of Disbelief
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Posted: Tue Jan 22, 2002 1:12 am |
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Just when Lossiel had finished the next glass of wine, her eyes suddenly became wide and she looked at Túrin.
"There are strange mists creeping into the tavern."
Túrin looked around but could not see any mists apart from the infrequent inhalations of somebody smoking a pipe.
"My love, there are no mists in here. What are you talking about?"
Lossiel slowly got up, swayed back and forth a moment, then collapsed onto the table where she lay unconscious.
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Khorazir
Ranger of the North
Alliance: Haradrim
Last Visited: 18 Jan 2008
Joined: 31 May 2000
Posts: 4035
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Posted: Tue Jan 22, 2002 2:22 am |
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"Oh no!" Túrin took a furtive look around, but apparently no one had taken note of them. Swiftly he drew her to a seat beside him, so that her head rested on his shoulder, and started patting her cheeks to revive her. But she did not stir. "Come on, Lossiel," he murmured.
Just then the waitress passed by. "Er, excuse me," he called to her. "Do you also offer rooms? I think the lady is not feeling well, and would like to lie down for a while."
"Aye, we do indeed offer rooms. I shall have one prepared for you," the maid said with a slight grin.
Túrin did not heed it. "Thank you," he said, and turned his attention back to Lossiel.
Faramir had expected his father to get far more angry at him than he had actually done. Nevertheless it had been enough. When Denethor thought he had sufficiently scolded his son for his latest failure, he looked at him again keenly, and said: "And now we shall come to the matter of Lindórie."
Faramir looked up -- a little too quickly than he had wanted to. He could see that Denethor took notice. But he did not comment on it.
"I know not what she has told you already. It seems that things are not well in Lebennin. There is much activity of corsairs along the coasts, and lately a band of outlaws has taken over the main road to Minas Tirith. Tarannon and Carandil are busy with fighting the corsairs, thus Lindórie has called upon the Steward to send her aid against the robbers." He paused, taking a sip of wine. "That, at least, is the official reason for her coming."
Faramir gave him a questioning glance. "And what is the inofficial one?"
Denethor studied him. "What do you know of the Lords of Lebennin?"
Faramir shrugged. "Well, they have the office since their father died some two years ago. Both are friends of Falastur of Pelargir, and thus opposed to the Lords of Dol Amroth -- and the Steward."
"Exactly," Denethor said. "Of course they do not dare to voice their opinions openly, not in council, at least, but 'tis well known to me that Falastur despises the House of Húrin, as well as that of Dol Amroth. In his case I dare say he has his reasons," he added thoughtfully. "Anyway," he continued aloud, "although those three might loathe the way I rule this realm, neither has ever opposed me. Not openly, at least. Not yet openly. For I know from reliable source that there have been secret discussions amongst Tarannon and others of like mind about the future of Gondor. A future without a Steward, but with a king, perhaps."
"A king?" Faramir asked surprisedly. "Do you think they want to claim the Kingship?"
"Why does that surprise you? There are dark times ahead, with the Shadow ever spreading in the East. In those times people crave for a strong leader, and would willingly support whoever rises to lead them."
"I doubt that there are still people in Gondor who earnestly believe that the King shall ever return," Faramir said.
"You would be surprised," Denethor said softly, and a strange light came to his eyes. "Be that as it may," he then continued, "there are many amongst the nobles who think that they are up to this task, and that 'tis high time for someone to take the initiative and reclaim the Kingship. Some have a better claim to the throne than others. Falastur, for example, reckons his chances to be quite good. The fool. Neither Dol Amroth nor I nor most of the other nobles would ever accept him in such a position."
"Well, Imrahil has a pretty good claim himself, has he not?" Faramir said. "As has Boromir."
"As he has indeed," Denethor said. "And he knows that. And yet there are others who may have an even better claim than he."
"Who?" Faramir asked astonishedly, but his father did not answer. Instead he looked at him gravely.
"I guess you can see what it would lead to if one of us did indeed claim the throne of Gondor for himself."
Faramir nodded slightly. "Civil war," he said softly. "The nobles would start fighting amongst themselves, in a time when we can least afford it. Such a strife would greatly weaken the realm. We would be playing into the hands of the Shadow."
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Canamarth
Ringbearer
Alliance: Dale
Last Visited: 18 May 2010
Joined: 05 Mar 2001
Posts: 11539
Location: Willing Suspension of Disbelief
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Posted: Wed Jan 23, 2002 6:44 am |
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She was breathing regularly so there apparently was nothing seriously wrong with her. Túrin tried to wake her but she showed no reaction.
At length, the waitress came back and told him to follow her to a room upstairs. There was no other alternative than to carry Lossiel up the stairs. Túrin shouldered her and tried to make his way through the room as inconspicously as possible but people turned around and followed him with their eyes.
"A fine lass you got yourself there," one man cried and laughed heartily. The two servants also looked over and one of them seemed to recognise Túrin who looked into the other direction hastily and muttered an oath under his breath.
Upstairs he laid Lossiel softly on the bed. She looked so peaceful and beautiful when she was asleep. He started wondering if he should take off her shoes - or anything else for that matter - when she stirred and woke.
"Where am I?" she asked looking around irritatedly.
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EdaintheRanger
Ranger of the North
Alliance: Numenore
Last Visited: 05 Jul 2008
Joined: 05 Jun 2000
Posts: 4677
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Posted: Wed Jan 23, 2002 7:10 am |
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As Faramir discussed affairs of state and other lofty matters with his father, Andanor was hastening to a meeting with his. For at that moment he had just left the Guardhouse. “The Guardhouse” being an Inn that also doubled as a meeting place for the Ithilien rangers when they were blessed with leave from their duties outside the resolutely fair citadel of Minas Tirith. He had changed from his drab ranger garb, to that of a lesser noble, as befitting his stature as one of the exiled heirs of the Ithilien estates. Donning his Green clock, one so dark that in the shadow of the Inn, it could be called “black”, and tucking his grey, (tooled with just a hint of silver) gauntlets into his narrow black belt, he bid goodbye to his comrades and giving the closest man a hearty slap on the back he set off to his goal.
Ascending with a spring in his step, through the city to the third circle Andanor adjusted his padded blue doublet and brushed the dust from his brown bucket top boots, he attempted to smarten his appearance, reminiscing on past scoldings, Father was fussy about such matters! Satisfied with his countenance he having reached the house that had been given to them by Lord Denethor’s Father, as a “temporary dwelling” till Ithilien could be recovered, he went in and asked to see Anthador.
With due brief ceremony, they met in the offices near the south facing windows and Andanor was shocked to see that his father’s leg was no better than it had been six weeks past, when he had last seen him. Anthador was sitting at the stout table, his heavily bandaged leg resting on a footstool. His father spoke in grave tones. “Son, it looks as though my time as a Ranger are over, my valour is spent. The Healers have done all they can…” at this his voice trailed off and he looked out the window, trying to conceal the fact that his eyes were misting with tears. Andanor moved to sit at the table and tried to console his father.
“No, there is nothing you can do for me, except do me proud!”, Anthador’s voice regained its vigour with the empathise on the last phase. “Go to the glass case in the front room and bring me my sword.” he commanded his son.
With no further ado Andanor fetched the weapon, and went to hand it to his father.
“Nay, lad,” Anthador said, pushing it away “Its yours. May it serve you as it did I!”
Andanor nodded a silent thanks to his father before saying, “Could you give me anymore advice? I have only reached my second year in the service as a Ranger.” He looked to his father for guidance.
At this Anthador gave a warm smile,“That is advice enough, several merely last a few months, never mind years! Remember my words and your book learning and most importantly your heart. They will serve you better than any glib phases I could give you now. Take the blade, and return to the White tower, I’m sure Denethor the stern because he is, would find business for you!”
With his father’s words ringing in his ears Andanor left, (after bidding a short greeting and another long farewell to his mother.) Making his way to the White Tree, where he could grab a quick meal, and ponder on his future.
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Khorazir
Ranger of the North
Alliance: Haradrim
Last Visited: 18 Jan 2008
Joined: 31 May 2000
Posts: 4035
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Posted: Thu Jan 24, 2002 3:31 am |
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"You're in a room at the White Tree," Túrin answered. "You ... er ... lost consciousness down there, and I thought I'd better bring you somewhere where you can rest. How are you feeling?"
"Aye, we would indeed," Denethor said gravely. "And that is why such ideas must by all means be quenched."
His son nodded slightly, and there was silence for a while. Then Faramir looked at his father again. "You believe, then, that Tarannon has such plans? I cannot imagine that he considers himself a suitable candidate."
"I do not think he wants to become King himself. But he commands a strong force, and entertains relations to those who do have plans concerning the future of the realm which do not correspond with mine. Moreover I have reason to believe that his dealings with the corsairs are not all of a hostile kind."
Faramir studied him thoughtfully. "But you have no proofs yet, have you? Proofs that would enable you to cause measurements against him."
Denethor gave him a keen glance, and suddenly smiled faintly. "I see you have exercised your ability to read in people's faces and minds. Yes, I cannot prove indeed that Tarannon and his friends plot treason. I do have my spies who provide me with information -"
"Is Lindórie one of them?" Faramir fell in.
Denethor gave him a long glance. "One of the most valuable I have," he said after a while. "But her position in Lebennin has become somewhat endangered. Tarannon may not be the brightest of men, but he has begun to get suspicious about her dealings with the Steward, and the way she runs his fief."
"Yes, she mentioned something of the kind," Faramir agreed thoughtfully. He gazed at his father. "Do you think she is in danger?"
"Not yet. But she may be, soon. And she is prepared to face it. Yet although she can look after herself pretty well, she may need help."
"Is that why you are telling me all this?" Faramir asked.
Denethor nodded slightly. "Do you think I have not noticed what is going on between you? You managed to keep it secret for a long time, but I guess that this over now, is it not?"
"It seems that someone intercepted our correspondance," Faramir said quietly.
"Is that so?" Denethor said, and there was a trace of mockery in his voice. "This is unfortunate for you indeed, in regard of her and your reputation. But it may come in very handy for what I have in mind concerning Tarannon."
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Canamarth
Ringbearer
Alliance: Dale
Last Visited: 18 May 2010
Joined: 05 Mar 2001
Posts: 11539
Location: Willing Suspension of Disbelief
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Posted: Thu Jan 24, 2002 4:57 am |
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Lossiel tried to sit up but halfway there she decided that lying was the better option. The spinning of the room was much easier to bear that way. She looked at Túrin who gave her a concerned look.
"I'm fine, I guess. Just a little - uh - weak?"
She extended an arm, Túrin clasped her hand and she pulled slightly so that he was forced to sit down on the bed beside her.
"Kiss me goodnight, sweetheart and then we shall sleep next to each other just like brother and sister."
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EdaintheRanger
Ranger of the North
Alliance: Numenore
Last Visited: 05 Jul 2008
Joined: 05 Jun 2000
Posts: 4677
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Posted: Thu Jan 24, 2002 9:28 am |
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With his head bowed in thought as he made his way up the cobbled streets of the Third Circle Andanor, wandered if Faramir would come down to “The White Tree” later this evening as he had suggested he might. Then with a rueful smile as he remembered the last leave they had had, Faramir could off load his problems to his lieutenant. It always made Andanor feel better as he watched the invisible load lifted from his Captain’s shoulders, as Faramir would first speak seriously about his duties to Gondor and Lord Denethor, before after about the fifth ale, move to the affairs of his pining heart.
Then the noise from the Tavern sprang to his ears and Andanor’s face was bathed in the orange glow from fire and candles lit within, the warm drafts seemed friendly as they struck his cold face. Night was falling in Minas Tirith. As he opened the door two young serving girls curtsied as they made their leave, giggling and whispering to each other as they weaved their way down the street. It seemed rather merry in the White Tree that e’en, and he smiled, although this was a rustic place, the beer was good and the company unpretentious. Thinking of beer, brought his Father to mind again as Andanor recalled how his father was always trying to get him to drink wine as befitted the nobleman he was. “Beer is a oaf’s drink” he used to say. The booming voice of the landlord was the next thing Andanor heard,
“What are you saying that my Ale is not good enough for you!?" and Andanor coloured slightly as he realised that he must have echoed his father’s words aloud.
“No, No” he countered, thinking on his feet “Beer is truly the drink of princes. For in a land far from here, be-crowned halflings with woolly feet sup each other’s health with a mug of foaming ale!”
The whiskered Landlord pondered this ridiculous statement for a second, before giving a bellowing laugh. “Well said.” he said as he plonked a heavy tankard in Andanor’s hand.
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