Of Túrin and Visilya

Pull out your pack and head on down to the Prancing Pony for some great Role Playing (try to stay in character)!

Postby Khorazir » Sun Sep 08, 2002 7:17 am

On an early morning in late Narquelië in the year 8 of the Fourth Age, the White City of Minas Tirith lay wreathed in mist. The black banners bearing the token of the white tree, the seven stars and the crown of Gondor on the Tower of Ecthelion and the other towers of the City hung motionlessly, as if they, too, like most of the inhabitants of the capital of Gondor, were still asleep. <BR><BR>But in the house of the Lord Húrin, the warden of the City Keys, people were astir already. Much had to be prepared still for the big event that was going to take place in only two days time: the wedding of Túrin, third and youngest child of the Lord Warden, and his great love Visilya, Captain of the Secret Guard. Rumours went that those two had loved each other for over twenty years, and only recently had decided to finally marry, after Visilya's arch-enemy Dellóm had been defeated. <BR><BR>Túrin's mother had then taken over the preparations for the wedding, and it was said to be an celebration of extraordinary magnificence and splendour. The King himself, people said, might attend, as well as his Steward, and others of the gentry. Expectations were high, therefore, and people were greatly looking forward to the event. <BR><BR>***<BR><BR>Right now a servant was sent on his way to wake the groom-to-be, who was still sleeping peacefully – until a persistent knock on the door disturbed his slumber. <BR><BR>"Good morning, Master Túrin. Your mother has told me to rouse you," the servant greeted him cheerfully upon entering the room, and grinned when catching a look of Túrin in his nightshirt, with towsled hair, and an expression as if he was considering to cast his pillow or even something harder at the intruder to get rid of him and return to sleep. "She reminded me to remind you that the tailor is going to arrive in about an hour, and that you have to try on the new tunic."<BR><BR>Túrin groaned and cast a glance out of the window, where the mists were still thick. "The sun has not risen yet," he complained. The he sighed. "Ah well, tell the Lady Amarië I'll be downstairs presently," he said. "And now leave me in peace."<BR><BR>When the servant hurried out of the room, Túrin sank down on the bed again. <i>This is not worth it, really,</i> he thought dejectedly. His mother had terrorised him like this for the past month. <i>If we had been wise, Visilya and I would have run away to get married, somewhere private and out of reach of all those relatives I seem to have in abundance. Then I wouldn't have had to endure this. Mother treats me as if I was still a child.</i> <BR><BR>He glanced up at the mirror at the further wall. His reflection showed that he was indeed no child anymore, but a man in his early forties, with an open, sympathetic face (which now looked rather grumpy), warm brown eyes, and wavy brown hair. He wore a short beard of haradaic fashion about his mouth and chin – a reminder, of sorts, of his long sojourn in the Harad a few years ago, a sojourn fraught with only few happy memories, as he had spent most of his time down there as a prisoner. But still, there were times when he felt a strange longing for the solitude of the desert. Especially now.<BR><BR>There was the clatter of hoofbeat in the courtyard below. Apparently more deliveries were being brought. Túrin sighed deeply. <i>Only two more days, and it's over,</i> he thought. Then his face brightened. <i>And Visilya and I will be married. Finally</i>. And suddenly he was looking forward to the event again. <BR><BR><BR><BR><i>ooc: For questions about the thread, and for people wanting to join, please see the aside at: <a target=new href="http://www.tolkienonline.com/thewhitecouncil/messageview.cfm?catid=25&threadid=54866">http://www.tolkienonline.com/thewhitecouncil/messageview.cfm?catid=25&threadid=54866</a></i>
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Postby gladrieltook » Sun Sep 08, 2002 6:27 pm

At the barracks of the Secret Gaurd, things were equally as busy. Men wolfed down their breakfasts, and hurried to their patrols. The Captain Visilya, however, sat silently in one corner of the mess-hall, sipping a steaming cup of tea. Her eyelids drooped wearily, for little sleep had been obtained by the Captian. Her mind dwelt on the day that for over twenty years she had hoped for.<BR><BR>She had been raised by every race of people, in every differnt life-style, but she had never felt comfortable as a proper Lady, which would be what was expected of her once she married Turin, a Lord in the Court of the King Elessar. She figited, and set her empty cup down. The sword at her side felt heavier that it had before. At first she had mearly dissmissed this as her age catching up with her. After all, she was over 40, and had begun to develop problems in her left knee. But she began to feel that it was not that at all, but that it was time for her, the seasoned veteran of the War of the RIng, and many fierce battles since, to hang up her sword and take her place as a respectable lady of Court.<BR><BR>She shook her head and rose to visit Bergil, who was as a son to her. She found him the stables, brushing a tall stallion while leaning awkwardly on one crutch. He had lost one leg in a battle against Dellom and his forces. But the lad refused to leave the gaurd, and continued to serve his city by tending to the horses used by the messengers and soldiers. Visilya was proud of his bravery and determination. <BR><BR>"You are a wonder, Bergil son of Beregond," she said, greeting him with a smile.<BR><BR>"Good morning to you, too," he retorted blandly. "You seem tired, Captain."<BR><BR>"Couldn't sleep. Don't you worry!" She cried as he turned to look at her with concern in his eyes. "I am mearly, anxious..."<BR><BR>"About the wedding," he finished. "My wisdom fails in that catergory."<BR><BR>Visilya smiled, and sat down on a bale of hay. "I know. I wish Eowen was still in the city, but she won't arrive till tomorrow. Same with Cynara."<BR><BR>"What about your mother-in-law-to-be."<BR><BR>"Age hasn't dulled my senses that much, son of Beregond."
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Postby Lady_of_Rohan » Sun Sep 08, 2002 9:08 pm

Away to the south, nestled in the hills of Emyn Arnen, the inhabitants of Dol Arandur still slept peacefully, save the night guards who were looking forward to the morning and their replacements coming on duty. Fog hung heavy in the lower vales, and in the east, the sky was starting to come alive with oranges, pinks, and purples. For the most part, the autumn was shaping up to be nothing out of the ordinary: cool to the point of being chilly in the mornings and evenings, then warm during the daytimes.<BR><BR>Éowyn lay awake, or, rather, in a tranquil state of semi-consciousness. She didn't quite want to admit yet that she was awake, sleep still crooned its siren song. Several minutes later, her doze was broken by the curious mew of a cat. She rubbed her fingers, and soon a brown-and-white cat lept up beside her, its nose only a few inches from her face. The cat mewed again. "You better quiet down, Berúthiel," Éowyn said softly. "You know the grouch doesn't appreciate your early morning conversations." The cat licked its front paw, then curled up, watching her with unblinking eyes. She stroked its fur for a few moments, until something else caught its attention, and it dropped to the floor and stalked away.<BR><BR>She smiled slightly, then yawned. Faramir was still asleep, his one arm wrapped around her waist, holding her close to him, and she didn't want to move and wake him. He had been up late last night, probably going over another proposal for the cleansing of Minas Morgul. It had been over a month since the campaign had been put on permanent hold, and there still had not been a relatively good way to revive it. The errand continued to weigh heavy on her husband's mind and, while he tried to keep his promise to not let his work take greater priority than his marriage, there were times when his duties simply demanded his full attention. But he tried to keep things in perspective, and that was what mattered.<BR><BR>Sighing, she rested her hand alongside his. She could feel the slight rise in her midsection and smiled. Only a couple days ago had she had begun to show that she was with child, and both she and Faramir had been delighted and pleased with the new change in her figure.<BR><BR>Yawning again, she closed her eyes and relaxed again, hoping to catch a few more minutes of rest before starting what would most likely turn into a long day.
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Postby Khorazir » Mon Sep 09, 2002 12:59 am

As usual when Berúthiel made her early morning visit, Faramir was woken by that. The cat seemed to have a special ability to rouse him even from deep sleep. He heard Éowyn's soft reproach, and smiled slightly to himself. The cat left again after a few minutes, and Faramir could hear it move about elsewhere in the room. Most likely it was just attempting to demolish the laces of his shoes.<BR><BR>"Hopefully it has not brought another "gift" this morning and let it loose in our bedroom," he murmured, his voice half-muffled by the pillow. "That squirrel two days ago has provided more than enough excitement for a long while."
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Postby Lady_of_Rohan » Mon Sep 09, 2002 5:00 am

Éowyn smiled as she heard his muffled grumble. "It's just her way of showing us that she cares. Besides," she said, rolling onto her other side, "I found it quite amusing, watching you and the cat trying to catch the thing. I don't think I've laughed so hard in my life." She grinned, noticing how he tried to feign sleep. "I know you're awake," she teased, nudging him gently.
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Postby Khorazir » Mon Sep 09, 2002 6:21 am

Faramir pretended to inhale sharply. "Ow, yes, now I am," he groaned. But then he smiled, and turned so that he could look at Éowyn. "Well, perhaps Berúthiel is right to wake us so early. 'tis a bit of a ride to the City, after all, and I would like to reach Minas Tirith before nightfall."<BR><BR>***<BR><BR>"Ah, Túrin, there you are," his sister Lossanna greeted him as he descended the stairs. She and some other relatives who normally did not live in the City had arrived already, so that many of the guest-rooms in the large house where occupied. Servants were preparing breakfast, or waiting to take water to the rooms once the inhabitants were awake and demanded it. "Mother is waiting for you in the hall," Lossanna said. <BR><BR>Túrin sighed. "Doesn't she sleep at all? I can't recall that she made such a fuss about your wedding."<BR><BR>His sister laughed. "You'll survive it. Only two more days, remember. Just don't criticise what she's doing." She clapped her brother's shoulder, and Túrin went to see his mother.
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Postby gladrieltook » Mon Sep 09, 2002 2:45 pm

Bergil finshed brushed the tall horse, set down his comb, and sat carefully next to Visilya. She sighed and lay back to look up at the rafters. "I'll miss the barracks, Bergil."<BR><BR>"I know," was all he said, and picking up his other crutch and struggling to his foot, he limped out of the barn. <BR><BR>Visilya sighed again, then stood, and went to where her own horse stood, saddled and waiting. <i>He always knows.</i> she thought with a smile as she mounted. And indeed her rides did ease her, this Bergil knew well.<BR><BR>***<BR><BR>Bergil chuckled as he limped back to the mess-hall to help with clean-up. Visilya was so anxious about her wedding that it made him laugh to see the tough old Captain fussing about her wedding gown, and floral arrangments, and running about the barracks with seamtreses at her heals. Yes, this wedding would be one that Minas Tirith would not soon forget.
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Postby Lady_of_Rohan » Mon Sep 09, 2002 8:27 pm

"And the only reason why you want to arrive early is so you have more time to torment Túrin," Éowyn accused, laughing softly at the impish grin spreading across his face. "I know how much you've been looking forward to it, too." She leaned forward slightly and kissed him gently. Drawing back, she said, "And you are going to enjoy every moment."<BR><BR>As another yawn threatened to crack her jaw, she sat up slowly, resting her shoulders against the headboard. She stretched gently, finding that one of the muscles in her back felt somewhat sore. <i>I must have slept crooked</i>, she thought, flinching slightly. A moment later the cat was back up on top of the covers, then rubbing against her arm and elbow, now curled up on her lap, purring contentedly, its white-tipped tail flicking restlessly.<BR><BR>This morning she felt rather good, as compared to some mornings when just opening her eyes seemed to be too much. Her energy was returning, something she gladly welcomed. As recently as a week ago she had almost been dreading this journey. She had been constantly fatigued, grumpy, ill to the point of weeping, and simply not in the mood (or condition, for that matter) to travel anywhere. Now she was feeling much better all around, and her appitite was beginning to come back, though some foods were still definitely off-limits.<BR><BR>"Ah, I think he's fallen asleep again, Berúthiel," she said, glancing at Faramir. "Perhaps you should go attack his toes, that always seems to wake him."
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Postby Khorazir » Tue Sep 10, 2002 5:50 am

Faramir sat up swiftly, drawing his feet towards him. "Nice of you to encourage her," he complained. But then he laughed again, and leaned against the headboard as well, reaching out to stroke the cat's head and back. Purring contently, Berúthiel turned upon her side, so that he could carress her throat. <BR><BR>"She can be really nice, if she wants to," he said while studying the cat. Then he glanced at Éowyn. She was smiling, and he thought that she did not look as pale and drawn as she had some days ago. He fervently hoped her condition had improved. During the last weeks he had been really worried about her, and moreover had felt somewhat helpless, not knowing what to do to alleviate her suffering. Everybody kept telling him that what she was going through was a perfectly normal thing during a pregnancy, and that it would pass, but this was only a minor solace at the moment.<BR><BR>"How do you feel this morning?" he asked, reaching out to gently stroke back a strand of golden hair that had fallen across her cheek. "Do you think you will manage the ride?"
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Postby AragornElessar » Tue Sep 10, 2002 6:56 am

While most of the inhabitants of the White City rested, it's key resident did not. King Elessar stood at the window of his bedroom, the morning breeze blowing his black hair over his eyes. He looked out, taking a deep breath, enjoying the peace.<BR><BR>"The day is not far off." A melodious voice floated up from behind him. He smiled. He always did whenever she was near him. Taking one last look outside he turned to find his wife nearly at his side.<BR><BR>"Good morning to you." He whispered as he took her into his arms kissing her tenderly. For a moment the two were wrapped on one another then they slowly broke apart. Arwen looked deep into her husband's eyes.<BR><BR>"And who better would understand the longing and waiting for something so greatly desired?" She asked in Elvish.<BR><BR>Aragorn grinned down at her. "I can't imagine." He teased back then laughed when she put an expression of mock scorn on her face. "I am excitied for both Lord Turin and Captain Visilya." He remarked. "And yes, I can understand what this means to them!"
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Postby Anriel Mendereth » Tue Sep 10, 2002 10:41 am

OUtside of the city, as the sun rose, the whole world seemed to turn golden for one glorious moment. A lone figure on the road stopped its run and turned to face the sun, letting its newborn light warm her face. After a moment, she started off again, feeling the sweat run down her back, the breeze streaming cool through her hair. As she ran, she thought with anticipation of the day ahead. Today was the day she would find out whether she had been accepted into a place of the Guard of Minas Tirith. Just outside of the gates, she stopped to stretch and warm down, then slipped back through the gates to the tavern where she was staying to wash and dress properly. And breakfast, of course. One could not forget food!
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Postby Khorazir » Tue Sep 10, 2002 12:00 pm

"Ah, there you are," Túrin's mother greeted him. <i>She looks rather stressed,</i> Túrin thought, and decided not to complain about the servant's early visit, and patiently endured her long description of what had to be organised still, and her complaints about various things that had not been completed to her liking.<BR><BR>When she had finished talking herself into a rage by cursing the servants for their laziness, and the cook and tailor for their "apparent inability", and his father for the fact that "he does not lift a finger to help me with this. He seems to think that council-meetings are of more importance, and keeps telling me to calm down, and not to take things so seriously", he clapped her shoulder, and said soothingly (and marvelled to hear himself utter these words, since in fact he was rather nervous because of this whole wedding-business): "You know -- and please don't shout at me --, that father might be right. You're doing a great job. No one expects this to be all-perfect. Just relax. It's going to work out splendidly, you'll see. We don't have to try and rival the King's wedding."<BR><BR>She glanced at him, and for a moment he was sure she would turn even more angry, but then she smiled. "Perhaps you are right, my boy. 'tis just ... I really would like to make this day special for you and Visilya."<BR><BR>Túrin laughed. "Oh, don't worry about that. It's going to be special, splendid feast or no." He heard footsteps approach, and a servant call his mother's name. "The tailor?" he asked. His mother nodded, and he sighed. "Well, let's get it over with, then. If it means so much to you ..."<BR><BR>She smiled, and kissed his cheek. "We shall make it short."
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Postby gladrieltook » Tue Sep 10, 2002 2:01 pm

THe horse stamped and snorted impatiently, as if signalling to Visilya that if she didn't hurry up and mount, he'd gallop off without her. Visilya laughed, and patted the horse's proud neck, then mounted with the highest level of grace that one can achieve in one's early fourties while wearing a sword and chainmail. With a quick kick, the animal lurched forward. Once outside he quickened to a canter. Visilya guided him wiht an expert hand through winding back alleys and deserted streets to avoid pedestrians while still feeling the wind whip through her hair as she made her way steadily to the first circle and the Gate. Once on the Pellenor fields, Visilya let the horse ake over. They were soon flying across the plains, hurtling over streams, and dodging around boulders. Visilya let out a childish whoop, and urged her steed faster. "<i>Noro-lim!</i>" she cried, remembering the elvish taught to her by Elrond and Galadriel. Coming back around to the road, she spotted a figure near the gate. The figure disappeared inside, and she shrugged it off as a child sneaking out to pick mushrooms, or collect toads, whichever took their fancy.
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Postby Tobias_Red-tail » Tue Sep 10, 2002 7:36 pm

A girl of about fourteen, who appeared to be lean and sardonic looking, with brown hair streaked with gold that fell into her eyes. Impatient, she brushed it away, and continued her way down the street she was in, forcibly weaving herself between people, showing a blade if they refused to move. She would not use her name of course, only as a last resort, for as the adopted daughter of the Thieves¡¦ Guild leader, the mere mention of her name would command attention. She was making her way steadily to a rather unkempt building, with paint falling off around the sides. Despite it¡¦s appearance, it was the place where Alayna, adopted daughter of the Thieves' Guild leader, whose name was Antius, stayed at.<BR><BR>As she trudged up the stairs taking extreme care not to force too much weight on them, for the fear that the stairs would collapse. As she made her way towards her room, she heard the floor creak. In anywhere else, this would have been common, but the floors in this building did not creak. Immediately on the alert, she looked back, and spun just in time to drop her head and catch the descending truncheon with her left hand instead of her skull. The blow stung her hand to numbness, but she held on desperately as thick fingers dug into her throat, forcing her back against the door to her room. Her head hit with a thump. Silver-rimmed black spots danced in her vision, obscuring a sweating face. All she could really see was a big nose and yellow teeth, and those seemed hazy. Suddenly she realized that she was on the far edge of consciousness; those fingers were closing off blood to her brain as well as air. Her free hand went beneath her coat, fumbling over the hilt of her knives as though her fingers had forgotten what they were for. The cudgel wrenched free. She could see it rising, feel it rising to smash her skull. Focusing everything, she jerked a knife from its sheath and thrust.<BR><BR>Her attacker let out a high-pitched scream, and Alayna was vaguely aware of the club bouncing off her shoulder as it fell to the floor, but the man did not let go of her throat. Stumbling, Alayna drove him back, tearing at the clutched fingers with one hand, driving her knife repeatedly with the other.<BR><BR>Abruptly the fellow fell, sliding from her blade. The knife nearly followed him to the floor. So did Alayna. Gulping breath, sweet air, she clung to a doorway to hold herself on her feet. From the floor, a plain-faced man stared up at her with eyes that would never see anything again.<BR><BR>Calmly, Alayna wiped her knife on his body, and then yelled downstairs. In a place like this, yells often went unnoticed, and she told the landlord to send some men to remove the body and clear the mess. He immediately obeyed, for he would not dare to challenge her. Soon, the room was cleared, and there was no trace that a failed assassination had taken place. She prepared herself a cold supper of dried meat and flat bread. She had long since gotten use to this fare. After her meal, she sat by the fireplace, reading a book, while a scented candle burned, filling the room with the fresh scent of herbs.
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Postby Lady_of_Rohan » Tue Sep 10, 2002 8:00 pm

Éowyn rolled her eyes. "Yes, Faramir, I think I'll be able to manage a day trip. Unless, of course, <i>someone</i> decides to set a break-neck pace. And if that is going to be the case, then I shall follow along at my own leisurely pace and arrive at the city when I feel like it." She laughed softly. "Honestly, sometimes I wonder if you worry too much about me." She leaned over and kissed his cheek gently. "But I do appreciate it."
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Postby Khorazir » Wed Sep 11, 2002 12:24 am

Faramir laughed gently as well. "We shall ride slowly, I promise. I have yet to decide about how to best "torture" Túrin," he added with a grin. "In fact, I think what he most likely is going through now is torture enough for the poor lad. I could imagine his relatives not granting him a moment of rest."<BR><BR>Then he fell silent, thinking of the journey. "I wonder if we need as large an escort as on our ride here," he mused. "After all, it has been very quiet during the last month." This was true. There had been no more assassination attempts of late: no poisoned water or food, no snakes in the bedroom, and no ambushes on the road. Yet Faramir knew that the peace might be deceiving. He had many enemies, in Gondor and elsewhere. Some of them usually contented themselves with verbal attacks during council-meetings, such as his very special friend Falastur, the Lord of Pelargir. But there were also other, more dangerous foes. Apparently a certain noble of Umbar had added the name of the Steward of Gondor (and that of his wife) to his death-list, and as yet Faramir did not really know what to expect from this -- a fact which greatly troubled him. Marek Al-Jahmîr was said to be ruthless and cruel, and very powerful and influencial. Moreover people held the opinion that usually he achieved what he wanted, and it was rumoured that he had spies even in high positions at the court of King Elessar.<BR><BR>Faramir sighed. "I shall speak with Beregond, and Maradir. Perhaps some of his Noldorin friends would like to accompany us again. I somehow feel safer with Lordel at hand. I am still in awe of his powers."
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Postby Windrider » Wed Sep 11, 2002 10:07 am

“Ahhh, so we meet again, the great White City of Minas Tirith. How in so many ages have I not seen your prominent ability at delight just from shear sight. But yet some stir in my being has yet to show me that fate has brought me here for one reason or another.”<BR><BR>A figure of black robe let his hand take down his hood and soon put on a strange black hat that curled at the rim. His white and thin hair and beard roused about his shoulders as the light gust of wind pushed him back slightly, layers of black clothing flowed with it in an all but majestic way. Behind him tall trees were seen, as he was just exiting the forest of Druadan. He gave a light breath of air as he looked around him. He was still a good few miles from the Minas Tirith but it was still in sight. The morning sun began to rise over his shoulder as his thin old face gave a smile to the warm light that touched his back. His blue eyes glistened and now his full form was seen. His long black robe touched the grass and hid his feet, as did his long black cloak with red lining. A beautiful vest of gold, ruby, and black was worn over the robe. Long sleeves of black cloth blew back from the small wind and if it were not for the long staff in the form of a black dragon, then his hand would not be seen at all.<BR><BR>“Eh, the wind blows slightly hard this mornings day…”<BR><BR>He said the words while letting his free hand with no staff hold the top of his hat. His voice was that of a stern and elderly one. It was natural of him to sound that way and it usually showed a sense of respect and prominence about him. At the moment he was slightly disappointed he did not see a Wose for recording. Of course the men of Rohan he passed by two weeks ago called them Rógs. Then again the elves he talked to at Mirkwood called them Drúedain. Either way he could not meet any to his dismay, whenever he would pass through there again he supposed he would actually search. However he had no time for detailed analysis of Druadan. He was too focused on his arrival to Gondor and the White City. The first place he discovered his love for the land and the power that could come from it.<BR><BR>He stopped in the fields of grass as his clothing blew to the side along with his white hair and beard. He reached to his belt and pulled out a piece of brownish paper that was rolled into a scroll. He pulled it open as he saw the wide drawing he had done of the White City from this same view. He smiled and held it up and then pulled it down, the site of the birds flapping around the tall and glittering city even seemed the same. He smiled with a delightful demeanor and put the scroll back to belt. He began to walk again as his movements continued on, ever so slowly reaching the gates of Minas Tirith, the White City. His thoughts rang to him as he made his way, his staff held tightly in one hand in his other holding his hat promptly on his head.<BR><BR><i>Days have long past since I felt the winds of the south and seen the sights of Gondor. The King calls for a presence by me and I already feel something beyond my means. I have heard of a ceremonies of special call this day, but unsure of what they are. They could be anything but be it best known I would like to see them before my leave. As I know my path now leads over south crossing the river and to Mountains of Shadow. I have not yet decided if I shall pass into Mordor to observe, for the smell of ash and brimstone still lies there. Though in my mind it is the best thing to do, I still have many tales to find and to tell. Where I do so does not matter. For now let my wake come to Gondor </i><BR><BR>His thoughts finished as he soon found himself on the actual trail leading there. He smiled as he saw the pearl white presence of Minas Tirith. He would be there in no less then an hour or two now, and then he would head to see the King. For he felt time was short on part, and he wished not to delay, for he was never late in his life.<BR><BR>“Today… is going to be a very good day.”<BR> <BR>
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Postby Khorazir » Wed Sep 11, 2002 11:35 am

"No, no, no, the sleeves are still too short. They are supposed to be like this, see? They should go down further than only to the elbow. This is supposed to be a wedding-robe, not a mere tunic."<BR><BR>Túrin was standing on a chair, wearing a splendid tunic of finest light-grey linen which reached down to his shoes, embroidered with silver thread and pearls at collar and sleeves. His mother, the tailor and his apprentice were hopping around him, tearing at this corner and hitching another. Twice already the garment had been altered, needles had been fastened or taken out again, and still the three had come to no agreement about the length of the sleeves, and other vital things. Túrin rolled his eyes, swallowed his sarcastic remark of which he knew that it would only infuriate his mother, and raised his arms a little so that the apprentice could measure again their length. <BR><BR>"But my dear lady," the tailor, an elderly man with thinning grey hair and a funny-looking moustache objected, "sleeves of the length as you demand simply are not fashionable anylonger. Today one is supposed to see the shirt's sleeves underneath, like that."<BR><BR>Lady Amarië gave him a fierce glance. "Tell me not what you think is fashionable. Who has ever heard of a long tunic with short sleeves. Six inches more is all I ask."<BR><BR>The tailor sighed, and shook his head. "As you wish, lady," he conceded wearily. Túrin let out a sigh of relief, and gathered the tunic to descend from the chair. <BR><BR>"Oh no, we are not finished yet," his mother said. "You have yet to try shirt and trowsers. And the shoes. And the cloak."<BR><BR>"And that's it?" Túrin asked sarcastically. <BR><BR>"From the tailor, yes. When he is done, you have an appointment with the barber."<BR><BR>Túrin frowned. "Why that?" he asked suspiciously. "What's wrong with my hair?"<BR><BR>"With this tangled mass you like to call hair? Honestly, Tùrin! And this beard? It makes you look ten years older."<BR><BR>"Hey, I like my beard," Túrin objected hotly. "And as long as Visilya doesn't complain about my looks, you don't have to, either. So tell the barber to stay at home."<BR><BR>They gazed at each other fiercely, until the tailor cleared his throat. "About the trowsers ...," he began tentatively.
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Postby gladrieltook » Wed Sep 11, 2002 4:20 pm

Visilya stopped suddenly at the edge of the road. A fierce wind whipped past her, sending loose strands from her braid to sting her face. The wind had become cooler in these past days. Not nearly as cool as in the north, but still chilly enough to prick the bare skin of her hands. She turned to face the wind, closing her eyes against the bite of the chill. <BR><BR>Risking to open her eyes, she could see a black speck moving across the horizon, growing gradually larger. She shaded her eye with her free hand. This hand was marked by a great scar on either side, where she had peirced it with her own blade to swear on her blood to avenge those whome she had loved, and then lost to Dellom. But as she squinted towards the horizon, she could make out nothing about this steadily growing speck.
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Postby Tobias_Red-tail » Wed Sep 11, 2002 10:21 pm

A knock sounded at her door, jolting Alayna out of her own world. Muttering, she opened the door, and found herself looking into the eyes of a messenger. Slightly irritated, she asked him what he wanted, and took the parchment he carried from him, before sending him away. As she opened it, the name at the top caught her attention. Antius. The Guild's leader, and he was asking for a meeting now. She had little choice, so sighing; she extinguished the flame and left the room.<BR><BR>Once she was on the busy street and rounded a corner, she found herself face to face with a tall and dark-haired boy about seventeen. She tried to suppress a grin as she greeted him.<BR>"Hey, Derrick, he called you as well?"<BR>He returned her enquiry with a shrug. His skin was tanned, and he gave her a crooked smile. His eyes were green, like the grasslands on a spring day; his face long and narrow set, with features just right to be handsome by most girls’ standards. Thin, dark lashes shaded his eyes, and he wore a gray tunic over dark blue trousers. Soon another boy joined the two. His name was Jacson and about fifteen. He was energetic enough to keep them all entertained, viewing the world with wide-eyed enthusiasm, and grabbed for everything he could get out of a moment. He was of slight stature, yet he was deceptively strong and very quick-witted. He had straw blond hair, tousled and slightly wavy. His eyes were blue, and he was maturing into a rough handsomeness. <BR><BR>As the threesome made their way downtown, Jacson suggested an early dinner, for they had no idea what time the leader would dismiss them. Calmly making their way to a tavern, Alayna was slightly put off by the crowd milling outside it. However, Derrick had different ideas. He was handsome and he knew it. Weaving his way to a harried serving girl, he began to start a conversation with her. After a while, he motioned to the other two to come in. Alayna grinned wryly. No doubt he had sweet-talked her into clearing a table for them. At their request, she brought bowls of steaming stew, loaves of bread, butter, a plate of raisin cakes, and flagons of the tavern’s hot spiced wine, which she refused.<BR><BR>Once they had finished, they made their way to a house near the city square. That was the headquarters. No doubt the lawmakers knew that this place was filled with thieves and the like, but they could not put it down, for there was no clear sign that anything illegal ever went on there. The three trudged up the stairs, then walked into the conference room. There the guild leader greeted them. He was a striking-looking man in his late thirties: thick black hair, which had begun to turn gray, a powerful nose, and fierce black eyes. He was thickset, with the fists of a prizefighter. Once he had greeted them, he returned to his seat, which was filled with cushions. Soon, the meeting started:<BR>"There is a great wedding planned, the wedding of Túrin and Visilya. I do not know whom they are, but this is going to be easy picking for us. There are bound to be many dignitaries, and representatives from the various guilds, so it would only make sense for us to send our representatives." Antius turned his piercing gaze to the three young people near him. "And these three youngsters are the representatives which I have chosen. They will have to be measured out for proper dressing of course, but that would not be a problem or hindrance," His gaze remained riveted on them, though his voice was aimed at the rest. "Is there anyone who does not agree with my choices?"<BR>A pale, balding man stood up. <BR>"These are mere children! How could you entrust such good pickings to them?"<BR>"Yes, they are children, but they are far less inconspicuous than a bunch of grown men strutting around. I have decided. They will go."<BR><BR>Alayna and friends were shocked. They had expected something far less demanding than this, maybe a robbery, but definitely not this. However, the job was offered to them, and they would be fools to refuse. Suddenly the voice of Antius started again.<BR>"They will be sent for fittings tomorrow morning. Whether they like it or not."
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Postby Anriel Mendereth » Thu Sep 12, 2002 3:08 pm

In her room in the tavern within the city walls, Lauriandune leaned against the wooden dresser, her face resting on clasped hands, and stared preoccupied into the mirror. She studied her appearance thoughtfully, taking in the long black hair, the dark skin turned such by the many years spent under the hot eastern sun while she watched the animals and worked in the fields for her family. Her brother, Einor, had once called her pretty, but she could not agree with him. Her appearance certainly was interesting. Years of hard labour and then training had toughened her body so that little of her soft curves remained. Her body was hard and toned, lithe, gracful, but able to bear great weight. Her eyes were perhaps the most surprising, almond shaped and unsuaully coloured for her people. They would shine gold in sunlight, darkening to deep brown when she was angry or upset, like a tiger's eyes, Einor had said, but she had listened to him. Fond as she was of her brother, they were not similar. He had had the chance to take up his father's sword and join their land's army as an officer, as men had in the tradition of their family for as long as anyone could tell. And yet, he had chosen to remain at home, marry a pretty girl from the nearby tribe and live quietly, herding animals. It had been hard for Lauriandune to hide her frustration as she watched him seemingly throw his life away. Ther ehad been nothing she would have wanted more than to join the army, do something useful and exciting, but her parents would have her marry and settle down to raise a family and embrioder silks like the women of her tribe. A man had been chosen, well worthy, and it would have been a good life, a peaceful life with little hardship or danger...<BR>The night before the intended marriage, she stole her father's sword and left the village, heading west with only the sword, her horse, and a few gems she had earned over the last year or so. And now here she was, in the city of Minas Tirith, the Queen of cities in the western lands. And she was being considered for the army!<BR>Grinning at herself, she swept long black trsses away from her face and headed out into the morning sunlight. She would walk around the city again today, noticing the places and people so different from her own.
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Postby AragornElessar » Fri Sep 13, 2002 5:37 am

King Elessar sat in the Throne room speaking to his main servants. "I am counting on you to make certain all is prepared for this day!" He remarked seriously, though his voice held a note of gentle tease in it. All around him nodded their heads slowly. He was about to speak again when one of the guards of the Red Company approached his throne and bowed to one knee.<BR><BR>My lord. Forgive the intrusion, but your guest, the Wizard, Abaodus, has arrived. You asked to be informed?"<BR><BR>The corners or Aragorn's lips curved upwards slightly. "Yes indeed. And I thank you for the message." He turned to the others in the room. "That is all for now. But I shall call you all together again later in the week for an update to the preperations." He rose from his throne and everyone filed out of the room. The King watched them go, then he turned to the guard.<BR><BR>"Please have Abaodus brought to my chamber." He said softly. "I admit to being very excited to meet him. I've not seen another Wizard since..." He trailed off.<BR><BR>"Since Mithrandir my Lord?" Gellas, the guard supplied.<BR><BR>Aragorn nodded slowly. "Indeed. He took a deep breath. "This promises to be a most interesting visit!"
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Postby Letora » Tue Sep 17, 2002 6:23 pm

Letora rode up to the gates of Minas Tirith. She had been looking forward to what was promised to be quite an elegant wedding. As she looked over the gates she sighed. It had been a long time since she had been to this magnificent city. THen she had been about one hundred years younger. When she finally reached the gates a gaurd greeted her.<BR><BR>"What is your name and business?"<BR><BR>"I am Letora of Lothlorien. I am here to represent my city at the wedding of Turin and Visilya," she seemed to proclaim this with dignity and pride filling her voice.<BR><BR>"Lady Letora, Minas Tirith greets. ANd we honor your presents."<BR><BR>"Thankyou but I need no honor. I am just a Lady elf not a queen." She smiled as she corrected him. Then he opened the gates and bowed his head while doing so. Letora rode her horse Carna in through the gates and then hulted. SHe looked around the city and admired the fact that it was still the same in many ways. Everything was still as she remembered it.<BR><BR>Everywhere in town there was talk of the wedding. Even those whom were not invited had something to say. The children were talking of flowergirls and ringbearers. All of them wanted to fill the spot. <BR><BR>Letora sat upon Carna thinking of where she should go, and then she decided on going to the palace and seeing Aragorn and Arwen. Slowly she made her way throughout the city. Finally reaching the magestic palace. Quickly she leaped off Carna and ran up the steps. She puched open the oak doors and ran inside. Her footsteps made no sound even the the room was meant to echo at every step she made. THen she reached the doors leading to the Great Hall where the king and queen's thrones sat. Shoving open the doors she stepped inside and bowed.<BR><BR>"I represent my people. The people of Lothlorien. I am here for the wedding of Turin and Visilya. I need housing." <BR><BR>The king and queen looked at her smiling and then they began to speak.
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Postby AragornElessar » Wed Sep 18, 2002 5:31 am

"Letora." King Elessar stated softly rising from his throne. "It has been many a year since I have heard that name. And I was but a mere child when I heard it!" He approached her and holding out his arms, folded her into a hearty embrace. <BR><BR>"I have many questions for you. And we will have time for them all. Welcome to Minias Tirith. May I present the Queen, my lovely Arwen Evenstar!"<BR><BR>Arwen gave a curtsy. "Tis always joyous to meet a friend of the King's." She said in her melodious voice. "I pray your journey was a pleasant one?"
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Postby Letora » Wed Sep 18, 2002 7:59 pm

"Ahhh so you have heard of me your majesty? And Arwen you are an elf I prosume. For long ago before your king was even born I knew Lord Elrond. This being taken into account means that I met you once in a blue moon." Letora smiled and bowed slightly.<BR><BR>"Please excuse the question, but why is the soon to be newly weds. I have heard so much of this wedding that it feels as if it has already taken place. I would like to meet the couple if possible before the hour is over." <BR><BR>She looked at the king and queen they were slowly thinking through all of this and in no time at all were giving their reply.
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Postby Letora » Wed Sep 18, 2002 8:00 pm

"Ahhh so you have heard of me your majesty? And Arwen you are an elf I prosume. For long ago before your king was even born I knew Lord Elrond. This being taken into account means that I met you once in a blue moon." Letora smiled and bowed slightly.<BR><BR>"Please excuse the question, but where are the soon to be newly weds. I have heard so much of this wedding that it feels as if it has already taken place. I would like to meet the couple if possible before the hour is over." <BR><BR>She looked at the king and queen they were slowly thinking through all of this and in no time at all were giving their reply.
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Postby AragornElessar » Fri Sep 20, 2002 5:21 am

"Actually, we're not sure where the happy couple is at the moment." Elessar said with a smile. "But I'll dispatch a guard to have one or both of them brought here as soon as possible. In the meantime, will you honor us with a drink?"<BR><BR>Queen Arwen looked closely at their new guest. "I do not recall Elrond ever mentioning you." She said at length. "But Elledan and Elrohir often had your name on their lips. You knew their mother perhaps?"<BR><BR>
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Postby gladrieltook » Fri Sep 20, 2002 3:25 pm

Visilya looked up at the sky, and saw that the sun was already near it's zenith. She cursed herself, and urged her horse back to the gates. She was too meet Turin's mother at noon to agree on the floral arangments, and the barber after that to get her mane of thick hair trimmed to a managable length and thickness. <BR><BR>The gaurds on duty saluted as she rushed past. She took a shortcut, which, becuase of the resent rain, caused her boots and the bottoms of her trousers to be splattered with mud thrown up by the horse's hooves. But she reached the house of Hurin on ime, for which she blessed Eru. Dismounting and handing over her horse to a servent, she hurried to the door. Straightening herself, she knocked. Another servent admitted her in, and led her to the room where Turin was being fitted for the trousers he was to wear. The two soon-to-bes embraced, kissed, and stood together. "Lady Amarie, you are too much!" Visilya exclaimed. "I never thought one woman could do so much in one month. My stepmother would have adored you."
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Postby Letora » Fri Sep 20, 2002 4:05 pm

"I do believe that I did. ANd you don't remember me Lady Arwen? I used to come and talk with your father for days on end. we would had secret meetings on war locked in rooms with two gaurds to discuss things. You would always ask for your fasther and I to come out, but once I came out I had to go back to my father to tell him what was going on. At the time I lived in Mirkwood with my father the Lord of Mirkwood." Letora looked confused. Why didn't Arwen remember her?<BR><BR>SHe gave no heed to it, and excepted the drink they ofered her. Then the king began to speak again.
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Postby AragornElessar » Sat Sep 21, 2002 6:04 pm

Elessar also looked confused as he shot his wife a glance. He would have expected Arwen to recall Letora even better than he had. <i>Make a note to ask her why no recollection</i> he thought to himself. Outwardly he raised his glass and touched it against those of the other two.<BR><BR>"Blessed this day is to have one so worthy come into our city." He declared then took a sip of the wine. "Accomodations of the finest available are yours m'lady, along with anything else you wish. And I promise to bring you Turin and Visilya as soon as they're to be found!" <BR><BR>He drained his glass and stood motioning for both women to remain seated. "If you'll pardon me, I have some business to attend to. I promised an audience and I must go. Perhaps you two can have a chance to help Arwen recall you?" Aragorn finished lightly, but his voice still held a note of concern for his wife.<BR><BR>Arwen nodded at him and smiled. "I think that is a wonderful idea. We shall meet up with you later." Elessar smiled down at her and bowed low to Letora. With that he left. As he came into the Hallway he was met by one of his young servants. The young man carried a look partly of surprise, partly of disbelief on his face.<BR><BR>"What is it?" Aragorn questioned.<BR><BR>"Your Majesty." The servant remarked bowing. "The one who requests you audience awaits you in your hall."<BR><BR>"I pray he's not been kept long. I didn't realize we'd have an unexpected guest with Letora's arrival!"<BR><BR>"Sire? There's something I must inform you of before you go to this meeting."<BR><BR>"What is it?" The King asked full of curiosity.<BR><BR>"Your meeting? It's not with a he m'lord. It's a SHE!"<BR><BR>The statement made Aragorn stop dead in his tracks and he turned to the servant, his expression now mirroring the others'. "How intriguing!" He finally declared as the initial surprise wore off. "Let us not keep the LADY then waiting!"
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