The three companions spent close to a week riding the roads and trails that led to Durgil's estate. They were not pressed for time, nor were they in hostile lands and so they leisurely rode over hill and through dale, enjoying the fall weather.
(http://rpg.avioc.org/webimages/lotr/durgil_land.jpg)
At long last, they came to a road that Durgil was very familiar with and he spurred his horse forward. It was the length of road that led to a small, humble village where it split and just south was his father's manor. He was home at last!
Dirnhael and Fengel also spurred their horses, though only one of the two men was excited to finally end the journey. The Dúnadan worried as to what he would do or say when he Ioreth appeared.
They rode through the village and Durgil stopped for a few moments to make small talk to some of the passerbys - men and women (of both Dúnedain and Middle-man stock) whose families had lived, and worked, on these lands for generations. Smiles and pleasantries, along with condolences, were given and talk was made of the hopes for the upcoming spring planting season. Durgil asked about some of the young men with whom he had palled around with in his youth and was pleased to hear that most were still local - some even worked for him (or had for his father, before him), either as land-hands or within his militia.
At last, with a loss for words, they all moved on once more, riding only a few more minutes before they entered the grounds of a small manor. A low, stone wall surrounded the house and chickens and small goats milled around the yard. Though the lands were fallow, pastoral fields surrounded all and Dirnhael found it quite comforting - it reminded him of the House of Celephain in Cardolan.
Smoke rose from multiple chimneys and made the air fragrant with the smell of fire and food. Warmth also beckoned and the men dismounted. A young man ran from the house, "My Lord Durgil! Welcome home at last, sir!"
Durgil recognized the lad as the son of his father's house maid. She and her now deceased husband had served in the manor for years. Durgil handed the reins of his horse over, "Good day Duinhir!"
Movement towards the entrance of the house caught Dirnhael's eye and he turned to see Ioreth standing at the door. His heart leapt to his throat and he gave a wan smile, not knowing what else to do.
The Lady Ioreth slowly began to walk forward, taking hesitant steps and Dirnhael watched as her expressions turned from first a warm smile, to that of rage. Her gait quickened and she strode up to the man she loved and her balled fists slammed against his padded leather and mail corslet. "WHY!" she cried as tears burst forth from her.
Dirnhael knew not what to do, save to throw his arms around her, even though she still thumped his chest in her rage and sadness. Finally, Ioreth surrrendered and she went limp in his arms, sobbing as she did. Fengel and Durgil, both sullen, moved quietly away to allow the two to have a moment.
Durgil knew deep down that her outburst wasn't just aimed at his friend as he had been complicit in these events as well.
Wordlessly, Durgil showed Fengel to the stables where their horses would be kept. Rochithuin strained at her reins, excited to return to the lands she knew so well since being a foal. Durgil smiled, "Easy, my lady, you'll be free to roam soon as you please; you've earned it."
Turning to his friend, "Now that you have you're own bit land, what are your plans?"
Fengel smiled at Durgil. "Well, I'm not exactly sure. Its been so long since I had the privilege to consider my own plans. And the way our fellowship seems to find trouble I'm not so sure I'll yet have that opportunity."
Fengel looked down at the ground and then back to Durgil, "Durgil, know that I would welcome you as my brother. My sister just needs some time to heal. She does have feelings for you, so please don't be discouraged. However, your royal blood may not stand for such a union. And Gleowyn would never want to bring you harm in any form."
"I brooked my father's desires and my station by joining with the army. I did what I felt I needed to do to learn things in my own way and time. It has afforded me many opportunities and experiences that I would never been able to do if I remained a 'proper' noble. It has given me insight to the world outside the halls of the king and shown me a course I was meant to take; I count myself lucky that meeting your sister to be one of the most important things I did in my travels. I will wait as you suggest."
"As for trouble, well the trouble we are in for will likely make you wish it were orcs heads that needed lopping."
After the moment had ended, Dirnhael looked at his feet. He knew not if she was angry at him, or their situation, or if she simply felt slighted by the world at large.
"I do not understand what has happened," he finally said softly, his head still pitched toward the ground. "Durgil has tried to educate me on the ways of nobility in these lands, but it is so very foreign to me."
He waited a moment, wanting to tell her everything that had transpired; their stay in Rivendell and how Arwen enchanted the blade that she had given him; how they had freed Fengel's people. But one thing remained on his mind first and foremost, and he had not the patience to wait.
"During my travels, my feelings for you never changed," he asked, looking her in the eyes. "Did my absence cause yours to?"
He wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer, but he knew that he must.
After a short bit, the Dúnadan and Éothraim left Dirnhael and Ioreth and made their way in to the manor.
Dirnhael was left alone with the woman who possessed his heart and yet he no longer knew where he stood in the situation. Ioreth had pulled away and her sobs had faded as she listened to the man before her.
"During my travels, my feelings for you never changed," he asked, looking her in the eyes. "Did my absence cause yours to?"
In those eyes, Dirnhael saw true sadness. "No..." Ioreth answered with a quaking voice. "My heart still belongs to you, sir knight. But my duty is what has happened!" These last words, the lady hissed through clenched teeth and sadness left her eyes and anger rose. "I am a woman of noble birth, in a house that - at the time - had no lord. And so, my king could see no other way out but to give my hand to another noble of his kingdom. We didn't know where you were? Messengers were sent. None returned with news of you... and now you are here."
Ioreth looked down at the ground and tears fell from her cheeks. But then, Dirnhael watched as the strength of the woman revealed itself and she drew her gaze back to him and she smiled. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, rivalling the majesty of Rivendell itself. "Come," she said. "You have traveled far and must be hungry. I want to hear everything of your journey... it is wonderful to see that the three of you have all returned safely." But then Ioreth looked puzzled to be followed with concern, "But where is the Elf?"
Quote from: tomcat on Feb 27, 2009, 06:45 PM
Ioreth looked down at the ground and tears fell from her cheeks. But then, Dirnhael watched as the strength of the woman revealed itself and she drew her gaze back to him and she smiled. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, rivalling the majesty of Rivendell itself. "Come," she said. "You have traveled far and must be hungry. I want to hear everything of your journey... it is wonderful to see that the three of you have all returned safely." But then Ioreth looked puzzled to be followed with concern, "But where is the Elf?"
My friend Edrahil was injured, saving me from a were-creature while we struggled to free Fengel's people from enslavement by Easterlings and a darker force that I wish to speak no more of. He survived, but he needed time to recover. It is my hope that he returned to Lindon to seek solace with his kin." He smiled at the memory of his longtime companion. "I have no doubt that we will see him again."
He went on to recant his tale; the splendor of the Elves and the darkness of Fengel's lands - now freed - and of how Fengel shocked him by turning down the lordship of his clan to return with him to Fornost. He mentioned that Fengel's sister accompanied them, but did not mention Durgil's feelings toward her. He spoke of how the Elves housed with honor the handle of Anduring, now returned to them, and he showed her Vorandur, christened and made stronger by the legendary Arwen herself, and again marveled at how the love of one woman and the faith of another could forge together into something that defended his very life.
Then he looked up at that woman - who was fixated on his tale in rapt attention - and realized that, truly, nothing had changed between them save their circumstances. He heaved a sigh of relief and smiled.
Circumstances could be changed.
The day passed and Fengel and Dirnhael were treated to the splendour of Gelmir Manor. It was not like the amenities of the King's hall, but it was quite comfortable and homey. Simple. And Dirnhael found it increasingly similar to the life he knew in Cardolan. People working the land, getting soil between their fingers. It brought an ease to his mind and heart.
Ioreth, though slightly distant, became increasingly more amiable and gave the two newcomers a tour of the house, grounds, and local surrounds. Fengel accompanied for two reasons - one to familiarize himself with the lands, but also to be polite. Still, he felt a third wheel around the two and so he tagged behind.
Durgil, on the other hand, spent the afternoon and evening going over all the documents of his father's estate. The family retained a barrister and so the young noble sat and listened to the drolling on of the esquire as he read through all of the legal parchments.
With the setting sun, each made their way to their rooms to sleep away the long travel and busy day.
It was as if summer was not yet ready to let go and the next few days were warm and clear. Beautiful blue skies hung over golden fields and forest splashed with orange, yellow, and green. Dirnhael spent his time with Ioreth and the two became closer though the woman still maintained a discernible distance. She was to be married to another man and to fall deeper in love with Dirnhael would only make it all the worse.
The two went to the mill where some of the locals were busy grounding meal. Other hands were salting and smoking meat, preparing it for the long winter ahead. While even others used axe and wedge to break logs into manageble firewood. Dirnhael felt good to swing an axe after so many months of wielding a weapon. They chatted and worked as the day lazed away.
Fengel took the opportunity to mount up and ride the length of the county to its southwestern corner where it met up with a major road. That road continued south and lead to his landholdings, which the Éothraim was excited to see. He sat atop his horse wondering if he should press on, though he had not told his friends he was making such a trip.
[OOC:] Dialogue if you wish, I will add more narrative tonight or tomorrow.
The trek to his landholdings would take the better part of another day's ride, and so Fengel thought it best to return to his friends. No sense in causing them worry if he were to disappear for a couple days. With a sigh, he turned his horse back towards Durgil's estate and spurred the beast forward. He figured he would make it back by dusk.
The Éothraim actually beat his estimate and rode up the small dirt road that led into the village and eventually to the manor. Fengel crossed over the small stone bridge and turned south towards Durgil's home. At last, he rode into the stabling yard and dismounted. He felt fantastic. It had been a wonderful day's ride in the cool of Fall with no stress or fear of any mishaps befalling him. It was nice to feel safe.
He led Heostor into the stable and personally removed bit, bridle and saddle. He brushed his steed and gave her some sweet oats, and with a pat, left the horse to its own. Walking from the stable, Fengel saw his friend Dirnhael out in the field swinging an axe, preparing firewood. The sight brought a smile to the Éothraim - they were indeed home and simpler chores needed tended. His thoughts were interrupted as two horsemen arrived in the courtyard. Fengel recognized the first man, though he had forgotten his name, but it was the large, slow fellow from the King's Hall. The other man was obviously Dúnadan, tall in his saddle, but much thinner than both Durgil and Dirnhael. His skin was pale, and his hair, jet black, was closely cropped. He had a rat-face and Fengel thought him homely to say the least.
The Éothraim was mistaken by the two arrivals and they called to him, "Stablehand! Come... fetch our mounts! Where is your master?"
The day's ride had been good at calming Fengel's spirit, but as the man barked his orders all of that changed. Fengel didn't like the way most nobles treated their servants and he wasn't about to be treated as such by this man.
"You are mistaken my lord." Fengel stated through clenched teeth as he stood tall and proud.
Methilir turned to his brother, Derufin, and then nodded in recognition, "Ah, yes, you must be the East man that my soon to be brother-in-law has been associating with. Well then, forgive my impudence and let me say instead, welcome to Arthedain."
Fengel could not tell the age of the Dúnadan before him - actually he had trouble aging any of them - but he was certain the man had to be older than his friends. The Éothraim was also not for certain whether any sincerity exuded from Methilir's welcome. Duinhir, the manor's stablehand, did finally arrive to see to the nobles' horses. They dismounted and Methilir turned once more to Fengel, "So, is Durgil present this eve, and do you know of the whereabouts of my lady, Ioreth?"
Fengel didn't want to mar Durgil's nobility so he swallowed his pride down and resisted the urge to knock the man in the jaw. He did however step quite close to the man's face.
"Durgil has been busy attending to matters of his estate, and I'm not sure where that may have led him. And to the whereabouts of his sister, I could not tell." "Or would I", he thought to himself, as he smiled sarcastically.
Duinhir came back out of the stables and could immediately sense the tension rising between the men; he quickly interjected, "My Lord Methilir, welcome! My master, Durgil is within the house, and the Lady Ioreth currently tends to chores in the field."
The young stablehand pointed to the fields beyond, as Methilir followed his gesture, "Chores in the field! Why would a noble lady of Arthedain see to any chores in the field?!" It was then that the Dúnadan noble saw the form of Dirnhael conducting the chopping of wood, all the while Ioreth sitting close by and watching. He looked to Duinhir, "Who is that man she is with?"
"My Lord, that is the knight, Sir Dirnhael, companion of my Lord, Durgil." His attention now fully engaged with the sight before him, Methilir handed the lad his riding crop and gloves. "Show me to Durgil... now."
The boy answered, "I will see if he is available. Come along, sir." The three of them strode off, leaving Fengel behind and for the most part, forgotten. The Éothraim couldn't help but allow the smile to crack across his face. He clapped his hands and decided he best go and talk to Dirnhael.
Inside his office, Durgil was interrupted by his steward, Findegil, "Durgil, the Lord Methilir has come, he wishes to see you. He waits in the study. Shall I tell him you are available?"
The young warrior-turned-aristocrat heavied a sigh and put down the quill -- so many documents, he felt like he was signing his life away sometimes. "These manuscripts are complete and ready for dispersal at your convenience. Offer our guest some refreshment and let him know I will be along momentarily. Then please make my sister aware of the arrival our guest -- no doubt her presence will be requested shortly." Durgil knew this time would could sooner or later and, to him, sooner was always better but maybe not this time.
Fengel wanted desperately to clap the stable hand behind the ear, but then he was just serving his master to the best of his ability. As he made his way over to the field that his friend was laboring in, he couldn't help but chuckle once more at the nobility.
"What a mighty slayer of wood your are Dirnhael! Its good to swing a tool instead of a weapon every now and again, no?" He paused. "I'm sorry to intrude, but a couple of stiff necked nobles just went in to see Durgil, and I'm sure your presence will be looked for soon lady Ioreth."
Quote from: Palandil on Mar 15, 2009, 04:08 PM
Fengel wanted desperately to clap the stable hand behind the ear, but then he was just serving his master to the best of his ability. As he made his way over to the field that his friend was laboring in, he couldn't help but chuckle once more at the nobility.
"What a mighty slayer of wood your are Dirnhael! Its good to swing a tool instead of a weapon every now and again, no?" He paused. "I'm sorry to intrude, but a couple of stiff necked nobles just went in to see Durgil, and I'm sure your presence will be looked for soon lady Ioreth."
Dirnhael grinned at Fengel's jibe. "Safer than Orcs," he replied as he split another timber. "I believe I could get used to it."
Then he heard Fengel continue and looked back towards the stable. This foe would be more of a challenge than an Orc or the wood, for neither sword nor axe would lead him to victory. He looked to Ioreth and silently vowed that he would find a way to deliver her one nevertheless.
He nodded to Fengel, appreciating that his friend had alerted him of the nobles' presence.
"Perhaps it is best if I complete my duties here," he said, locking eyes with Ioreth and waiting for a hint about what to do.
After a moment, he brought the axe high above his head and brought it down hard with a loud
crack, sending two perfect halves of an unfortunate log bounding in separate directions across the amber field.
"Nonsense," Ioreth said with a slight smile. Dirnhael immediately recognized the defiance that lay within, as she continued, "You are a guest in this house, and Methilir is not yet lord and master in these lands. Thus, as a guest, you are welcome to attend any meeting of guests in this house."
Dirnhael nodded at his lady, and the trio turned back to the house, the axe left buried in the large stump of wood. The sun was setting in the west and the chill of night was settling over all.
Durgil came at last to the guest study. The young Dúnadan noble was comfortably dressed in some finely wrought clothes, and he had taken to wearing one of his father's long house coats. He entered the study to see his two guests - Derufin was kneeling at the hearth's edge, stoking the fire to bring up the flame and heat. Methilir stood nearby, fingering one of the ornate trinkets that sat on the mantle. Durgil recognized the porcelin piece immediately as one of his mother's most favored of items.
Irritated, Durgil cleared his throat. "If you please, that was my mother's and a cherished heirloom. Ioreth would be devastated if anything were to happen to it." Now that he'd gotten his unexpected guests' attention, he offered them seats and took the one that used to be his father's next to the fire. Doing so caused a momentary flashback to when he was child and being chided by his father for sitting upon the seat. Back in the present, he opened, "I trust my man has seen to your refreshment so we can come to the business at hand which you have traveled so far to take up."
Dirnhael sat at Durgil's request, near Fengel, all the while studying the two men intently.
One was clearly a fool; raised in a life of leisure and blind to the world that surrounded the lands of Fornost.
The other - the one that was his rival - was not so transparent. Dirnhael would listen to his every word intently, and try to ignore the not-so-passing glances in Ioreth's direction.
He had little success with the latter.
"Ah, yes, forgive me, Durgil. I was just taking pleasure in its frail beauty. You see, my home has gone many years without such things, with no woman present. Your father was lucky to have a daughter, mine had two sons and we do not pay heed to small trinkets." Methilir smiled as he took the offered seat, but then quickly stood again as Ioreth, Dirnhael and Fengel entered the study.
"Fair Ioreth! It has been weeks since I have had the grace to look upon my fiance's beauty." The Dúnadan noble took the lady's soft, white hand and brought it to his lips. Ioreth quickly withdrew her hand from his and curtsied before him, mumbling, "M'lord."
[Shawn's post will fall in here]
Methilir looked to Dirnhael and a cunning smile hung on his face, "You must be Dirnhael? Knight of Cardolan? I have heard many great tales of your deeds. I admire a man who lifts himself from the common fields of a now-dead nation and makes name for himself. I have also heard that the king has issued you landgrants. True? Well then, you have truly risen above the rest. Have you returned to Arthedain to settle? Rest from your weary road, so to speak? Perhaps take a wife?"
Durgil could feel the tension rising in the room, and he was humored to see that it was coming from Fengel. The Éothraim would not abide for long anymore mockery of his friend.
Quote from: tomcat on Mar 25, 2009, 11:06 AM
Methilir looked to Dirnhael and a cunning smile hung on his face, "You must be Dirnhael? Knight of Cardolan? I have heard many great tales of your deeds. I admire a man who lifts himself from the common fields of a now-dead nation and makes name for himself. I have also heard that the king has issued you landgrants. True? Well then, you have truly risen above the rest. Have you returned to Arthedain to settle? Rest from your weary road, so to speak? Perhaps take a wife?"
"Perhaps," he said slowly, with just the hint of a smile. "But it's possible that my weary road has a few more miles left to go yet."
His gaze met Methilir's as he took measure of the man. "
Nobles," he thought. "
Talk and more talk."
As was the custom of his house, since Durgil had taken his father's chair, Ioreth took their mother's as sign showing no favortism toward either suitor. "These north marches you well know, Methilir, are guarded not by the faint of heart. Our borders and their defenses have oft been tested by the minions of Angmar and rogue bandits. It is not without foresight our king has granted lands to my companions here, great captains and leaders of men. They shall strengthen our defense and that protection will ensure the prosperity of our realm."
"Aye, you speak true, Durgil. Long has the northern reaches of Arthedain - and Arnor before it - eroded from the evil that is Angmar. My realm stands as a bulwark to even your fair lands here, where people can still feel safe." Only Durgil and Ioreth were truly aware of what Methilir spoke of, for the noble's county sat just east of Dorthad and north of the Tyrn Formen - the great northern downs. It was only a two day march from Methilir's eastern borders to the dead hills of Dol Gormain, where the Company once faced the foul spider-wraith, Gorvorsang. And so, Methilir's home had always been forced to fend off more incursions than that of Gelmir. This had the affect of sapping the noble's resources and wealth... but, it also came down to bad management and brother and sister knew it.
Methilir continued, "But back to your question, Durgil. There is no business in which I have come to attend. I merely wished to welcome you home and to pay visit to my betrothed. Derufin had told me that you were seen in Fornost and so I waited a few weeks, once I was informed, for you to return home. Any business that will need tending may be put off for the while... after all, once I am married to your sister, and as elder of this house, well, we will need to arrange how things are cared for."
[OOC:] I awarded an advancement at the end of the last chapter, and Fengel and Dirnhael have still not been updated. Let me know how you wanna spend your picks, guys.
Quote from: tomcat on Mar 28, 2009, 11:23 AM
[OOC:] I awarded an advancement at the end of the last chapter, and Fengel and Dirnhael have still not been updated. Let me know how you wanna spend your picks, guys.
OOC:
Whoops. Will do.
Dirnhael was momentarily confused, but did not show it. Still he looked to Fengel, wondering if his friend had heard the same thing.
If the noble swine -
then he caught himself - rather, Methilir, married Ioreth, he would hold dominion over Durgil's house, as well?
It was obvious that...
Methilir... lusted after Ioreth, but Dirnhael doubted that the man loved her. She was a pawn, a trophy that would ensure him greater stature. The Dunedain's blood boiled.
He could not help himself and stood sharply from his chair. Realizing what he had done, he glanced quickly at Ioreth and then put his hands behind his back, as if it were sore. As the nobles turned, he mumbled. "All that wood-chopping..."
"Ahh, the heart of your true desire. I am not aware of any arrangement that would put the ring of my father [meaning the right of ownership or governance over bequeathed holdings] nor his station in your hands, Methilir. Being his only son, I alone and my heirs will bear these tokens." His ire raised, Durgil stood, "Secondly, another had requested the hand of Ioreth and she accepted prior to any such advances from you or any other. It is that oath that I will honor and will so challenge you and the king and his decree if I must to see that it is duely honored."
"Defy the king, Durgil? Is that something you really wish to do? Your lands and your title would be stripped from you faster than you can blink an eye." Methilir knew the tension he was creating, and the Dúnadan noble took pleasure in it, but this was not the place. "Well... the king's words have been spoken and your sister's hand has been pledged. But, let us not let this meeting become one of anger. I have traveled this far to merely welcome your homecoming. Let us leave it at that."
The air of the room was thick, and Methilir's words did nothing to ease the moment. Still, the noble stood of his own accord, "We shall depart. Derufin, see to fetching the horses."
"Yes, brother," said the other man and he stood and left the room, but only with a reassuring glance from his older brother.
"The end of season is upon us and soon there will be festivals and gatherings to celebrate both the harvests and Yule, perhaps it is an appropriate time for our marriage, eh Ioreth?" asked Methilir. "N-No," she resisted. "I am pledged to you, Methilir, and as is my duty, will marry you, but I wish to wait until spring and the King's return."
The words made the Dúnadan noble blink hard. "Spring? T'is months until the spring will show itself. I have waited almost six months already for word, or the return of your brother. I have waited long enough! We will be married soon, Ioreth, so prepare for it. I will make the announcement soon." With that, Methilir nodded to Durgil, "Once more, welcome home. We will talk again soon."
[OOC:] Unless hindered, Methilir will leave the room and the house. Let me know if you guys intend to punch him, or anything. ;)
Dirnhael's head was spinning as he watched to two men leave. He had expected Durgil to play things closer to the vest, but perhaps his time abroad with the Company had given the young man confidence and a love of... more direct action.
It may not have been the wisest move on his friend's part, Dirnhael thought, but he knew that he liked it, nevertheless.
"Thank you," he said quietly, his face still masked in bewilderment. "I did not expect you to defy your traditions so openly, especially on the behalf of one still considered something of an outsider to these lands. I hope the decision does not endanger your position here."
Of course, he realized that Durgil knew that if it did come to a fight - physical or otherwise - that he would have Dirnhael and Fengel at his side. After all, he had just committed to becoming Dirnhael's brother-in-law...
Dirnhael never had a true family growing up. If he were fortunate enough to be graced with one here, he could be counted upon to defend it with all his vigor.
Durgil puts a hand on his friend's shoulder and smiles. "You're welcome, my brother. But you know I will defy any tradition that would allow such a preening, self-serving incompetant as Methilir to acquire what is not his, especially since I am here to do something about it. Yet, of course, all this hinges on the king seeing reason that we have returned and that any decrees he made being contingent upon our being lost would be now forfeit. Otherwise, life would become a bit more interesting if I fail in that argument." With that he sat back down in the chair of his house, maybe a bit more easily than before. "Ioreth, my sister, I apologize for the outburst but it's not just your life and future but that of our families and those whom serve us, too, we must think of. I know you will do as you must and is right to you, but I, too, will do the same to protect the sanctity and honor of what is ours."
"Besides, this encounter also showed a bit more of his true heart. I can tell he eager to not only control our lands but those that our father had petitioned for as well, if he knows of it. With such holdings, the pompous lout would become one of the most wealthy and, thus, influential nobles in the realm."
"All this being said though, it seems that our meeting with the king will need to come sooner than I had expected. I figured we'd seek an audience with him prior to his return in the Spring but not this early. At least the roads won't be an issue until the snow begins to fall."
The quartet watched as Methilir and his brother rode away from the front porch of the house. Ioreth heard her brother and appreciated him for the wardship he offered, but she knew he was no politician or man of the court. He instead was a warrior and confronted things in that nature, where as Methilir was a skilled noble and courtier who knew how to manipulate those that served the king for his own betterment. Durgil could not only risk his status and land, he could risk his very life were he to overstep any lines. Her marriage to Methilir, though unwanted, would keep Durgil safe and would still place both her and her brother in the dominant position of ownership. She sighed, "Be wary Durgil. In battles of this nature, I fear your knowledge is less than your enemy. But I thank you for your protection - and now I must see to feeding this house."
With that, Ioreth patted Durgil on the cheek and gave Dirnhael a warm smile. She re-entered the house and made her way to the kitchens to see to the evenings meal.
The men stood and watched as the forms of the two Dúnedain riders disappeared, only to be replaced by a new one. A single rider casually rode towards the house until he entered the courtyard. He was tall and weathered and appeared to be of the blood of Númenor.
[OOC:] Enter Pethron...
Curious at the rider's approach, Durgil stepped forward to greet the traveller. "Greetings, rider. Your name please, and the purpose of coming hither?"
The dúnedan dismounted and led his horse across the courtyard. As he handed the reins to the stableboy, he patted the boy's shoulder with his free hand, saying "thank you" with a warm smile. The boy, noticing the difference between the demeanor of this visitor and the previous two, returned the smile as he led the horse away to be watered and fed.
Spotting the three men standing near the front of the house, the dúnedan walked that way. He wore travelers clothing, well worn and dusty from much use it appeared. His shoulder length brown hair was somewhat disheveled, and it seemed that this was a man who spent more time concerned with matters other than his personal appearance. His keen blue eyes held amusement behind them, and they appeared to miss little as they studied the two men. The dúnedan's smile was genuine, and it had the effect of putting others at ease.
<insert Durgil's greeting from the previous post>
The man replied, "Good day to you sirs. My name is Pethron. I seek Durgil, lord of this manor, as well as his traveling companions, recently returned from the east." Facing Durgil, Pethron added, "Are you he?"
[OOC small edit - there are *three* standing at the front of the house]
"Yea, verily I am the manor's lord whom you seek and these are some of my companions. What might I or we do for you, Master Pethron?"
"I am a historian and scribe, and if it pleases you I would like to record the details of your company's journey through the wilds, and into the east, and back again. While there are indeed many of Arthedain who have travelled abroad, few return with such tales to tell. It is important that we retain the knowledge that can be learned from foreign lands and the people that live in them.
In exchange for your tale, I offer my own services as a storyteller, to entertain you, your companions and your kin."
[OOC:] Not trying to be a pain in the ass here, but still no advancement picks for Fengel and Dirnhael. I know Shawn and Paul have been busy, but I don't want to forget this so I will do the picks if not done by Wednesday.
OOC: Ouch that hurts! Oh, its just Doug... :-[
No seriously, I'll get it done tomorrow. What was that bonus that Harizan had during our final battle. Warrior born? I was thinking about that as one pick.
Quote from: tomcat on Mar 28, 2009, 11:23 AM
[OOC:] I awarded an advancement at the end of the last chapter, and Fengel and Dirnhael have still not been updated. Let me know how you wanna spend your picks, guys.
OOC: I'd like to add one level in each of the following skills (figuring they reflect what Dirnhael's been doing lately):
Track (Orcs) - add specialty
Siege-craft
Debate
Inspire
Intimidate
Thanks! Should I update the page or would you like to?
Quote from: BrianM on Apr 20, 2009, 08:56 AM
"I am a historian and scribe, and if it pleases you I would like to record the details of your company's journey through the wilds, and into the east, and back again. While there are indeed many of Arthedain who have travelled abroad, few return with such tales to tell. It is important that we retain the knowledge that can be learned from foreign lands and the people that live in them.
In exchange for your tale, I offer my own services as a storyteller, to entertain you, your companions and your kin."
Dirnhael laughed heartily and clapped the man on the back hard. "Then I hope you brought many sheaves of paper, my young friend! You'll be writing for months!"
Durgil thought a moment. "It would be easier than any of us detailing our journeys... and it would serve well for the king's court to get the whole story. Alright, come on it and let us judge your talent," he said with a smile.
Pethron, a bit shocked by the slap on the back, managed a grin as he turned to Dirnhael. "Do not worry", he replied, patting his satchel, "I have enough ink and parchment for a good long tale."
The scribe was relieved at the acceptance of his offer. He had learned from past experience that travelers to distant lands quite often endured such hardships that they were unwilling to tell their tales or have them recorded for others to experience. But these men seemed more than willing to tell their story. What's more, there was more than one source of the tale, which meant a more accurate recounting, and smaller chance of details being 'stretched' by the teller.
"My colleagues in Fornost are particularly interested in details of events closer to home. Specifically, the tale surrounding the taking and eventual loss of Barad Eldanar. I on the other hand, am eager for tales from the east, beyond the Misty Mountains and Mirkwood the Great, for it is said you have journeyed that far. These are lands I have never visited, and I am keen to capture their essence in words."
With an appraising look at Fengel, Pethron added, "I heard tell that a man from these very lands has come to Arthedain! I would gladly hear any tales from your homeland that you are willing to tell."
Quote from: BrianM on Apr 27, 2009, 09:05 AM
With an appraising look at Fengel, Pethron added, "I heard tell that a man from these very lands has come to Arthedain! I would gladly hear any tales from your homeland that you are willing to tell."
Fengel's people didn't think much of books, they were a simpler race who mostly carried on their history and culture through song. But he thought this might be entertaining at least.
"After a few pints of ale, I might be able to spin a few tales." He said with a smile. "Does your quill come with a sword Pethron?"
Pethron returned Fengel's smile. "I have travelled more widely than most of my peers in Fornost, and have been forced to defend myself as a result. Words are a powerful weapon, but a sword is much better in the wild."
"Well hone your sword skills scribe, then if you stick around long enough, perhaps you may experience one of our many adventures first hand." Fengel laughed.
As they enter the house, Durgil gives instructions to have a guest room made available for the new arrival and another plate at the table set. He then introduces the young storyteller to his sister. After they've supped, everyone retired to the common room and sat about patiently to hear a yarm spun by the newcomer.
Pethron was delighted to be introduced to the lovely Ioreth. He had heard the news of her bethrothal to Methilir, and although he was careful not to show it, the scribe was deeply saddened that she was destined to wed such a horrid man. As he kissed Ioreth's hand in greeting, the scribe took note of Dirnhael's reaction, and he knew for certain that this was the man rumoured to be her true love, returned from the wild. It was obvious where their hearts resided, and Pethron secretly hoped that in the future he would be able to tell their tale with the happier of the possible outcomes.
----------
After dinner was ended, and the group sat around the fire in the common room, Pethron launched into a story of bravery and renown from the early history of Arnor. He picked one of his best, epic tales, hoping to impress his audience, and thus inspire their own tale which he desired to record.
[OOC]
Perform (Tell Story) +5, +2 specialty, +1 affinity bonus for Lore: History
Roll(2d6)+8: 4,5,+8 Total:17
Spend 1 Courage for +3 Total:20
[/OOC]
The loremaster sat by the fireside, softly puffing on a pipe and began the tale of Carandil and Jeneth. Carandil had been a tall and noble Dúnadan lord that had returned from the wars of the Great Alliance - one of the few who had survived the disaster at the Gladden Fields.
Jeneth was a beautiful young maiden who had only come to her age of maturity when Carandil had returned to Arnor. The two met and the young woman empathized with the soldier and she fell in love with him. He was immensely sad and lamented his failings in trying to save his lord and king. To Carandil, Jeneth was a boon. She took away his guilt and sadness and made him feel alive once more.
Pethron's tale was rich with detail and the words flowed from him as a song from a minstrel. They were vibrant in color and sense and slowly the listeners could see in their minds the rich lands of old Arnor and the pride and strength of the Dúnedain of old. On occassions Pethron's voice would climb to emphasize or he would reduce it to a whisper, as the wind softly blowing, and Durgil and his friends were engrossed with the story.
The tale continued with Jeneth's father not approving of such an older man asking favor of his youngest daughter and forbade Carandil to see her. But their love was to great, and so in defiance, Jeneth ran from her home and to the arms of her lover. To further escape, Carandil took his young love and they rode north, out of Annúminas and into the wilder lands of northern Arnor. It was his goal to take her to a place where none would know them and he could at last be free of his pain, and make a home and her his wife.
Pethron told how the couple faced many perils along their way, for though Arnor had been a mighty kingdom, its northern frontier was still dangerous and wild. But Carandil was strong and brave and his sword was heavy - both beast and orc fell before him and at last the two found a place where they could settle.
Carandil built for them a home and he tilled the fields for them to grow the food they needed. Jeneth set about making a home and soon was with child. She began to lament her running away and in her heart grew the desire to see her father. She wanted him to know she was well, and happy, and to meet her future child. And so, a suuny day while Carandil was working in the fields, Jeneth slipped into the stable to take up their mount to make the journey back to Annúminas.
Unfortunately, the girl was not well-traveled and soon found herself lost and in trouble. In the northern forests, she was set upon by wolves led by a great warg and though the horse that she rode had been trained in battle, it too was overwhelmed. Jeneth was brought to the ground and the warg bit her, poisoning her with its evil bile. It would seem that she would soon meet her end, there and then, but the wolves and the warg were suddenly panicked by the coming of an Elf. The pack fled in terror before the Eldar.
The Elf lifted the young lady and he knew that she was dying. Jeneth could see sadness within the Elf's face and she spoke, "Fear not fair Elf, soon will come Carandil and he will know what to do."
Hearing her words, the Elf took her and laid her besides a pool of water that was at the base of a forested hill, and was fed from a clear spring above. He bathed her forehead and tried to reduce the burning fever that was raging in her form, caused by the poisonous bite. Carandil would come, but it would be to late. The Elf left Jeneth lying there and laid an enchantment upon the glade so that no thing would disturb her resting place, and once done, he disappeared into the woods.
The soldier saw his young wife laying by the pool and knew she had passed. With tears in his eyes, he too lay down and never left her side. The Elf had stayed close and watched from a distance as the man died with his love, from the breaking of his heart, and it filled the Elf with sadness.
"The glade is said to still be there, and nothing can disturb the peace that seems to rest in that place," Pethron said, finalizing his tale.
All of his listeners had been enchanted and it took a moment for them all to realize that the loremaster had stopped speaking. Dirnhael let out a breath and looked to see that Ioreth had rested her hand upon his, and that tears had recently made traces down her face. She looked at him with a smile and then she stood, "Master Pethron, your tale was superb. But now I must be off to bed, for the daylight will soon be here, and I must be ready."
She nodded to Fengel, hugged her brother, and gave Dirnhael a look that told the warrior all he ever needed to know. Somehow, he would find a way to end Methilir's demand on her. The room grew quiet once more, with Ioreth gone - the four men looking at one another...
Durgil struggled to get his voice and cleared his throat. "That was a mighty tale indeed, Master Pethron, and you have quite a gift. I must say I am glad to have made your acquaintance. My sister correct, though, dawn will come early. There is much to be discussed and a record of our travels to be made, I suppose. I bid you all a good night," and so Durgil took his leave of his companions.
"I fear my memories have not the beauty and prose as in your tale," Dirnhael said to Pethron. "I look forward to telling you what you want to know, nevertheless."
"It was a grand tale Pethron, well done. Though I don't think you can make our motley company sound as sweet." He said with a laugh. "Goodnight to you all."
Pethron nodded in thanks for the appreciative words from his audience, a satisfied look on his face at what had been one of his better tellings. The storyteller retired to his room as the others made their way to their own beds. He unpacked and checked his supplies of parchment, ink and fresh quills, then went to sleep, eagerly awaiting the new tale of heroic deeds that he would hear on the morrow.
[OOC Great story Doug! Thanks!]
[OOC:] You are welcome Brian. To be honest with you, I was trying to find some canon story about old Arnor but there is very little to find, save the gathering of forces under Elendil at Weathertop.
So, I had to create something... basic, and kind of a redundant storyline, I know, but it did in a pinch.
But, don't think that there won't be a haunted glade in some area of northern Arthedain! (D
[OOC:] A new post will be coming tonight for this game. I just wanna spend a little time with my son before he heads to bed.