Fall faded into colder days and Durgil and his friends settled in for the coming winter. The young noble sent word via his trusted friend, Gloraglil, to his home in Fornost where Gléowyn still awaited their return. It was a simple message that Durgil wished her presence in Dorthad, and if she wished, he would either come for her or that she could accompany the messenger back to his estate.
Even though the days became less pleasant, both Fengel and Dirnhael – accompanied at times by Ioreth – rode to their given lands. They wanted to scout them out and see where best a house could go, and what way they might make use of their fields. Both men excitedly anticipated the coming spring when they could commence with the establishment of their own homes. Fengel, though he was not native to the lands, had grown quite attached to the rocky lands of northern Arthedain. Dirnhael was just happy to be back home, and living a moment of peace.
All the while, Pethron resided in Durgil and Ioreth's home inking parchment after parchment of the tales he was told. The loremaster would read them back to himself, and to the common staff that worked in the Dorthad manor, making the stories a permanent part of his lore. Pethron was pleased with the caliber of knowledge that he was retrieving.
Snow fell outside and Pethron sat talking to Dirnhael. The warrior told tale of Nain the Dwarf, out of the Blue Mountains, and his brother, who had errantly found their way into a terrible trap set by a great undead horror. Gorvorsang had tried to ensnare them all, but it was the weapons of the Company and their new found friend that drove off the beast and allowed them to escape. Unfortunately, the body of Kúlin, Nain's brother, was left behind within the hole of the great spider.
The stories went on and sometimes two, or three, of the Company would all sit together and aid in the recounting. It was times like these when Pethron would take pause with his quill, as the deeds of the heroes became exaggerated and laughter would ensue.
Days passed and winter took a deeper hold. The Lady Gléowyn arrived, escorted by Gloraglil, and Durgil was greatly pleased. The companions worried little as the weather raged, all of them keeping warm and staying close to Dorthad.
There was no sign, nor word, of Methilir.
In Fornost, Geoffrey opened the door to an official looking caller. "I come seeking the Lord Durgil," the man said.
"I am sorry," said the servant. "Lord Durgil is at his family home in Dorthad for the winter."
The visitor looked troubled, "Might I come in and pen a message? Surely there is a way to get word to him?"
Geoffrey nodded, "Yes... there is a messenger that runs between here, the King's Hall, and Dorthad, in service to Lord Durgil."
"Then that will do. Let me enter and use the office within this house."
The house servant nodded, "Aye, sir. You may enter. I will show you the study."
Geoffrey led the man into the study and he quickly doffed his cloak, tossing it on Durgil's desk, as he sat. He took quill and parchment and began to write. He completed his message quickly and folded it, using Durgil's candle to seal it. "Thank you kind sir! If you will see to it that this is couriered to him with the next visit of the messenger?"
Geoffrey nodded, as the man stood. Unfortunately, the house servant did not see the deft hands of the visitor as they grabbed up his cloak along with a long knife that Durgil's father had kept on the desk to open sealed mail. The family's crest was emblazoned upon its pommel. Together, Geoffrey led the man to the door and bid him a good day. He quickly shut out the cold and returned to his duties.
The official looking figure disappeared into the maze of Fornost's streets.
Weeks passed and the winter Yule quickly approached. Methilir made no contact with Ioreth, which suited the young woman just fine. But in the first week of December, Gloraglil returned from Fornost with a message that had been given him by Geoffrey.
The messenger took it to his friend, and Durgil opened it to read... "Lord Durgil, I am Arandil and have come per the Lord Camentir's bidding. You are needed in Fornost to make counsel with the King's war cheifs. The north border has become threatened once more. Regards."
[OOC:] All PC's are present within the house, so chime in as you see fit. Matt may be around here from time to time, but I will answer for him as Durgil... so feel free to RP.
It seemed to Dirnhael that he might never find peace, but the uninterrupted months of the winter had given him time to relax and rejoice in Ioreth's company. The scribe, Pethron, had been busy, and Dirnhael was flattered that the man had thought his tales worthy of recording.
When the message came to Durgil, Dirnhael took notice of what he had heard. Camentir was the finest military leader that Dirnhael had ever met, and the man had given him command of a column in his own army - Dirnhael's first such command - in an important battle that changed the trajectory of his life.
If Camentir needed help, Dirnhael would stand ready to assist if asked. His home, unfortunately, might have to wait.
He looked to Ioreth with concern. At least now, he thought, if he must fight, then he took comfort in the knowledge that he was fighting for something.
This news troubled Durgil for he nor his friends have been made aware being that their lands that lay upon the northern marches are deemed to be imperilled. He called for his march wardens to assemble and bade that they keep a keener eye upon the hostile frontier borders.
OOC: Is the handwriting familiar? Arandil familiar? I doubt Durgil would find it customary to receive a letter from someone else using his own seal.
Fengel was not one to fear war by any means, however this coming battle reminded him of Lûnduf and he could not imagine loosing another good friend. Besides that dragon went away angry and who knows if it has returned. With a look of concern he spoke, "I feel a bit of unease about this. Nevertheless, we are men of action."
Pethron approached Durgil. He had very much enjoyed the pleasant winter spent in the hospitality of the young lord, and he had recorded many splendid tales. The scribe had tarried long though, and there was much happening in the world beyond the manor that he could not ignore.
"Lord Durgil, word has reached me that you plan to travel to Fornost. I would ask your permission to accompany you, for although I have recorded many of the tales of you and your company, there are more to tell, some of which have not yet come to pass it would seem."
Since the encounter with Methilir, Durgil knew that he had to do everything that was possible to keep his holdings outstide the grasp of such a devious and untrustworthy man. So, with the help of the local barrister, he drew up papers that would upon his death with no offspring for an heir, his lands and titles would be bestowed upon Dirnhael should be remain alive and in good standing, else they would be bequeathed to his elf-friend, Edrahil. To keep the papers out of harm's way, he sent them to be held in Fornost under lock and key.
OOC: To be continued...
Quote from: GandalfOfBorg on May 15, 2009, 06:26 PMOOC: Is the handwriting familiar? Arandil familiar? I doubt Durgil would find it customary to receive a letter from someone else using his own seal.
:arrow:
[OOC:] There is no familiarity to the name or the handwriting. Durgil spent years in service to the King's Third Host, under Camentir, but does not know this name at all... but that is not to say that there hasn't been new recruits since you stepped down from your post. As far as the seal... it was only wax sealed, the message did not come with your stamp pressed into the wax.
It was Ioreth who seemed most agitated with the summons. She was short in her words to all the men. She was quick to anger. And in the quiet privacy of her chamber, she would silently weep.
It was here that Gléowyn found her and she entered the room, "My Lady? Are you okay?"
To the Éothraim woman's intrusion, Ioreth looked up with a cross face, but then she softened and the tears came harder. "I fear that I am destined to love a man who will always have duty before me. But even I am bound by duty and so must enter into a loveless contract with another. My heart is breaking each day he is here, and yet, I would have him nowhere else. Now this
duty that we hold," the words dripped with poison, as she spoke them, " will call him away again and soon me." Ioreth stared at Gléowyn, "I fear that the happiness that I feel is all that I will be allowed, and soon I am to lose him forever... through marriage, or through something worse."
Gléowyn's face was soft and she went to sit next to the Dúnadan noblewoman. Though she was a warrior amongst her own people, and an evil was done unto her, greater than any woman should ever endure, she felt smaller than this lady beside her, born of high-blood. She felt simpler. But still she was a woman and understood the fears felt by Ioreth, "Duty has always taken precedence to us, M'lady. It is the way of things. Our men are always called and it is us who must wait for their return... sometimes they do not come home." Gléowyn's eyes took on a distant look, searching, as if for a memory that had begun to fade. "Amongst my folk, the women, too, are trained with knife, sword, and spear to assure that we are safe should our men be taken. I tell you this my Lady because, though we are strong and can wield a weapon, I feel a strength in you that is far greater. He will return. You will have happiness. This dark cloud shall pass and the sun will shine on the years of your life... but still, there will be times when your strength need be even greater, for always will this duty come to you and Dirnhael. It is what he is. And it is what you are."
Ioreth looked at Gléowyn and saw a wisdom unperceived. She also more closely inspected the Éothraim and took in the scars that were apparent, both in body and spirit. There was a strength before her that she had never seen, and the noblewoman felt shame. She dried her tears, straightened herself, and smiled, "You comfort me with your words, Gléowyn... and teach me at the same time. Thank you." And the Dúnadan noblewoman warmly embraced the common woman of Rhovanian, "T'is no wonder, my sister, that my brother's heart has taken to you so."
Standing up, it was Ioreth who left Gléowyn with an uncertain look, as the two walked out of the room to find the others.
The company members were busy stowing gear into packs and saddle bags. They were preparing themselves for a potentially long trip, for they knew not what Camentir needed. The sun had yet to rise over the horizon, but Dirnhael, Fengel, Durgil, and their new companion, Pethron, wished to be on the road before that.
The two women entered the room, and both wore broad smiles. It was a comfort to see for Dirnhael, because Ioreth had been so distant since the message arrived from Fornost. Durgil looked up, "My sister! Gléowyn! I must ask again, would you rather not accompany us to the city? My heart would feel better knowing that you are safely within the walls of the capital, instead of out here on the frontiers of Arthedain."
Durgil had already been with his march wardens and discussed the defense of the land. He had also told them to be ready for a marshalling, should it be commanded by the king, or at least the steward.
"Nay, dear brother. We shall remain here in the safety of Dorthad and await your return." She walked over to Dirnhael and took his hand, "You must hurry back Sir Knight, and keep yourself safe, no matter what." Dirnhael smiled and nodded at the beautiful woman before him.
Pethron stood at a distance from the group. Though he had been welcomed and had spent many good days with these gentle folk, he had not yet entered into the circle of trust known by those who had bled together on the field of battle. Still, as he looked at Dirnhael and Ioreth, he knew that there was a greatness and purpose about their future union. In his mind there was an unclear vision, but knew that Dirnhael and Ioreth were part of it, and that he was now entwined. But then something darkened his thoughts - a ghastly impression received. Murder.
This last thought came to Pethron as he finished packing his writing materials into his satchel. He held his favourite quill, staring at it and lost in thought as he slowly turned it between his fingers.
Where were these 'visions' coming from? His dreams had haunted him of late, filled with inexplicable images that he rarely remembered afterwards. But now, thoughts were coming to him seemingly from nowhere during the waking hours. What did it all mean?
Murder!? This new image was particularly distressing. Was one of his new companions to be the victim? Or would one of them perpetrate the crime? He could not imagine it to be so, for they were all of good heart.
For now, he kept his thoughts to himself, not wishing his new friends to think him a fool, or worse.
Durgil's heart lightened as he saw Gleowyn come forth with a smile in her eyes and upon her face. He sighed, "So be it then, you've always known best for yourself. If your need should be immediate, Margil (chief warden) is but a summons away." He took a moment to look at his Dwarven blade and sheath as he tightened the straps once again on his beloved steed and think of its maker. Turning back to the women, he looked upon the Eothraim woman again. "Gleowyn, it makes me glad to see that your stay here has eased your burden if but enough to bring such a sunshine to your lips. I pray it won't be long 'til I see it once again," he said with a slight reddening of his cheeks. "We shall return by the shortest path and fastest road. Be well."
OOC: After some (not-so-welcome) surprise abdominal surgery that put me on my backside for the better part of a month, I'm on the mend and ready to hop back in here. So sorry I couldn't post... they, uh, frown on laptops in the hospital and when I got home, I wasn't allowed to sit up for waaaay too long, so basically, I was unhappily and totally offline. My apologies. Thank you all for bearing with me.
OOC: Apologies again for all of you who have now read this three times... I screwed up a bunch of games at once. :(
Quote from: tomcat on May 25, 2009, 06:07 AM
Quote from: GandalfOfBorg on May 15, 2009, 06:26 PMOOC: Is the handwriting familiar? Arandil familiar? I doubt Durgil would find it customary to receive a letter from someone else using his own seal.
:arrow:[OOC:] There is no familiarity to the name or the handwriting. Durgil spent years in service to the King's Third Host, under Camentir, but does not know this name at all... but that is not to say that there hasn't been new recruits since you stepped down from your post. As far as the seal... it was only wax sealed, the message did not come with your stamp pressed into the wax.
It was Ioreth who seemed most agitated with the summons. She was short in her words to all the men. She was quick to anger. And in the quiet privacy of her chamber, she would silently weep.
It was here that Gléowyn found her and she entered the room, "My Lady? Are you okay?"
To the Éothraim woman's intrusion, Ioreth looked up with a cross face, but then she softened and the tears came harder. "I fear that I am destined to love a man who will always have duty before me. But even I am bound by duty and so must enter into a loveless contract with another. My heart is breaking each day he is here, and yet, I would have him nowhere else. Now this duty that we hold," the words dripped with poison, as she spoke them, " will call him away again and soon me." Ioreth stared at Gléowyn, "I fear that the happiness that I feel is all that I will be allowed, and soon I am to lose him forever... through marriage, or through something worse."
Gléowyn's face was soft and she went to sit next to the Dúnadan noblewoman. Though she was a warrior amongst her own people, and an evil was done unto her, greater than any woman should ever endure, she felt smaller than this lady beside her, born of high-blood. She felt simpler. But still she was a woman and understood the fears felt by Ioreth, "Duty has always taken precedence to us, M'lady. It is the way of things. Our men are always called and it is us who must wait for their return... sometimes they do not come home." Gléowyn's eyes took on a distant look, searching, as if for a memory that had begun to fade. "Amongst my folk, the women, too, are trained with knife, sword, and spear to assure that we are safe should our men be taken. I tell you this my Lady because, though we are strong and can wield a weapon, I feel a strength in you that is far greater. He will return. You will have happiness. This dark cloud shall pass and the sun will shine on the years of your life... but still, there will be times when your strength need be even greater, for always will this duty come to you and Dirnhael. It is what he is. And it is what you are."
Ioreth looked at Gléowyn and saw a wisdom unperceived. She also more closely inspected the Éothraim and took in the scars that were apparent, both in body and spirit. There was a strength before her that she had never seen, and the noblewoman felt shame. She dried her tears, straightened herself, and smiled, "You comfort me with your words, Gléowyn... and teach me at the same time. Thank you." And the Dúnadan noblewoman warmly embraced the common woman of Rhovanian, "T'is no wonder, my sister, that my brother's heart has taken to you so."
Standing up, it was Ioreth who left Gléowyn with an uncertain look, as the two walked out of the room to find the others.
The company members were busy stowing gear into packs and saddle bags. They were preparing themselves for a potentially long trip, for they knew not what Camentir needed. The sun had yet to rise over the horizon, but Dirnhael, Fengel, Durgil, and their new companion, Pethron, wished to be on the road before that.
The two women entered the room, and both wore broad smiles. It was a comfort to see for Dirnhael, because Ioreth had been so distant since the message arrived from Fornost. Durgil looked up, "My sister! Gléowyn! I must ask again, would you rather not accompany us to the city? My heart would feel better knowing that you are safely within the walls of the capital, instead of out here on the frontiers of Arthedain."
Durgil had already been with his march wardens and discussed the defense of the land. He had also told them to be ready for a marshalling, should it be commanded by the king, or at least the steward.
"Nay, dear brother. We shall remain here in the safety of Dorthad and await your return." She walked over to Dirnhael and took his hand, "You must hurry back Sir Knight, and keep yourself safe, no matter what." Dirnhael smiled and nodded at the beautiful woman before him.
Pethron stood at a distance from the group. Though he had been welcomed and had spent many good days with these gentle folk, he had not yet entered into the circle of trust known by those who had bled together on the field of battle. Still, as he looked at Dirnhael and Ioreth, he knew that there was a greatness and purpose about their future union. In his mind there was an unclear vision, but knew that Dirnhael and Ioreth were part of it, and that he was now entwined. But then something darkened his thoughts - a ghastly impression received. Murder.
OOC: :o Wow. This was one hell of a post; a standout in a game that's had years of very good ones. Loved it... I think. :SS
I'll post Friday ASAP.
Dirnhael gazed at Ioreth and realized that, finally, wandering the lands of Middle-Earth in search of adventure and a desire to do good might not be what he wanted most in life anymore.
The quiet, stately beauty of Durgil's lands - and his own next to it, a notion previously unfathomable - began to appeal to him more and more; especially once they were rid of the devious man that threatened Durgil's livelihood and Dirnhael's love. And they would be rid of him, he swore to himself - they would expose him for what he was and let these heartless and opportunistic nobles devour their own.
He knew little of the noble's life or how to navigate its treacherous paths, but Durgil did, and Dirnhael would follow his lead here, just as the young man followed his upon the battlefield.
"My fairest," he said quietly as he leaned forth, "I am hale and my blade has been forged by the two most lovely and magnificent ladies in all of Middle-Earth. Your face is all I need imagine to carry me through the darkest of nights. If the great dragon could not keep me from returning to you, neither this swine nor all the armies of the North stand a chance.
"My fear is for you. I do not question this call to arms, but I do its timing. Do not hesitate to call your brother's personal guards, or to take shelter in the crowds of the city at the slightest rustle of leaves. I plead you promise me this."
With a tearful goodbye, one that seemed to wrench at Dirnhael more than any prior, the Company once more took to the road. It was a pleasant winter morning for riding and the men pushed themselves to take advantage of it, getting as many leagues behind them that was possible.
Pethron took advantage of the time to listen to more tales of the trio's adventures in the lands to the east. He also made short the trip with more stories of old Arnor, and the the High-King Elendil. At times, discussion turned to Camentir and what the commander may need, along with what threats may be coming once more from the North.
At long last, the towers of Fornost came into view and the Company entered the city. Their first stop was to go to Durgil's apartment and get settled.
Durgil rode slowly up to the apartment that they'd had only recently departed. He didn't think he'd be here so soon again nor under such circumstances. He noticed that a light was kept on -- his servants must have known of his imminent arrival. Finding the stables first, he relinquished his beloved steed to the hand there and proceeded to the residence.
As the group approached Durgil's apartment, Pethron stopped. "My friends, I must see to some errands in the city. I shall return to your dwelling tomorrow, Durgil." With that, the scribe turned and rode down a side street.
He first called upon his mother, making sure his father was on duty at the garrison so as to avoid an unpleasant encounter with the gruff soldier. Naura was pleased to see her son and the two exchanged news of the city and the lands beyond. After a time, when Kulban's heavy footsteps were heard approaching the door, Pethron excused himself. He left by the back way with a small bag of food in his hands.
Stabling his horse at an inn, Pethron purchased a flask of wine and ventured on foot into the poorer section of the city. His traveling clothes were sufficient to hide his standing, but he was careful to keep his belongings secured beneath his long cloak. Soon, his destination came into view, a run-down shanty at the end of a dark alleyway.
The scribe was about to knock at the door, when he head a voice from within. "Please come in, Pethron. I'm glad you have come." He opened the door and entered the one room hut, lit only by the glowing embers in a small firepit. "I have brought food, master ..." With a small grin, Pethron added "both for your body and your mind."
"Excellent!" came the reply from a dark corner of the room. An old man sat there on a rickety chair, staring blankly ahead with clouded eyes. Pethron knew that despite blindness, his master Azgar saw far more than most. He was disheveled and dressed in poor rags, but wisdom and a keen wit could be read in the lines of his elderly face. "Then I shall partake of the former, while you relay the latter."
As he laid out the food from his mother, and poured wine the into two clay cups, Pethron began to relate stories he had heard from his new companions. The old man listened intently, only requiring the scribe to repeat a few of the more pertinent details.
The food and wine were gone, and still Pethron told his tales long into the night. Azgar seemed particularly interested in certain events, and Pethron asked out of curiosity,"Why do you take such interest in this captain Camentir and the battles to the north?"
The old man thought for a moment, then replied, "Though the leaders and military commanders in this city fail to see it, the Witch-King is plotting their demise. If we consider all the events in the northern wastes, we may delve more deeply into his designs. Camentir is but one captain among many, but he is also my nephew, so I am glad to receive any news of him that I can. Sadly, he is among those who have disowned me."
The two men sat in silence for a while after the storytelling was done, then Pethron spoke again. "Master, the visions have begun as you predicted they would. But I do not understand what I see."
"You want me to help you read your mind? Do you? Since my eyes have failed me, I see naught but dreams and visions, and it is troublesome enough for me to interpret my own! I am sorry that I cannot help you with this task, my young friend. It is up to you to find your own path in this matter. But you must be wary of how you use your talent, Pethron. For too long I spouted prophesy, and look what it has done to me. I am labeled an eccentric, and outcast from my profession and my family."
They sat a while longer, until the wine finally took effect, and the old man's chin drooped to his chest. Pethron wrapped him in a threadbare blanket, and kissed him on the forehead, saying "Sleep well, my friend." Wrapping his own cloak tightly about himself, the scribe stepped out into the cold of early morning.
:ooc: Nice Brian! That was great... more stuff for me to work with. ;)
Quote from: GandalfOfBorg on Jun 28, 2009, 01:33 PM
Durgil rode slowly up to the apartment that they'd had only recently departed. He didn't think he'd be here so soon again nor under such circumstances. He noticed that a light was kept on -- his servants must have known of his imminent arrival. Finding the stables first, he relinquished his beloved steed to the hand there and proceeded to the residence.
"Master Durgil, welcome back to Fornost," came the pleasant greeting from Myrna, Geoffrey's wife. The housewoman took all of the travelers' warm, winter riding cloaks and bid them to enter the hearth room where a fire crackled. A few moments later, the door opened again and Geoffrey came in with his son, carrying firewood. "M'Lord, welcome home!" Handing the wood off to his son, "What brings you back to Fornost during the Yule?"
:ooc: I need to catch up the rest of the company to Pethron's thread, as he spent the night with his old friend... so we'll do a bit of RP'ing here, and then I will bring the thread together.
Durgil returned the warm greeting and proceeded to answer the question. "Business of state, I'm afraid. The ladies remain at the manor, it will be myself, masters Dirnhael and Fengel, and possibly a new acquaintence of ours, Pethron. How is everything here?"
"Very good, sir. The rooms are prepared, as always. Not much to speak of here, M'lord. The city seems to sleep during the winter. Can I get you a bit of sup?"
With the weary nod, Geoffrey left his master and went off to find his wife so that the evening's meal might be prepared. This left the trio of friends standing about, but only for a moment as each went his way to find his room, so that they could relax a bit after the long journey.
Dinner was warm and delicious. Myrna had seasoned a duck and roasted it, filling the house with wonderful smells. Carrots, onions, and potatoes surrounded the bird as it was presented and the men dug in. Fengel could not help but to comment on the meal, and Myrna quickly responded with a beam of pride.
"It's them little folk, master. They come up from the south of Arthedain, with their wares and farm crops. Hobbytlan, I think they are called."
Geoffrey cleared his throat, "T'is Hobbits, love. Hobbits. A queer little folk, but quite neighborly. I marvel that the king granted them such a parcel, but they seem to tend the lands south quite well."
With the new topic, the Company sat and ate their fill until all was gone, and then each found their way to bed. There was business to be done in the morning and they all wanted to be well rested.
:ooc: Again, if there is any other RP'ing you guys wanna do here, please post. Otherwise I will bring in the new day and Pethron back to the house - and continue on with our tale. ;)
The meal was delicious; Durgil's staff was outstanding and Dirnhael felt like a prince in the city.
"You treat us too well. I'll enjoy this while I can," he said with a grin. "Won't be long before we dine on the plains again, I fear."
Dirnhael woke in the morning to find the house already active. Durgil's housekeepers were busy making breakfast and assisting with the hew residents. Fengel popped by the Dúnadan's room and Dirnhael saw that the Éothraim had bathed, his beard was neatly shaven and his hair tied back in a pony tail.
"Best hurry, before the water goes cold," he smiled. Fengel did not linger, as Myrna's kitchen began to waft about the fragrance of bacon.
And so another day began for the heroes.
Pethron arrived shortly after breakfast, but still food was made ready for him, along with another reheating of bath water. Once he too was ready, the companions made plans for the day. Camentir had made contact with Durgil via courrier, and so the old commander must be sought out, or at least the messenger. The group decided that the best place to start would be the King's Hall, where at least the Steward might be able to direct them, or would hopefully have knowledge of the problems at hand.
After a brief ride through the chill, winter streets, the Company came to the hall where King Argeleb held court. As usual, it was busy with both important people tending to the country's needs, as well as courtiers and nobles who had naught else to do with their time, save to linger around throne in hopes of gaining favour of one with a higher station than themselves.
The men found that the Steward was tending to business and was unavailable to them, at least until the noon hour, and so found themselves within the Hall. The great dais and large, carved wood throne loomed over all, but it was empty. Fine traces of gold made ornate the seat that Elendil himself had founded so long ago. It was simple in design, but still it was given great reverence by all those within the chamber, including the Company.
"Durgil!" a voice shouted from across the Hall. The young noble turned to see the son of one of his father's friends of old, Borandin. Durgil had never cared much for the man, in his youth, and he wondered to what purpose he was now being entreated.
Only Fengel felt a bit out of sorts, as his other two companions also began to get attention from all of the Dúnedain nobility. He stood by himself and watched the many attempts at sincerity and thought what an awful practice the life of politics must be, but then a figure across the room caught his eye. It was Derufin, Methilir's brother. The two met eyes and there was a purpose in the other man's face.
Fengel knew there was to be trouble.
Seeing all of the pomp and circumstance of nobility, and the striving with words for some power, Fengel appreciated the way of sword and shield. He was frustrated that things had to be done this way and wanted, with all that he was, to settle Dirnhael's woes with his own hands. He wasn't sure what Derufin was up to, but if it was a fight, Fengel was prepared to oblige him. He would keep his eye on this one.
Although Pethron was always reluctant to attend court, he could not help himself being caught up in the excitement of the diplomacy and intrigue in the great hall. There were so many stories being written and told all around him. The tale of his companions was the one that concerned him the most, however. Pethron had gleaned from his master's inquiry that their story perhaps had a bearing on the fate of many, and he would continue to observe what he could.
The scribe noticed Fengel's discomfort, and walked over to join him as the others made their inquiries. Scanning the courtiers, Pethron noted with a grin, "Many of them are akin to orcs, I find. With intent just as malicious. But these orcs we cannot simply draw blade and do away with."
Quote from: BrianM on Jul 21, 2009, 07:12 AM
The scribe noticed Fengel's discomfort, and walked over to join him as the others made their inquiries. Scanning the courtiers, Pethron noted with a grin, "Many of them are akin to orcs, I find. With intent just as malicious. But these orcs we cannot simply draw blade and do away with."
"Aye. And it appears that some are as dumb as trolls." he grinned to his new companion. "But if any have malicious intentions toward Dirnhael," he paused, turning back to Derufin. "They will indeed meet with my blade."
Dirnhael's head was spinning. While he was no born noble like Durgil, his increased standing in this community seemed to attract to him unwanted attention. Within moments, he was nodding, bowing, shaking hands left and right, and - honestly - heard little about the conversations around him.
It was not a life he wanted, but if he were to be with Ioreth, it was one he knew must adapt to. So he watched Durgil with the corner of his eye, mimicking him and acting as pleasantly as he could muster, for as long as it took.
It was fortunate, he thought, that he had taken a bath this morning...
The time passed, and for most of the companions, dreadfully slow. But a few things were learned from the chatter of the many houses of Dúnedain, primarily of the north. It seemed that with the easing of the fear of the plague, the soldiers of Arthedain were able to shore up the defenses along the Angmar frontier. Some word was even spoken of sorties taking place all the way north and east to the now ruined Eldanar. Such talk brought the attention back to the Company, considered heroes of the great battle not a year past.
To the south, the plague had also been reduced with the healers' administrations of Ephanial and the little folk had set about mending bridges and roads along both the East-West road and the Greenway. Dirnhael heard that word had come from as far south as old Tharbad, and the settlements there, that people were once more beginning to prosper.
Whispers were also heard that many wanted to push the king, or at least the prince, into action against the weakened Angmarim and the Easterners that had migrated to the Witch-king's summons. For those people still suffered from the plague, and so weakened would make an easy opponent to drive from the lands of the Dúnedain.
Perhaps this was why Camentir had summoned the companions?
At last, the Steward ended his meeting and the Company was given an audience. Durgil led the way, behind the escort, to the chamber of Orodreth, Steward of Argeleb. He rose to greet them, as they entered, "Gentlemen... good to see you again. What has it been? Since the fall, no?"
:ooc: With Matt dismissing himself from the game, I am going to just give narrative of what we were to RP out.
The pleasantries were exchanged between the Steward and the companions, and after a short bit, the topic turned to the business as to why the men had come from the north to Fornost. Durgil looked to Orodreth and asked, "Sir, a message was sent to me in Dorthad from Camentir requesting our presence here in Fornost. Yet, uponst our arrival here, I have heard that the old commander is somewhere to the north, along the Angmarim frontier. Is this true, or do you know differently? And would you know of any reason as to why I would be summoned to Fornost?"
Orodreth pulled at the short-haired goatee that adorned his face, "Was not by my order that you return to the city. I have not seen or heard from Camentir since late Fall. He was moving a contingent of soldiers north to keep an eye on the northern reaches, but no word has come from him since his departure. I cannot guess who, or why you would be summoned to Fornost."
The companions all looked at each other with questions on their faces, but suspicion was beginning to cross Dirnhael's. "Perhaps it was in someone's best interest for us to no longer be in Dorthad," he thought out loud.
Durgil began to feel his temper rise. Not so much from Dirnhael's comments, but due to the absolute waste of time that they just spent in journeying to the city, and preparing for an extended stay in the field. He stood, "With your permission, my Lord, I request leave to return home."
Orodreth nodded, "I do not know what is going on here for sure, but I have my suspicions. I remind you, Durgil... and Dirnhael, the King has given his condonance to Methilir, and that writ cannot be undone save by Argeleb, himself. I ask you to tread warily, here."
"The man has ulterior motives, Lord Steward, and you know it!" answered Durgil, more sharply than may have been wise. "If he is responsible for this useless trek, I can promise you there will be no peace between our houses, whether my sister be betrothed to him, or not! And I am sure that will be the last thing that Argeleb will want... for two of his northern counties to be at odds."
Dirnhael, Fengel and Pethron thought it best to remain silent. The Steward now stood, "Again, Durgil, I would remind you to watch your words in the house of the King! Return to your home and see to your lands."
Durgil nodded, calming himself. "I shall return home immediately, Lord. Know this though, I will respect the King's order, but as master of my house, and all those who reside there, I will not allow any wedding until the return of Argeleb so that he may choose the appropriate date, and lay his blessings upon it." With that, he waved to his companions to follow. The quartet left the room with Orodreth's reply, "As you see fit, Lord Durgil. And mayhaps that will provide you enough time to remedy this situation."
Dirnhael paused slightly, realizing that the Steward was on their side. He was merely following his duty, as all men must, to lord and country.
They quickly followed the hallways towards the exit, moving quietly as they did. But then Fengel espied the large form of Derufin waiting in the foyer of the great hall. He knew that more trouble was brewing, and he regretted the fact that the House of Argeleb only allowed its guards to be armed, leaving him and his companions with mere daggers.
Derufin moved from the wall, and took up a position between the exit doors and the Company. He was taller and broader than Durgil, but still the noble marched forward. Dirnhael and Fengel took up positions on either of his flanks, all the while Pethron watched the companions, marvelling in their loyalty to each other.
The large oaf of a man began to ramble his taunts, "You best know, Durgil, that Methilir won't stand for much more from you! Once he marries your sister, he will be Lord of Dorthad... eldest male! Right? Mayhaps he'll send you back off to the reaches where you can serve your country best!"
Durgil did not think, he just reacted. As he passed the leering face of Derufin, he spun and his fist smashed into the larger man's face. A crunching sound was heard, for the young noble wore the reinforced gloves of his armour, and blood began to flow. In both pain and shock, Derufin fell to his rump and sat there on the floor, sprawl-legged, holding his nose. Dirnhael quickly moved to get between Durgil and his downed foe, while Fengel took up a position of guard. The surprised look was all the larger man could offer as the companions pushed open the doors to the great hall, and exited onto the streets of Fornost.
"Well that was interesting," said a smiling Pethron, as the group strode to find their mounts. Inside the hall, many other courtiers, all who had a shocked look on their faces, came to gather round Derufin and help him up. "Did you see that?" asked the oaf. "He struck me for no good reason!"
:ooc: more to come, I just wanted to save it so that I don't loose it... check back.
:ooc: I love it! Peter Jackson couldn't have wrote a better scene!
With all the commotion, no one noticed the young man that had gone by the name of Arandil. He stood back and watched as all of his plans fell into place. Durgil striking Derufin was more than the assassin could have hoped for, but now he had violence to go along with the public argument.
Yes, he had been the one that goaded the large, simple Derufin into an excited rage, directing all of it towards Durgil. And Arandil had hoped for some altercation between the two, but having Durgil attack first was just perfect.
Smiling to himself, he left the King's Hall through an alternate exit. He had a few more things to do.
The companions had gone back to Durgil's apartment, not knowing which course they should now take. It seemed apparent that their summons to Fornost was a ruse, but should they hurry back to Dorthad or was there more to do here? In any case, the sky had begun to snow very heavily and travel would need to wait until the weather somewhat relented. So the men hunkered down in the warmth of the small apartment and enjoyed a little food and drink.
As dusk settled over all, a messenger came once more to Durgil's home. It was a young, snow-covered lad, who handed the parchment to Geoffrey and then ran off after receipt of a coin. The house servant quickly delivered the message to his master, and the young noble was left with a quandary.
The message came from Derufin. It seemed the man wanted to meet with Durgil outside the King's Hall, to finish their discussion, and he wanted to meet now. The oaf had written that there would be no more fists, and that Durgil could leave his servants behind... he just wanted to talk. After a quick counsel with his friends, Durgil decided to go and meet Derufin and he would go alone, as requested. Grabbing his cloak, he wrapped himself in its warmth and disappeared into the wintry night.
The three remaining companions did not wait long before their instincts made them leave the house, to find their friend.
Derufin stood quietly, listening to Arandil. Methilir had sent this henchman along with him to provide assistance while in Fornost. They had just received word from the messenger boy that Durgil was coming. The lad had waited, as ordered, until noble had left and then ran to let them know. Derufin paced back and forth in anticipation. He did not know what he was going to do. Arandil had told him that he need only pass on Methilir's words and be done with it, but his throbbing nose was telling him otherwise.
But all of that would not matter.
As the large man paced, Arandil, standing in the shadows drew forth a dagger from his cloak. It was one he had stealthily taken from Durgil's desk those weeks past, when he had gone there to send his message to Dorthad. With a quick, surprising strike, Arandil drove the dagger into Derufin's back, just below his skull. The large man let out a guttural sound and then collapsed to the ground.
Not waiting to see what happened, Arandil turned from the scene and walked into the night. He rounded a corner of the Hall and saw a sentry on patrol. He casually approached the soldier and said, "Sir, I believe that I heard something round yonder corner. You may wish to see if there is something going on... especially after today's debacle."
The guard looked at Arandil, then to the corner of the Hall, and moved off in that direction.
Durgil approached the location where he had been asked to meet Derufin, slowing as he did. He saw a strange shape laying in the snow. He cautiously approached until he realized it was a body. Not just any body, it was the brother of his rival, lying dead with a dagger stuck in his back. It was then that Durgil saw the hilt - his family crest was emblazoned on the dagger. The young noble knelt down to the body when he caught movement to his left. A sentry ran forward, his spear levelled at Durgil, "YOU! STOP THERE! DON'T MOVE BY ORDER OF THE KING!"
Pethron, Dirnhael and Fengel heard the shout coming from the snowy darkness ahead. They quickened their pace until they came into view of their friend, kneeling over the dead body of Derufin, while a soldier was holding him in custody.
In Dorthad, Gléowyn opened the door and scowled - before her stood Methilir and nearly twelve others. "Can I help you M' Lord?" she asked.
"I do not wish to speak with you woman," he sneered. "Where is the Lady Ioreth?"
"She is in the house resting, sir, and shall not be disturbed," replied Gléowyn, anger on her tongue. "Well that is too bad, woman, for I have come for her. And by order of the King, she shall not refuse me. Get out of my way!"
Methilir pushed past the Éothraim, into the house, and his men followed.
:ooc: Okay... that is all I needed to give narrative for. Feel free to commence RP'ing again as you would like. ;)
:ooc:
Holy smokes! This is quite the plot twist!
Side question: How much experience and knowledge of the law would Pethron have? I'm not exactly sure which lore category this would fall under. He will obviously want to bring any lore he might possess to his friend's aid.
I also just wanted to let everyone know I am currently away from home on vacation, and online access is proving a bit more difficult to find than I thought it would. As a result I may not get a chance to respond until I return home this coming weekend.
Cheers,
Brian
:ooc: I will get back to you on the Lore specialty I will require, Brian. I need to get to my books.
Anyway, I hope you like the plot twist! ;) This was what was going to happen, it was just taking some time getting there because of game slow downs, the slow pace of PbP RP'ing, and hoping you guys did not go in an entirely different direction. With Matt leaving the games for now, I figured it'd be best if I just cut to the chase.
In any case, as you can see, Methilir has been taking his time doing some plotting. >:D
:ooc: Holy cow, this is great stuff!
Dirnhael looked around him, hoping to notice quick movement; an assailant fleeing the scene of the crime.
He knew that Durgil was capable of violence, but he was no murderer - this was an obvious ploy by Methilir, who desperately wanted Durgil's lands for his own.
The only problem was that it was obvious to only a few. To the citizenry in Fornost, his friend now appeared to be a murderer, and on the surface, it seemed impossible to prove otherwise.
Before, Dirnhael considered Methilir a foppish schemer, but now, after the man apparently had his own brother murdered, it was clear that Methilir was much more than that. And now, he had Durgil out of the way... and in Dorthad... his thoughts ran to Ioreth. What would become of her? Might Methilir no longer need her - or Gleowyn - alive at all anymore?
One thing was clear: as much as it pained him, they could not find themselves entangled in this web, or there would be no stopping Methilir. The Steward seemed to understand what was truly going on, and he was no insignificant ally. They had to bide their time. Durgil would understand.
"We cannot help him now," Dirnhael whispered to Fengel and Pethron. "Remain calm, and when the questioners come, answer them truthfully and make no accusations."
He paused. Though the constabulary would have no reason to arrest them, under most traditional circumstances, one of those circumstances had changed with the revelation of their enemy as someone far more formidable then he appeared.
"Methilir will come for us next. Be wary."
Pethron stood with Dirnhael and Fengel, the scene on the street playing out before them. The shock was evident on his face as understanding dawned. Turning to the others, the scribe stammered "How could he do something like this? His own brother. Laying the blame on an innocent man."
As Pethron put the pieces together in his mind, he realized that the implications of Methilir's treachery were far reaching. Had the people of Arnor fallen to such depths? In their many talks, Pethron's master had hinted that this war went far beyond the struggle with the Witch-King, and the scribe now saw that it would also be fought within Arnor's own borders, amongst those who were supposedly brethren. If the internal struggle escalated among the nobility, surely Arnor would fall and all would be lost.
Pethron looked afraid. "W-what shall we do?"
Quote from: BrianM on Aug 19, 2009, 08:46 AM
Pethron looked afraid. "W-what shall we do?"
"We have done nothing wrong; we have nothing to hide. So we shall answer the questions put to us, and then we must get back to Durgil's lands and ensure the safety of the ladies and others that dwell there."
Dirnhael's face tightened, his eyes narrowed to slits as he scanned the gathering crowd.
"Then we find Methilir," he hissed. "Or let him find us."
:ooc: This game has finally gotten the wind back in its sails! Sorry for the recent slowness. As I said in the General Forum, there will be a new post tonight for all of my games. Gotta feed the wife first - it is her birthday.
Quote from: tomcat on Aug 19, 2009, 01:12 PM
:ooc: This game has finally gotten the wind back in its sails! Sorry for the recent slowness. As I said in the General Forum, there will be a new post tonight for all of my games. Gotta feed the wife first - it is her birthday.
:ooc: No kidding it has - what an exciting new wrinkle! Tell your wife "happy birthday" from your dorky RPG friends. She must be a very tolerant woman indeed! ;)
From their vantage, the trio watched as three more sentries came to the murder scene and Durgil was taken into custody, regardless of the noble's pleadings of innocence. Dirnhael stood there, all the while his fists clenched in inaction, and he saw his friend finally turn. The Dúnadan could see the look in Durgil's eyes - it was a look of resolve, one that urged resolution in a war that had just begun. It also expressed a worry, and Dirnhael knew it was a brother's concern for his sister.
With nothing more to do here, Dirnhael turned and led his companions away. They would first return to the small apartment and wait for the questions that were soon to come, and also for the new day. Once rested, and clear of mind, they would be better able to make the decisions necessary to vindicate their friend and gain his freedom.
There was activity into the late night hours, as officers of the King's court came to question Pethron, and the other two men. Unfortunately, Fengel, Dirnhael and the scribe were little help to Durgil. They saw nothing of the murder of Derufin, only the scuffle that had taken place earlier that day. The evidence was quite damning for the young noble, but there was no hint of conspiracy or inclusion of the other three men.
With his capture, Durgil's property in Fornost was also order seized and closed by the Royal Guard. It was only through a message from Orodreth, himself, that Dirnhael and his friends were able to spend the remainder of the night there, including Durgil's house servants. But even the Steward could not postpone the law for too long, and so with the dawn, the Companions and Geoffrey and his family found themselves in the stable yard, as the small apartment was secured by the King's guards.
A course needed to be decided on.
:ooc: Need a little RP'ing to let me know if you guys want to leave now for Dorthad, or if you wanna try and see Durgil before you go, or what...
Fengel could not forget the look of worry Durgil expressed obviously for Ioreth, for he too felt the same for Gleowyn. And with the morning light Fengel made a proposal to Dirnhael. "I am riding to Dorthad, I lost my sister once because I was away, and I will not allow it again. I trust you will follow as soon as you do all you can for Durgil." He turned to prepare his horse for the journey.
:ooc: Does Dirnhael have enough "pull" to request an informal audience with the Steward? Just to fill him in?
Having recovered his wits somewhat after the initial shock of Durgil's arrest, Pethron spoke to Fengel. "I understand your fears, Fengel, but we must not be too hasty. Our adversary is more sinister than we thought, and his plan may be to divide and weaken us. Let us quickly find out where Durgil will be held and that he will be protected, for he may still be a target. If he dies now after the trap has been triggered, then the courts will have little need for a trial and Methilir will have won. Once his safety is assured, we must all three ride together to Dorthad. Also remember that this must not end with violence. If we seek vengence with the sword, the case against Durgil becomes stronger. We must have proof of Methilir's guilt and bring him to justice."
"It is true that this noblest of nobles is more sinister than we thought, but it seems to me that concern must be made for both Durgil and his sister. For with Durgil locked away and his companions stuck here trying to bring sense to this lot of nobility, nothing stops the man from forcing his name upon Ioreth. So we may have a battle upon both fronts. And since my sister is there, then it is there that I will lend my aid to our dear friend Durgil." With a polite nod to there new friend, Fengel continued to prepare for the journey.
Dirnhael considered what Pethron and Fengel had said, and had determined that they were both right.
Durgil could still be a target, and the ladies in Dorthad may be at risk as well.
"You may be correct, Pethron," he said, "Methilir may wish to divide us. But I fear we have little choice."
The scribe had not been with the group for long; it was likely that most citizens did not consider him a full-fledged part of Company yet. That might be a significant advantage.
"Pethron, you know the ways of nobility far better than we do. Would you stay here and be certain that Durgil is safe and that matters are proceeding fairly? Any man could use any dagger - what it looks like is irrelevant - and your gift with words may be an ally to Durgil in the face of his accusers."
He looked to Fengel. "We will ride hard back to Dorthad and ensure the safety of the residents, but we must not linger. The ladies of the house must be brought back here, to the relative safety of the city. If Methilir seeks to take Durgil's lands while we are gone, then I shall entreat Camentir himself to help us take them back when this is over."
He looked to both of them with a grim glare.
"Trust nothing but your own eyes; we have no allies save one another."
:ooc: Not to guide your story, or to force you down a path, but can we re-consider the idea of leaving Pethron behind to aid with Durgil's detention? Although this was my overall story arc for Matt's character, now that he is not playing him, I do not want to have Durgil as a main character. I will continue to keep him on the periphery, but I prefer the Player Characters not separating into two different story lines.
Again, I do not want to force the story on you - RP'ing is all about you guys making the story happen - but, for the most part, Durgil is not the main story anymore. It now comes to focus on the women and the lands that are being siezed via subversive techniques.
Pethron knew that Dirnhael's plan had merit, but he was concerned about sending the two warriors after Methilir without someone to temper their anger. It could result in a disaster far worse than the current situation.
"I do not need to remain here. As long as Durgil is housed in a safe location, we must rely on the court to proceed according to the law. Despite the circumstantial evidence against Durgil, and it is indeed just that, he is still a respected member of the court and will be treated as such until trial. Indeed, that trial may rely upon information we gather back at his estate. So my place is with you, to record what evidence I can so that it may be properly used by the court.
Give me one hour to ensure that Durgil is safe for now, then all three of us should ride together."
As quickly as he could, Pethron made inquiries about their accused companion to ensure he was properly housed and that proceedings would continue within the laws of the kingdom. He also stopped by his master's house to inform Azgar of what had happened. Azgar would use his contacts to learn what he could, and if necessary send a message to Pethron.
Throughout his errands, Pethron could not stop thinking of the terrible vision he had received at Durgil's estate. The murder he "felt" would happen had indeed come to pass. The scribe dearly hoped it was the last.
Quote from: tomcat on Aug 27, 2009, 05:40 AM
:ooc: Not to guide your story, or to force you down a path, but can we re-consider the idea of leaving Pethron behind to aid with Durgil's detention? Although this was my overall story arc for Matt's character, now that he is not playing him, I do not want to have Durgil as a main character. I will continue to keep him on the periphery, but I prefer the Player Characters not separating into two different story lines.
Again, I do not want to force the story on you - RP'ing is all about you guys making the story happen - but, for the most part, Durgil is not the main story anymore. It now comes to focus on the women and the lands that are being siezed via subversive techniques.
:ooc: No problem at all. This way's easier on everybody. :)
"If you are confident that Durgil will be well-treated, then we would welcome another companion," Dirnhael said to Pethron. "One hour, then. But prepare more than your quill; we already know that Methilir is willing to kill his own kin for Durgil's lands. I expect no mercy... and he must know that we will be coming."
:ooc: I just re-read this entire thread of story. I have to say, I love this game! What a fun time we have had with these characters.
Anyway, I will have a new thread up this week (probably tomorrow, but don't want to make a promise that I will break) and we'll see what new fortunes this trio shall find themselves in. ;D