(http://rpg.avioc.org/webimages/lotr/Geneology.jpg)
Of the Line of Durgil
Durgil's mother, Carnilia, was the youngest of five girls born to Finralin and married off to the much older (by 20 years) Gelmir, Durgil's father. The marriage was arranged, as was custom to noble families. The purpose was to strengthen Finralin's holdings and court allies, while it would propel the line of Dorthad to a much higher status from where they once stood. This arrangement made Durgil 3rd cousin, once removed, from the King Argeleb II, and Carnelia, a countess of the court with Durgil heir to her title.
Durgil's mother was of a long line of royalty, one that stretched back into the early days of Arthedain; "Old Blood" as it was commonly coined. Her father, Finralin, was descended of the youngest son of King Malvegil, sixth ruler of Arthedain. Because Malvegil's eldest son, Argeleb I, was heir to the throne, the remaining princes of that line married and their heirs weakened in position to the throne.
Still, Carnilia's precedents were renowned for their martial skill upon the battlefield against the enemies of the broken Kingdoms – the men tempered by steel and blood, while the women were hardened by courtly life and intrigue. The family was always well-respected, and their position and power in court was revived upon the union of Argeleb II and Liriel, daughter of Boragil, brother of Finralin.
Durgil's father's family held much land in barony; profitable land for both crops and livestock. Profits in goods meant more money and eventually more land. Greed was about the only thing other than rights that was hereditary in this family up until Durgil and Ioreth came along, tempered by duty and responsibility of their mother's station.
Durgil's father, widower of the countess, held his title in name due to marriage. In the beginning he, like his father, didn't care that they had to marry to gain courtly power beyond the wealth they'd accumulated, but it soon became apparent that the power he wielded in court was not due in deference to him but to his title – his wife's title. This made life difficult at times when he attempted to command deference to his will, but snickers behind his back in court only fueled his rage. With the death of his wife, Gelmir had been working behind the scenes, making alliances and playing petty games in the court to shore up his standing and power before he passed on.
At the time of his death, he fretted that his holdings had not been secured to his son.
[OOC:] Such a singularly weak, petty, and prideful man.... I like it :)
Chapter 11: Unwanted
It was the mid of June, in the year 1637 of the Third Age, and Methilir had sold the last of his family's heirlooms. Things had become quite difficult due to the ravaging of his lands to the north by the Angmarim. His personal and inherited wealth were dwindling. Now, save for a home that was no longer habitable and a dullard brother who ate more than his worth, the only true value the Dúnadan possessed was his family lineage.
Methilir was descended through many fathers from a great noble line of Númenor and he still held sway within the courts of Arthedain. In fact, the noble had direct bloodline to the King of Rhudaur before the fall of that country and the loss of its royal house. It was this blood connection and the rivalry between the lines of kings that kept Methilir from gaining a greater station in the court of Arthedain. Argeleb II spared little time for the baron, save to find how his borders stood to the might of the Witch-king.
But at last, Methilir's opportunity had arisen.
The day was bright and Methilir stood towards the back of the court, while Argeleb and Liriel held audience with the many folk of the kingdom. After some time there was a break in the day's business and food and wine were served. Music played softly and jesters entertained their liege - Methilir stepped forward.
"My King and Queen, I beg your pardon whil'st you eat, but a matter of great concern lies heavy on me. The Baron Gelmir lies in state within his home. His lands lay unattended. His daughter's future unsecured. Still, we have heard no word from his son, Durgil, nor from the messenger that was sent forth. I would not see this great family's legacy be tarnished and I see that two lines would be strengthened by a merger. Since there is no father, or brother to beseech permission, I come to my King and Queen and ask for the Lady Ioreth's hand in marriage."
In the back of the court, Ioreth who had stood watching after hearing her family's name mentioned, let out a gasp as Methilir made his request. She quickly moved forward, "My King and Queen... your highnesses, I have already given my heart and hand to another. Though he is currently not within the realm, I am promised to him."
"Surely you cannot mean this farm-hand of Cardolan?" Methilir asked. The court grew quiet as Dirnhael, a knight, and landowner of the realm was belittled. Even the king took displeasure to the courtier's words. "You would reduce stature of one that I have made a champion of the kingdom?" asked the Argeleb gruffly.
"No my liege," replied Methilir, verbally maneuvering as he did, "I simply mean that the Lady Ioreth should be paired with one of the highest of bloodlines, due to her own lineage. Surely the king must understand? And seeing as there is no man of the House, or even Dirnhael himself, to protest, I ask that your Highness grants this marriage of two houses strong in the Court of Arthedain."
Argeleb sat looking at Methilir, knowing exactly what the sly noble was up to. It was no secret that his wealth was diminished, and that the barony of Gelmir was greatly strengthened. Ioreth's father had been cunning in his own right and having married Carnilia had sealed huge landholdings. Still he needed to answer, "Do not assume to know my mind. I hear your request and will give it further thought. Nothing shall be decided while Gelmir still lies in state, nor will anything be done until the end of summer. By that time, it can be assumed that Durgil was lost on the trail and that there is no patriarch to rule on family business. Let there be no more talk of this until then!"
Methilir and Ioreth both backed away from the dais; both wondering what the future would hold. Silently the lady, along with her king, gave a prayer for the fast return of the Company who had ridden forth some three months prior.
[OOC:] There is going to be more lead in for you guys, but I am calling it a night for now. Just so everyone knows, the above is an interlude and you all are currently laying waste to Harizän. I will be giving you guys your true lead in to the story with tomorrow's post. I am not going to RP you guys across country again, when I write next, it will be mid of October, rainy and cold, and you will enter the gates of Fornost.
Until then... start thinking about what you will be doing. ;)
PS - Matt, as you can see, I changed your genealogy slightly. I hope you like how it is done. And yea, your in-game dad was as you described! ;D
Durgil's breath was visible in the cold, afternoon rain. His hood sagged low over his forehead, saturated as it was with water, and it offered little comfort. He pushed it back as he looked over his shoulder at his companions. Save for the Elf, they all looked like they suffered the same discomfort as he. The one bright point was that they were less than an hour from the town of Bree and the warmth of an inn. From there, it would be a day until he was home.
The noble looked at the Company. The group had grown by two new members since their leaving the lands of the Éothraim - Gloraglil rode in silence behind all. He had been a nice asset to their return trip with his wonderful stories and songs. It had made the trip over the Misty Mountains - for the path through Khazad-dûm was surely closed to them - much easier. But even the minstrel could find little cheer in the last two days' cold, and rainy weather.
The other new companion was the lady Gléowyn. She had proven herself to be as competent a rider and traveler as all his friends, and the pleasure he found in her company could not be rivaled. He had been so happy when Fengel had come to him, and Dirnhael, and told them that he and his sister were returning with the Company to Arthedain. There the two would make a new life for themselves. In his heart, Durgil hoped that he might be part of her new life.
The trip home had been as long, and at times perilous, as the journey they had made to Fengel's homeland. Due to the closure of the Dwarven realm, the Company had taken the north road. They crossed the great forest of Mirkwood and then the North Pass through the Misty mountains. Once again they had the joy of residing in Rivendell for a brief time, and Durgil believed in that place, that Gléowyn was able to heal herself even more. It was as if her soul was restored, and her mind was able to forget her horror that had been wrought by man... a single man.
But now, as October came towards its close, they stood on the doorsteps of the Kings Rest Inn. The warmth that poured forth when the door was opened was a wonderful welcome and smiles cracked their faces as they all entered.
Durgil stepped through the door and he was smothered in the homely scents of fine ale, lamb on the spit, and the dusty wood chips covering the floor. He drank in the smells, ones he had left behind those many months ago to accompany his friend back to his broken home. With a smile, he ushered everyone in. "It seems in all my travels, the only place to rival 'the Big Bed' here is the The Prancing Pony and it's fortunate that we can find them both here in Bree." Knowing he was nigh his people's land, he still treated his friends as they are -- his friends -- so he took care of the arrangements himself as he'd always done. Raising his hand to signal a nearby serving girl, "Rooms for all, a table for a party of weary travellers, and whatever they wish to partake."
Gloraglil tramped wearily into the inn, too sodden and wet from the road to find cheer even for the sudden warmth of an inn. Indeed, the normally redoutable youth had seem deeply affected by the weather of late, and wearily flapped the surface rain droplets from his cloak just inside the inn door.
"Just to be out of that realm is cause enough for celebration." He announced to no-one in particular, though not sounding particularly cheery despite the admission. "But warmth, fine food and mulled ale together? I fancy even my mood might improve somewhat after a month or two of such delights."
As the herald made his way towards a warm-looking table, he unslung his leather harp-bag from his back - seemingly set once again to begin his now familiar nightly ritual of waxing and tuning his precious clarsach.
[OOC:] I am waiting on Shawn and Paul to chime in here first, just to get their characters' intros before I move on beyond the Inn.
Also, I have not been PM'ed with all of your character advancement picks.
Edrahil had to agree with Durgil. Though he did not mind the simpler ways of the Éothraim in their manner of rest, food, etc., he was too accustomed to the ways of his own people or even that of the Dúnedain. And so, Elrond's house and the King's Rest were equally welcoming to the Eldar.
Laughter and the thunk of mugs; the shrill sound of a flute and the steady rythym of a tambourine; and finally the smooth sound of a young woman singing filled the common room as the Company walked in. Some of the commoners looked to see the new guests and all gave welcoming smiles along with a look of wonderment at the sight of the Elf.
The bench scraped back from the table pushing with it the cedar chips that covered the floor and Durgil settled himself. At his order, food and drink began to laden the table and the companions doffed their wet cloaks to hang them on pegs by the hearth.
"I see your Company will be needing rooms tonight, aye?" asked the master of the house. "See to it that you give my lad your wet things and we'll dry them through the night."
With that, the innkeep stepped away leaving the Company to enjoy the rich stew and honey-scented butter on bread. Big chunks of beef, potatos and carrots, along with softened onion and celery filled the soup, much to the satisfaction of all. Fengel sopped his bread and stuffed it in his mouth only to have his beard filled with remnants. Gléowyn shook her head and smiled at her brother's manner, only to then see Durgil gazing back at her. She was a lady indeed, fit for any court, and he would bar any that said otherwise.
It was then that Edrahil spoke, "My friends, we have come far and seen many sights. It is time that I return to my own home, seeing that we are now so close and that the East-West road will continue me there. So I will make my own way with the morning light." The Sindar could see the surprise in all of their faces. "Fear not," he said with a smile. "This is not the end of our tale, I will return soon enough. I fear I have become more accustomed living amongst Men than that of my own kind."
Edrahil stared into the fire as they all laughed, but then he got serious. His look turned to one the companions had seen before, when the Sindar seemed to gaze into some far off place. "But be prepared my friends... things are not as we left them, and one will stand against you all inside your own house..."
The mage shook his head as if to chase away sleep, "Forgive me, I did not mean to make the mood sullen." He lifted his drink and smiled, and the others followed suit, but all wondered about his cryptic words.
Fengel found himself glad to have left his homeland again. There was no joy to be found there, only memories of pain and suffering. Besides, how could he leave his close friends after all that they had sacrificed to free his people. He looked across the table at his friends, and he smiled. It seemed that Durgil's charm had almost erased Gleowyn's pain, and he was glad for it.
"My friends, I never thanked you all for giving your lives aiding me in my search for my dear sister and freeing my people. You have truly proven your friendship, a bond that for me will last my lifetime. I am forever in your debt." With that he raised his mug and saluted them all.
"Edrahil, I never thought much of your kin, but after knowing you I will regard them the most noble and selfless of people. May your journey home be of joy and comfort to you."
Gloraglil listened somberly as Edrahil spoke of his desire to leave the lands of men for a time. Though he himself had not long known the elf, he knew he would miss the long, fire-lit conversations they had shared each night around the camp fires. The elf had been more than willing to share the songs and tales of his kin with the Herald of Arthedain, and so Gloraglil had felt his life enrichened by the company an friendship of the elf magician.
Yet still his sorrow could not be measured next to that of his companions, with whom the elf had journeyed for nigh a year and whose lives had been saved many times by his great mastery of spellcraft. Though a master of words, Gloraglil knew enough of such things to know when no spoken word could adequately fill a silence, and so he merely bowed his head thoughtfully and turned his attention to the songs and craft of the inn's musicians. To his companions, it might seem as though he was lost in memories of another time, another fire and finer music still, in a house far more homely even than this fine inn.
Yet in fact, his mind dwelled more on the doom-laden words of his elven colleague. For had he not long known of the prophetic nature of elves? What fell doom had the elf pronounced upon the company? And indeed, perhaps, the kingdom he served? For as a servant at court - and a high-born one at that- lion-hearted Gloraglil was no stranger to treachery and intrigue.
"I must confess my agreement with our brother; our table will not be as light without your presence. May your journey home be a swift and without delay and please make your return to us with equal alacrity. Ere you return to us, let it be known that my house, the house of Argeleb I, offers a renewal of my forefathers' friendship and support to those of the Eldar; a quiet hall for thought and a bowl of our finest vintage lies in wait if ever it should be sought."
Now, nervously the young Dunadan stands and addresses his table. "My friends, my brothers... we have traveled through death and destruction, over rock and tree, and underground. We have dealt the evils of this world mighty blows and through it all we have been together. Even with the passing of companions and the dearest of comrades," he bows his head in silent pause and offers his cup in salute, "our lives have become intertwined in ways we didn't plan nor ambitiously sought. Such has the fate of Dirnhael and my sister, Ioreth, come to be; a union I take much joy in blessing. But now with you at my side, I must address a matter of my own," he says, turning to Fengel's sister. "Gleowyn, long has our road been from Ilanin and the halls of Thergas, your homeland. And I know long has the memory of past injuries of the flesh and heart weighed upon you. I would hope now that in these many miles in my company that they have been assuaged and been replaced in kind with the same feelings, the same love, for me that has grown in my heart for you. In the midst of my, our, friends and with your brother's consent, Gleowyn, with my heart put forth I would ask you for your hand that we may be together to the end of our days."
It was as if the room suddenly got still. Durgil saw, and felt, his friends around him tense - each for his own reasons. The lady Gléowyn broke a smile and a tear appeared at the corner of her eye only to fall, tracing down her cheek as it went. She sniffed and swallowed hard, and with the slightest of quivers in her voice, "Durgil... I..." she looked to her brother and then back at the Dúnadan, pain in her eyes. "T'is not our way."
With that Gléowyn stood and quickly exited the common room. The companions all stood and Durgil went to chase after her, but it was Dirnhael that stayed him, grabbing his arm, "Let Fengel go and find her, Durgil. I must speak with you."
The Éothraim nodded at his friends and went after his sister. Dirnhael then urged Durgil to return to his seat, the young noble's face a set piece of dismay and concern.
Fengel ran out of the common room but did not see Gléowyn anywhere. He asked a small lad that stood by the inn door, and was told that a woman had just rushed out into the night. "It is a right terrible eve to m'lord. She ought not to have gone."
Ignoring the boy, Fengel followed out into the inclement weather. He saw that the stable door had been drawn back some and made his way in. There he found Gléowyn leaning against a stall. She turned to see her brother and gave a wan smile. The warrior could see that she was still crying.
"I miss Ma," she said, as he walked up to her. "I miss Pa, too. He always made me feel warm and safe. I did not think I could ever find that again until I met Haldred. I loved him Fengel... he was strong and a good man. But now... they are all dead and I am in a far off land. Durgil has brought back to me feelings I thought I'd never know again - but, it is not right! I dare not love and lose again! I have not yet mourned enough for my husband..."
She turned away from her brother. He was younger than her, but he was the man of their House. "I cannot allow this to happen," Gléowyn whispered. "I do not think I could stand the heartbreak once more."
[OOC:] I have heard from Shawn, but I am still waiting for him to post. He has been busy, so if we do not hear from him by tomorrow, I will post for Dirnhael.
Paul, I am going to let you take up the conversation with Gléowyn when you get the chance.
OOC: ouch! :P
Gloraglil felt dismay settle upon him - and not a little dread too- as the Lord of Arthedains proposal layed out. He felt himself sink lower into the seat, as though willing the ground himself to swallow him up. Did not the young Dunedain realise the life that would await his would-be-bride at court? The whispers, the gossip? The farm girl of the Eothraim had a certain rustic charm about her, and her hurts, though they ran deep, leant a certain air of vulnerability about her that might endear her to some at court. But few nobles would be opne minded enough to take sufficient time to know the real lass, to recognise her worth and not discard her instantly as some eastern barbarian farm-wife.
Scandal be damned. Didn't Durgil realise the misery such a life would create for a girl who had experienced all too many hardhsips already? He sympathised with Durgils feelings - and his situation. For it was not altogether unlike his own. But truly love had blinded the young lord to this course. And though he could not -would not- find scorn for the generous-hearted young lord who refused to allow convention to rule his life, he did find himself wishing that Durgil had sought to discuss this with another of the company first.
To that end, his heart heavy with sorrow for both the mis-matched pair, he rose to take his leave. Though he had known Durgil of old, before tradition and the gulf of priviledge had seperated them both, it was Dirnhael for a certainty who knew him best. And who perhaps best held claim to the wisdom needed to counsel the young lord through his troubles.
He laid a hand upon the young lords shoulder as he rounded the table, squeezing gently, as though trying to impart strength and wisdom through his touch.
"I am truly sorry Durgil," he spoke, though his words did not perhaps convey all the reasons for which this was so. "I shall leave you now with the friends who have known you best, who can best offer council at such time. And with whom, perhaps, you shall speak more openly without the presence of a near-stranger."
With that, the young herald sought out the innkeep, seeking direction to the comapny`s rooms.
Quote from: GandalfOfBorg on Oct 29, 2008, 08:27 PMOOC: ouch! :P
[OOC:] Don't fear the rejection as 100% permanent, Matt, all is not yet written. This is going to be fun to RP, though!
Nice post Calvingian! You have definitely grabbed the political ramifications from a union of these two... very nice! ;D
OOC: No fear here but that twist o' the knife was good. This should prove interesting. Btw, I will attempt to engender as much delicacy of the issue of romance in the game as the good Professor did with his. Don't want to cut off good RP but don't want to be too progressive in its protrayal for the sake of the other gamers too.
The young monarch opened his mouth to reply but nothing came forth... he was actually speechless. He soon found he had sat again, his heavy heart apparently weighing down.
Fengel's heart was torn for the pain his sister still bore. As if to shield her from her suffering, He gently pulled her close to him and held her in his strong arms. "I miss our parents too Gleowyn, but carrying the pain of their passing will never bring the back. Their memory must live on in our hearts, and we need to embrace the lives that they gave us to live. Harldred was a good man, and he knew that you deserved to be happy and cared for. And rightly you should honor him properly. However, I do not believe that Haldred would want you to remain in a state of morning forever. Our lives are short Gleowyn, honor Harldred, then fill your life with joy while you can. No one can promise the future will be free of more suffering, but we must live while we have breath to do so." He paused for a moment, then spoke his mind. "Durgil is a good man as well. When you are ready to be loved again, I give you my blessing." He squeezed her tighter in his arms and while she wept, her brother too shed tears of pain.
Dirnhael sat down with Durgil still staring at the door and now with only he and Edrahil present, he felt comfortable enough to speak.
"Durgil, it is not mine to tell you what to do with your life, but think of what you have proposed. You, a Dúnadan of full-blood and one of the noble line that stretches back to Isildur himself, wish to marry outside our kind?" Dirnhael's voice held a bit of frustration. It was partially due to his distaste for interfering in his young friend's life, but it also stemmed from somewhere else. Dirnhael, too, was a full-blooded Dúnadan, and the traditions of that bloodline ran deep. It went against his very being that Durgil might break that line.
He sighed, "If this woman truly holds your heart, than you must pursue that love to its end, but I remind you to be sure of what you do. Remember that you, and she, will be returning to the courts of your peers and those of higher station... think of what they shall say."
Dirnhael was a man of the sword - not a courtier. All the hobnobing of the court was lost on him, though he respected his King, and to even be thinking this way made him feel a bit queer. He leaned back to allow his words to sink in to Durgil's head.
Edrahil took the silence as a chance to add his own, "Though it is true that the mingling of blood between Men and Elf has occurred, it had the effect of raising one while not diminishing the other. I cannot foresee what will be for you, Durgil, but know that the gift given the Dúnedain is not one that should easily be squandered. That said, love is stronger than all things, and you must follow your heart." The Sindar slid back, "If you will excuse me now, I too will go and find my room."
Quote from: tomcat on Nov 05, 2008, 07:46 PM
Dirnhael sat down with Durgil still staring at the door and now with only he and Edrahil present, he felt comfortable enough to speak.
"Durgil, it is not mine to tell you what to do with your life, but think of what you have proposed. You, a Dúnadan of full-blood and one of the noble line that stretches back to Isildur himself, wish to marry outside our kind?" Dirnhael's voice held a bit of frustration. It was partially due to his distaste for interfering in his young friend's life, but it also stemmed from somewhere else. Dirnhael, too, was a full-blooded Dúnadan, and the traditions of that bloodline ran deep. It went against his very being that Durgil might break that line.
He sighed, "If this woman truly holds your heart, than you must pursue that love to its end, but I remind you to be sure of what you do. Remember that you, and she, will be returning to the courts of your peers and those of higher station... think of what they shall say."
Dirnhael was a man of the sword - not a courtier. All the hobnobing of the court was lost on him, though he respected his King, and to even be thinking this way made him feel a bit queer. He leaned back to allow his words to sink in to Durgil's head.
OOC: That's roughly what I was going to post tonight when I saw this. Thanks, Tomcat - sorry I've been away so much lately, but I'm back in the saddle now.
Dirnhael would never recommend against Durgil's potential union with Gleowyn; after all, he has followed his heart, and even though he's a full-blooded Dunadan, he was no noble when Ioreth chose him.
That said, Dirnhael knows that Durgil's nobility matters a great deal to him, and he would simply want to make sure that his friend
considers the consequences of his actions, but not necessarily
avoids them.
And you nailed it, Tomcat - he'd hate even bringing any of this up.
[OOC:] Cool Shawn. If you want to submit your own post, I can delete all but Edrahil's input. Let me know if you do, otherwise we'll plan to move on the story.
Quote from: tomcat on Nov 06, 2008, 04:10 AM
[OOC:] Cool Shawn. If you want to submit your own post, I can delete all but Edrahil's input. Let me know if you do, otherwise we'll plan to move on the story.
OOC: Nope - I've held it up long enough, I'm afraid. Thanks again!
[OOC:] Cool. I am going to wait for Matt to reply here... this still needs some more RP'ing, but stay tuned.
Gloraglil followed directions to his room, only to pause at the lintel, slapping a palm against it in lackluster fashion. Resigned, he felt the felt the rough wood of the doorframe through the sodden fabric still sticking to his back. With closed eyes he remembered the pains of his childhood. The isolation, the fear, brought about by the taunts of his "betters", the full-blooded Dunedain of the court.
He remembered too the lonliness in his mother eyes, how few woman of court -save the queen and Durgil's mother, whom his own dam and grandmother had always spoken of with remembered kindness and fondness. He remembered how his mother had aged far more quickly than the other ladies of court, old before her time from heart-break, sorrow and a much diluted bloodline.
He remembered also a young dark haired noble boy, cousin to a King, who had approached an equally young straw-headed boy playing along in the dirt of the castle court-yard. He recalled his first tentative forays into friendship, a relationship as alien to him as that betwixt father and son, and knew he could keep his silence. Though it had been many years since that day Durgil approached a frightened outsider who until then had known the companionship only of books and stories and longer still since they had been forceably seperated by the spiteful will of Durgil`s father, the minstrel had not forgotten that early kindness.
With great reluctance, one fostered upon him by the duties of a remembered friendship, Gloraglil returned to the table just as Edrahil had finished his peace.
"Durgil," it has been many years it seems, since you and I played together as boys. And, to the credit of your great and noble heart, you never saw my bloodline as any less valuable as your own. But I must tell you, not all Dunedain see the world with the same eyes. Our people are noble and doughty yes... courage and honour run in our blessed blood. But pride too, is something carried by the vermillion stream within our veins. And overmuch of it seems. My mother was of a noble and royal bloodline. She could trace her descent from the lions of Baricar himself, navigator of one of the seven ships. Other heroes she could name of her blood, Gareond, Bostar and Femilcar the bold. Yet for the price of Rhaudour blood four generations old she was scorned. And her children with her. No man at court stepped forward to take her into her house when my father died. No one mourned her loss but you and I and fair Iolreth. All for a foreign bloodline two hundreds years old."
He reached a hand out to Durgil.
"And I, her son, born of two Dunedain houses, am forced to live as a mere herald at court, for no house would accept me as a sworn sword. I know nothing of the knightly virtues other Dunedain possess save that witnessed on the practice field. I can bearly even wield a sword, and only then because a drunken royal guard took pity on me often enough to at least teach me which was the sharp end!"
He sighed long and deep.
"My dearest, oldest friend. How then would they treat fair Gleowyn? Wounded as she is, how she live? Farm-lass though she is, would she even understand that they were taunting her? Her every invitation to a social event would be "regretably lost" or omitted. Her every attempt to host or join a gathering of court women would be snubbed."
His onw heart-breaking for the young lord of Arthedain, Gloraglil reached out to clutch Durgils hand tightly.
"If you love her my friend, you must not do this. Let her find some good man, a guardsman or a smith perhaps, who will love her simply and deeply. Whose peers and family will not judge her by her eastern blood or whisper snidely behind her back or to her face. Let her raise a host of common-born children and be happy. Let her not be miserable and hurt again. I beg you.
Durgil hears out his friend's empassioned pleas and thought they are not unlike the arguments and dark mutterings he's heard himself by the court and even his father. And yet his heart has been set aflame by love and he won't let the pettiness of pride diminish it.
"My friends, I understand your concerns and believe your words were those of my father's in the back of my mind o'er the many miles since these feelings had come about. Gleowyn's experiences may have tendered her, but it has also fostered strength of spirit and of will; there is nothing to fear of those harpies behind their veils. As for her worth measured by her blood, her trials and triumph proved it beyond measure; that has never been a question to me."
"I have no delusions of what would happen and doubt she does either... it's her heart and her lost loved ones she must reconcile. If she cannot, she need not consider my proposal further and I won't begrudge her for it; I will accept her judgement for I love her enough to let her go if fate demands it."
[OOC:] I still need Fengel's and Dirnhael's advancement picks. Thanks.
"Then," Gloraglil spoke softly, "If your mind is set to this course and Gleowyn is willing to follow it, I will do what I can to prepare her for life at court."
Then the minstrel stared long into the fire, and would say no more.