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Three Horses and an Ass TP: A Meeting At Last

Tags: Gwendion,  Elladan,  Menelglir,  Nurenhir,  Awarthnur,  Linnet,  Elrond

Short Summary: The men of Gondor finally attain their goal, gaining the advice of Lord Elrond
Date (real-life): 2010-01-13
Scene Location: Imladris
Date (in-game): December 7, 3049
Time of Day: Evening
Weather: Winter
[Imladris ZMO(#400)->Menelglir] ================== Eldarin Calendar <in Sindarin> ===================
IC time is:    Nighttime < About 11:42 PM >
IC day is:     Ormenel <Heavens-day>
IC date is:    5 Rhiw <Winter>
Moon phase:    Waxing Gibbous <HIDDEN>
Earendil:      Gil-Estel shines at its most brilliant barely above the
               horizon in the western sky.
IC year is:    Loa 24 o Yen 22, Nelandran o Endor <TA 3048>
RL time:        Wed Jan 13 15:14:23 2010
[+TIME] Middle-earth time is:
Nighttime on Trewsday, Day 7 of December.
Execute the +TIMEFRAME command for year information.

Real time is: 15:14:29 MDT on Wed Jan 13 2010.

[Elladan(#27059)] Night has fallen and outside the last homely house a white blanket of snow is covering the landscape, for winter has come to the land. But inside Elrond's house there is warmth and light. The hall where Master Elrond uses to hold council and may receive his guests is lit by many elven lamps and cups with wine are set out on the tables. On the dais tonight though sits the Master's son, Elladan, not Elrond Halfelven himself. He speaks softly to a group of elves around him while they all seem to wait for something - or someone.

One of those expected, perhaps, now peeks his head tentatively in the door, dark hair falling about his face. In his old white tunic--much mended carefully by elven hands now--Menelglir is easily recognizable.

"I..uh..forgive me. Sir Gwendion is not here yet?" he manages, sputter a little in his hesitation. "And Herion," he syas, remembering manners suddenly and bowing.


"I am not here yet," comes Gwendion's voice, hidden from behind the door, "But soon I will be, thus you may proceed, Squire."

Standing behind the Herion's chair, stately in muted raiment, Nurenhir the steward hides a smile at the words of the Gondorian squire.

[Elladan(#27059)] "Come in, come in," beckons Elladan, just as Menelglir asks. "Good even and welcome to my father's council." He takes a sip from a cup of wine and then rises to bow to the arriving guests. "As it happens he cannot listen to your tale himself for he is most busy with our singers guild. But if you will, I would hear your request as well."

The Blue Squire--dressed in white, perversely--cannot but help and jump at Gwendion's voice right behind him. "Sir," Menelglir replies to a slight reddening of his face. He but hesitates but once to glance at the Knight, given Elladan's words, then walks in to take a seat appointed to the men from Gondor.


Gwendion follows his Squire's footsteps, coming to a stop at his side as he sits. He pats the boy's shoulder a few times, easing what nervousness from him he can, even as his face turns grim by the words of Elladan and speaks to them, "Lord Elladan," he hesitates, flustered, "First, let me offer my thanks for you acting as our most gracious host. My appreciation for your attentive care is deeply felt. And, I must assume that since no word has come from you that our Knight-Herald has not yet been found or seen sign of?"

Elladan shakes his raven head. "Nay, I am afraid we have not heard word of him or his whereabouts. None of our scouts in the wilderness have reported about a man like him," he speaks to the Gondorian emissary. "May the Valar guide his steps." he gestures for the Gondorians to take their seats.

A heavy sigh is Menelglir's response to this news. He glances at Gwendion as he takes his seat, speaking low. "Then we must only guess at what Sir Arathis meant by this quest in some ways, no? But perhaps all is not lost. We are here...and we have counsel now."


"My Squires words are true, and as I have spoken before, I will speak again: I am not the emissary from Gondor. He is dead."

Gwendion's jaw tightens as he pauses, then continues, "But I know of his mission and have come to complete it. I am not a man of history, nor of particular stature in my order so forgive my ignorance if any is displayed. Lord Arathis was a learned man in ways of men and, apparently, of your kind. He spoke highly of your father's wisdom and had hopes that it would bring an aid to our people."

"Take no insult from this, but I am," a breath, "Disappointed that we cannot speak with him. Not that I think you a lesser man, for indeed, I know nothing of either of you save that my once Lord, thought highly of your father's keen mind. And in respect of that, I must ask if this is the certainty of things and we cannot be granted an audience."

"But.." Menelglir whispers to the Knight in a voice quite low--polite enough for his words not to be carried to human ears other than Gwendion's-- "it is said that Hir Elrond is of great years. Perhaps he is infirm and no longer of sound mind...."

[Elladan(#27059)] "I believe my father would have liked to meet your Lord Arathis and so would I," replies Elladan. "But as I said, my father's mind is keenly set upon driving away the evil spirit that haunts the Trollshaws. With age comes wisdom and his is now needed by our singers to forge a song that will help us win this struggle." Dismissing this matter, he asks of Gwendion: "But what is it that brought you here? I am eager to hear of your quest and to help you with it."

A small frown betrays Menelglir's reaction to this answer, but he speaks not. Instead, trying to gain a neutral expression on his face, he turns toward Gwendion, looking to the Knight to speak of their mission. And low, again, to the Knight, he speaks. "He could convey our mission to his father at the least. Or...if he is interested, perhaps aid could be found. And not so young is this son of the Hir, or so I guess from what I have heard here."


Resigning to his situation, Gwendion gives a brief nod to both his squire and Erond's son, "Very well," then begins his tale.

"I do not know what you know of our lands, so I will be brief for brevity's sake. If you would like to know more on something, please, speak your questions openly."

"The city of my order, Dol Amroth, is ruled by a line of Princes that claim a kinship to your own race and that of Numenor. We are in the south of my lands, bordered by a great sea. And south of that is the land of Harad and the once great city of Umbar, ruled now by corrupted agents of the East and fallen men that claim a similar bloodline to the nobility of my lands and my prince."

"These pirates, Corsairs, nomads and the like are the greatest threat to the free peoples of our lands from the South. They raid and pillage with no words but violence for us."

"And we believe, they hold our Prince captive or dead."

[Elladan(#27059)] The formerly lively expression on Elladan's face turns into a pale frown. "Prince Imrahil held captive by corsairs? That is in fact dire news if it proves true," he speaks lowly and the counsellors around him begin to whisper. "Such a strike has been unheard of for centuries, I daresay. Tell me, what makes you think that he was taken or slain?"

[Rhunedhel(#7440)] From the door, there comes a voice, mellifluous and even-toned, yet clear as a bell. An irritated voice.

"No, I do not think that Mallenfaigliel's poetic composition would work on trolls. Please, PLEASE tell her that, and inform her that until she is one hundred years old, I have no intention of sending her anywhere NEAR the trollshaws. Now excuse, me, I need some wine."

And a figure enters the hall then, black-haired, ageless in features, in a white robe.

It is Elrond, lord among Elves and Men, though nothing he wears guarantees that to the ignorant viewer.

[Awarthnur(#24083)] Another of the race of the First Born enters closely on the elf lord's heels, her smile one of highest bemusement. Awarthnur seems content to nod to the crowd gathered in the Hall and then pass her way, but the heavy tone that the conversation has taken hangs tangibly over all present, and it grounds her where she stands. Her smile fades but slightly as she edges her way into the chamber, taking a place where she is least likely to impose her presence, but near enough to hear what has voices raised and backs tensed in the Homely House.

"One hundred years and not able enough to fight in the trollshaws?" Menelglir notes in a quiet voice, either to himself or the Knight next to him, brows raised in some surprise at the words that interrupt the meeting. Then louder, to Gwendion and for Elladan's benefit as well, apparently, "Has it been a year, sir? I know we approach winter again, when we set out through Rohan in the winter as well..."


Ignoring the new comers for the time, Gwendion answers Elladan, with some surprise, "You know my Prince? This is surprising but good news for then I hope you know the sort of man that is my liege. As to his capture, truth be told, that evidence died with Arathis. But, I will tell you what I know. Imrahil has been missing for many months now. It has been played off to the other Knights and people of Belfalas as work, or vacation or missions. But apparently, he is gone and while there are various thoughts on what has happened to him, a small group of not insignificant importance has brought what evidence they have or do not and have created a faction within the Order that wields considerable weight that believes this."

"Sadly, on evidence, I can tell you little more. I believe Arathis chose me to come with him because my commission in the far west has kept me for many years from these politics and I am quite ignorant on Knight politics. Regardless of what I have to present to you, know that whatever may exist has brought many a keen and noble mind to this idea."

[Linnet(#29344)] A quiet, grey-robed figure appears, grave of face and calm of countenance. Linnet, for it is she, hesitates imperceptibly as she sights the Men, but fluid movement takes her to Awarthnur's side.

Elladan cast a brief look at the newly arrived elf dressed in white, then he speaks to Gwendion. "So it is but rumours spread by some particular faction that Imrahil was raided by the pirates? Has Umbar demanded ransom or any other favours from you?"

Elrond does not yet speak, but proceeds to the service cart and fills a glass with red wine. He turns, making his way toward the group that is talking, coming at an angle where Elladan can see him, but need not acknowledge him quite yet. He stands at the periphery of the group, sipping on the wine.

Awarthnur presses a hand gently to the sleeve of Linnet's robe and offers a smile. The smile stiffens as her keen eyes scan the room, a shadow of foreboding darkening her countenance as she turns instinctively towards her Lord.


Gwendion takes a moment to look at the growing number of faces around him. He clears his throat, "So many I have yet to have the pleasure of meeting. I apologize to those I have not met before it is in such a setting."

"I am Gwendion Bragollach, Swan Knight of Dol Amroth, in the lands of Belfalas, in the nation of Gondor far to your south. We have come, as we are now, to speak to your Lords, to have their council and take what wisdom and guidance they can give on the topic now before us."

He offers a bow to Linnet and Awarthnur and a nod to the other elven man sipping on his wine.

Then quickly back to Elladan, "As to your question, I do not believe any ransom has been offered. I believe the prevailing thought is that Umbar dare not do such a thing. If they offer a ransom, there will be war. Once it is known for certain that they have our Prince, his men will stop at nothing to take him back. Perhaps Umbar waits for a key moment to reveal him. Perhaps he is dead already. I do not believe it is a rumor spread by a faction for even Imrahil's Knight-Herald bade his way to your home and died to ask these questions of you. He is not a man easily swayed by hearsay and rumor thus I think there are pieces of the puzzle that he held that I do not."

[Rhunedhel(#7440)] Elrond finishes the glass of wine, puts it down on a convenient tray, and takes a breath.

He strides up onto the dais, and seats himself in the central chair.

"It does sound like a puzzle," Elrond observes from the position that defines him as himself, "though there is another puzzle. I cannot see through the spinning globe of this present earth to see the jails and dungeons of Umbar. Do you know why your lord thought to consult me?"

[Linnet(#29344)] Grave of face Linnet may have been upon her entry, but gravity such as this the elleth was not expecting. Awarthnur's gentle pressure returned, the Silvan returns also the bow of Gwendion with a graceful inclination of her head. Dark eyes move from study of Elladan's face, to her Lord's as he speaks, thence to the Man for his answer.

[Elladan(#27059)] Wordlessly, Elladan presents Elrond to the Gondorians with a mere gracious gesture. It seems the songs alone cannot occupy the mind of the master of this house.


To a man, Gwendion remains stoic as he is addressed by Elrond. To a keener eye, perhaps his brow moisten, his voice sounds with a parched throat, and yet he speaks still, "Lord Elrond," and bows his head once more, "This surprise is beyond any hope I had left and I will waste no more of your time with pleasantries say to give my thanks one last time."

He lifts his head, and continues, "In Gondor, Elves are creatures of myth and tales too tall for even a child to believe in full. I do not know who you are my Lord, nor why your council is greater than any to be had in Gondor or even Bree. I only know my Lord Arathis and that his wisdom is greater than mine both in truth, in the strength of the blood of old seen in him, and in practice in seeing his actions day in and out for near a year. Thus, I can only say that I do not believe in you, my Lord, but he did, and I believed in Lord Arathis."

"Beyond that, I think the question will come to the survival of my Order and perhaps in turn, no small part of Gondor. In questions of matters so grave, he felt he should ask the wisest of those he could find the road to. Though he could not complete the journey, his road has lead me here."

[Linnet(#29344)] Her movements slow and deliberate, Linnet removes her cloak and places it upon the back of a chair, while awaiting Gwendion's response; and as he finishes speaking, the cloak slips and slides slowly to the floor. She stares at it, unseeing, as he speaks, and her grey eyes darken to near black with emotion as she waits for Elrond's response.

Elrond inclines his head, and smiles a wry smile.

"You must have had great faith in your lord, to follow a fairy-tale to the ends of the earth," he replies.

"But I am no magician, to produce results different than wisdom would produce, when applied by someone just as wise, if less renowned. What wisdom I have tells me that Lord Arathis would have been wiser to spend the time he spent seeking me, planting spies in Umbar, and seeking out and tracing every rumor that came his way. Surely Gondor has eyes in the South?"

Elladan takes a sip from his cup now and leaves the conversation to Elrond and the Gondorians for the while.

Awarthnur stoops to pick up Linnet's cloak and, draping it over her arm, uses her free hand to press lightly against the other elleth's back and guide her to an empty seat nearer to the hearth. Urging her to sit, she adds a comforting pat to the younger elf's shoulder and drapes the cloak around its owner's arms. For herself, she remains standing, leaning against the chair back as she waits for Elrond's words to register with the lone Gondorian.


"Faith is different than duty, my lord. In following Arathis and continuing his mission, I do the latter. I hope in how I do my duty, my Lord, I show my faith in Lord Arathis," Gwendion explains.

"As to spies in Umbar? Perhaps we have them; I know none. Their language is rarely known and taught and their people look quite unlike the nobility of Gondor. And perhaps there is little trust in a lesser man to do such a duty. More like," a sigh, "I fear, we have not the men to spare for such applications. They work not alone and each year grow more fierce and in numbers, much like the East. The argument of the Hawks follows this trend to its inevitable end and thus they call for action."

"But you and your son may be right. This trip may be folly, and Lord Arathis could have chosen incorrectly. This was my first impression of the mission as well. I cannot say it is incorrect save for what you mentioned before: faith."

"But..." the young Squire next to Gwendion has lost his tongue for quite some time now, swallowing hard even now to get words to form as he speaks up, quietly so, even still. "Sir," Menelglir addresses the Knight, "it seems to me that Sir Arathis is the last one prone to folly. Surely he had a reason to make this long journey on which we all could have easily died ...and on which he did." He swallows again, frown deepening as he looks at the elves but continues to Gwendion, "if Gondor has not the men to spare for this, perhaps the intent was to gain aid of the elves?"

Elrond looks thoughtful.

"Imladris has not the forces to send any great expedition to Gondor," he notes. "And I doubt that Cirdan the Shipwright would send a fleet south. Maintaining access to the Western roads is all that he cares about. And yet your squire has a point. He must have seen some possibilities."

A frown.

"Awarthnur," he says at last, "Go up and tell Arwen you must bring the southern sea-maps from the library. Bring them here."

[Awarthnur(#24083)] Nodding, Awarthnur starts towards the door but pauses before she has gone five paces. Returning to Linnet's side, she bends to whisper in the other elleth's ear before straightening and starting once more towards the hall.

[Linnet(#29344)] A slight smile, and Linnet rises also. "I will assist Awarthnur; the maps are cumbersome. But I am sure your wait will not be long." And she follows Awarthnur toward the door, the quiet murmur of her voice in an aside to her friend, as they may their way from the room.


"I think my squire speaks of a hidden motive of Lord Arathis. He never spoke openly of such but Imrahil is gone, captured or dead, his son Elphir is also missing. The Order sees itself leaderless and thus the schism has formed between those who call for all out on Umbar, to reclaim it and reclaim our Lord in whatever fashion: the hawks and those who do not wish to risk the loss of our Order completely, the Doves," Gwendion continues, moving closer to Elrond as he asks for maps, "The Hawks are fewer but in their numbers are greater Lords and Captain, and of them their voices are loudest, speaking of rescue, vengeance, hopeless glorious death. And the Doves, cautious, timid, too afraid to move. Emotion runs too high in Belfalas for any good decisions. In that, I can see why Arathis would seek out another. Wisdom and advice is our mission's goal. Aid to push back this blight is a dream I can scarce imagine and I dare not have hope yet for it but I will not say it is not needed."

[Elladan(#27059)] "It is true," says Elladan. "If your Lord hoped to gain support from the Eldar it must have been counsel rather than strength in numbers. Our own numbers are dwindling and we cannot march into Umbar. But if it is indeed an evil scheme set on by the corsairs, that made Imrahil disappear, there is a need to act." He pauses to contemplate what Gwendion tells about the politics of Dol Amroth, then continues: "It would seem to me that ere you set out to find your Prince you should first heal the rift that divides your ranks. If one thing could be found to unite your nobles, go and seek this out first, then go and free the Prince together."

The Squire, too, trails after the Knight, some intensity in his face growing at this discussion so that it overcomes his initial reluctance to speak, at least somewhat. "And the rumors..." Menelglir half whispers from behind the Knight, speaking to Gwendion. "The rumors I have heard among the Squires and pages that the Southrons have a claimant to the throne of Gondor. Though..." and he speaks more freely toward Elladan than Elrond, "the claim is said to be false and that should unite us. But perhaps some believe it and it rips us apart?"


A quick reply comes from the Knight, "I think they wait for us, Lord Elladan. This is what will unite the Order, the words spoken here today."

[Rhunedhel(#7440)] Elrond nods slowly. "Very well," he says. "We will speak further when the maps come, about what actions may reasonably be taken. But the first question I would ask is this:

How could Umbar benefit if the Knights of Dol Amroth were to hazard all on an offensive?"

Awarthnur returns, soundlessly making her way towards the dais and Lord Elrond, a large pile of scrolls pressed tightly against her chest. One or two look to have not been opened in some time; those on the outside of the pile are appear newer, written on clean vellum and bound by colorful cords. The elleth waits silently for acknowledgment, shifting her burden as she watches the expression of her lord.

Elladan's gaze rests upon Gwendion and his squire even as the maps are brought in. "Maybe they hope to even further the division of Dol Amroth's knights by removing the Prince - the one who would rule and unite the nobility of Belfalas. His loss would surely cause rivalries which could easily be exploited by the south," he ponders.


"I think they keep Imrahil's imprisonment secret for that reason. It would cost them greatly but I do not think the Lords of Umbar think we would risk our nation on such a gambit for," Gwendion holds, searching his thoughts, "For perhaps they believe, as I do, that though it would cost them greatly, they would win. I am not the Knight-Admiral or Captain, so do not know the extent of our ability to make war but we can barely keep raiders from our merchantmen and that I have seen. But your son is also correct as well. Families bicker and feud even with the Prince in residency. This loss has allowed the irrational to enter the debate. Again, perhaps it was Arathis' goal to bring something so extraordinary to the debate that could not be ignored. A wise man can be ignored. A wise Elf, from stories older than generations counted? More difficult to ignore. Or I am guessing. I had not thought of it before."

"As to war, we would make them earn each drop of our blood, but in the end, they would have it all and south Gondor would be left with farmers and ladies-in-waiting to defend its borders."

"In two, three, five years Umbar would return and would conquer. A terrible loss but the loss of Lord, of honor and purpose is perhaps a worse fate for those that serve."

"Lord Arathis kept asking me what price the defense of one man, a prince. But I did not understand," Menelglir says. "But is the answer then to give up hope on the Prince as well? Surely we cannot sneak into Harad to accomplish this. Unless a diversion is to be made somehow?"

[Rhunedhel(#7440)] Elrond looks to Awarthnur. "The update map," he says. "The one Rhunedhel brought back from the campaign at the mouths of the Baranduin. That has notes from our questioning of the Umbarians who were captured there. Ten years old, but perhaps that information might be newer than anything else we have."

He then looks to the two Men.

"There are two possibilities: Umbar has the prince, or it does not. If it does not, then he has died in an storm at sea, or in some other meaningless matter, and sooner or later the Lords of Gondor must choose the next Prince."

He pauses.

"If they have the Prince, it could only be a gambit: either to create dissension, distracting the men of Belfalas from things they should be attending to, or to draw an unprepared, ill-thought-out attack. Why capture one man, and then not hold him for ransom, for any other purpose?"

Awarthnur steps onto the dais, laying the pile of maps gently on the edge of the small table that stands in the light of the hearth-fire at Elrond's side. From the stack she selects one of the older scrolls, removing the binding and unrolling it across the tabletop. From her pocket she pulls two small, round weights and places on at each corner of the map. With a final tap to smooth out a wrinkle in the middle of the map's legend, she steps back and watches wearily over the elf lord's shoulder.

Elladan drinks from his cup while he eyes Rhunedhel's chart. "There might even be a third reason," he says thoughtfully. "What if the Prince left on purpose? What if he is secretly watching his rivalling nobles, waiting to pick out the faithful upon his return? It may sound unlikely to you but is it entirely impossible?"

"I cannot say I have ever met the Prince and ...all my knowledge of him stems from what I have heard," Menelglir says somewhat hesitantly. "But nothing I have ever heard of the man gives me cause to think he would test the nobles of Dol Amroth in that way. He inspires leadership, from what I have heard from Knights and Squires. That to me does not seem his way."

The youth pauses, glancing toward Gwendion. "If our Order were to concentrate all on this rescue, where would we start, even? Or perhaps a hostage exchange somehow--capture one of their princes and bargain for ours? If all is concentrated on this mission, our ports are left open to attack, for it will be the weak, the old and the experienced..." He grimaces slightly at that, "who are left to defend Dol Amroth herself."

Gwendion chimes in as Menelglir finishes, "It could be so, Elladan, but men do not live as long as apparently you do. Time as long as this is too long for a test for a man who leads a people. Much can happen in a week much less a year. It seems unlikely though, as I said, it cannot be denied as a possibility since I do not know for certain."

"Another thought, as the Squire mentioned, they have a Heir-Claimant to the Throne of Gondor. I have not met the man, but reports of him are one strong blooded, charismatic and intelligent if not wise. Enough so that conversation has taken place on the veracity of his claims. And though all such conversations end with the same words that of course it could not be so, thoughts linger. This man, if he has power enough to wage war on Gondor, as he has recently, could have Imrahil and have some purpose for him and his own plans to bring his message to those of Gondor. But it does not change the fact that we are faced with the choice to wait be stagnant and wither, or to war and perhaps find naught but death."

[Rhunedhel(#7440)] Elrond looks at Gwendion, and says softly, "When it seems that you must make a choice between two evils, the first thing you must do is ask whether there is any third choice ..."

He looks at the two men, then at his own people. "If Umbar does not have him, they must not learn of it, lest you draw the attack you fear. If Umbar does have him, they will certainly have spies in Belfalas, and will be watching for signs of weakness. Divide your enemy, then offer up one like this supposed claimant--what better way to divide and conquer? You must have a leader. And if there is a way to find out what has happened to your lord, you must seek to rescue him. That much is plain."

Elladan nods. "On the absence of the Prince, who is entitled to rule Dol Amroth? Surely he will have a steward of sorts? You must make it apparent to Umbar that Belfalas is not weak and indecisive." He frowns and sits back into his chair.

[Awarthnur(#24083)] "My lord," Awarthnur murmurs, stepping closer to the map and raising her voice just loud enough to be heard by attentive ears, "We have had intelligence of movements around the mouth of the Loudwater. It was less than a fortnight ago that the scouts brought in word of what appeared to be Haradrim forces. They are supposed to have landed here," she continues, pressing a finger lightly to the map's inked surface. "Does this not signify?"

[Rhunedhel(#7440)] Elrond frowns. "The homes of the Fisherfolk?" he asks. "Lond Daer?"

A grimace. "Not the first time they've poked their noses in there. Whether it has anything to do with Belfalas ..."


"Imrahil and his eldest son are gone, his youngest is but a boy. His Knight-Herald, the voice of the Prince, was Lord Arathis."

The Knight says no more on this.

"And Lond Daer? The Haradrim so far north? It seems unlikely!"

"Sir Gwendion," Menelglir frowns. "Who would be next in line? Surely soemone...it could not be left to chance. Your kin...Sir Imrakhor?"

[Rhunedhel(#7440)] Elrond shrugs. "We have had intelligence of them landing several times there in the past twenty years. Slave trading, in large part, though someone inland was paying for worked metal in quantity."

A frown.

"What then of the Steward? Will he have nothing to say about the defense of Dol Amroth, and if necessary, the succession?"


"For all our sake's, I pray not, Squire!"

Awarthnur lets out a low breath that hisses briefly through her teeth. Stepping aside, she eyes the map tentatively but keeps to the edge of the dais and out of the way, following the conversation with her ears but not with her gaze.


"Perhaps. The Steward is the Steward but the a Lord of a land is the Lord of the land. I am not sure if I am making sense, but it would be a strange thing for the Steward to interfere on I would think. But perhaps. I have not heard him mentioned in any discussions on it though."

Gwendion then ponders some more, "As to the next in line, it is the son of Imrahil. It can be no other. Though, he is so young, in fact perhaps it will be he who sways him to his side. Which brings us back to our factions, the hawks and the doves."

[Rhunedhel(#7440)] Elrond sighs. "Unfortunately Elladan is correct that finishing better defenses against the Trollshaws is a time-consuming affair. I understand your problem now. I fear I must ask for some time to think about it. I trust a day or two will not be an inconvenience?"

The startled look that the young Squire focuses on Gwendion clearly says that answer was unexpected. Menelglir blinks back a question to the Knight, lips pressing together as he thinks on the discussion. "Surely if the answer was to seek the Steward's advice, then Sir Arathis would not have spent a year traveling north only to hear that response. It seems...we are missing a key piece of this puzzle, Sir Gwendion. What would drive Hir Arathis here of all places...what knowledge or wisdom could only be gotten here?"

Abruptly, though, at Elrond's words, Menelglir falls silent again.


The Knight manages a smile, "Any time spent in thought on this by you, Lord Elrond, is no inconvenience but the goal of my being here. Do as you will and as you must."

Elrond rises slowly. "I suggest you go across the Hall, where refreshments are available, and song and other pleasantries can be found. Good evening."

And off he proceeds.

[Elladan(#27059)] "Indeed, what made Arathis think of our counsel, this we must find out," says Elladan in reply to Elrond. "And there is another man of interest, although he may not have connections to whatever plot is going on in the south. I shall arrange something," he says and then stands abruptly. He bows to those present and then leaves the hall.


Bowing to the lords of the House as they take their leave, it is now the Knight addresses his squire, "I thought you found a new name for yourself from The Mouth, young Menelglir."

He snorts, amused, "But to your questions. I think I have the right of it. Denethor is wise but remote. His word would perhaps be too much as a King in a land for which he is Steward. Any other is but a voice easily argued with."

"The voice is this Elrond will hold a special value to those who know his name. I have spoke but a few minutes with the man, perhaps an hour, and it is clear to me there is much he has seen with those eyes. There is a wealth of experience there though I do not understand it. You heard him speak of one of his people being not yet a hundred. A hundred, Menelglir! We are in a place beyond our comprehension and they cannot be argued with or debated."

Awarthnur sets about collecting the maps, rolling the used parchment and tying it securely with a length of dyed ribbon. As the Gondorian speaks, amazement evident in his voice as he speaks of one of her young wards, she laughs quietly and glances up, bemused.

Hurriedly bowing, Menelglir follows the Knight's lead in paying his respect. "Mouth I am still, sir," he sighs in reply, though. "For you yourself have taught me to speak my mind. The other name...you must ask the Eagle, for I will not repeat it lest it stay with me."

With a smile of apology of the elleth, he continues in a lower tone, "But...why Hir Elrond? Who of our lands would know of him and his name? What is the significance? To us, yes, here and now in his presence it is clear. But to those of the Order? WIll they recognize the name...and why, especially if the last our Order was up here must have been hundreds of years ago. Or more." Likely his words are clear enough to any who care to listen, though low spoken.


Gwendion laughs in turn, patting the Squire as he asks his questions anew, "My apologies, Lady... was it Awirthnar? We forget we are not alone quite yet. You seemed well versed in the going on outside your city. Are you also dealing with this blight in the Shaws?"

[Awarthnur(#24083)] "You needn't apologize to me. Awarthnur, I am," she replies, "but an herbmistress and keeper of lore. It has been many, many years by your counting since I last held a sword, and I do not regret admitting that the dealings in the Shaws goes on without my involvement. I help with healing, not fighting." Sighing, she shifts her burden and adjusts the scrolls so they lay flat in her open arms. "But we, as well as you, know of the troubles that this land finds itself in, and we work ardently to put down what threats it is in our power to quell. My son is even now traveling among the scouts, learning more of the happenings at Loudwater and beyond."

"My apologies," the Squire says, looking toward the elleth again, the Knight's words once more bringing color to his cheeks. "I am Menelglir Telpekhor, Esquire to Sir Gwendion and I have not introduced myself properly. But the matter was pressing and my name of little consequence."

"Healers hold a respected role with our people as well. I would say that so too do the lore masters but here are two poor students you do not even know of your Lord. So, perhaps I would be misspeaking to say they too are held in the same regard," Gwendion says with a smile, "Perhaps though, it is simply that my squire should study more. Do you have libraries here of your histories?"

[Awarthnur(#24083)] "They do not call this a House of Learning for naught," Awarthnur laughs. "Come. I must go to my Lady, but before I do, these maps will need to be returned to the library. I can show you the way, and you will be welcome to come and go there as you please so long as you stay beneath this roof."

Gwendion says naught, and only gives the squire an expectant look.

"Study...?" Menelglir sighs, eyeing the Knight with mixed frustration, irritation, and resignation--which then sounds in the sigh he exhales upon seeing the expectant look. "Yes, sir."
And to the elleth, "m'lady, I will glady help carry the maps to the library if you show me the way." Another look shot to the the Knight before the Squire moves to collect maps and leave.

[Awarthnur(#24083)] "My thanks," Awarthnur smiles, handing half of the stack to the squire and leads the way towards the hall doors. Pausing, she turns back and fixes the two men with a knowing look. "You'll find that time runs a little differently here in Imladris. Do not think that we are putting you off if a day or two passes before Lord Elrond addresses you again. He will council you when he feels he has something of worth to share, but not before. Until then," she gestures over her shoulder, "our Home is yours. Enjoy the peace that we offer. Eat, drink freely, and know us better. We are not so strange as you think."

Date added: 2010-01-13 23:09:17    Hits: 55
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