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Title: At War in Love. The Shadow over Rhudaur Part IV (#4135)
Author: NKW
Chapters: 22
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Archive: Tolkien
Category: Lord of the Rings
Description: The times are dark and getting darker. Yet love blossoms under the growing shadow and a girl has to choose between a Thane's third son and the King's first... It doesn't help that everyone believes her to be a married woman and pregnant to boot. As a great poet once said: "The course of true love never did run smooth." Northern Kingdom Writers present a RPG-based story set in Arnor in 1347-1348 Third Age.
The fourth part of "The Shadow over Rhudaur" is now complete!
Published: 15 Oct 2009
Updated: 23 Aug 2021
Warnings: almost none here
Type: Drama
Characters: Nobles and commoners of Rhudaur


Chapter 1 - Prince Charming

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In Arinya's chambers in Cameth Brin, morning of November 2, 1347
Written by Rian and Gordis
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It was a warm, pleasant morning. Caelen hadn't felt so comfortable in ages. She was sitting in the window seat, alternating between reading a book of Arinya's, looking out of the window and wondering how Callon her brother was doing on his trip, and listening to Arinya play her harp.

Arinya the Elf let her fingers glide over the harp strings, not playing anything in particular for long - just letting her fingers play snatches of old melodies, bits of newer tunes, and nothing in particular, as her mood changed with her thoughts.

It was a still, quiet morning. Like all good things lately, it wasn't destined to last, though.

An impatient-sounding knock broke the silence.

"Come in," called Arinya, as Caelen looked curiously at the door.

The door swung open, smashing loudly against the wall, and Prince Daurendil, Heir to the throne of Rhudaur, strode in. He was an impetuous young man of twenty summers, dark-haired and keen-eyed, clad in a dark-blue riding outfit and high boots; his hands played with a grand hunting horn inlaid in silver. Nonplussed by the commotion he produced, he bowed slightly to the elf.

"I wish you good morn, Lady Arinya," he said in his young voice that had only recently acquired deeper masculine notes. Then he stopped abruptly, squinting at the light in his face, and feeling his heart starting to race.

There was another lady sitting in the window-seat, outlined against the bright sun, one that he had never met before. The light streaming through the window sent her unruly strawberry blond hair aflame, forming a shining halo around her head. Daurendil loved blond hair - but his friend Odare's hair, for instance, never had such a glorious luster, never streamed like a shining river to the girl's knees. The prince stood frozen on the spot, gaping, when a slight cough from Arinya made him remember his manners. Blushing slightly, he bowed deeply to the unknown girl and said, "Hail, fair lady. Forgive my boldness - your beauty made me forget my manners. I am Daurendil, the King's Heir. May I ask your name, lady?"

The girl sprang to her feet and blushed. Her head modestly bent, she replied, almost inaudibly, "Caelen. My name is Caelen."

Daurendil raked his brain for a suitable compliment. The name was in Sindarin, but what in Arda did it mean? He wished he had paid more attention to his lessons. "Uhm... beautiful name!" was all he came up with.

There was an awkward silence broken finally by Arinya. "What brought you here, Daurendil? How can I help you?"

Daurendil grinned at the Elf. "If I said I wanted to borrow a book, you wouldn't believe me, would you? Nay, I am not like Amantir or Tarniel. I love horses, dogs and weapons. In truth, I came looking for Odare: I thought you were having a music lesson. Amantir and I are going for a hunt, and I am sure she will be thrilled to join us." Anticipating the next question, he hurried on. "Nothing dangerous, no bear, no boar... maybe foxes or hares. And there are also ducks aplenty flying overhead. We won't venture further than the plateau and we have a huge attendance. Do you know where Odare is?"

Smiling indulgently, the Elf replied, "As far as I know, she is in the garden with Tarniel and their guards."

Daurendil turned to leave, but then a new idea struck him. He made a few steps toward the window and asked: "Lady Caelen, would you care to join our company for the hunt?" He felt his heart beating wildly as he waited for the girl's reply.

Caelen's eyes shone with excitement. At the mention of "horses" she had gone into a happy reverie; at the mention of a ride out in the country, she was in paradise. And this young man was the King's heir - she'd certainly be safe with him and his entourage!

Daurendil looked into her eager eyes and shining face and started breathing a little faster.

"Ooh, I'd love to go, Your Highness!" she said eagerly, clasping her hands together.

Daurendil's heart left its accustomed place in his chest and moved up into his throat. He loosened his collar ... the room suddenly seemed a bit warm ...

Arinya put her harp down and walked quickly over to Caelen, putting her hands on the girl's shoulders to get her attention and bring her back down to earth.

"But in your condition, Caelen, that would not be wise," she said urgently, seeing that Caelen had completely forgotten about her feigned pregnancy.

Daurendil's heart fell back into his chest with a resounding crash. "The good ones are always taken!" thought Daurendil, disappointed. He started to make his farewell bow.

"Wait, wait!" pleaded Caelen, pulling away from Arinya and looking at Daurendil in desperation. "I don't have a condition!" she said, pulling back and stomping her foot in frustration.

Daurendil did not quite understand what this meant, but nevertheless, a glimmer of hope sparked in his always-optimistic heart.

"I mean ... I mean..." Caelen started, and then turned to Arinya. "Oh, it's no good, Arinya, I never could lie - I've already slipped up with you, and I know I'll just slip up again anyway! It might as well come out now!"

Daurendil took a step back, alarmed by these complicated females. He took a quick look to make sure nothing was between him and the door, in case a hasty retreat started to become an attractive option.

"You know your brother wanted you to ..." admonished Arinya in a stern voice, then stopped abruptly as she realized that she had just slipped up herself.

"Yes, I know my brother wanted only to protect me," said Caelen firmly, putting an emphasis on the word "brother". "But I feel so trapped ..." She put a trembling hand to her face and turned her head to glance out of the window, her hair sliding across her shoulder and falling in a silky mass across her bosom, heaving with the strength of her emotion.

Daurendil took a step forward, heartened by the mention of a brother. "The lady is clearly in trouble - perhaps I could help her!" he thought, his manly emotions strengthened by his discovery earlier that morning of a few more hairs on his chin.

Caelen turned her head back to look at Daurendil. Tears were shimmering in her grey eyes, wetting her dark lashes ... Impulsively, she moved quickly towards him, took his hands in hers, and knelt before him. He could feel her warm tears on his hands as she held them against her cheek. Her hair felt like silk ... soft, caressing ... He swallowed hard.

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Cameth Brin, the palace garden. Morning of November 2, 1347
Written by Serenoli, Gordis and Rian
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It was a tense pair of best friends sitting in the garden with the guards. That is to say, Tarniel was thoughtful and Odare was tense. She knew it was only a matter of time before that whole business of the lost emeralds would come out. In fact, if everyone hadn't been so preoccupied, what with the Hillmen and Nauremir, and now Tarniel's worries about this marriage Gimilbeth was arranging for her, it would have been out in the open long ago. Not that Tarniel would demand it outright, she was too good for that, but she might mention it casually, and then Odare would have to let the cat out. Tarniel wouldn't be angry - but Odare would feel honor-bound to repay her somehow, and that would mean giving up something out of her own cache of jewels. She did not think she had strength enough to do that.

Tarniel opened her mouth to speak, and Odare got up at once. "I need to see Arinya about something. I'll see you around!" she said quickly, and she sped off. It was ridiculous to be afraid every time Tarniel tried to say something. She scolded herself, but she wasn't ready to own up yet... Maybe she could ask Arinya what to do. After swearing her to secrecy, of course.

So, off she headed to Arinya's room, and opened the door to get a shock. Daurendil was standing there, looking hot under the collar and very amorous, gazing mesmerized at a woman kneeling before him, her huge stack of reddish blond hair falling all over his hand. Her first impulse was to laugh. Her second thought was, now that is what blonde hair was supposed to look like! And before she had time to register any more emotion, she opened her mouth, and let out what can only be termed as a gargle.

The magic of the scene was broken. Daurendil removed his hand, and the strange woman got to her feet gracefully, though her cheeks were tinged with red. With a tinge of annoyance, Odare saw that the woman was at least a foot taller than herself. Arinya, whom Odare had not noticed before, sat down.

"Oh, it's you!" Daurendil was the first to speak. He was talking in an unnatural hearty voice. "I was just looking for you. Amantir and I were going off to a hunt, and thought you'd like to come. I was trying to convince the Lady Caelen here to join us as well." He motioned vaguely towards Caelen.

"Oh." Odare replied. "I suppose that's why she was kissing your hand? Should Amantir and I line up to kiss you too before we can join the hunt?" - she stopped that line of thought ferociously, and said, "Pleased to meet you, Caelen. I'm Odaragariel, Princess of Mitheithel." She wished she had some more titles. She had made a long list of official titles to add to her name once, but King Tarnendur had advised her not to. She wished she hadn't listened to him. A few "Mistress of Fates" and "Lady of the Shining Waters" would have made her far more confident in the face of this big-haired, tall Dunedain.

"I'll come to the hunt, sure, I haven't seen Amantir for some time anyway." Yes, so if I kiss anyone's hand, it'll be Amantir's, not yours! - where were these weird thoughts coming from? "I'll go and see if Tarniel wants to come too."

"Oh, I don't know, she's never been interested in such things, you know." Daurendil said half-heartedly. The truth was, he had quite decided that the main object of the hunt was now Caelen, but if his sister was going to be there, he would feel awkward, that was for sure.

Looking straight at Caelen, Odare replied, "She'll be interested. Trust me." With that, Odaragariel spun around and ran out of the room.

Now, now... that sounded almost ominous... Daurendil stood gaping at the door till Odare's running footfalls died away. Why did she behave so strangely? Sure, girls always reacted oddly, but up to this moment he thought Odare to be an exception. Was he wrong? Daurendil suppressed the urge to scratch his head. He had gotten used to consider Odare one of his closest friends, always eager to share a hazardous adventure or some fun. What was wrong with her now? Could she be... what a crazy thought... jealous?

Oh, how he wished to have Ol' Naure back! Nauremir, ten years' Daurendil's senior, always had answers to difficult questions, especially those concerning women. Were he here, he could have told him how to placate Odare and what to do with this wondrous creature with the hair the color of sunrise! Daurendil craved to hold her in his arms and to wipe away the tears from her rosy cheeks, to feel again the silkiness of her tresses ...But how to approach her now? And why had she been crying anyway? What was all that about "not being good at lying"?

Utterly at a loss, he turned to the Elf. "I... I am sorry, Arinya, could you please tell me what this all was about?"

"I'm not quite sure what's going on myself," answered Arinya with a rueful little smile at Daurendil, followed by a warning look at Caelen.

But Caelen had the bit firmly between her teeth and was not about to lose the chance at horses and freedom to ride. Everyone would understand, anyway ...

"No, Arinya, Prince Daurendil has the right to know the truth," she said firmly. Arinya, who was unsure of the right course to take, anyway, let Caelen go ahead - it was her life, after all.

Caelen looked up at Daurendil and put on the expression that she had discovered usually worked wonders with her father and brother and other men.

"My lord, my family has lived for many years in the green valleys of Sir Methed in the west of your kingdom. We loved the land and our horses," - she likes horses! thought Daurendil happily - "and lived in harmony together under the blue skies of our creator. But the times changed in this last year, and evil has grown and has not been checked, and our ancestral home was burned to the ground in what we think was an intentional attack on us. Of our family, only my brother and myself escaped from the ruins." Caelen had begun her story with a bit of artifice to win her point, but her grief at this point was sincere.

"Go on," encouraged Daurendil, with visions of himself and Caelen riding off into the sunset in the back of his head.

"There was a man who wanted to marry me - a terrible, uncouth, unlearned brute of a man! - and we found out just in time that he was planning to take me by force, and we fled."

Daurendil shook his head sympathetically, visions of Broggha in his head.

"On the road, we were attacked by some vagabond ruffians, and they ... they ... we were vastly outnumbered, and they shot my brother's horse out from under him. My brother valiantly tried to hold them off and give me a chance to ride away, but they were hurting him, and I just couldn't leave ..."

She bit her lip and blinked back some tears that had sprung into her eyes. Daurendil watched her, fascinated.

"I tried to ride them down, but they caught me, and ... and mistreated me," she said quietly, blushing, unsure of how to describe what had happened to her to this prince, and now not so sure that telling him her story was the best move, horses or not!

"The villains!" exclaimed Daurendil, taking her hands and leading her over to the window seat and making her sit down, retaining her hands in his. "Come, take some fresh air for a moment - this must be very distressing for you!" he said. It seemed so easy and natural to help her.

Caelen took a deep breath and continued - too late to turn back now. She finished with a description of how Eryndil and his men had saved them, and how they had decided to come to Cameth Brin, and her brother's last-second decision to pass her off as his expectant wife in order to protect her. Daurendil listened in amazement - here he came to Arinya's chambers for a simple ride, and now he was landed in yet another complicated situation! But this one was so different ...

Caelen finished up with how she had met Arinya and had accidentally betrayed her secret. "And that's what Arinya meant when she told me not to ride because of my "condition" - she was just trying to keep up the secret. But I thought you should know, my lord," she finished artlessly, looking at him with trustful eyes. This man seemed nice, like her brother, and she was used to men looking after her.

The room grew silent as Caelen and Arinya waited for his response.

Ahh those eyes... Daurendil felt like he was drowning in their clear, gray depths...So innocent, so trusting. Well, he was not a man to betray such trust! He mastered the deepest masculine voice he was capable of and said, "Oh, fair lady, your secret is safe with me! I swear by Eru - I will not reveal it to anyone that lives." With that he brought Caelen's fingers to his mouth and kissed them - with much more fervor than custom permitted. But Caelen was likely unfamiliar with courtly manners, as she did not seem offended.

Emboldened by her compliance, he looked into her face and grinned. "And now, Caelen (for may I call you Caelen?), let us be off for this hunt. Do you have suitable clothes?"

At her enthusiastic nod he sprang to his feet and pulled her to the door. "Then go and put them on. We shall be waiting for you in the court." He bowed to Arinya and made his way out of the Palace whistling in excitement.

"Good-bye, Arinya, I'll see you later," said Caelen too politely and too hastily, quickly bowing her head in a respectful farewell gesture and moving towards the door. But Caelen's golden tresses and soulful eyes, however well they worked on men, were wasted on the current inhabitant of the room.

"Caelen," said Arinya, softly but firmly. Caelen stopped and bit her lip, reminded suddenly of her mother.

Arinya waited in silence until Caelen turned her head and looked at her, her eyes large and pleading. Arinya tried to remain straight-faced but couldn't; Caelen reminded her of a young pup who has stolen a goodie off of the table and was trying to escape with it.

Arinya sighed. "Come, Caelen, you know I'm your friend," she began. Caelen nodded her head hesitantly, tracing a line on the floor with her toe. "I just want you to slow down a bit and see more than your side of this," Arinya said persuasively, crossing over to Caelen and brushing back a stray strand of hair from her friend's face in an affectionate gesture.

Caelen looked out of the window with a little sigh, then looked back at Arinya, this time with a more reasonable expression on her face. She waited for Arinya to continue.

"I didn't stop you from telling Daurendil, because he is the prince, and I know it will get out eventually, and he'll be a good person to have on your side," said Arinya slowly. "Yet I don't think you should just tell everyone now. As I said, you should think about more than just yourself - and your brother has sacrificed a lot for you, Caelen. I don't think you should so thoughtlessly abandon what he did for your protection without his knowledge and consent."

Caelen's face assumed a puzzled look; these were new thoughts for her. She was used to people taking care of her, and as the much loved and petted youngest child of the family, she hadn't been taught to consider others as much as perhaps she should have been. She looked back on the last month with new eyes and suddenly saw the things that she had taken for granted as they truly were - sacrifices on Callon's part out of love for her. She remembered him putting his body between her and the robbers on the road; him telling her to flee as that terrible man held a knife to his throat; him looking with longing eyes at the circle of Eryndil's men talking and laughing quietly around the fire as he settled down next to her with an extra cloak in case she got cold.

"You're right, Arinya," she whispered, her head lowered. "I'm just terribly selfish, I know..."

"And this last thing he did - it may not have been the wisest thing, but it was done out of love and concern for you. And he is of the age where he might want to start looking for a wife for himself - or at least enjoy the company of young women - and what he did for you kills all possibility of that."

Arinya was right. Caelen remembered that new expression she had seen on her brother's face just a few months ago, when his best friend's sister passed by ... how he had stopped in mid-sentence, his eyes lingering on her, his mouth softening ... and yet he chose to leave their home to protect Caelen.

"You're right, Arinya - I'll go tell the prince that I cannot go riding with him," said Caelen sadly.

"I don't think you need to do that - I think you can go, and I think you should have fun - I know you love to ride, and I think it will be good for you! All I was trying to do was to get you back, because the person pushing their way past me out of the door was not the person I knew and liked."

Caelen smiled sweetly at Arinya, and then wrapped her arms around her in a warm embrace, ending in a friendly kiss.

"If you can take more advice ..." began Arinya.

"Yes, please!" answered Caelen humbly.

"I think perhaps you might want to casually mention that you were mistaken about the pregnancy, as opposed to feigning a miscarriage, because otherwise people will say that your riding caused the miscarriage, and that might be unpleasant for you."

"My mother rode all the time when she was pregnant with us, but I see what you mean," said Caelen thoughtfully. "Thank you - I'll mention that. It's been hard enough pretending to be married when I'm not, but the pregnant thing ... ugh!" she shuddered. "I just ... that was just too strange!"

Arinya smiled. "Well, you had to get "unpregnant" very soon, anyway, or people would be wondering why you're keeping your nice figure for so long, so I think it might as well be now. But please, keep up the "marriage", at least until your brother gets back and you two can discuss it."

"I will," said Caelen seriously. "And thank you, Arinya!"

"And remember, too, that means acting as if you are "unavailable". I must say that the prince looked at you rather favorably, but you must respond to him - and the other men - as a happily married woman would respond, not as an unmarried young girl would. You don't want to bring censure on your brother for his immodest wife!"

Caelen smiled and put her hands on either side of Arinya's face, looking straight into her eyes. "I will be prim and proper and respectful, I promise," she said firmly. "And I will make my brother proud of me!"

And I will RIDE again!!!! she thought joyfully to herself as she ran lightly down the hall to her quarters to change.


Chapter 2 - The Wild Ride

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Near the Palace Stables and on the plateau outside the gates of Cameth Brin. November 2, 1347
Written by Serenoli, Elfhild, and Rian
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Amantir and Tarniel exchanged bemused glances. They were not the only ones. Odare's bodyguards had stared openly; Sarador, passing by, had given a double-take; the entire hunting party were either staring or laughing quietly. Odare ignored them all, and concentrated on stroking her horse.

In an act of defiance that even she could not explain, she had not worn a single jewel. She had dug through her closet, and flung out numerous velvet and silken dresses, before finding a simple blue dress embroidered in black. She suspected one of her maid's dresses had been accidentally misplaced in her closet - she wore it anyway. Her hair was in a tight bun. Without her customary ornaments, she looked almost indecently naked - one felt she should put on at least a ring on her hand; but she had been thorough - she had even stripped off the ribbons on her shoes.

If her objective had been to get Daurendil's attention, she certainly got it. The prince was escorting Caelen out of the palace, being very attentive to her, right up to the moment he reached them. He did not recognize her at first.

"Amantir, where's Odare? I don't want us to delay too long," he asked, slightly impatient. "It's only a hunting trip, she needn't spend so much time fussing over jewels..." he muttered.

"You're the one who delayed," she glared at him, and mounted her horse. Others followed suit. Daurendil gaped.

"What have you done to your face?" he asked, awed.

She ignored him, and turned instead to Amantir and Tarniel, saying "Race you to the old fort! Whoever reaches last is an orc!"

With a cry of encouragement to her horse, she was off. Her two friends did not delay either - and seeing them set off, the rest followed. Shaking his head and muttering, Daurendil mounted his horse as well. He took a moment to look for his fair Caelen, but she had not waited for him.

In fact, she was near the front, fast catching up to the trio at the front. After all her impatience to ride, it was hard to resist the invitation to race. They broke through the crowd near the market - Odare upset a wheelbarrow of apples on her flight - it was enough to catch Amantir off-guard and his horse skidded to the side; Tarniel slowed her horse down and picked her way safely through but Caelen took her horse on a graceful leap that cleared the wheelbarrow, its annoyed owner and the apples all in one. Odare spared one look behind her, grinning, and Caelen smiled back, urging her horse on. A horrified look replaced the grin; suddenly she really wanted to win the race.

The fort was coming in view now, and she had the lead, but they were almost neck to neck. In a sudden burst of speed, Caelen crossed her, her beautiful hair fanning out behind her. A strand smacked Odare right across the eyes. Blinded, and in sudden pain, she lost control for a few precious moments; enough for Caelen to gallop the last few yards and reach the fort. She drew her horse in, flushing with success, and Odare, reaching her a split-second later, was already devising ways to have Caelen's hair chopped off strand by strand. It was just not fair that hair alone should determine one's success in life - or in a race. Or that Caelen should turn out to be a horsewoman. She fought the desire to pout.

"That was a good race," said Caelen, still slightly out of breath.

Odare grudgingly conceded the point, and then the two of them in silence waited for the others. The real race was over, though; and it was clear that, whatever the outcome, Daurendil would be the one who ended up as the orc.

Laughing, Tarniel caught up with Odaragariel and Caelen, Amantir and Daurendil following close behind. "Congratulations, Caelen!" Tarniel exclaimed, looking up into the flushed face of the young woman. Then, considering Odaragariel, who felt perpetually inferior, she added tactfully, "It was a close match!"

The sight of Odaragariel dressed so austerely and without any jewelry at all was quite disconcerting, and Tarniel tried not to gawk. She had not even dressed so plainly at Nauremir's funeral! Tarniel wondered about the cause of this strange transformation. There was something going on, brooding under the surface. Whatever it was would surely come out soon. She noticed the way that Odaragariel glowered at Caelen and the way she ignored Daurendil, as though he were some lowly peasant. Before the hunt, Odare had told her about the mysterious newcomer to Cameth Brin, although Odare knew relatively little about the woman except that she caught her kneeling before the prince and kissing his hand. Since then, Odare's mood had been quite...mercurial.

"The gesture was probably innocent," Tarniel assured herself. After all, Caelen was a married woman. Royalty was always to be treated with respect, and that was what the hand kissing incident was all about. But why did Daurendil keep staring at Caelen, a peculiar emotion in his eyes - was it desire? Somehow Tarniel knew that ere the day was over, the tongues of the gossipmongers would be wagging.

The second hunt (the race was the first) was nothing special - it was "been there, done that" for most of them, but to Caelen, it was wonderful. It was so intoxicating to be out on a horse again, free and safe. Her mare had rested a long time in the stables and was "feeling her oats," but Caelen, having grown up with horses, was more than up to the challenge. More than one eye followed her with admiration as she rode the spirited mare around the grounds, laughing with delight.

But all things come to an end, and soon enough, the party had to turn for home. Daurendil had been very attentive to Caelen, but Caelen had been too wrapped up in her own enjoyment of riding to notice. But eventually, Daurendil's attentions got through even to her, and she sobered up as they got closer to home. She even became aware of the other people in her party as things other than riding companions, and noticed a marked lack of gaiety. What was wrong? What were the looks for? Daurendil seemed to be the only one having a good time. She wondered if she had been wise, after all, to confide in this young man.

Daurendil leaned in a little closer than Caelen liked and made a comment about her beautiful mare and what a pair they made. Caelen, a little late in the day ("but better than never!" she thought), remembered Arinya's advice to act as a modest married lady, and decided that now would be a good time to bring her "husband" into the conversation.

"Yes, she's lovely, isn't she?" she said in what she thought was a modest married woman's voice. "This is my husband's favorite mare!"

More than one jaw dropped at the mention of Caelen's "husband", and Caelen, looking furtively around the group, felt ashamed at her selfish lack of consideration towards her brother and his efforts to protect her.

She had hoped to cool off Daurendil's manner towards her, and it did in a way, but it also had the opposite effect - Daurendil looked upon it as a shared secret that increased their intimacy. In a manner that he hoped was convincing, but was actually a bit theatrical, he replied, "Your husband has excellent taste!"

And Odare caught the wink that was meant for Caelen's eyes only.


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Near the Palace Stables, November 2, 1347
Written by Valandil
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Eryndil was waiting for them when they got back - just out of sight, and he waited a little more while they dismounted and turned over their horses to the stable hands, amid tittering laughter and witty remarks.

Then, when she was just enough apart from the rest to not draw attention, and near enough to hear him, he said her name in a voice that was low but strong.

"Caelen."

She halted in mid-laugh and turned toward his voice, her face suddenly serious, wondering. But then her countenance turned joyful once again, but with a different kind of joy - no longer the exultation from a high moment, but the joy that comes from the warmth of a steady friendship.

"Eryndil!" she replied, smiling at him happily.

"Come here, please... Caelen," he said, calling her aside. She came and they stood just a bit beyond her friends, so that it was plain to see that they only spoke with one another, and yet a clear view, or any sound, were obscured by stables, posts, barrels and whatnot.

Eryndil swung Caelen past him and turned his back on her friends to face her, that they wouldn't hear his words.

"Caelen - I saw what you did today. And that was rather thoughtless and callous of you."

"Huh? What do you mean?" replied Caelen, looking perplexed.

"Oh - your idea of a race through town. I saw it! I was watching from the walls - over there!" he gestured. Her look was still blank.

"Caelen, look... that man, the one with the cart of apples. You could have KILLED him!"

A look of shock - or dread came over Caelen's face, and she lowered her head.

"Now," he continued, "maybe your new friends make you too good to care about the commoners, but in a Thane's house, we watch out for them."

"I'm... I'm sorry."

"Caelen - did you know that man is a widower? He brings his wares up the King's Road from Tanoth Brin - pushing that cart up those steep hills, every day - to try to sell for a little bit more, and take care of his four children, his ailing mother-in-law, and a sister besides!"

"I... I didn't know. And it all happened... so fast. It just seemed like, the best thing to do... didn't it?"

"No Caelen! Turning off would have been the best thing to do - like even those new friends of yours had good sense to do. But you wanted to win that race, didn't you? No matter what?"

"Well I..." she tried.

"No matter," continued Eryndil. "I made it up to him. I gave him your brooch."

"My brooch!" she gasped, wide-eyed.

"Yes... and it was awful troublesome to have to buy it right back. Now THAT'S what cost me," he added with a triumphant smile, as he pulled it forth, displayed it to her, then returned it to his pouch.

"Now Caelen," he said - and at last his stern visage had softened into a gentle smile of his own. "Where is your... where is Callon? I have desired to speak with him for some days now."

"Oh," she began, "he is gone as wagon-driver, to take the body of an unfortunate young nobleman back to his parents. He should be back in a few days."

"I see," said Eryndil, looking all at once reflective. "Well, for your part, please try to exhibit better judgement - and greater self-control, for the rest of his absence. And now... good day, Miss Caelen."

And he bowed stiffly to her, then walked out of the stables, bowing to the various princes and princesses who still stood waiting for Caelen at the stable entrance.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Near the Palace Stables, afternoon of November 2, 1347
Written by Rian, Serenoli, and Elfhild.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Caelen walked back to the group, her cheeks still hot from Eryndil's well-deserved reprimand. She had indeed cared only about winning, and the man with the apple cart had only been an obstacle to that goal, instead of a person with a life and loved ones. But she had only wanted to ride ... it wasn't fair! She bit her lower lip in frustration. Why can't a girl just have fun?

Odaragariel’s head swam. Why had Daurendil winked at the mention of Caelen's husband? Given how freely he had showered her with attentions all day - to the point where Odare had married them in her head - he ought to be feeling very shocked right about now. And here he was, treating it like a joke, like a secret joke between the two of them. Maybe... maybe Daurendil was secretly married to Caelen! Or... Caelen was married to someone else, and she and Daurendil were planning to do away with the poor bloke! Or maybe... and her mind flew off in different directions, each speculation worse and wilder than the one before.

She watched intently as a nobleman talked to Caelen - maybe he was the husband? He certainly seemed to be scolding her... maybe for the way she and the prince had carried on... and Odare could hardly blame him. Why, she herself felt an increasing desire to tell off Daurendil, or maybe just stomp on his feet and pull his ears. Caelen rejoined their group and Erindyl passed them by, giving them a nod as he went. Maybe it was the stern look that accompanied his nod, but suddenly Odare found herself feeling faint vestiges of guilt.

"Who was that?" Odare asked Caelen, who was petulantly biting her lower lip.

"Oh, that's Eryndil of Nandemar - my father's asked him to join his new council - jolly good fellow," answered Daurendil, eager to show that he was on the "inside" group now that he was a man.

Daurendil's casual reply only confirmed Odare's view that she was being rather malicious. After all, it was hardly fair for her to be obsessing so much over other people's private affairs. She had known for a long time that she and Daurendil would get married someday, to bring the lands of Imlad Mitheithel as her dowry to the Crown. She didn't mind becoming Daurendil's wife and the future Queen - but she had also known long ago that the two of them could be nothing closer than friends.

"So, Odare, trying out something new, I see." Tarniel had obviously been struggling not to comment all day.

"I lost the key to my jewellery box, that's all," Odare replied, blushing slightly at the lie. "Let's go back... I'm tired, and it's making me act strangely."

"Would you please excuse me?" asked Caelen hastily. "I'm feeling a little unwell..." Turning to Daurendil, she added, "Thank you so much for your invitation to join in the ride, your Highness - it was very kind of you to include me."

And amid the polite remarks from Daurendil and the group, Caelen headed back to her room, trying desperately to reach its sanctuary before the tears came. But tears have their own timetable, and came earlier than the room did - right as Caelen turned the corner and ran into two of the young wives that had been so kind to her since her arrival.

"Caelen! Are you well? Were you out ... riding? Is that wise right now?" they asked, concerned about "one of us".

"I was wrong about ... my condition," said Caelen, the tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Oh, you poor thing," they comforted, embracing her. "Come with us and let us make you more comfortable!"

"No, please - thank you very much, you're so kind - but I just want to be alone in my room right now," answered Caelen, sincerely thankful for their kindness and hating to deceive them.

It took awhile, but she finally convinced them that being alone in her room would be the best thing for her right now, and she practically ran down the rest of the hall to her room, where she locked the door and threw herself on her bed, sobbing in her pillow.

"Oh mother, father, I miss you so much!" she cried in agony. "I need your help - I just can't master myself - I'm like a horse with the bit between its teeth - oh, I miss you ... please help me ... please help me ..."

And she fell asleep with those words on her lips ...


Chapter 3 - An apple for the teacher!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Cameth Brin, servants quarters, afternoon of November 2, 1347
Written by Rian
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In Caelen’s dream, she was walking around a pasture in her riding clothes, but she had no horse. “Where is my mare?” she wondered. “I must go to the stable and get her!” She found the little path that went to the stable and followed it, and as she came over the top of the ridge and the familiar building came into sight, there were her mother and father standing just inside the stable doors. They looked up and saw her and smiled. “There you are!” they said warmly, holding their arms out to her. “We were waiting for you!”

"Mother! Father!" she cried, running to their warm embraces. After a few blessed minutes of reunion, they pulled back and looked at her with the firm but loving expression that she knew so well, and Caelen’s heart skipped a beat.

"Come now, Caelie - you left the tack room a mess again, and you need to clean it up," said her father.

"I'm sorry, I'll go do it right now," she answered penitently, and they headed towards the tack room, which was indeed a mess.

Her father picked up a slender hackamore, made with soft, supple rope. "Put this in its place, sweetheart - but tell me what it is, first."

Caelen was a bit surprised, but obediently answered. "It's the hackamore we use on the young horses when we first train them to the saddle.”

Caelen’s father nodded, and Caelen hung up the hackamore on its peg.

Her mother picked up the next bit of tack. “And this?” she queried, as Caelen took it.

“It’s what we use next – the bridle with the soft, “broken” snaffle bit,” answered Caelen, and hung it on its peg.

“Go on, now,” said her father, and Caelen picked up the D-ring snaffle next, saying, “This is what we use if they fight the broken snaffle,” and she hung it up. As her parents watched silently, Caelen picked up the short curb bit next and hung it up. As she picked up the harsh, long-shanked curb bit, she realized what they were trying to tell her, and turned around to ask for their forgiveness, for they had had this talk before. But her parents were gone, and now the floor was covered with long-shanked curb bits, the harshest bit used for the most disobedient, foolish, headstrong horses. “I must clean up the tack room, I must!" she thought desperately, and picked up a handful of bridles, starting to hang them up on the pegs. But as soon as she hung one up, it went up in flames. She worked faster and faster, but the pile got bigger and bigger, and the flames spread, and then she realized that she had been hearing a voice calling her name for quite some time now – the voice of her brother Callon.

“We have to go now, Caelie, we have to go,” came his well-loved voice, tinged with sorrow. Caelen turned around with bridles in both hands, saying, “But I have to hang these up!” and stopped short when she saw only a beautiful red-bay stallion. But it was the stallion talking to her, in her brother’s voice. It looked at her sadly, saying, “Put them down, Caelen, it’s too late now. We have to go.” And Caelen knew they had to go. She put her hand on the stallion’s strong neck, and he walked her safely through the flaming tack room wall and back out to the pasture.

They walked many a long mile, although Caelen didn’t know where they were going. She just knew they had to go. As the sun set, she was so weary that she started stumbling. “Ride on me, Caelen – I’ll carry you now,” said the stallion, and she climbed onto his back, burying her hands in his rich mane and laying her head on his strong neck …

When she woke up, they were approaching a dark forest, filled with strange, twisted pines.

“Stop! I don’t want to go in there!” she cried in dismay.

“I don’t want to go there, either, but that’s where the road goes, Caelen. We must go on – there is no road back,” replied the stallion sorrowfully.

“No, no, let’s just turn around and go back!” she implored, but when she turned around to look, there was indeed no road behind them, and then she knew that the stallion was right.

Their journey through the dark, twisted forest seemed to last forever. The trees were harsh and cruel, their branches and needles dry and sharp. They reached out for Caelen and the stallion, slashing at them and raising cruel welts and bleeding wounds. The stallion tried his best to avoid the waving branches and to try to keep them away from Caelen, but it was no use. Caelen cried out in pain and bent low over the stallion’s neck, holding on tight and closing her eyes, but the slashing went on and on …

Suddenly Caelen realized that it was quiet now, and there were no more tree branches hurting her. She slowly straightened up and opened her eyes, and saw that they were in a small clearing with a giant oak in the middle, waving its branches as though there was a storm going on, but there was no storm. Then Caelen realized that the oak was keeping off the cruel pine trees, and she jumped down from the stallion to thank the oak tree.

“Oh, thank you so much!” she said gratefully, and the oak swept a branch gently by her face. She turned back to speak to the stallion, but to her horror, he was already far off in the distance, stamping and fighting as he was being pulled off by a giant lady who had a rope around his proud neck.

“Stay with the oak tree, Caelie!” the stallion cried, his voice faint from the distance. “Stay with the oak tree!” – and he was gone.

Caelen started to run to where he had disappeared, but as she neared the first pine tree, it slashed at her neck, and she ran back to the oak and flung her arms around its trunk. As night fell, the menacing pine trees moved in closer and closer, and Caelen kept moving around the trunk of the oak tree, trying to get away from them. But they were closing in on all sides, and would reach her soon.

“You must leap now,” said a voice, and a branch of the oak tree bent down towards her. But Caelen had always been afraid of climbing trees, and she shrank back in fear. “I can’t; I’m afraid of trees,” she said in a small, frightened voice.

“Leap!” cried the voice, more urgent this time. “You must leap, Caelen, for I can bend down no further,” and looking at the menacing pine trees approaching, Caelen finally chose the lesser of her fears and leapt up into the oak tree, catching the branch and swinging up into the tree.

It was quiet in the heart of the tree, and the bark and leaves were soft and warm to her touch. Caelen climbed up higher and nestled in a comfortable nook, leaning her head back and slowly relaxing. She looked at her arms ruefully; they were bloody and dirty and covered with scratches and welts. She raised a hand to her face and neck; it came back marred with blood and dirt.

Then she saw a branch of the oak tree moving slowly towards her. She drew in a sharp breath, and her heart leaped in fear, for she was afraid that the branch would slash at her as the pine branches had, and she cowered back against the trunk. But the branch kept coming, and it finally touched her arm. She stiffened, afraid of more welts and cuts. But the branch merely swept its soft leaves across her arm and then drew back. Caelen was surprised; the branch had very soft leaves, and it felt soft and warm on her arm. She looked down at her arm and stared in astonishment; the blood and dirt were gone; the welts and bruises healed. She looked at the drooping branch and saw that some of the leaves were crushed and torn, and her blood was staining them red.

“You were trying to help me, weren’t you? I should have known!” she said in wonder. “But oh! you’re hurt now!” she added sorrowfully. But when she looked again, the leaves were whole and clean.

Another branch reached out towards her and then stopped, its leaves waving gently.

Caelen slowly reached out her other arm towards the branch until the leaves were touching it, and the branch swept gently over her arm, leaving it whole as it did the other arm. Caelen held her breath, looking anxiously at the branch’s crushed and stained leaves, and then laughed out loud as the leaves were slowly restored again.

She stood up cautiously, hugging the tree trunk tightly and closing her eyes, and then held her face up as the topmost branches bent down towards her, letting their leaves play over her face and neck. When she opened her eyes again, she saw to her surprise that her arms were turning into slender branches, covered with tiny green budding leaves.

“Look!” she said, holding tighter to the tree. “We’re growing together!” Caelen held up her hands towards the sun, and the tree held up its branches, and they rejoiced together in the warmth and strength that flowed to them from the sun …

and Caelen slowly opened her eyes, blinking in the bright afternoon light that was falling across her tear-streaked face, and she was back in her room at Cameth Brin.

***

Caelen watched the late afternoon sun sink lower and lower. She had a lot to think on, and a lot of it wasn't pleasant. Suddenly she turned from the window with a little smile on her face. She looked anxiously out of the window again. "I don't think it's too late," she thought, and she grabbed her hooded cloak and some money and slipped out of the room.

Many of the merchants had closed their stalls, but some were still out. Caelen walked swiftly through the marketplace, her eyes searching back and forth, until she found who she was looking for.

"Excuse me, sir," came a soft voice, and the apple seller looked around to see a tall, slender, grey-eyed noblewoman, with wisps of reddish-gold hair curling around her face.

"Evening, miss," he replied, touching his hat in respect. "May I be helpin' you with something?"

"I see you have some apples left - may I buy them, please?"

"Certainly, miss - how many would you like?" asked the man, pulling out a small bag.

"Um, all of them, please," said Caelen. She held out some money. "Is this enough?"

The apple seller's eyes opened wide. What a day this had been! It had gone from normal, to disastrous, to wonderful! What a blessing this extra money would be to his family!

"'Tis more than enough, miss," he replied gratefully. "Here, this is all they're worth," he said and took the appropriate amount.

"But there's too many for me to carry," said Caelen. "Would you just please take the whole amount and then deliver them for me?"

The apple seller objected at first, as it was quite a bit over what he would have normally charged, but Caelen was insistant, and he finally accepted it, shaking his head a bit at "the whims of those noblemen..."

Caelen told him the address, and then added, handing him a note, "And if you would be so kind as to have this delivered to the master of the house, please."

The seller took the note and put it away carefully in his vest, and then picking up his wheelbarrow, turned around and headed in the direction that Caelen had indicated.

As Eryndil headed home for a brief check-up on how things were progressing at his house, he was surprised to see the apple merchant slowly pushing his wares down his street.

"Good evening, my good man," Eryndil greeted him kindly. "You're working late tonight!"

"I was jes' heading home to a right good meal, thanks to your kindness, sir," and he bowed to Eryndil in gratitude, "when a young lady stopped me, and would you believe it, she bought all the rest of my apples!" he said in wonder, shaking his head at the strange day he had gone through. "I'm supposed to deliver them to the house of a lord ... Eryndil," he concluded, checking Caelen's note again.

"Well, I am he, and the house is right there!" said Eryndil, intrigued.

"Well, then, this note is for you, sir," said the apple merchant, handing Caelen's note to Eryndil.

As the servants came out to unload the apples into the house, they stopped in surprise as they heard Eryndil's hearty laughter, for the note read :

"An apple for the teacher!"


Chapter 4 - Those Stubborn Redheads!

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Cameth Brin, November 3, 1347.
Written by Rian
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Caelen's eyes opened slowly at first, and then popped wide open as a big smile spread across her face. Eryndil's lecture had not been in vain - today she was going to be really good and think of others!

Caelen's family had always hated these days. There were always tears, and often blood, to be wiped up by the end of these days.

Caelen hurriedly washed her face and attacked her unruly hair. For once, it didn't put up much of a fight, and Caelen took that as a good sign.

Now, where should she start?

"Probably with my room," she thought guiltily, looking at the clothes strewn about. That wasn't right - her mother had tried for years to get her to keep her room clean, and now she would finally take that to heart. She hastily went around the room and put things in their proper places, finishing up by neatly folding Callon's shirt that she placed on her pillow every night since he had left so that she could feel near to him. She closed her eyes and held it to her face, inhaling the familiar scent - horses and brother - and then with a little kiss placed it neatly on the pillow.

Now what next?

Her brow furrowed in concentration as she looked at the shirt as if it had the answer. Callon ... what would make Callon happy? Oh yes, to act like she was married! She had been avoiding the young married women, despite their friendly overtures to her, partly because it felt so awkward to be with them when she knew she was deceiving them, and partly because they were just in entirely another world than the one she was in.

That was it - she would find them and act like one of them. That would make Callon happy,and hopefully make up a little for yesterday ("what would he say when he found out that Daurendil knew their secret?" she wondered guiltily).

She ran out of her room with a rosy blush on her fresh, young face, and then stopped and forced herself to walk, thinking that walking was more matronly. She rounded a corner and found the young married girls enjoying some breakfast together. They greeted her kindly and waved her over to join them. Caelen heaped up a huge plateful of food (being virtuous made one so hungry!) and joined them.

The conversation centered around the one young lady whose time, it was very obvious, was coming any minute now, and of course, labor and delivery horror stories were the order of conversation. The young lady listened with ever-widening eyes as the ladies related their stories with relish. "And I still can't sit down right!" finished one triumphantly, then added to the now visibly pale pregnant lady, "But I'm sure that won't happen to you!"

Caelen reached out and took the young girl's hand, giving it a little squeeze. "My mother always said she had an easy time of it, and you look like you have her build - I bet you'll deliver as quickly as she did!"

The young girl smiled gratefully at Caelen, and Caelen smiled back. Maybe they weren't all so bad after all.

From labor and delivery, the talk turned to actually getting into the state where labor and delivery were necessary. Caelen's fair complexion grew more and more pink as the ladies shared stories and laughter and "Oh, I know what you mean!"'s. She had grown up in a family that bred horses and knew the "how"'s, but she had matured slowly, and the "why's" were still a bit beyond her. She bit her lower lip in embarassment, and after a particularly detailed story, fled the room as quickly as was politely possible.

"Well, I tried, and I'm sure it did some good," she thought, grateful to have finished with the conversation about "all of that stuff" and convinced that she portrayed a married woman to perfection. "But I am NEVER getting married!"

Her cheeks were still hot, and she decided she needed a walk to cool down. Oh wait, she was being good and thinking of others today ... hmmm ... oh! She would walk into town and buy Callon a little present to surprise him when he got back! She smiled happily and ran on light feet towards town, forgetting that matrons weren't supposed to run.

***

Caelen hadn't had such a wonderful day in a long, long time. On the way to town, she had done as many virtuous acts as she could, whether the people had wanted them or not. Oh, it was so good to be good!

Caelen reached town and started looking around for something that her brother would like. She ended up at the stall of a jewelry merchant, attracted by the beautiful hair pins on display, before she remembered she was getting something for Callon. Shaking her head at this slight lapse of virtue, she carefully scrutinized some pieces for men, finally picking up a lovely dagger inlaid with irridescent abalone, which she had never seen before.

Eryndil had decided to stroll through town and become acquainted with its general layout that morning. He was standing on a corner, inspecting some winter gloves, when he noticed out of the corner of his eye that the men passing by him were not walking like normal men. He looked away from the gloves in order to investigate this strange phenomenon further, and discovered that the men were all walking past him with their heads turned backwards instead of forward. They were clearly gazing at something very interesting behind them.

Eryndil turned his head to see what was causing the commotion, and saw, nicely outlined against the midmorning sun, the very pleasing figure of a lovely girl holding something up to the sun to see it better. He moved forward just a bit to get the sun out of his eyes, and as his gaze swept a little higher, he noticed reddish-colored hair ... could it be ... oh, it was Caelen! She had always been a pretty girl, but today, she looked luminous; her reddish-gold hair framed her fair skin and delicate features like a halo, and the way she was holding up that - what was it, a dagger?! - to the light as she examined it showed off her figure to full advantage. He smiled to himself. "They ARE walking like normal men!" he thought humorously. "They're admiring a pretty girl!"

He watched her for another minute, then put the gloves down, thanked the man selling the gloves and said he might be back a bit later. Then, deftly avoiding another backwards-glancing man, he crossed the street and started walking over to where Caelen was standing, now with an enchanting pout on her face as the seller told her the price of the dagger.

Eryndil had thought that Caelen couldn't possibly get any prettier than she was then, but he was wrong - when she saw him approaching, her face lit up even brighter, and with a joyous cry of "Eryndil! I was hoping I'd see you!" she ran towards him with outstretched hands and a smile on her face that made one admiring onlooker run into the apple seller's cart and knock some of the apples out. But Eryndil didn't notice that - he only had eyes for Caelen now ...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Cameth Brin, afternoon of November 3, 1347.
Written by Valandil
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“Eryndil! You’re just the one I wanted to see!” called Caelen, her face lit up so brightly. Eryndil had to think back quickly. He had been in town for nearly two weeks, and this was only the second time he had seen Caelen here – the first being yesterday’s little disaster. Since coming to town, Eryndil and his men had noticed… well, that there were a lot more pretty girls in town than in the woods! But at this moment he thought Caelen outshone them all. He hadn’t remembered thinking her quite THIS pretty before.

“Good morning Caelen” he began with a slight bow as he came before her. “And thank you very much for…” his voice trailed off before he could add, ‘…the gift of all those apples,’ for she had extended her hands to him, her very eyes smiling at him. He took her hands in his and drew them close against his bosom. The mere thought of the apples recalled to his mind the events of the day before – seeing her wild ride, the harsh words he had for her upon her return, and the second incident with the apples, in which she had so completely redeemed herself. She had clearly taken his words to heart, he thought with a further smile.

She had continued looking at him, her eyes first resting upon him briefly, and then looking long into his own. He felt an awkward silence developing and thought to break it. He lowered her hands in his and slowly released them.

“So tell me now, what brings you out here, Caelen?”

“I’m buying something for someone VERY special…” she said, turning her attention at that back to the wares on the carts before her.

“Oh?” said Eryndil. After the apples, surely anything further wasn’t necessary. But still, he was quite flattered. “And before I completely forget, thank…”

“So – why are YOU here?” she interrupted, turning her smile upon him once more and placing a hand upon his forearm. My, she was beautiful! How had he not noticed it before, during their long march after he rescued her and Callon (he REALLY needed to speak with Callon), staying at his parents home, the subsequent trip toward Cameth Brin. Had he just been preoccupied?

“The King has not yet called me to my duties – and I now have enough time and money to purchase the items needed for my new station in life.” ‘A new station that I would gladly share – with a special person.’ But he couldn’t say that to her. Not now… not yet.

There was silence for awhile as Caelen returned to the carts, and he wondered if she had read his thoughts – heard his words not spoken, for a look of contemplation sat upon her brow. Half in expectation, he joined her in sifting through the objects on the cart before them.

Together they sorted through different items. Once or twice, Eryndil would pick something up and look at it, just to see. Sure enough, each time he did, Caelen turned her attention right to it and asked him what he thought of it, or if he liked it.

Finally, she picked up once more the dagger she was looking at when he first saw her there. “Do you think Callon would like this?” she asked excitedly.

“Callon…?” asked Eryndil quizzically.

“Why yes – of course. He’s the one I’m buying something for!” and she turned back to a closer examination of the dagger.

“But I thought…” began Eryndil, and then his perplexity turned to embarrassment. Did she think him silly? Surely she would if she had known what he was thinking. Maybe she DID know, and was dismissing those thoughts.

Eryndil stiffened, his embarrassment now giving way to just a little anger.

“I don’t know… why do we need so many daggers anyway?” he asked.

Caelen looked a little stung, but said nothing. So Eryndil continued, his temperature rising.

“After all, you should not be out here by yourself anyway. It’s just not… proper! Or safe!”

“But I was only…” the joy once in her face had turned to doubt

“It doesn’t matter…” but Eryndil caught himself. This wasn’t going well, but maybe he could salvage it with a little humor. “After all, I wouldn’t want to have to save you again,” he added with a slim smile and a low chuckle.

“Save me again?” yelled Caelen, not at all amused, for her doubt had passed and now quickly gave way to a growing rage. “Is that it? Now that you’ve saved my life I am indebted to you?” She bowed in mock obeisance, “Oh great lord and master, tell me exactly what I must do, now and henceforth…” Then she rose and her voice rose with her, “And from whom now will you save me … HER?” she shouted, pointing at a servant girl carrying two pails of water – the girl stopped dead in her tracks, her eyes wide open in surprise. “Or… must you save me from that peddler there?” Caelen asked, pointing at a man pushing another cart down the street – this fellow just pretended not to hear and continued on his way, minding his own business.

“Now look, Caelen, I just meant that with Callon away…”

“You leave Callon OUT of this! He’s twice the man YOU are. Why HE could have saved me that day, if he had twenty men along with him like you did.”

“Twelve.”

“Huh?”

“I had twelve men, Caelen.”

“WhatEVER! Well… who do you think you are, to tell me what I can or cannot do, where I can or cannot go? I don’t need any more saving… not here! Not ever again!”

She held the dagger forth to the merchant and said to him, with great calm and politeness, “I’ll take this one.” And then more sharply, and sideways, “but don’t bother to wrap it. I’ll just carry it, in case I NEED it! After all, the King’s Men can’t keep this place safe now, can they?”

That last ended with a glaring look at Eryndil, and then a final, “And you… didn’t even bother to thank me for those apples!” Turning in triumph at that, head held high, Caelen stormed off.

‘Caelen! Wait! Stop!’ But he hadn’t said it out loud… only in his head. He watched her go. Would she turn back? He kept watching until she was gone from view. She had never turned back. The merchant she bought the knife from, just shrugged and smirked, “Redheads!” Eryndil gave him an icy stare and walked away.

She was so frustrating! And stubborn! Why wouldn’t she listen to him, when all he cared about was her… safety!? And to think he had once considered her “sensible” – what a laugh!

Eryndil returned to the stall with the gloves. He saw a nice looking pair and picked it up. He looked it over, half-considering it, but his thoughts didn’t stay on the gloves. Suddenly, he threw them back down and stormed off toward home. Any further shopping would have to wait until tomorrow. This other merchant stood watching with his mouth open, not sure what had just happened.


Chapter 5 - Eryndil's Home Fills

Chapter 5. Eryndil's Home Fills

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 Cameth Brin, late afternoon of November 4, 1347. 
Written by Earniel
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 Wilwarin quietly left her small quarters and the palace. She suppressed a little yawn. By now her body had pretty much adapted to the unnatural rhythm of watching at night, sleeping in the morning and rising again only in the late afternoon. But while her body had adapted, her mind had not quite caught up yet. It still felt strange waking up when the rest of the world had already gone through half a day. Sometimes she woke up with a start, thinking she had overslept and would be late for her duties, only to remember her duties weren’t quite the same anymore.

 Wearing a dress felt nearly unnatural as well, having been used by now to the riding clothes she wore on guard-duty and during the exercises. For while Wilwarin no longer had other tasks than to watch over the princesses at night, she was now required to maintain her skill with the blade through exercise, which often took up a good portion of her day-time hours. But not so today. 

 She hastened her step. She had written her parents to inform them about her new duty and she had calculated a reply should now be waiting for her at the courier’s office. While she had been in Cameth Brin alone for more than a year, she had written often. Sometimes even weekly, if she could find a traveler going there. 

 She reached the office where the travelers and trade caravans usually dropped off the letters they carried with them. Her calculations turned out correct and she emerged a little later with the long expected letter. She had been fortunate to get it, as it had arrived with the last caravan of the year. They would depart again tomorrow and not return until spring. Her reply would have to be quick as well.

 She went back to the palace grounds and looked the letter over. In the left upper-corner of the envelope stood a dwarfish rune, like a stylised butterfly, a symbol only her family would use. When she unfolded the letter, there were two sheets. One from her father and one from her mother, both easily distinguishable by the different handwriting. Her father wrote like he did his accounting: neat and meticulous and seemingly having to account for every deviation. Her mother’s handwriting was rounder and more fluent, and she indulged herself an elegant curl now and then.

 Your news caused quite some commotion here! Your brother has boasted that he can probably still beat you with the blade, as he’s the one that taught you how to use it in the first place. Your younger sister is quite jealous. And in exchange she commands you to describe in your next letter in full how your two royal charges look. She’s in particular interested in what princess Odaragariel’s usually wears, for word has it she knows how to appreciate expensive clothes and jewellery. Your sister expects full descriptions, she insists I add, or she won’t like you anymore. 

 Next followed a short description of the news of her home town. Her sister Finareth would marry in April next year. The last trade caravan had been successful, although the attacks from highway robbers were becoming more frequent. Her father would probably need to hire more guards for the next journey. Wilwarin also had a new cousin who had been born three weeks go. 

 Her father’s letter was ending with a warning: 
"We’re proud of you, Wilwarin, for what you have achieved. But be ever wary. Do not get embroiled in politics, for the intrigues at the royal court are no doubt the most fickle and the deadliest. I’d rather try to sell an axe to a dwarf then meddle in politics." 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tanoth Brin, evening of November 4, 1347. 
Written by Valandil
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 Another day was drawing to a close at “The Market Street Inn”. Brithoren, the innkeeper smiled with satisfaction as he wiped down out a tankard and thought about all the money he was making. The music had just ended and several of the patrons had just departed for their homes for the night. Around him, the last few customers joked and laughed with the serving girls, and in one corner, several of his servants had gathered for their evening meal.

 His eyes lit upon two of them; Harma and Harda, they had called themselves, cousins they said – off a little to one side of the rest. They seemed a bit out of place among his other servants, but he was glad to have them. And to think he had almost turned them away – when they’d come around late the one night, almost two weeks back. He took them in though, and they quickly proved themselves. Harma, the small one, did most of the talking, and was dependable enough to send on errands or to take charge of difficult tasks. Yet when the two drew aside together, Harma seemed always deferential toward Harda. Harda, worked the forge out back, and while slow at first, he was quickly gaining in strength and deftness of hand. He seemed slow of foot, and wasn’t fit for moving about all day – but he could stand at a task and put his mind to it for hours on end. He wasn’t much for words, but on about their third day here, there was trouble of some kind among the other servants – Brithoren still wasn’t sure just what – but he heard that Harda had taken care of it. Besides, old men that they were, they ate but little, and took up very little space – and were no trouble at all.

 Meanwhile, Harma and “Harda” were having a discrete conversation of their own.

 “Tell me again Harma… what you saw. What she looked like.”

 “Only as I’ve said before, master. She and her friends went all a’riding by, and made trouble for an apple peddler. Dressed all plain she was, notably so amongst a proud company, and I wonder at it – for she must be the highest born of them all – save only one of the other young women.”

 Harda sat back and sighed. “Oh, I wish I had been there to see her though. You must know how it aches me, Harma.”

 “Yes master, but say no more of it now. The proper time for that will come, surely. But first we must know what risk there is. And who it is that would harm you. We certainly want no harm coming to HER.”

 The two returned then to the bowls before them and to their prior silence, stealing glances around to make sure they had not been overheard.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Royal Palace of Cameth Brin, mid-morning of November 5, 1347. 
Written by Valandil
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 Rondaran and Lastorion had arrived early to the Winter Garden Gallery this morning, where for the previous three days, along with their two colleagues, they had waited in vain to be drawn into the King’s Small Council Room to begin the duties for which they had been brought together. This morning, the two sat near the windows with the door ajar that they would know if someone drew near, and spoke together in hushed whispers over the remnants of their breakfast.

 “The King won’t call us today either, I’ll wager,” began Rondaran. “The Council doesn’t like us being here, and he doesn’t want to stir up trouble.”

 “Patience Rondar,” replied Lastorion. “We don’t have a bad life, as it is.” He continued after a pause, “As for our own plans, and our two compatriots, what do you think? Eryndil has the greater ability, does he not?”

 “Yes – he does. But I don’t think he would approve of our ideas… or our methods.”

 “Nonetheless, I aim to explore it a bit. Without revealing ourselves, for sure.”

 “You take good care, Lastorion,” Rondaran replied gravely. “Our lives could be at stake. As for me, I have greater hopes that Naurlith will be sympathetic to our designs.”

 “He is quiet and hard to gage, but I think you’re right. Eryndil, though, would be the greater help. Hush now… here comes one.”

 At that, Eryndil strode through the door.

 “Good morning friends,” he began. “Still at breakfast? I had that ere the crack of dawn, then took to the ordering of my house for the day.”

 “Had to get up and milk the cows, eh farm boy?” answered Rondaran with a smirk.

 Lastorion laughed as he rose in greeting and said, “Don’t mind my grumpy companion here, Eryndil. He had his hard duty last night, keeping up the spirits of the young ladies here in the upper city. Your presence then was missed indeed. Won’t you join us tonight?”

 Eryndil smiled at the friendly offer. It sounded inviting, and things were not going well at all with the particular young lady he couldn’t completely get off his mind. “Sure, why not? But… I half-expect my family in town any day. If they should arrive…”

 “Of course, of course. But first we’ll see what His Majesty requires of us today.”

 So the three sat for a while until Naurlith likewise joined them, and then the four waited further. Rondaran and Lastorion had both lived in the city for all their lives. Lastorion was a nephew of Orefim, and Rondaran a protege of his mentor, Nimruzir. Naurlith’s history was more like that of Eryndil’s – younger son of a Thane and a soldier in the King’s service, he was recommended to the King by Huramir of Dol Aglardin. Eryndil had received no particular nomination, but was added chiefly by his reputation alone – though Merendil knew him and added his good opinion when it was solicited. Eryndil was a good deal younger than the rest, but the oldest was not more than 70.

 Eventually, a messenger came to the door. All turned, expectant at whether they should be at last summoned, or once again dismissed.

 “Sir Eryndil, a company has arrived at the outer gate of Cameth Brin, claiming to be your family. They were taken to the city square to await you.”

 Eryndil rose quickly, bowed slightly to his companions and began to make his departure. “A company?” he thought. Before he reached the door, Rondaran had spoken.

 “What of us, messenger?”

 “Oh… His Majesty the King says for you to return again tomorrow.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
City Square of Cameth Brin, mid-morning of November 5, 1347. 
Written by Valandil
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 When Eryndil reached the city square of Cameth Brin, he realized that there was indeed a company. Not only had his father and mother and his sister Hendegil come, but also his brother Vilyandur and sister Gildurien, and Dornendur’s two younger children, Eryndil’ niece Glambeth and nephew Paurblung – as well as a few servants and Eryndil’s four men who had escorted them all.

 First there were warm greetings all around, and then a flood of questions, but soon the talk drifted to the trip from Ostinand to Cameth Brin. The frustration began to show in Camglas’ face.

 “We made good time – only started on the first, as I didn’t care to be out traveling on Duvudu. But we made Penmorva the first day, the Crossroads the next and camped out the night after. Oh – and did we have a hard, cold rain then! Fearful that snow was just behind it, I pushed hard the day after, yesterday that is, and bypassed River Crossings, hoping to make Cameth Brin. But when we got to the gate of Tanoth Brin, it was after dark and no amount of pleadings or threats would get those guards to open their fool gate! So we had to turn around and go back to the Four Furlongs. Oh – the prices there! What’s more, a wheel on my supply wagon started to give me trouble. Well, this morning we come along and all, and the wagon wheel just breaks apart right in the middle of town – Tanoth Brin that is! So we had to load our things in the coach, and pack up the horses and some had to walk besides.”

 “Oh – and that walk. Bad enough the climb, but the men along the way, between the cities now – were just the lewdest, crudest…”

 “Yes father, I know. Those are Broggha’s men.”

 “Broggha’s men!” exclaimed Camglas, seeming surprised. “Well, that doesn’t surprise me!”

 “So did you just leave your wagon where it fell?” asked Eryndil, curious and somewhat amused. His father rarely got very talkative, but he was flowing like a waterfall now.

 “More or less. Dropped it at the Market Street Inn down there. Innkeeper says he’s got a man he thinks can fix it. I can’t imagine what he’s going to charge me though.”

 On the lookout for a break, Eryndil noticed the messenger only now turning about and heading back toward the palace grounds, and realized that he had been standing by Hendegil. “Hendegil, what did you have for the messenger?”

 “Oh – he just waited for me,” Hendegil said happily, “while I wrote a note to Caelen, inviting her and her brother over to your house!”

 Eryndil tried to keep the smile pasted to his face, but inwardly groaned.

 “What is it, Eryndil?” asked his mother.

 “Oh – it’s just that Callon is away.”

 “A-WAY?” his mother asked sharply.

 “Yes, but under orders. He’s part of the royal stablemaster’s men, and his duties have taken him out of town for a few days.”

 “Then all the more reason for us to have Caelen over,” his mother said frostily. Then turning about, she added, “It’s chilly up here, even at mid-day. Won’t you take us to your home?”

 “If her brother is away, maybe Caelen should stay with US!” offered Hendegil.

 Eryndil only just managed to turn his wince into a smile as his sister looked expectantly into his eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Eryndil's home in Cameth Brin, midday of November 5, 1347. 
Written by Valandil
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 The group was soon at Eryndil’s house, travel-weary, but excited to be at a new place, and to see if it was all as wonderful as it sounded in Eryndil’s letter and from the descriptions of his men. Before long, all were pretty well satisfied that it was every bit as pleasant as described – and even pointed out to Eryndil all the great things he had failed to mention to them.

 Eryndil delighted in the presence of his family once more. After a short while though, when the initial excitement had died down, he noticed that Soromo had withheld himself from contact with the new arrivals as much as possible. But now that things had calmed down a bit, he approached Eryndil’s father, stood directly before him, drew himself up and addressed him rather pointedly.

 “You are Camglas, son of Borlost, Thane of Nandemar?”

 Camglas was taken aback a bit at first and only replied after pausing and briefly studying the man before him, “Yes, I am he.”

 Soromo bowed and continued, “Then I have an office to fulfill. The King, Tarnendur has taken this house and bequeathed it to your third son, Eryndil, but for my part I return it to you, for it has been in the keeping of my fathers and me these eleven score years.”

 Camglas, his eyebrows knitting together, looked even more curiously at Soromo. “Well, I’ll not gainsay my King, but you… then you are…”

 “Yes, your third cousin - Soromo by name. When your great-grandfather departed from this house and this city, never to return, he left the property in the care of his brother, my great-grandfather. We share the same great-great-grandfather, who was the 14th Thane of Nandemar.”

 “Wonder of wonders!” exclaimed Camglas, then placed his hands on Soromo’s arms, his face lit up with joy. “And you’ve kept the place for us all these years?”

 Soromo did not return the embrace but smiled slightly.

 “Yes,” continued Camglas. “Now, my great-grandfather was the 15th Thane, but the 16th was my great-uncle. It was my father who became the 17th when my great uncle died along with his family… most of them.”

 “I know the family history well,” answered Soromo. “Odd chance is it not? Your grandfather was the second son of a first son, while my grandfather was the first son of a second son. Little difference, it might seem – but you are a Thane, and I… a servant.”

 “An honored one then, at least henceforth!” replied Camglas, smiling ever brighter. “Like the cousin that a King takes for a Steward in his palace, so you shall be both here, and at Ostinand, if ever you would join us there!”

 “You are too kind.” Replied Soromo with a slight bow – and for the first time since knowing him, Eryndil felt that Soromo was truly… pleased. And maybe deeply touched besides.

 At just that moment, Naneth the housekeeper interrupted to announce that refreshments of apple pies and hot apple cider had been prepared and awaited them all.


Chapter 6 - The Improper Gift

Chapter 6.  The Improper Gift

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  Cameth Brin Tower, late morning of November 5, 1347. 
Written by Gordis
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Daurendil returned from his sword practice, and took his time washing sweat and dirt from his body and making himself presentable again. “To be presentable” meant much more to the Prince than it did to most young men – it entailed being fashionably and impeccably dressed, combed and perfumed. A knock on the door surprised him when he was almost finished, so he sent a servant to open the door. 

 The visitor was one well known to the Prince – Ilyanon, the Royal Taylor. The tall, thin, slightly balding man bowed respectfully to his best customer. “Greetings, your Highness” he offered. “I took it upon myself to deliver your latest order as diligently as possible.”

 “You have taken quite a lot of time, as it is!” was the impatient reply. “I hoped to have the dress by yestereve. Why so long?”

 “It was a difficult commission, my Lord,” the tailor explained placidly. “We could take no measurements and it is not easy to make a close-fitting dress without them. I…”

 “But I have described her to you, have I not?!” the Prince interrupted. “She is much like Tarniel or Odaragariel, but a bit shorter than the former and taller than the latter.”

 “You would be surprised, my Prince, if I tell you that the two princesses you mentioned have an entirely different build.”

 “Really?!!” gaped Daurendil, now thoroughly puzzled. To him both girls looked much the same, barring their coloring, of course.

 “To be able to design the riding dress to your satisfaction, I had to track down the Lady in question and observe her from a distance with my own eyes. She is lovely indeed, my Lord. But after that little examination I understood the need to enlarge the dress in hips and breasts.”

 Daurendil blushed. Thinking of Caelen’s body sent a slow fire through his own, a sensation still new to him. “A-hem, show me the dress then!” he ordered, trying to cover his embarrassment.

 The tailor opened the large box he carried and proudly laid down on the bed an elegant riding outfit with a long train. The dress was made of soft sea-blue velvet, richly embroidered with golden thread. There were also a fox pelerine, long matching gloves and a small velvet hat lined with fox fur to go with it. Daurendil eyes lighted when he thought how truly bewitching Caelen would look in all this courtly finery. 

 Of course, a dress was not a suitable present for a lady he barely knew for a few days. But it seemed Caelen was not yet aware of the court restrictions. The day Daurendil lost the race and with it his heart, he had raked his brain for several hours to decide what fitting present he could give his new love. She was by far the loveliest of the ladies in the hunting party, he thought, but she was also the one with the poorest dress. Barring Odare or course, he remembered - what has gotten into Lady Oddie to dress like that? But Odare’s reasons worried him little now. He paid the tailor, grabbed the box and hurried out of the Tower and across the court to the Palace.

 While he raced through the court and up the palace stairs, he had to realize that Princes were not supposed to be running around hauling Boxes. He got quite a few curious stares from the guards and the servants, but the worse part of it was awaiting him upstairs. His appearance in the married servants’ quarters made quite a stir. There was a small crowd assembled when he stopped to ask where he could find Lady Caelen. 

 “The wife of Callon, the ostler?” one old woman replied. “This way, please, my Lord. But Caelen is away – she went somewhere an hour ago” 

 Daurendil’s heart sank. He hadn’t counted on Caelen being away – he hoped to see again this wondrous, sunny woman. But it was not to be…

 The prince was ushered into a small room with a large double bed in the corner. “I wonder where does this guy, her brother, sleep?” he thought, uneasy. Gingerly he put the present on the bed and searched for a while among the things on the table until he located an inkwell and a quill. 

 With a sudden inspiration, he scribbled a short humorous note:

 "For the Fair Lady who won the Race - from her faithful Orc. I will wait for you in the court tomorrow morning - I beg for a riding lesson. Yours forever, D."

 He put the note on the top of the box and left as fast as he could, the curious gazes of the assembled servants hot on his back.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  Cameth Brin Palace, servant's rooms, late morning of November 5, 1347. 
Written by Rian
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 After a few minutes of raised eyebrows and whispers and interesting conjectures, the crowd in the married servants' quarters finally dispersed, as less interesting but more urgent duties called. By the time Caelen returned from Arinya's room, where she had been taking her first harp lesson, no one was in the halls anymore. She hummed the tune that Arinya had been trying to teach her as she opened the door to her room, and then stopped short at the sight of a large box on her bed, with a note propped on top of it. As she was crossing the room to examine it, there came a knock on the door, and she regretfully turned away from the interesting package to open the door.

 A messenger greeted her politely as she opened the door, and handed her a note as he informed her that he was instructed to wait for her answer. Her curiosity turned to real happiness as she saw that the note came from Hendegil! She opened it quickly and scanned the contents - Hendegil was in town, and wanted to see her right away! 

 "Just a moment, please," she told the messenger, and sat down to compose her reply. Then a thought struck her - Hendegil was at her brother's house, and she had NO wish to see him after that irritating encounter in the marketplace. Her lips pursed together, she composed her reply:

 My dearest Hendegil, I would love to see you, but I'm afraid that your brother will not receive me in his house as I will have to come unescorted, through no fault of my own (my brother has been called away), and he violently disapproves of females doing this. I'm afraid I would be turned away if I called for you at his house in this unseemly manner. Perhaps you should come here instead, as I long to see you. Please send your reply as soon as possible - I will wait here for it. Yours sincerely, Caelen 

 She stood up and thrust the note out to the messenger. As he reached for it, she had second thoughts; why should Hendegil be punished for her brother's faults? With a "wait just a moment," she pulled the note out of the messenger's hands, crumpled it up, threw it away, and sat down to write another one.

 My dearest Hendegil, I would love to see you - I'm so happy you came to town! Would you mind if we met somewhere outside of your brother's house, though? 

 She frowned at the note - this wasn't working, either. She crumpled it up and threw it out, and the messenger, with a sigh, leaned against the door frame and looked down the hall to see if anything interesting was happening.

 Caelen started again:

 My dearest Hendegil, I'm SO glad you came to town, you have NO idea! I've been so lonely here, especially since my brother's duties called him away for a week. I would LOVE to come see you, and lunch would be perfect. I will follow shortly after this message. Yours sincerely, Caelen

 She recalled the messenger's attention from the hallway, and handing him the note and a coin, dismissed him and then shut the door. Quickly crossing the room, she seized the note off the top of the box and read it. What in the world? Oh well, whatever ... Anyway, WHAT was in the box?!

 She tore off the lid and then drew her breath in at the sight of the exquisite riding dress. It was lovely! All that detailing with the gold thread ... oh, it was so pretty! And the hat ... and the gloves ... and and ...

 She quickly took off her clothes and put on the riding outfit. It fit perfectly! And now, she could finally get rid of her old riding outfit. She had hated putting it on after what had happened to her in it, but she had nothing else to ride in, and she loved riding more than she hated what had happened to her. She grabbed up her old riding habit, holding it gingerly as if it could bite, and rushed out of the room. She would thank Daurendil later - that was so thoughtful of him! Right now, she wanted to see Hendegil more than anything she had wanted in a long time. Tossing her old riding habit in the dustbin on the way out, she ran to the stables, saddled her mare over the protests of the stablehands who tried to do it for her, and rode off happily to Eryndil's house.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  Eryndil's house in Cameth Brin, noon, November 5, 1347
Written by Rian
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
 "I believe she's in the garden, miss," said the servant who answered Caelen's impatient knock at the door as he indicated that she could enter. She followed him impatiently through a large, airy room and practically ran through the open doors into the garden. And there she was - Hendegil! With a cry of pleasure, Caelen ran to her friend, who was smiling her welcome and holding her arms out. They embraced warmly as Eryndil and his father and mother looked on at the pleasant sight.

 "And of course you remember my mother and father, and my brother," prompted Hendegil gently, reminding Caelen of her manners.

 "Of course I do!" replied Caelen, blushing and curtsying politely to the thane and his wife, and a bit more reservedly to Eryndil. "I'm so sorry, I was just so happy to see your daughter!" she explained, turning back to Hendegil's parents.

 "No offense taken," said Camglas graciously. "We are both very glad to see Hendegil have such a warm-hearted friend!"

 "Caelen, what an exquisite riding outfit! Is it new? I don't remember you wearing it before!" said Hendegil as she examined Caelen's clothing.

 "Yes, I just got it today - it was a present from the Prince Daurendil - wasn't that kind? I went on a riding party with him, and he must have noticed that my outfit was a bit worn, and I guess he had one made up for me! But now, Hendegil, tell me all about YOU!" she said, impatient to move past the topic of the new riding outfit. "Was this a surprise visit here? Oh, it doesn't matter, I'm just so glad you came!" And she took Hendegil's hands in hers and gave them a squeeze.

 "Did you say Prince Daurendil gave you this?" asked Eryndil, surprised in more ways than one - and none of them pleasant.

 "Yes," answered Caelen, a little impatience creeping into her voice. "And he wants me to give him a riding lesson tomorrow morning, too - although really, he rides just fine - a little rough, but I can show him some things that will help his seat." 

 "And you accepted this gift from him?" continued Eryndil incredulously. This girl was really too much - was she really that ignorant of what it meant? Was she just going to continue to cause embarassment and trouble for her brother and others around her?

 "Eryndil," said his mother softly, as the thane watched the unfolding scene with interest.

 "Why, of course - why not?" answered Caelen, trying to keep her rising temper in check. "He can afford it, can't he? Maybe it's just a thank-you in advance for my riding instruction," she finished, although a little uneasily, as she remembered Daurendil's note and started to face what she had tried to ignore in it.

 Eryndil sighed. "Well, I suppose it might be all right," he said, trying hard to make allowances for the situation. "After all, he thinks you're married."

 Caelen's guilty expression made Eryndil do a double take.

 "Married?!" exclaimed Hendegil and her parents in unison.

 "Caelen, he DOES think you're married, doesn't he?" pressed Eryndil.

 "Well ... " and Caelen's face assumed the expression of a dog who has been caught stealing food from the dinner table. 

 Eryndil groaned.

 "I couldn't help it!" cried Caelen, irritated and ashamed and angry with herself as well as Eryndil. "I told him everything - he asked me if I wanted to go riding, and I wanted to, SO much, and I couldn't if everyone thought I was pregnant ..."

 "PREGNANT?!?!" exclaimed Hendegil and her parents, aghast.

 "Callon was just trying to protect me!" said Caelen imploringly. "He told people that we were married and that I was with child, because he was afraid for me there - there were so many rough men ... after what had happened once ... and then he ... he had to leave me, and ... and I was all alone, and I wanted to ride so much but I couldn't ... and I was with Arinya and the Prince came in and then asked me to go riding with them! ... so I told him what Callon had done so ... so I could go riding," finished Caelen in a small voice. "And I thought that it would be wrong to deceive a prince," she added lamely, as an afterthought.

 Then a new thought occurred to her - Callon had said that Eryndil had agreed to support the ruse. She turned back to Eryndil and added, in a half accusing tone, "Callon told me that you had agreed to support the ruse - why didn't you tell your family?"

 Eryndil's eyes opened wide in disbelief ... and a bit of anger. This is just too much!" he thought. "Like I did something wrong?"

 "I told your brother that although I disagreed with what he had done, that I would not reveal your true connection, so of course I was going to tell my family! I just hadn't gotten around to it yet - they just arrived here a few hours ago! I had more important things to discuss with them first," he concluded a bit angrily, thinking that she needed to learn (for her own good, of course) that she - and her concerns - were not at the center of everything. He immediately regretted his words, however, as he saw Caelen's expression. He hadn't meant them to sound that harsh ... he was just trying to teach her something ...

 Looking at Caelen's white face and trembling mouth, Eryndil's mother broke in. "I think perhaps we better sit down somewhere," she said, as she put a protective arm around the young orphan and led her to a nearby garden bench.

 "Now, dear, you just sit quietly here a moment, while my son explains what he knows of this," said Rildorien to Caelen as she guided her to the bench and sat down with her. Hendegil sat down on Caelen's other side and took her other hand, patting it protectively.

 "Let the games begin!" thought the thane with a smile that he tried, fairly successfully, to hide. He had never seen his son flustered by a woman before, and suspected that there was something behind it - and he was liking this little red-headed spitfire so far. "Eryndil needs a challenge!" he thought. "He's always been able to control things, and that's not good for him! And this little lady looks like she doesn't take to controlling very well!"

 Eryndil took a deep breath and started talking. He didn't like how his mother and sister were looking at him - like he was some species of large, uncouth animal that had hurt this poor little orphan girl with its fumbling movements. Why, he had SAVED this girl! It wasn't FAIR! He was sorely tempted to enlarge on the story, focusing on Caelen's faults, but his good nature and sense of justice overruled this desire, and he gave a calm, clear, accurate account of what he knew had happened since they had left Ostinand. 

 "Is that right, dear?" his mother asked Caelen. "As if I would lie?" thought Eryndil, his temper rising again.

 "Yes," said Caelen, and looked up at Eryndil with her clear grey eyes calm again. "I'm glad you explained it so well," she said to him gratefully. "I never seem to explain things well - especially when I'm upset," she finished, looking down at the ground again.

 Camglas cleared his throat. "Well, my dear, I must say that I agree with my son - deceiving is never right - but I think that for now, at least, we will do as he has agreed to do, and not give away your secret. And I will instruct the rest of my family to do the same."

 Caelen looked up at him gratefully and smiled her thanks.

 "And son," continued the thane, "you need to tell your men that, too."

 "I have already done so," answered Eryndil. The thane nodded his approval of his son's behavior.

 There was a moment of silence, and then Caelen, looking up at Rildorien, asked plaintively, "Lady Rildorien, could you please tell me what I should do about the riding habit? My mother and father are gone, and I ... I just don't know what I should do now!" Eryndil saw Caelen fall back into her nervous habit of biting her lip and suppressed the urge to tell her to stop doing that, but this time, his heart was a lot softer towards her. She had been through a lot, after all - maybe he had been too hard on her.

 Rildorien had Caelen tell what had happened, and then questioned her carefully to fill in the missing parts of Caelen's rather disjoined account. She sighed. It was abundantly clear that Caelen would have to return the outfit. 

 "My dear child," she said, "I'm afraid that you simply cannot accept this outfit. I know that you are unaware of court customs, and what is proper for a lady to receive from a gentleman who knows that she is unmarried, but there is ..."

 "Wait," said Caelen. Rildorien looked at her in surprise. "I must tell you more, " Caelen said simply. "You have been so kind to me - you've been like a mother to me today - I need to tell you more." She sighed heavily and bit her lip just slightly again (unknowingly making Eryndil half-irritated, half-aroused - he was starting to get very interested in Caelen's lips - "What did they feel like? What did they ... taste like?" he found himself wondering, and then shook his head at himself in disbelief - what was he thinking?)

 Rildorien looked at her questioningly, and Caelen took a deep breath and looked back at her with flushed cheeks and a little fear in her eyes. She didn't want to tell Rildorien this, or have the others hear it, either, but she felt she had to be completely frank with these good people who were being so kind and supportive of her.

 "I ... I didn't tell you everything ... it's true that I wasn't sure what the note meant, but what I didn't tell you is that I thought I knew what it might mean ... and I did know that I shouldn't receive the gift. I don't want you to think badly of my mother. She told me that ladies don't receive gifts from gentlemen, except flowers, until they are engaged. But I tried to rationalize it because I wanted it so bad. I told myself that royalty can act differently and that it would be wrong to refuse a gift from royalty and things like that, and then I told myself that I had to hurry to come see Hendegil and I would think about it later."

 Eryndil forgot about Caelen's mouth. Of all Caelen's faults, he had never thought of her as deceptive, and he was severely disappointed in her. 

 Perhaps Caelen sensed a movement from Eryndil - perhaps she sensed the movement in his heart - for she suddenly turned from Rildorien to Eryndil. Seeing the disapproval in the eyes of one she had always respected, the tears sprang to her own eyes.

 "Don't you see," she started in a tremulous voice, then started again in a stronger one. "Don't you see, I had to have a riding outfit! Riding is in my blood - it's life to me - it's a tie to my family. And when I ride, I sometimes think that maybe, just maybe, I'll round a corner somewhere and see my house again, and my parents standing at the gates, holding them open wide ..." Caelen's eyes moved from Eryndil to a spot somewhere in the distance, and her whole face showed her longing and love for the family that was gone.

 Eryndil was cut to the heart, and could not answer. But Caelen was not done. She looked at him again for a moment, and then suddenly looked down and covered her face with her hands.

 "And every time I put on my old riding habit, I felt the brigands' hands on me again," she moaned, and then bent double, hugging her knees and rocking slowly back and forth, her hair falling around her like a curtain trying to protect her from the harsh, cruel world.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  Eryndil's house in Cameth Brin, afternoon, November 5, 1347
Written by Valandil
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 Not wishing to see her daughter’s friend further embarrassed before the servants in the main parts of the house, Rildorien suggested that they help Caelen up to Hendegil’s room. She was surprised though when Eryndil reached down and, instead of just assisting Caelen to her feet, lifted her up in his arms and made straight for the main stairway. Her face echoing her friend’s distress, Hendegil looked quickly back at her mother, then followed behind Eryndil.

 Rildorien lingered behind for just a moment as the sounds of her son’s exertions passed up along with him. Then, turning to her husband, she said, “Wipe that smirk off your face, Thane Camglas!”

 Camglas broke out into a soft chuckle, which made Rildorien even more cross as she turned and went up the stairs herself.

 As he labored up the thirty or so steps, Eryndil tried to act as though he carried Caelen without effort. He had considered himself fairly strong, but had to admit he was no Beren or Turin – and this was hard work! But from the moment he lifted her, she had buried her head against his shoulder, her eyes shut tightly to block out the tears, and thrown her arms about his neck. As they passed up the stairs, her arms tightened about him (“Not TOO tight,” he had thought. “I still have to BREATHE!”), but when they reached the top he was able to pause for a moment, allowing Hendegil to go before him as pretext for recovering himself, and disguising his heavy breaths by drawing them slowly. Caelen’s arms loosened somewhat once the stairs were finished. She kept her eyes closed, but looking down, he saw that her face was visibly more relaxed, and though she shifted her head, turning it upward, it still lay upon him.

 When he reached Hendegil’s room, Eryndil carried her across to the bed and laid her down slowly, carefully – almost regretfully. Then he stood to his full height looking down upon her briefly, feeling a tangle of emotions return now that the focus required by his former efforts was no longer needed. But this was interrupted by his mother’s arrival and a small flurry of activity. Eryndil sought to help; opening the window for fresh air, then shutting it at his mother’s command, stoking the fire to activity and drawing out another blanket after Hendegil had already pulled one up over Caelen. At last, at Rildorien’s suggestion, Hendegil asked Eryndil to fetch them some fresh water and helped him find his way out of the room with a hand in his back. Just outside the door he turned to face Hendegil, who was smiling up at him as she held the door wide open, and then slowly closed it after repeating, “water.”

 Roused from their nap by the commotion, Vilyandur and Gildurien stood outside with him. They had been sorely disappointed to find on arriving, that the Princess Gimilbeth was away from Cameth Brin the very winter they had come to stay there. For their main objective in coming (and giving up their own October 30th Duvediu celebrations back home), had been in hopes of meeting her – to see for themselves if the rumors were indeed true, and now the whole trip was becoming a colossal waste of time! They hoped that whatever incident was going on now might be of some interest. But Eryndil urged them downstairs with him to where their father still sat, and Camglas bade them sit and talk with him awhile.

 Eryndil gathered not only a pitcher of water and three vessels for drinking, but also a basket with bread, cheese and apples. His servants were a bit bemused as he insisted on taking them himself. As he started up the stairs once more, his father remarked with a wink, "Less load this time, and less pleasure in it, eh?" He smiled awkwardly, as Vilyandur and Gildurien looked puzzled. Returning to Hendegil’s room, Eryndil was about to knock when he heard from within the sounds of laughter, broken now and again by sniffling. Then he heard first Hendegil’s voice.

 “And Caelen, I didn’t bring much in the way of riding clothes, but I have several dresses with me, fit for a winter at court! And you shall choose two or three from among them. Here – look at these… But you must stay here tonight!”

 “Oh – sniff, sniff – I really should not. I don’t want… I would rather sleep in my own bed.”

 “Well – then you’ll at least stay on for supper. After all, lunch didn’t quite work out, did it?”

 A little more laughter and then Caelen’s voice once more, “But it will be late by then, and even in Cameth Brin it isn’t safe for a lady to be out alone after dark.”

 At that Eryndil drew a breath and knocked, “Water,” he said.

 When he opened the door, he saw Caelen sitting up on the bed, but pulling the cover over herself, as his mother and sister contrived to stand between them. Seeing part of her new outfit on the floor by the bed, he swallowed and continued, eyes downcast “Caelen... I could not help but overhear that last. I will escort you home after dinner, if you would stay.”

 Caelen seemed to be thinking it over, and Hendegil joined in, “And I will accompany you both, for it is not fit that a single man escort a married woman home while her husband is away!”

 And they both laughed a bit more, though with Caelen still seeming embarrassed (and feeling likewise himself), Eryndil set down basket, pitcher and glasses and retreated, hearing behind him as he shut the door, “Oh and look – lunch is taken care of anyway!” and more broken laughter still.

 Then he walked slowly down the stairs, regretting that it was too late in the year for there to be any flowers left in the garden.


Chapter 7 - The Troubles of the Royals

Chapter 7. The Troubles of the Royals

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Cameth Brin Palace. November 5, 1347, at dusk.
Written by Gordis
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 The early darkness was gathering outside the high arched windows of the Palace dining room. King Tarnendur and Queen Eilinel were having an early supper - the queen maintained that that it was unhealthy to eat right before going to bed, so they had the evening meal earlier than the Princes, earlier than everyone else in the Palace.

 There were just the two of them, as Eilinel sent the servants away once they had brought the dishes. She cherished these moments of privacy, and liked to fill the King's plate and pour his wine herself, without servants getting in the way. To Eilinel, it felt more like a normal family supper and, as an additional advantage, allowed her to control the King's appetite. Tarnendur tended to eat too much for his own good, more than it was prudent in his advanced age, she thought, pushing the plate with assorted cheeses further away from the King. 

 She had already won another hard battle - sent away the Gondorian chef Tarnendur brought with him and hired a local Rhudaurian cook who served plain healthy ware, instead of fancy meals of the south, those horrible alien dishes seasoned with hot spices to the point of making a person unused to them choke to death.

 Today the King seemed preoccupied and munched silently, without appetite, a frown on his brow. He drank unreasonably much though, Eilinel noticed and congratulated herself for her cleverness: she ordered the servants to dilute the King's wine by half, so it couldn't do any real harm. But then her heart sank and she twitched uneasily - she remembered the difficult question she had to discuss.

 She cleared her throat twice, before the king's gaze finally alighted on her. 

 "My Lord," she started in a small voice.

 "Why so formal, my dearest?" the King smiled encouragingly. "Forgive my silence, Eilinel. Those affairs of State... I try to leave them behind when I am with you, but they keep crawling back into my mind."

 "I understand, Tarnendur, and I don't blame you. But there is something I heard that worries me greatly, to the point that I can't keep it to myself. I think you should know it, my love. The Palace is astir with gossip."

 The King sat back in his chair and groaned loudly. "As if it is not enough to have Broggha on my back, and all those conniving Councilors, and untrustworthy troops, and the winter approaching with cold and famine and what's not - no, I should also be bothered with the Palace gossip!" he complained.

 Eilinel's eyes filled with tears, which instantly made the King ashamed of his words. He took her hand in his and squeezed it reassuringly. " Forgive me Eilinel, my darling! What is it about?"

 Eilinel sniffed and wiped her tears. "I heard it from my own maid this afternoon, but then I questioned other maids as well - and got the same story. There is a new ostler at the Stables - he came here a couple of weeks ago with a beautiful redhead wife. Soon this fellow went away on the trip to Brochenridge - leaving the young wife behind. She was pregnant, he said, so he asked not to give her any work. Then with her husband scarcely away, the woman set out to ensnare our Daurendil - can you believe it?!"

 The King looked appropriately shocked at this revelation, so Eilinel hurried to continue. "She made him invite her for a hunt - an ostler's wife riding among the Princes and Princesses! Everyone noticed that Daurendil was quite smitten - to the point to make Odaragariel quite upset - poor thing! And then, this very morning, Daurendil appeared in the servants quarters, where this vixen dwells, carrying a big box - a present for her! The servants were most curious what it contained, so quite a few watched in stealth how the woman left the room. She was dressed like a queen they say - meaning not like me, of course, as I have little interest in fancy dresses, but like a queen from a fairy-tale - all in furs, velvets and golden embroidery. They say she rode all through Cameth Brin to visit her friends and to flaunt her dress across the city."

 "Wait, wait..." the King rose a warning hand. "Not so fast. Let me get this straight. So, Daurendil presented her with a DRESS and she has ACCEPTED it?"

 "Quite so, my Lord, there can't be any doubt about it. It is absolutely shocking. But there is more. They say the conniving woman is so set on becoming the Prince's mistress that she has got rid of the unborn baby in her womb - the very day she met Daurendil!!!" The queen's voice lowered to a hoarse whisper "And some say she wants to get rid of her husband as well - that is why she managed to send him away! And with him dead she plans to become not Daurendil's mistress, but his WIFE"

 Tarnendur snorted and shook his head "It is absolutely crazy - there is no way for a groom's widow to become a future queen! I have to talk with Daurendil, however - the boy was foolish enough to court a married woman in the first place, and he is far too young for romantic pursuits!"

 "Oh, please, don't do it, I beg you, my Lord!' Eilinel cried. "I know my Daurendil - he is obstinate, he wouldn't be deterred by mere words, even those of his Father or myself. Instead, seeing the challenge, his foolish attachment to this awful woman will only increase... I don't know what to do, my Lord, for our son is in grave danger!"

 "Nonsense, Eilinel", replied the King with a reassuring smile. "Don't fret too much. What danger could there be for Daurendil? - Only some unpleasantness and embarrassment. I will consider the matter and most likely will send someone to this groom, when he returns, to order him to restrain his wife." 

 Tarnendur rose to his feet and nodded to the Queen. "Now I will leave you for awhile, my love, as I still have things to attend to, but I will be back with you shortly and we will share a pleasant evening."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 Cameth Brin Palace. November 5, 1347, evening.
Written by Valandil
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 King Tarnendur sat impatiently watching Eilinel’s ladies-in-waiting finish the elaborate arrangements of her braids of hair – an activity she ever insisted upon before she would retire for the evening. He took another sip from the goblet of spiced wine before him as he reclined in a great chair, his feet propped up before him. He turned his head and appraised the form of his wife. Not the sort to set every young man’s fancy aflutter – but Tarnendur was no longer a young man. The night was young though, and he had not lingered in his chambers, as he did late into most evenings. Eilinel would know why.

 He wondered if she felt trapped in her marriage to an older man, young as she was. Gimilbeth had raged violently at the news that he would marry her those years ago – alternating with taunts about her age. But no girl liked to have her mother replaced by another woman – and to have a “new mother” young enough to be your daughter must have been particularly galling.

 Ah – but there had been purpose in it; alliance, the production of an heir, unity and a chance for stability in the realm. Bah – if Eilinel felt trapped, what did it matter. She was but a woman, and would do him her wifely duty.

 It had been long though. 'How long…?' he thought, as his eyes idly looked her up and down. Despite his age, he was still quite vigorous when they had first married – oh how they had frolicked! Of course, that was mostly on the times Gimilbeth had been away on her trip to Gondor. Yes – Eilinel was so much more relaxed when she was gone – apart from her alarm at this evening’s dinner, but that had nothing to do with Gimilbeth, at least. Tarnendur started to realize that he was more relaxed too. Well… this trip she had taken for the winter might do him a lot of good, he thought to himself with a low chuckle. Maybe he ought to send Gimilbeth away more often… make her his ambassador to Arthedain… or Gondor!

 His eyes wandered up to three views of Eilinel's face. Three mirrors sat before her at her table. One of those was blocked from his view, so he saw her reflection at different angles in the other two, and her own face in profile slightly from behind. A noble face it was – and gentle too. An old man like himself could hardly forget the wife of his own youth, but Eilinel was fair – in her own way.

 Just then she caught his eye in one of her mirrors. “That is enough. You may leave me,” she said to the four ladies hovering behind her. When they had gone, she sat still for a while, then rose and turned toward him.

 “You are not often with me when I go to bed, my husband. Are you well? Has the day been long?” she asked with a slight smile.

 “Yes, I mean no… I am well, the day has not been so very long. But Eilinel, I have neglected you,” he said, moving toward her.

 “A King… must have many duties. His wife understands this,” yet she drew near to him herself. His arms slowly encircled her, and she leaned into his body.

 Suddenly Tarnendur laughed and leaned back, gently gripping Eilinel’s arms. Her hands came up to hold his wrists, and she stood looking at his face with a smile, waiting to here the source of his sudden amusement.

 “Eilinel – I see so much reason to have hope these days. And the short days of winter draw near. How long has it been since we’ve had a proper Yule Festival here at Cameth Brin? Well, I swear to you now that we shall have one this year – and it shall be in your honor – in the honor of Queen Eilinel!”

 Eilinel was charmed and joined him in his laughter, telling him what a splendid idea it was, while her mind was already at work on arrangements to be made, what kind of dress should be fashioned for her, and the kinds of food they should serve.

 But Tarnendur placed his arms about her more firmly now, and he was no longer laughing. He drew her to himself and kissed her powerfully. His hands began to caress her and she surrendered herself to his embrace as they made their way half onto the bed.

 Then came a great pounding on the door.

 With a look of frustration, Tarnendur called out, “Oh… what is it?!?”

 “Important message for the King. From Merendil, Your Highness.”

 As Tarnendur’s frustration mounted, Eilinel gave way to resignation. “It’s alright dear. There will be other nights.” Then rallying herself with a small smile, added with a wink, “More than fifty ere the Yule!"

 Tarnendur had arranged himself to depart and waited for Eilinel to compose herself before drawing open the door and setting off down the hall for where the messenger awaited him.

 The message was short and to the point:
_____________________________________________
 November 4, 1347

 King Tarnendur,

 While returning to Cameth Brin, have discovered that a band of Orcs, perhaps 300 or more, have infiltrated the land and had observed our earlier passage, and have since set off in a direction which might intercept Princess Gimilbeth’s party before they reach the Last Bridge. Had already assigned her 40 men – may not be sufficient. Am giving chase with all available men, in hopes of reaching her in time.

 I know not from whence these have come, or how they breached our borders, nor if others are about as well. Having no time to ponder these things which you must, I turn only to the attempted rescue of your eldest child.

 Regards,

 Captain Merendil
_______________________________________________

 Tarnendur read the message first in haste, then again in alarm. At last, after several more re-readings, he pondered long on its words. Then he questioned the man who had delivered the message and released him to take his rest.

 But Tarnendur sprang into action. The Council of Rhudaur must meet tomorrow – so messengers were sent to all council members, summoning them to a special meeting to begin two hours before noontide. His young advisors… they would have to wait. Word was sent for them to meet with him tomorrow evening.

 Then long he sat up that evening, turning over in his mind what all this meant and how he must respond to this new crisis.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Cameth Brin Palace. November 5, 1347, evening.
Written by Valandil
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 He had THOUGHT about kissing her hand, but decided on a less intimate gesture of a bow while holding her hand… in such a way that it COULD have been kissed. But too quickly, it seemed, he had lowered his hand, loosened his hold, and her own hand had been withdrawn. The final good-byes were said, her door closed before them, and Eryndil and Hendegil turned to make their way back to his home.

 As they descended the stairs to the next level down, they came right into the middle of a great commotion. One of the head servants was dashing about, shouting, “Where is the King? Where is the King? Important message for the King from Merendil!” Behind him stood a soldier, who wore signs of long days upon the road and who kept on hand on a small pouch that hung over his shoulder.

 “Come on Hendegil – let me get you home quickly,” said Eryndil.

 “Why? What could this mean, Eryndil?”

 “I don’t know, but it might be trouble. And Callon was with Merendil.”

 “I know…” said Hendegil.

 They hurried on down the stairs as servants shouted behind them, “He’s not in his Throne Room.” “Not in his Study!” “Not in his Council Chamber – or his private Bed Chamber.” “This guard says he’s… in the Royal Bed Chamber…”

 Eryndil walked Hendegil back through the busy palace grounds, the bustling main streets of Cameth Brin, then the quiet, darker streets that led toward his home. When they arrived, he did not stay long, but simply bade his sister get on up to bed - or to join the family - if they still sat up, gave her a hug good-night, and went back out the front door – back toward the palace.

 When Erydnil reached the palace, there was not quite the same commotion as when he left, but still more bustle than usual. Eryndil asked to see the King and was led straightaway to his Study, announced, and ushered in. The King was standing before him and Eryndil bowed and said, “My Lord,” and waited for Tarnendur to speak.

 “Eryndil? Did your message come so soon? I sent word for you to come tomorrow evening, not this evening. In the morning I must meet with the Council – so I can meet with you advisors only later, if at all.”

 “I received no message – yet, my Lord. I was visiting here with my sister when word came of a messenger from Merendil. I returned her to my home and came back to hear what news.”

 The King motioned for Eryndil to draw closer, so he complied. Then the King held out the message for Eryndil to read.

 “This… this is grim news, my King.”

 “Yes…” said the King, distantly. Then, after a long silence, “You say that your sister is in town, Eryndil?”

 “Yes, my King,” answered Eryndil hesitantly, wondering at first why this question. Then, remembering his protocol, he continued, “My father the Thane has come as well. He has not yet presented himself before you for he only came today. And… had a bit of trouble on the road. And now, with the matter of Merendil’s message to deal with…” Any noble coming to town unsummoned was to present himself before the King at the earliest possible time.

 “Nonsense,” replied Tarnendur. “He shall come tomorrow late afternoon – when I am finished with the Council. I have not seen your father in years now. How is he?”

 “Well, my King.”

 “You linger still. Is there something more?”

 “Yes your Highness,” replied Eryndil. He had been unsure whether to ask. “The messenger who brought this – might I speak with him? I wish to hear more about the situation… directly from him, if I might?”

 “Of course, of course…” replied the King, taking a seat and stroking his beard with one hand. “I have dismissed him. I suppose you’ll find him in the men’s quarters. Good night.”

 “Good night, your Highness,” said Eryndil, departing. He hoped that the man might be able to tell him anything at all about Callon. Caelen would surely wish to know…


Chapter 8 - The Gift Returned

Chapter 8. The Gift Returned


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Caelen's room in Cameth Brin Palace. November 5, 1347, late evening.
Written by Rian
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 Caelen curled up under the covers, Callon's shirt lodged securely in its usual place under her head so that she could feel it against her face and breathe in its familiar scent. Tomorrow! He'd be home tomorrow! She smiled happily into the dark for a minute, before more uncomfortable thoughts pushed their way in.

 She had been foolish to wear the riding outfit that Daurendil had sent her. She admitted that to herself now - she had just been deceiving herself, and she had known it at the time, too - and she had paid the price today. She had made a scene at Eryndil's house when she broke down in tears, and she would probably have to face Daurendil tomorrow, too - but she was going to do her best to avoid that. Hopefully, Rildorien's note would make things easier. That had been kind of her to offer to write on her behalf, as an older friend of the family, even though they had only known each other a few weeks. And Callon would be home tomorrow afternoon or evening, and then everything would be a lot easier. Callon would take care of things again. She hoped that he would decide to drop the marriage ruse, though - it was really unpleasant to try to act like something she wasn't.

 Her mind went back to Rildorien, and from there, to the events of the day at Eryndil's house. She hadn't wanted to stay to dinner - she just wanted to get home after that embarassing episode - but Hendegil had wisely stopped pressing the point and instead just started talking with her, and all of a sudden, it was dinnertime. They had laughed over Hendegil's artiface and were smiling as they walked into the dining room together, but the smiles soon left their faces as they were met with the bad moods of Vilyandur and Gildurien. 

 Vilyandur inquired pointedly after Caelen's "husband", showing that he was willing to keep Caelen's secret, but somehow managing to signal his disapproval of both her and the whole affair. And when the talk had turned to the doings that had taken place on October 30th and Caelen had spoken her disapproval of Duvediu celebrations that had taken place in Cameth Brin, Gildurien let a small, patient sigh escape her before commenting about how unfortunate it was that so many rustics ("not that Caelen was a rustic, of course!") were so intolerant of things that they didn't understand, such as colorful customs from other lands. Caelen's eyes narrowed and her chin lifted up in a gesture that would have earned her a warning kick under the table from the more diplomatic Callon, had he been there, and she commented that in her experience, although the rustics were often rough around the edges, they usually had the most important things right; perhaps people with their noses in the air just missed the obvious truths right in front of them ("not that Gildurien had her nose in the air, of course!")

 After this exchange, Rildorien cleared her throat and looked expressively at Camglas, who tactfully and firmly changed the subject.

 Finally, it was time to go home. Since Caelen had changed out of her riding habit, and the night was fine, they decided to walk (Caelen leading her mare). They didn't talk very much, but the silences were companionable ones, and they were all surprised at how soon they arrived back at the palace.

 As they walked Caelen to her room (Rildorien had given explicit instructions to do this, in case the impetuous Daurendil was waiting for Caelen somewhere along the way), Hendegil asked her if she would come over again tomorrow, but Caelen regretfully declined - Callon was coming home, and she wanted to stay around the palace grounds all day so she wouldn't miss anything. But the day after that, perhaps? Hendegil agreed, and the two friends parted with a kiss. Then Caelen held out her hand to Eryndil, and said sincerely, "And thank you for ALL of your help - you've been so kind to me." Eryndil murmured a polite response and bowed over her hand, and then he and his sister left, and Caelen was in bed, exhausted, before they had left the palace grounds.

 Caelen slept peacefully for several hours, then the nightmare came again. But this time it was different - usually she woke up right at the worst part, and Callon would be bending over her, shaking her awake and soothing her down. But this time, the rescue came BEFORE she woke up - in her dream, Callon came and carried her off. She relaxed, secure in his strong arms, as he took her away from the danger. But as the dream moon rose in the sky, she saw by its light that it wasn't Callon that was carrying her; it was Eryndil. She woke up with a start, annoyed at Eryndil for getting into her dream, and rearranged her pillow and Callon's shirt, trying to get back to sleep. But when sleep came and the dream resumed, she was still in Eryndil's arms, and this time she didn't fight it, for she felt so safe and comfortable ...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Cameth Brin Tower. November 5, 1347, evening.
Written by Gordis and Valandil
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 This evening Daurendil came home singing “O Lady Fair” – not at the top of his lungs, but loud enough to let at least three levels of the Tower appreciate his rich baritone voice. 

 “Your hair the color of sunrise…” he sang, noting to himself that it sounded much better than the original “the color of midnight” ever did.

 The prince and his friends had spent the afternoon at “The Cock and the Piglet” – a jolly inn near the Market place that served excellent ale and decent Gondorian wine. The Inn was aptly named, as is served roasted piglets and harbored the best fighting cocks in Cameth Brin. This evening Daurendil had placed several quite successful bets, which proved, by the way, that contrary to the popular saying, one could easily be lucky both in love and in gambling.

 Daurendil could hold his wine better than any of his friends, proving that the blood of Dauremir ran true in him: as the legend hold, nobody was ever able to out-drink the founder of Rhudaur. The prince was mightily pleased with himself –after such an eventful evening, he managed not only to ride all the way home on his own, but he had fished from under the table and shipped back to the castle his less lucky companions. 

 ‘Never leave your fallen comrades, be it at the battlefield or in a tavern!” Captain Merendil taught him and Daurendil learned his lesson well. Now his drunken friends were sprawled on pallets on the floor of the Great Hall downstairs, their feet facing the fireplace for additional warmth.

 “Your arms like wings of a seagull…” Singing, Daurendil negotiated the steep winding stair to his level and turned right, deftly avoiding knocking down AGAIN the complete set of armor dating back to early Arnor that was exposed on the landing.

 At this point he was met by one of his pages, who opened the door and stepped aside to let the Prince pass. “My Lord,” the page ventured, “there is a message waiting for you.”

 “Whatever.” Daurendil waved the page aside and continued “Your ruby lips like sweetest wine…” With that he found his bed and fell on it sighing in contentment. 

 The page knelt at his side and started to remove his boots. “Your Highness”, the page tried again, "there was also a big box delivered with the message. It is there on the table,” he pointed.

 Daurendil moaned in mock irritation and turned his head to look at the box. The sight of it made the wine fumes leave his inebriated brain. Sobering instantly, he sat up bolt upright. There was no mistake - Caelen had returned his gift.

 “You said there was a letter to go with it?” he asked grimly.

 ‘Here it is, my Lord”. The page offered him a silver platter with the letter. Daurendil inspected the seal – it was unfamiliar to him, though he suspected it might belong to one of Northern Thanes. Somehow he didn’t think that Caelen’s family could have a coat of arms of their own – but it looked she was of nobler birth than he expected. 

 But the letter was not from Caelen as he soon found out. It read:

 ________________________________________ 

From: Rildorien; wife of Camglas, the son of Borlost, Thane of Nandemar

 To: His Highness Daurendil; son of King Tarnendur and the Heir to Rhudaur

 It has come to my attention that a family friend, one Caelen of good Dunedain lineage, has received from your Highness the favor of a gift of fine clothing, made especially for her.

 She has acquainted us with the unfortunate ruse devised by her brother Callon in hopes of protecting her, and of your familiarity with her true station of life. But, being an orphan, and of excellent, but only common birth, she had at first failed to fully understand the implications that might arise from her reception of such a gift from a young man, notwithstanding that this one came from such a superior young man as yourself.

 On being made aware of this, and being the modest and proper young lady that she is, she instantly agreed to return your most gracious gift. Her being somewhat shy and modest, and also to spare you both the awkwardness and embarrassment of a subsequent encounter, I take the liberty, as a friend of the family, to write you this note of explanation. Also, of course, she will be unable to consider giving you a riding lesson - for the continuation of which, a royal groomsman would no doubt be more suitable.

 We do thank you for your kind consideration of, and attentions to, the young orphan Caelen, which attentions would no doubt please her parents, were that still possible.

 Respectfully,

 Rildorien of Nandemar 
______________________________________________

 A wave of misery washed over the Prince leaving tears of self-pity on his eyelashes. “How little does it take to plunge a man from the heights of bliss to the deepest pits of sorrow!” he thought. “Very little, indeed – just a meddling old relative, a mother-hen on the prowl.” He crushed his fist on the dressing table. 

 But he knew he was being unfair. Well, he DID know full well that it was not a suitable present for a young lady, he conceded. He had just hoped She would be unaware if it…

 He contemplated the box sadly. The World was stupid. Because of some outdated notions of what was proper and what was not – notions dating back to the dwowned Numenor, he would bet – he was now left with a lady’s dress and Caelen was left without the riding outfit and without any prize for her victory in the race…That was unfair, and he had to think of something. 

 Oh, how he wished to ask Ol' Naure what to do! But "the late Nauremir" as his friend was now referred to was far away... gone, gone perhaps forever, as good as dead... 

 “Bring me some more wine, will you?” he asked the page.


Chapter 9 - Alarming Rumours

Chapter 9. Alarming Rumours

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Eryndil's house in Cameth Brin. Morning of November 6th 
Written by Rian
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Caelen walked swiftly through town, arriving at Eryndil's door a little out of breath. “He MUST know something; he MUST!” she thought, desperately hoping that Eryndil was home and could tell her something to dispel the awful rumors that she had heard about Gimilbeth’s entourage. She took a minute to catch her breath and smooth her hair, and then knocked firmly on the door. 

 The door was answered by Eryndil's housemaid, who eyed the slightly disheveled Caelen with surprise, but pleasure – her day had been quite dull so far, and perhaps some more interesting things would happen now that the red-haired young lady was here again.

 "Is Er ... er, Hendegil home, please?" inquired Caelen in as calm a voice as she could muster, realizing just in time that it would probably be better to ask for Hendegil instead of Eryndil.

 "He ... er, she is, miss - come right this way, please," answered the housekeeper, ushering Caelen through the hallway and into a room where Hendegil and - oh, joy! - Eryndil were seated; Eryndil at a writing table, and Hendegil on a pretty little chair next to him. They both stood quickly to greet her, having a good idea why she had shown up there with such a pale face and distressed expression, as Eryndil had just finished filling his sister in on the dispatch that had been received from Captain Merendil.

 "Hendegil," said Caelen, taking her friend's hands, and then suddenly finding that she could say no more. But her eyes quickly moved from Hendegil to Hendegil's brother with an imploring look, for surely he would know more about Callon ... 

 Hendegil gave Caelen's hands a reassuring squeeze and made her sit down on the chair, while she pulled up another one and sat down next to her friend. Eryndil turned his chair so that it was facing Caelen and sat down, saying with a bright smile which was meant to reassure her, "From the expression on your face, I'm guessing that you must have heard some wild palace gossip!"

 "They said everyone was killed," she said in a anguished whisper, wringing her hands in her distress, her large grey eyes looking at him for an instant, then moving nervously all around the room like a wounded animal looking for a way out of a trap.

 Eryndil sighed and shook his head. Those trouble-making gossips! 

 "Caelen, that's just not true," he started in a firm voice, but she didn't seem to hear him; she just kept wringing her hands and looking around the room, unable to focus on anything. Finally, he leaned over and took her hands firmly in his, trying to still their nervous motion as he had seen her brother do. Sure enough, it worked - Caelen calmed down noticeably after a few moments and looked at him as though she had just seen him for the first time that day.

 "That's just not true, Caelen," he repeated firmly, giving her hands a slight shake for emphasis, as he had seen her brother do. "I know - I saw the official dispatch myself in a meeting last night with the King. And it certainly did NOT say that they were all killed!"

 He waited a moment for this to sink in, and was pleased to see that she was listening now, for she stopped her nervous glancing around the room and looked back at him steadily, with some measure of comprehension in her eyes.

 "What the dispatch said was that Captain Merendil was returning to Cameth Brin when he saw some signs of orc activity, so being the good soldier that he is, he decided to go and check things out." Actually, it was worded much stronger than that, but she didn't need to know that now.

 Caelen bit her lip and nodded, but still couldn't speak. Her grip tightened on his hands, and she seemed to be drawing strength and calmness from him. 

 "Callon definitely knew how to calm her down," he thought, trying to concentrate on projecting confidence and security to Caelen through his hands, instead of noticing how soft and warm and delicate they were ... and how nice they felt in his … He gave himself a little mental shake, regaining his train of thought which the feel of Caelen’s soft hands in his had temporarily derailed. Oh yes, there WAS some bad news that he had to tell her ...

 "However, I do have to tell you some news that will be ... disappointing to you," he continued, choosing his words carefully. Caelen looked up at him quickly, but was reassured by his calm expression and the word "disappointing". It must be something pretty minor - and after hearing that the group hadn't been slaughtered wholesale, she could take anything now!

 "After speaking with the King, I proceeded to find the messenger and speak with him myself," Eryndil continued. "Caelen... I'm afraid that Callon was taken along for the rest of the trip to Amon Sul. At best, that keeps him away until spring; at worst ... well, the Orcs appeared headed toward Gimilbeth's party ... but the King's men are well-trained and well-armed - I think he'll be fine." 

 "I just was at my desk, writing you to inform you that Callon would be a little later than we expected, when you came in. I figured you'd probably be hearing some wild, crazy rumors and be frightened - and I was right, wasn't I?" he finished with a smile, trying to show her how silly he thought those rumors were, and hoping devoutly that they wouldn't prove to be true.

 This won a slight smile from Caelen, and her hands relaxed a little in his. "Do I still hold her hands now, or is now the time to let go?" wondered Eryndil uncertainly, and then thought that he probably better stay on the safe side and keep holding them; it really seemed to calm her down, after all ...

 "You must think I'm terribly silly," she said ruefully, looking down, and realizing for the first time that Eryndil was holding her hands. "Oh!" she thought, a little confused. "I musn't act like I LIKE that he's holding my hands – not that I do, or anything! He's just trying to reassure me about Callon." She kept her face down, for she could feel a warm blush rising on her cheeks, and as they were right in front of her eyes, she looked at Eryndil’s hands. "Such nice, strong hands," she mused, looking at their sturdy masculine shape and noticing a few little scars here and there and wondering how he got them. She looked at the scattered dark hairs on his hands - she thought really hairy hands were ugly, and his were quite nice – just right, really - and then blushed deeper – what was she thinking?!

 "No, I don’t think you’re silly at all!" said Eryndil, a softer note in his voice now. "I just think it shows that you have a warm and loving heart."

 "Oh, that's too much," he thought suddenly with an inward groan. "She'll think I'm being too forward!" Thinking quickly, he added, "... towards your brother, and Callon and I are lucky to have sisters like you and Hendegil!" Caelen's hands now felt very warm indeed in his. He hoped his hands weren’t sweating too much and wanted to release her hands, but he wasn't sure how to let go of her hands without seeming to be disapproving of her. 

 Hendegil got up unobtrusively and busied herself looking over her knitting supplies, which were on a little table nearby.

 "Oh, no, he must think that I'm being terribly forward by letting him hold my hands so long!" thought Caelen wildly, but she wasn't sure how to extricate her hands from his without seeming to disapprove of him.

 The hand situation was now reaching a crisis point, with neither one of them knowing what to do, when suddenly there was a welcome interruption. Caelen's hair, which had been slowly moving across her shoulders as she looked down, suddenly tumbled down and fell across their joined hands.

 "Oh, this HAIR!" exclaimed Caelen, withdrawing her hands with what she hoped was an ever-so-casual movement – an “oh, you were just holding my hands as a friend does in hard times, and it didn’t mean anything to either of us” casual movement - and pushing her hair back over her shoulder. "One of these days, I'm going to just cut it all off!"

 There was a slight pause, and then ... "Don't," said Eryndil in a voice that made Caelen look at him quickly and then down again just as quickly. "It's beautiful," he said softly, watching her intently. She seemed shy and embarrassed, but not displeased ...

 Another unruly lock of hair slipped down over her shoulder and hung there, shiny and beautiful ...

 And Eryndil reached out his hand and slowly, gently, put it back over her shoulder, again watching her intently. Although she kept her face down, he could see that her lips had parted slightly and she was breathing rather quickly. As he withdrew his hand, he let it brush ever so lightly against her neck and saw with mounting excitement that she drew a quick breath and moved slightly towards him.

 And then it was over - but he had learned volumes from her silence. 

 She pulled away from him and sat up straighter, avoiding his eyes while giving her hair a firm twist that put it in its place. They both cleared their throats and then did the little upper-lip scratching thing to show that things were all fine and casual - and then they both stopped unexpectedly and took a second breath as they smelled the scent of the other still lingering on their hands. And into both of their minds shot the memory of Eryndil carrying Caelen up to Hendegil's bedroom - Caelen remembering the scent of Eryndil's neck - a masculine scent, like her brother’s, but somehow different, unique … and … and nice - and how it grew stronger as he broke out into a slight sweat from his efforts; Eryndil remembering the scent of Caelen's hair as it caressed his face, silky and smooth, as she pressed her head close into his neck, and the feel of her soft skin against his as she clung to him ... His imagination suddenly seized the reins and started moving from the things that had happened, to the things that he would like to happen ...

 Things were getting out of control.

 Eryndil got up and went over to the window for some cooler air, making some comment about how nice the weather was, as the November wind howled and battered at the window. Hendegil, smiling broadly now, decided, out of pity for Caelen (who really HAD been through quite a lot recently) to not make the “a bit warm for you, brother?” comment that she was just dying to say, and instead added a few innocuous weather comments of her own, trying to make things more comfortable for everyone.

 Eryndil was furious with himself for losing control like that, yet elated at Caelen's response to him. He had just been trying to see if Caelen had any feelings at all towards him, and then suddenly things had escalated far beyond what he had planned. He had always prided himself on being able to quickly and accurately assess any situation that he had found himself in, and cooly decide the best course of action to take, and carry things out efficiently and dispassionately. But this slip of a girl, with the large grey eyes and the warm, golden-red hair, was giving him more trouble than all of the orcs and outlaws that he had ever dealt with, combined! Frustrated, he watched the water in the fountain as it was blown about in the stiff November winds, and then got an idea. 

 “Hendegil, we have been remiss!” he said to his sister. “We have never offered our guest any refreshment! Let me just step out and tell the housekeeper,” he said as he moved quickly to the door – and for the first time in his life, Eryndil fled a battlefield.


Chapter 10 - The Infamous Ostler's Wife

Chapter 10. The Infamous Ostler's Wife

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Cameth Brin Tower. Morning of November 6, 1347.
Written by Gordis 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 Daurendil awoke well after sunrise with a splitting headache. He sat up cradling his head in his hands and groaned remembering yesterday’s disappointment. What a marvelous morning it could have been! He had so looked forward to this ride with Caelen…and now it was not to be. Instead, there had to be this blasted Council…

 “Ohh, sweet Valar, have mercy on me!” he moaned.

 One of Daurendil’s pages, quite experienced in treatment of morning hangovers, brought the Prince a cup of chamomile tea laced with kingsfoil. Daurendil sipped it slowly, trying not to scald his palate, and, upon finishing it, he felt marginally human again. While the page attended to his toilet, the prince set his mind on finding the way out of the mess he had put himself into.

 The page was already putting the final touches to the Prince’s hair, when Daurendil jumped up with a whoop, narrowly missing the hot circling-irons the page was holding. He had it – the perfect solution to Caelen problem! Daurendil was quite pleased with himself – didn’t his tutor tell him again and again “You have a bright mind, Daurendil…”? To tell the truth, the old man never failed to add “… but you are awfully lazy, headstrong and inattentive.” Daurendil never took the last part to heart, preferring to relish the first part.

 A glance at the water-clock in the corner told him that he had at least an hour left before the council. The prince grabbed Rildorien’s letter, ordered the page to take the box with Caelen’s dress, and sped to the palace, the page with the box in tow.

 "I hope Tarniel agrees to cooperate..." he mused. Suddenly he realized that he had no idea as to his sister's possible reaction. The thought was so new to him that he stumbled and almost ran into one of the palace servants. But indeed, what did he know about Tarniel? For him she was just something underfoot - first a tiny squalling baby that his mother birthed instead of a big older brother he had asked for, then a plump toddler, then a thin awkward girl - but hardly a person. And now he had a boon to ask of her... But he was determined to try.

 In a matter of minutes he was at the door to Tarniel’s sitting room. Inside, everything was quiet and the Prince sighed with relief. Least of all he wanted to run into Odare - he had unconsciously taken to avoiding his old friend ever since the fateful hunt. Daurendil ordered the page to wait in the corridor and tapped on the door.

 "Come in" came Tarniel's voice. 

 Daurendil pushed the door and greeted his sister. "Morning, Tarniel. I see you are alone..."

 "Not really", Tarniel replied petulantly, indicating two guards stationed near the door. "I am never alone now, Daurendil. But if you are looking for Odare, she is in the garden. She..."

 "No, in fact I was looking for you" Daurendil replied somewhat awkwardly. "I hope you won't mind if I send your guards out - I will guard you myself for a while. I wish to talk with you alone." 

 Tarniel nodded, genuinely surprised. She couldn't remember having a serious conversation with Daurendil before - ever. She waited for the guards to leave the room, then shyly offered her brother some refreshments.

 "No, thank you" Daurendil shook his head absently. He approached and sat on the window seat facing Tarniel. For some time he silently frowned, then looked into Tarniel's eyes and smiled broadly.

 "Remember this race, sis?" Tarniel nodded. Daurendil continued in a rush "Well, this Caelen - she has won the race, didn't she? And if she has won the race, than she deserves a prize. It is only fair if I, who has lost the race, provide it for her. I was thinking along those lines, nothing personal, you know, so I have commissioned a riding outfit for her - as the prize for the race. You must have noticed - her dress was so-o old and tattered..." "Anyway, I have sent her the dress with a note about all this - but it seems my intentions have been misunderstood. And not by Caelen, mind you, but by an old meddling relative - her aunt or something. Look what a letter she has sent me! As if I were courting a married woman...."

 Daurendil dropped the crumpled letter on Tarniel's knees and she took it, but her brother gave her no time to read it. He rushed on.

 "Now - that's what I thought: could you, please, write to this lady yourself, telling her that it was our common present - a gift from you and me and Amantir and Odare - from all of us, those who were beaten in the race? Then it will be quite proper for Caelen to accept it, especially if you send it back to her with one of your own maids, or, better still, if you go upstairs yourself to present it!"

 Tarniel listened open mouthed, too bewildered to reply. Taking advantage of her confusion, Daurendil rose, pecked his sister on the cheek and said cheerfully "Thank you, dearest sister. I knew I could trust you. I have to hurry to the Council meeting now. Just don't tell anyone, especially Mother. Do it quietly and do it fast." He brought his lips close to Tarniel's ear and added in a whisper "And I swear by the Valar that I will order a ball dress for you, even better than Caelen's! It will be my Yule gift to my little sister, and nobody will think THAT improper!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Cameth Brin Palace, Tarniel's rooms. Morning of November 6, 1347.
Written by Elfhild and Rian
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tarniel felt like a whirlwind had just slammed into her, sucked her up into its center, and carried her away. Just what had that been about? Or perhaps she knew what it was about, but could barely believe it herself. Certainly, her brother could not be so scheming as to use both Odaragariel and her to win the favor of the woman he desired! But it certainly seemed like that was what he was attempting to do, to use his little sister and his friend (whom he would most likely marry) to find some socially acceptable way to court this woman. And to make matters even worse, this woman was married!

 The more Tarniel thought about it, the more she got angry, until she was furious. Daurendil was acting like some corrupt Cardolani noble, lusting for every pretty lady of the court! She would have no part in this! Sneaking around her mother's back and making the gifting of the riding habit seem like an official gesture to assuage Caelen's rightly worried relatives – what audacity did Daurendil have to ask such things!

 Outraged, Tarniel stormed over to the door and opened it, surprising the guards outside. Ohh, she would tell her dear brother a thing or two about his little scheme! She was of a mind to tell the king and queen just what the darling prince was doing, but reconsidered when she thought about how explosive the scandal might be. They were well aware of the rumors which were flying, and perhaps they were considering ways to deal with the embarrassing situation.

 Lost in her thoughts, she was taken unawares by Arinya, who was coming her way down the corridor. 

 "Tarniel, you certainly look upset," Arinya exclaimed when she saw the incensed expression on her face, the way her brow was furrowed and her lips were set in a pout. "What is the matter?"

 Tarniel worried her lower lip for a moment, considering what to say. "Ohh, it is just all these horrid rumors which seem to have sprung up lately like weeds," she said, displeased at the way she had understated the situation. She tried so hard to be the epitome of dignity and grace, honoring the king and queen and her country. There were times though, especially times like this when her brother was doing all he could to shame the ruling family, that it was difficult not to just scream and break down into a royal, howling tantrum.

 "Which rumors?" Arinya hedged politely, attempting not to aggravate an awkward situation. "There will always be rumors... but it is not wise to pay heed to all of them."

 "Do you not know?" Tarniel asked, emotion filling her voice. "The rumors about my brother and that – that infamous woman!"

 "Ah, those rumors!" said Arinya with a rueful little smile. 

 "Well, you might think they're funny, but I do NOT, and ... " started Tarniel angrily, but Arinya put a hand on her shoulder and stopped her. 

 "Let us go to my room to discuss this," she said, looking significantly at the people passing by. Tarniel swallowed the rest of the angry words that were clamoring to come out and agreed, and they silently made their way to Arinya's room.

 "There are many reasons why a woman might go down on her knees before a prince," said Arinya quietly, looking thoughtfully at the spot where Caelen and Daurendil had been only a few short days ago. "And you must remember, Tarniel, that your brother is not only a man - he is also a prince of this land." 

 Tarniel paused - Arinya had a point; perhaps Caelen was bringing a matter before Daurendil ... and after all, they hadn't been alone - Arinya had been right there with them. Tarniel had seen many people on their knees before her father - but her brother? And then she remembered her brother's attentions to Caelen during the ride ... but to be fair, Caelen didn't seem to be returning them ... She shook her head in frustration.

 "But our minds tend to choose the reason that will upset us the most, do they not?" continued Arinya, smiling at Tarniel, who had to give a grudging acknowledgement to this common affliction of mankind.

 "You do not ask me what I think you should do, and I would not tell you, anyway; the elves do not willingly give advice to the Secondborn. But I will give you some information - all is not as it seems with Caelen."

 "It seems that the elves do not give information willingly, either!" complained Tarniel. "You have told me nothing!"

 "Ah, but that is not so," replied Arinya. "If a captain is looking at what seems to be a peaceful countryside, and a scout tells him that all is not as it seems, do you think that that is no information to the captain? Do you not think that he will immediately send out more scouts to find out more information?"

 "If I were that captain, I would ask the scout to tell me himself - and torture him until he did!" said Tarniel rogueishly.

 Arinya smiled. "I would tell you if I could, Tarniel, but I cannot - the secret is not mine to tell. But I will give you this advice - wait and watch and listen. I think it will come out soon. And people will find that they have scorned Caelen for the wrong reason. I do not say no reason; merely the wrong one. Her real error is only slight compared to what she has been wrongly accused of, and it can be easily excused by reason of her youth, her desire to obey one she loves, and the grief of her loss of her parents and home."

 Tarniel frowned. The trouble with talking with Arinya was that things never got easier. On the contrary, they usually got more complicated! 

 "Well, I suppose that I better take your advice, since it is such a novelty for you to give it to me!" she teased. "I'll just tell Daurendil that I'm still thinking about what is best to do, and hope that this mysterious information will come out soon."

 "I think talking to Daurendil is a good idea," said Arinya firmly. She turned towards the window. "Think of him as a scout ..." 

 Tarniel's expression changed. Was Arinya saying that her brother was in on this secret?

 Arinya turned back to Tarniel. "And as for the other rumors..."

 "Which ones?" asked Tarniel, feeling rather overwhelmed.

 "I do not know which you have heard, but I think that if you have not talked to the King and Queen today, that now would be a good time ..."

 Tarniel got up hastily, all thoughts of Caelen and Daurendil now forgotten, and left the room quickly. 

 Arinya looked after her thoughtfully as she walked rapidly down the corridor. "I do not know whether to tell you 'fear not' or 'congratulations'," she mused wryly, knowing something of Tarniel's feelings towards her older sister, as well as her own feelings towards Gimilbeth...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Cameth Brin Palace, Servants’ Common Hall. Late afternoon of November 6, 1347.
Written by Earniel
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 After she had risen, Wilwarin dressed and went to the common hall to look for some breakfast. There was always some left for her, one of the cooks made sure of it. The hall was not empty, Sirien, one of the palace servants was cleaning. Wilwarin bade her good afternoon.

 “Good afternoon, Wilwarin, or should I say ‘good morning’?” Sirien asked.

 Wilwarin chuckled. “It does feel like morning to me, yes,” she admitted.

 “With sleeping in so long you missed quite some excitement!” Sirien’s eyes lit up. “have you heard of what happened to Princess Gimilbeth’s caravan? They got attacked by orcs. Hundreds of them! They say no one survived!”

 “Really?” Wilwarin raised her eyebrows questioningly. She had heard a few snippets of news from the guards earlier. “Then how do they know there were hundreds of orcs if no one survived to tell the tale?”

 Sirien’s brow wrinkled for a moment when considering this conundrum. “Pfft,” she said and waved the feather duster dismissively at the other woman. “Why do you always have ruin a nice juicy story with your merchant-logic?”

 “I’m not,” countered Wilwarin with a smile as she opened a cupboard and withdrew a plate with bread. “I’m just pointing out the holes in your stories so you can fill them up and spread your improved fanciful tales.” She found a jug with still fresh milk and sat down.

 “I reckon the news of the attack was good news for Caelen,” Sirien mused out loud. “her husband was with the caravan.”

 “Caelen, that latest newcomer to Cameth Brin? Why should that news please her?”

 “You haven’t heard? Really, Wilwarin, the entire staff is talking about it!” Sirien lowered her voice conspiratorially. “They say even Queen Eilinel came down to ask maids about her.”

 “The Queen herself? Why would she concern herself with an ostler’s wife?”

 Sirien leaned on the table next to Wilwarin and spoke quietly. Gossip was one of Sirien’s favourite topics, but while gossip was worth telling, it was worth telling it without eavesdroppers that could get her into trouble later. 

 “Because her oldest son is more than concerning himself with the ostler’s wife, of course! He invited her to a horse race by the princesses and princes just like that, and she accepted! She seems to be held in quite high favour.”

 “Yes, I assume she would be.” Wilwarin said, cutting off a chunk of bread.

 Sirien paused and looked at Wilwarin. “Is that a smidge of jealousy I hear?” 

 Wilwarin chewed in silence for a moment, considering. “Perhaps,” she conceded finally.

 “Understandably. There are quite a few maids wishing to be in her shoes right now, I can tell you that! Who wouldn’t? I mean, look at that gorgeous hair and that pretty face. I’m betting that and that cute, innocent demeanour of hers is what send men over the cliff of bleary-eyed devotion. She must be quite pleased now that her husband is out of the way so she’d have the Prince all to herself.”

 “Prince Daurendil? My dear Sirien, there’s another hole in your rumours. The prince doesn’t have a chance with Caelen unless he grows himself some manes and hooves.” Wilwarin said while chewing on a mouthful of bread. She swallowed before continuing. “The stable master’s wife said there’s little space in Caelen’s head that isn’t taken up by horses. I think she’s not far of the mark. Even that handsome thane-son will probably have more luck than our unfortunate prince.” 

 “What handsome thane-son?” Sirien asked suddenly, eyes shining at the prospect of more stories.

 Wilwarin winced. “Ack, I should have learned by now to watch my tongue around you.”

 “Oh come one,” whittled Sirien. “You know you’ll have to tell me now, or you know I will just fill the holes in myself with fanciful fabrications. I know you hate that.”

 Wilwarin held up her hands. “All I will tell you is this: He recently arrived to Cameth Brin, I don’t know his name. I saw Caelen return yesterday evening, accompanied by him and a noblewoman I do not know. For all I know they are acquaintances from her home lands. But if looks are anything to go by, he’s a tad disappointed her husband met Caelen before he ever did.”

 Sirien eyes lit up. “Three men, my! I could have known a beautiful woman like Caelen wouldn’t settle for just one man.”

 “Sirien!” Wilwarin protested. 

 “Oh, don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone I got this from you. I have to go now, before Thillas finds me loitering. She’d let me feel the end of her broom if she did.”

 “Sirien!” Wilwarin hissed urgently, “don’t you dare…”

 But Sirien had flittered out the hall, leaving Wilwarin to curse her own rash tongue. She pinched the bridge of her nose and put her face in her hands. “Never fear for me meddling in politics, father; it looks like palace gossip will gladly be the end of me first.” She muttered to the empty room.


Chapter 11 - Winter Campaign Decided

Chapter 11. Winter Campaign Decided

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Cameth Brin. November 6, 1347, mid-morning.
Written by Valandil
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tarnendur was interrupted in his anxious pacing by a knock at the door. He stopped and drew himself up as Orefim entered. Orefim bowed and spoke.

 “Your Highness…”

 “Yes?”

 “Broggha has just arrived. The Council is all assembled.”

 Tarnendur’s face showed a somewhat contorted smile – his lower lip pushed upward as if to force a frown, but the corners of his mouth turned up in an attempt to smile.

 “Very well then. We shall go at once. Is Daurendil ready at last?”

 “Yes, Your Highness. He has been found and made ready. He awaits you outside this very chamber.”

 “Then let us go.”

 The King came forth from his chamber and walked briskly down the hall and the stairs and on out into the November morning. His son and Heir stepped in just behind him, with various attendants falling into place as they passed. He strode proudly across the royal grounds and on to the Tower of Cameth Brin. He held his head high and kept his face forward, but his eyes darted around to survey all about and before him. Those in the courtyard stopped at their tasks and bowed as he passed them. Two attendants rushed ahead to clear the way for his coming and the guards stood aside and drew open the doors to the tower. On they passed toward the Council Chambers, where at last they arrived just as the announcement, “The King!” faded from before them.

 As Tarnendur entered the chambers he saw that all present were standing, except Broggha, who only now slowly stood to his feet, as if grudgingly. Tarnendur pretended not to notice, nodded his head in acknowledgement to all and took his own seat as signal that they may now do accordingly. He then began the session without delay.

 “No doubt you have heard already some form of what I am about to lay before you. Yestereve, I received a message from Captain Merendil – who was to escort the Lady Gimilbeth on the first part of… a trip she has taken, … as far as Brochenridge, and whose return might indeed have been expected yesterday.”

 “Orefim – have the message read.”

 Orefim signaled to a scribe who carried a small scroll. The young man opened it and read in a loud, clear voice:

 “November 4, 1347

 King Tarnendur,
 While returning to Cameth Brin, have discovered that a band of Orcs, perhaps 300 or more, have infiltrated the land and had observed our earlier passage, and have since set off in a direction which might intercept Princess Gimilbeth’s party before they reach the Last Bridge. Had already assigned her 40 men – may not be sufficient. Am giving chase with all available men, in hopes of reaching her in time.
 I know not from whence these have come, or how they breached our borders, nor if others are about as well. Having no time to ponder these things which you must, I turn only to the attempted rescue of your eldest child.
 Regards,
 Captain Merendil”

 The scribe rolled up the scroll, laid it beside the King and stepped back. There was silence as the various council members compared this account with the versions they had previously heard. Next, the man who had delivered the message from Merendil was called forward, that any of the Council might ask him further questions. When these had been addressed, the King signaled Orefim to lead the messenger out. At this point, several of the attendants who had followed the King to the chamber were dismissed, leaving only the Council, Orefim, two recording scribes and the guards.

 “Council members,” began the King, “You have heard the message from Merendil. My daughter’s fate we must leave in his hands, for she is now five days out from Cameth Brin. But what of these Orcs? What is their number, and what was their purpose? Has their purpose now become to attack my … daughter?” The King’s composure showed signs of breaking, but he mastered himself and regained it. He continued, “Are there others about? Where did they come from? Where did they enter into our lands? What harm have they already done?”

 He then stood in his chair, still composed, raised his voice further and proclaimed, “This charge I now lay upon you, Council of Rhudaur – to take up this matter with me. The Kingdom of Rhudaur needs all your strength, … all your devotion, … all your wisdom! What say you to this? What are we… to… do?”

 His voice beginning to break at the end, the King lowered himself slowly to his seat. He placed his hands on his lap, below the table, for he could no longer contain their shaking. He lowered his head gravely as he waited for someone to speak.

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Cameth Brin Tower. November 6, 1347, mid-morning.
Written by Angmar and Elfhild 
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 After King Tarendur resumed his seat, the council members were in shock at the alarming news. When the full realization of the gravity of the situation dawned upon them, the men murmured angrily among themselves. Faces turned expectantly towards General Nimruzir of Fennas Drunin, the Head of the Army of Rhudaur. 

 A dour expression upon his face, the general rose to his feet and looked over the assembled members. "Your Majesty, honorable lords and dignitaries, fellow council members," he began in voice strong despite his many years. "We have all heard the contents of the letter from Captain Merendil, and know the great peril which now faces our beloved Princess Gimilbeth." He gave the king a sympathetic look. "You ask how this thing has happened and what is being done? I am just as shocked as the rest of you, but I promise you that our princess will be returned! Everything possible is being done to see to her speedy rescue. Dispatches have been sent to our posts in the area, ordering all available troops to be dispatched and sent to her aid. But there are few troops to be spared," his voice rose, "for our forces are spread woefully thin!"

 Lord Belzagar leaned towards Lord Elured, who sat beside him, and whispered in his ear. "He has said nothing of any substance, but what does he ever say? The old general is in his dotage. He should have been retired long ago. A younger man should be found to replace him before the old man's growing mental deterioration and ineptitude compromise our security."

 Elured nodded gravely and muttered, "Unfortunately, I must agree with you. He has been saying the same thing for years. He should be removed and a better found to take his place."

 The general looked over the crowd before continuing. "But as I have maintained for years, it is not great numbers of men in the army that win the battles - it is the resolve in the men's spirits and minds that tell the tale! And the heart has gone out of our army!" He slammed his fist on the table, causing goblets and drinking vessels to rattle. The assembly muttered at his words, some agreeing, some disputing.

 Belzagar murmured low under his breath to Elured, "When there is nothing to be offered but excuses, the old sycophants always resort to histrionics." Elured nodded.

 Nimruzir went on, his voice growing louder as his face grew redder. "And why you might ask has the heart gone out of our army? It is not for want of leadership, for there are no finer officers than ours in all of the North. It is not for lack of devotion upon the part of our soldiers. Nay, they are all good and brave men who journey over the long, lonely marches." General Nimruzir sipped from his goblet of water and then resumed.

 "I could cite the fact that none of the officers or men have had a pay increase in the past five years as an explanation. I could say that many of our people are more interested in making profits than supporting the military. I could tell about the young men who shun military duty in favor of a life of parties and high living at court." He riveted Prince Daurendil with a piercing stare.

 "I could say many things." The old man's eyes blazed with fury. "While all these play a part, this is not the explanation. We have faced just as bad in the past." He turned his gaze on Broggha and stared coldly at him. "We have forgotten who we are, the descendants of the Numenoreans, a once proud people. Our ancestors forged a great empire from the South to the North! But in the years that have elapsed since then, we have faltered and become prey to fear. In our weakness, we have taken counsel with those who do not share our vision."

 A muscle twitched in his cheek as he clenched the table with one hand. "We have allowed ourselves to be influenced by lesser men! We, the sons of Numenor, must reclaim a sense of who we are and forge our own destiny without the influence of outsiders! Only then will we return to greatness!" The general bowed his head. "My prayer is that the princess will be returned safely to us and that the Valar will give us guidance. I have nothing more to say. Thank you for listening to me." The old general sat down amidst an angry mutter of voices. 

 A faint smile spread across Belzagar's face as he looked from General Nimruzir to the pale face of the king and then to Broggha. "The old fool challenges the great Broggha. He has just signed his death warrant."

  Lord Curugil waited for calm to return before standing to his feet. An obesely large man, he had to scoot his chair back slightly so that his ponderous girth would not bump against the table when he rose. Clearing his throat, he scratched his stomach and gave his doublet a sharp tug forward so that the buttons would not gape so widely. The man's fat face was ruddy, and his breath reeked of wine and garlic. 

 "Your Majesty, esteemed lords, members of the council," he looked around, blinking when his vision blurred and doubled, "this is indeed a dark day in our history. Never before have the orcs made an attack upon a... a member of the royal family! My heart goes out to the.... king and the queen and their children!" His words were slightly slurred, as he had arrived at the meeting mildly intoxicated, and intensified his inebriated state with each subsequent goblet he had consumed at the meeting...

 "How did we allow such a thing to happen? Orcs within our own borders? An impossibility! But yet it is true! We have failed! Our vigilance has faltered, and these bestial creatures have come into our country to terror.... terrorize our citizenry. This is only another - hiccup - woe to... add to a long line of woes! They have crossed the... where was it again?" He looked down to Huramir from Dol Aglardin, who was sitting beside him. "Ah, yes! The mountains!" In a low voice, he thanked Huramir and slapped him on the shoulders, causing him to pitch forward. "Then Dol Hithaer was taken by the enemy, a terrible thing..."

 Weaving on his feet, he took another sip from his goblet to shore up his balance. "My friends, this is the hour of crisis! We must arise to the occasion and drive these rogues from our borders!" He raised his wine goblet in the air and shook it for emphasis, some of the crimson liquid sloshing out and hitting Huarmir in the face. "We must never let this happen again! We must be more willing to support our army in every way possible! My friends, before I take my seat, I leave you with this humble suggestion. Ahh... ahhh...." Pausing, his besotted mind tried to remember what he was going to say. "Ahh, yes! The levy of taxes must be increased!"

 Belching loudly, Curugil sat down with a great thud and looked around, beaming drunkenly. A few members of the audience clapped, more for politeness than anything else.

 The assembly turned expectantly to Jarl Broggha, Count of Pennmorva, who was just rising from his seat. As bulky as a great bear, his broad shoulders covered with a fox cloak, the redhaired giant inclined his head to the king before looking around the table at each man. "Your Majesty, honorable lords, distinguished colleagues, how I am saddened to learn that the beloved Princess is in peril, and perhaps faces grave danger at the moment we speak." He paused for emphasis.

 "I am equally saddened to hear the words of General Nimruzir, who seems to have woefully misjudged those who would only be friends and offer succor in a time of need. I have done everything in my power to bring our two peoples together and foster a spirit of felicity and harmony between them." He glanced towards General Nimruzir, who sat stiffly in his seat, his spine like a battering ram as he glared at Broggha.

 "I am a forgiving man and not easily offended. In my desire for cooperation between our peoples, I will allow this slight to go overlooked." A smile played over Broggha's full lips, but his blue eyes were like glittering ice. "My lords, I will not take much of your time, for I know there are many other important matters to be discussed at this meeting. I will not bring you endless words this day, promises that mean nothing! I bring you more than hope, for hope is fleeting. I offer you far more than that. What say you to the offer of two hundred trained and well-armed men to aid in overcoming this crisis? Perhaps General Nimurzir would object to the fact that they are led by my own officers. Hillmen, aye, and perhaps what the general would call lesser men, but each one has a sharp eye, a steady hand and swords of the sharpest steel. Your Majesty, my lords, I await only your word."

 As Broggha bowed his head in false humility, all eyes in the chamber turned to the king.

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Cameth Brin Tower. November 6, 1347, mid-morning.
Written by Serenoli and Gordis
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The king stood up.

 In a terse voice - he seemed to be holding in much anger - he said, "I thank you, those who have tried to address the crisis we are facing. I called this Council in a state of much fear and anxiety... knowing full well that any action we take now may be too late to help the Princess, but determined all the same that swift actions have to be taken, firstly, to aid Captain Merendil in any way in rescuing her... and secondly in driving out these orcs and taking precautions that they never come back.

 "I did not call this Council to ask for an explanation from anyone, though General Nimruzir felt compelled to give one anyway. And the explanation amounts to this - he wishes for a pay rise for his army and he resents the fact that there are those present at this Council who are not descended from Numenor. Lord Curugil on the other hand, has proposed we increase taxes. And Lord Broggha has offered me two hundred trained men.

 "I have thought hard about this," he could not resist being a little bit sarcastic "and I have decided that - while there are obvious attractions to paying an army for letting a horde of orcs come into the country and attack their princess, and while I can entirely see why the orcs, frightened, perhaps at the thought of paying more taxes, might chose to leave the country of their own volition - despite all that, I have decided we can do no better than accept Lord Broggha's offer of armed men to help us." 

 Tarnendur turned to Broggha and addressed him directly, his old grey eyes meeting the Hillmen`s blue ones levelly.  “Aye, I accept your offer, Lord Broggha. But I say to you, the Kingdom is in peril and utmost sacrifice is required of everyone. It is time to prove your worth, Broggha of the Hillmen!” 

 “You offered me two hundred fighters. It is not enough. You can do better. Take five hundred Hillmen and lead them yourself under the King`s banner with my blessing. If in three months you bring me the keys of Dol Hithaer, a rich reward will await you. Every one of your men will be counted in the Army of Rhudaur with full pay and subsistence that only Dunedain guards now have. But make haste, as winter gales are at hand.” 

 “Help you will have. Once in the lands of Imlad Mitheithel, make sure to contact Lord Dinen, Seneschal of this land. He will rally his men and send at least a hundred with you, maybe more.” 

 “Lord Belzagar here...”- the King`s heavy gaze fell on the young councilor, who rose to his feet - ”Your lands of Duniath are close to Imlad Mitheithel and also threatened by the orcs of Gundabad, so it is only fair if you send a hundred men to help Lord Broggha to reclaim Dol Hithaer, unless you choose to go there in person. As for me, I will send Captain Merendil north with some reinforcements, once he is back.”

 “What say you to that, my Lords?”


Chapter 12 - An Honor or a Trap?

Chapter 12. An Honor or a Trap?

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Cameth Brin Tower. November 6, 1347, late morning.
Written by Angmar and Serenoli
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 November 6, 1347, mid-morning - The Tower of Cameth Brin 

 Broggha's cold blue eyes were expressionless as he faced the king, but inside the hillman chieftain seethed. "What does he think I am? A fool!" he thought to himself. "He seeks to be rid of my men and me for the duration of the winter by sending us into the mountains of Angmar! More likely, he prays that we will meet our deaths in the swirling snows of the mountain pass, or at the hands of the orcs! Never would I have thought that the old dottard had retained enough keenness of judgment to devise such a stratagem. Perhaps his daughter, the clever Princess Gimilbeth, would have such acumen but never her elderly sire! The old man would dare play a game of wits with Broggha! He will find that the stakes are far higher than he believes. Still, I will give the old man what he desires - the keys to Dol Hithlaer. Then in the spring when my men and I return with the praises of the king and his people in my ears, I shall take his whole kingdom as my price and his daughter, Tarniel, as my bride!"

 Noticing that Belzagar, Lord of Dol Duniath, had risen to his feet, Broggha gave him a quick glance before directing his attention to the king. "What is Taurendur's motive for requesting this nobleman's presence in the north?" Broggha's devious mind wondered. "Perhaps for some reason he wishes to be rid of him, too. However, this is no time to consider the king's reasoning at the present." Broggha would ponder that matter at another time. The hillman chieftain was not aware that Belzagar was also in the employ of the King of Angmar. The slippery Belzagar had been the Northern King's spy master in Rhudaur for years, but because of the danger of his work and the fear that he would be discovered, only one other man - Authon - knew of his activities.

 When Broggha spoke, there was no trace of anger in his voice, only a flickering spark of hostility deep in his eyes. "Your Majesty, this is a day which will be recorded as one when history was made. Today, when the darkest peril faces the land of Rhudaur - perhaps the darkest in all of its history - hope is rekindled! Our people have united together to fight a common enemy! A people divided and separated by thought and motive is doomed to extinction, but a people united can never be forced to their knees. We are forging a strong and powerful alliance which will guarantee that in the future, Rhudaur will be victorious against all of its enemies!" At these words, a murmur of approval rose through the council chamber. No words of praise were upon General Nimruzir's downturned lips, though. His brow furrowed, the old general's expression was one of great disapproval.

 Broggha waited until the crowd had quieted. "My heart is moved with the greatest feelings of friendship and felicity towards the people of this country." As a show of his feigned emotion, he put his right hand over his chest. "The feelings of my people are the same. They yearn for peace and cooperation between our two peoples. They will look upon this day with joy in their hearts!" Boggha paused, and another cry of approval rose up from the hall.

 After taking a sip of wine from his goblet, Broggha went on. "Though some have misjudged us," he let his glance skim over General Nimruzir's scowling face, "you will find that the hillmen and their chief do not make idle promises. Under the King's Banner, I will lead my 500 of my most experienced warriors to Dol Hithlaer. With our blood and steel, we will purchase Dol Hithlaer for the king of Rhudaur!" Broggha paused again and then smiled benevolently. "What do I ask in return? Your Majesty, you do not need to promise me a rich reward. Your friendship will be honor enough for me."

 A look of relief upon his face, the king smiled gratefully at Broggha. Broggha nodded to him and then resumed speaking. "An expedition of this size involves planning and cooperation, and many men and animals. Therefore, I will rely upon Lord Belzagar for 100 men, and the lord's leadership, too, if he would be so kind as to provide that." Belzagar looked to Belzagar, who nodded in agreement. "It is well that I have a good man at my back," Broggha, an inscrutable expression upon his face, affirmed. "And Lord Dinen, Seneschal of Imlad Mitheithel, I will call upon him for 100." Broggha smiled graciously.

 "Now, my liege, Hillmen are used to traveling light and surviving under harsh conditions. We require little and can endure much. We will travel light, taking our provisions with us on pack horses, thus avoiding the encumbrance of baggage wagons." Broggha paused and then looked up in the king's eyes. "I am a man of few words and am almost finished speaking. Only this do I have to say. Truly I am honored by Your Majesty's trust and confidence. I will not let you down, sire." His face an expression of total deference and gratitude, Broggha resumed his seat to the ovation of the council members.

 "How I look forward to cutting out the old fool's heart and offering it upon the dark altar as a tribute to the Lord of Darkness, the One Who Rules In the Place of His Majesty Melkor the Potent," Broggha thought gleefully.

 "I take your promise, Lord Broggha, and I will hold you to it." Tarnendur replied sternly. Then, softening his tone, he continued, "If you succeed in your task, you will have my friendship and that of my people, as you ask. And Lord Belzagar, I hope to hear well of your conduct in this as well. You will not find me ungrateful." After a short pause, he said, "Well, if that's all settled, I think we can call an end to this meeting." He had a feeling that perhaps he should thank Broggha again, but deciding against it as too grovelling, he rose and left the room. Behind him he heard the scuffling of feet and chairs as everyone else emulated him.

 He found himself being followed by General Nimruzir. His face still had a sullen look that had settled there during Tarnendur's speech, and he now said, "With all due respect, your Majesty, I beg you to reconsider your decision to trust the Hillman," he practically spat out the last word. "He will turn this to his advantage, he will do something to sabotage it, depend upon it."

 "General, if you feel that strongly about it, why don't you go with him, and keep an eye on him? I would appreciate it myself, seeing as I can hardly go myself. But I leave it entirely to you. I'm sure Lord Broggha will have no problem."

 Nimruzir didn't bother him again that day, though when he was walking away, he murmured something that sounded suspiciously like, "I just might take you up on that offer."

 Later, Tarnendur had one more conversation about the Council. Happening to see his son, he asked him, half-seriously, why had he not protested, like last time, at everything Broggha? Daurendil said, rather quietly, "Well, though you do seem to trust him over-much - I can not protest against anything that sends him away from here. Besides, I doubt even he likes orcs or consorts with them. We might as well let the Hillmen die against orc blades since they are of no other use."

 Slowly, reluctantly, it seemed, the tide was turning for Broggha at Cameth Brin. It would be a long time, perhaps, before anyone trusted him entirely. But, in the meantime, people were starting to tolerate him, accept him as a necessary evil - and that was all he needed. 

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Cameth Brin Tower. November 6, 1347, early afternoon.
Written by Angmar 
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 While the meeting of the king's council had been in session, Authon, Lord Belzagar's secretary, spent the time waiting in the corridor outside the hall. The meeting had seemed inordinately long to him, and a number of times he had heard strident voices inside. He considered the loud voices normal, simply part of the usual pompous speech making of which men in the public eye were so fond, and nothing about which to be alarmed. When the meeting at last ended, he watched from the other side of the corridor as the council members filed out. He bowed and smiled when appropriate, or gave a brief nod when a bow was not necessary. Courtiers knew their place.

 When Lord Belzagar left the chamber, Authon saw a look of agitation under his master's usual bland public smile. The lord could hide his moods from everyone except Authon, who knew him so well. "My lord, overhearing some of the comments, I take it that the meeting was a rather tumultuous one."

 "We will discuss it later, Authon," Lord Belzagar put him off as he gave a pleasant, though patronizing, smile to General Nimruzir, who was glaring at all. Nodding and giving the usual expected replies to the other lords who still congregated in the corridor, Lord Belzagar led Authon outside to the stables. The stable boys soon had their mounts waiting for them, and the two men mounted their horses and rode down the steep hillside to the city below.

 "My lord, where are we going, if I might ask?" Authon asked as he trotted his horse beside the dark bay stallion of his master.

 "The Hare and Thistle, Authon. I could do with a tankard of ale."

 Later, seated at their favorite table with tankards of foaming ale before them, the two men acknowledged the greetings from the other patrons. Lord Belzagar was a well known and popular man around Cameth Brin. As Aradiel, one of the barmaids who was in their employ, passed by, Authon raised his chin slightly in greeting. Looking at wenches was an appealing way to idle the time while he waited for Belzagar to tell him about the meeting. He had already gathered that it had not gone well, and he secretly gloated.

 "Authon, while I had planned to remain at court until spring, as is my custom, now it appears that I must leave the city, possibly for a few months. For the first time in my life, it seems that I must take up my sword in the king's service and lead into battle a hundred of my kinsmen who serve under my banner. I can take some satisfaction in knowing that they will be incovenienced when they learn that they must leave the pleasures of my warm hall and take to the field in winter. Curse this whole thing," he muttered an oath.

 "Our entire operation will be dependent upon you while I am gone. I have trained you well enough so that I am confident that you can take care of matters without my direct supervision." Belzagar blew the froth from the top of the liquid and then put the rim of the tankard to his mouth.

 "My lord, I heard some things, but I could scarce believe my own ears. I take it that Broggha has proposed a northern expedition. Unbelievable to think of such a thing in the middle of November! Has he gone mad?"

 "Not Broggha. Never Broggha! The man is far too clever for anything like that. It was King Tarnendur himself who came up with this harebrained proposal to retake the Hithaer Pass! When he presented it to Broggha, the scoundrel accepted his challenge, and in doing so, he condemned me! Yes, Authon, I was forced to accept, and now I have committed not only a hundred men, but myself! There was nothing else I could do and keep the trust of the king and preserve my own reputation," Belzagar's words were an angry whisper as he leaned towards Authon.

 "My lord, I knew that the old king was in his dotage, but still I had not realized that his faculties had declined so far." Authon's expression was incredulous.

 "Authon, keep your voice down! There are ears everywhere! It seems the king is far more clever than you and I gave him credit for being. All of this was nothing more than a ploy to send Broggha to the north, where Tarnendur hopes he will die beneath the blizzards of winter. But why me?" he hissed. "Why does the king wish to be rid of me, along with Broggha? I thought that I held the old man's confidence."

 "My lord, perhaps the king suspects something. Possibly before she left on her trip, Princess Gimilbeth had told him about that incriminating message which she found when her falcon brought down one of our mail pigeons. Perhaps the king has only been looking for a opportunity to remove you quietly without risking the scandal which would be involved if he publicly accused you." Aware of the chilling effect that the suggestion would have on his master, Authon looked at him sheepishly. "At least I am safe enough here," he thought. "There would be no possible reason for my name to be connected in any way with the matters contained in the damaging letter."

 "Why did he not just take the direct approach and have me murdered? That is what I would have done." Belzagar was astonished at this revelation of his underlings' suspicions. Never before had he intimated that his life could be in danger. "Damn him!" Belzagar thought. "Perhaps he, too, wants me out of the way!"

 "I would suppose that His Majesty would consider such an act too far beneath him." Authon looked away. "The old man holds the concept of 'honor' highly."

 "So he sends me to the north to exile me, with the hopes that I perish in the winter. How kind and noble of him," Belzagar hissed bitterly.

 "Do you wish me to go with you?" Authon asked dutifully, knowing that his employer would decline his offer. Besides Belzager, he was the only one who knew enough to handle the extensive network of spies which Belzagar had built up over the years. Authon had always hoped that some fortuitous event might occur and leave him in control of the spymaster's power. Now perhaps his opportunity had arrived.

 "Of course not. You are needed here." Belzagar spat out the words and then looked dourly at his drink.

 "My lord, you know that I would be perfectly willing to go, and suffer the same risks and deprivations which you must face," Authon replied with just the right amount of humility in his voice to sound convincing.

 "Of course you would, Authon, of course you would!" Belzagar laughed sarcastically. Fraught with malice, his eyes bored into those of the other man. "You are so loyal to me, so very incredibly loyal and steadfast unto death! Now when you have finished your drink, we will return to my home. I must send a courier to my hold in Dol Duniath ordering 100 of my men to be in readiness for my arrival." Belzagar tossed the remainder of his ale down and rose to his feet.


Chapter 13 - Presentation to the King

Chapter 13. Presentation to the King

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Cameth Brin Palace. November 6, 1347, late afternoon.
Written by Valandil 
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 It was been the first time Eryndil had seen a noble formally presented to the King. There really had not been much to it – just a bit of to-do with protocol and ceremony, followed by a stand-up reception only slightly less formal, with refreshments and conversation. The only part of this that really caught Eryndil’s attention was when King Tarnendur casually asked the Thane if he or any in his family had been involved in the Incident of 1249*. But Camglas, a young man at the time, and his father Borlost had remained free of stain from that time, and so had managed to retain their holdings when Tarondacil the Treacherous was overthrown just five years later.

 “Remarkable,” mused the King curiously, “That your family has held Nandemar for all these many long years unbroken – even through the reigns of both Histendil, and his son Tarondacil, and the great purges that followed after each.”

 “An advantage of being small enough, and remote enough to be of little note, Your Highness,” replied Camglas. “For ever in those tumultuous times did we remain loyal to our own land, and yet hold out hope that the throne would return once more to a rightful heir, as it has since.” Camglas followed this with a slight bow.

 Witnessing his father’s conduct before the King was a new experience for Eryndil. Camglas no longer seemed the country rustic. His father had known though, that this audience would come, and had packed suitably for it. He wore an elegant tunic with the family crest, not the latest fashion, but respectable as a classic look, which was set well against his new, dark cloak. His hair and beard were neatly trimmed and his manner impeccable. He only took one sample from each plate of food brought before him, as they stood together. And though Camglas and Tarnendur were of an age, and spoke with an intimacy into which few younger men could enter with either, once Tarnendur had finished his glass of wine without calling for another, Camglas knew this as a sign that the interview was at an end, and departed with the appropriate well-wishing.

 His father maintained a formal, dignified air as they were led forth from the Reception Hall and on toward the stairs. But there they heard feminine voices, for sure enough, a group of four or five female servants, having quite forgotten themselves in returning from their duties, were taking the main stairs up from the Ground Level before continuing on the servants’ stairs to their evening meal and their quarters, chatting indiscreetly along their way.

 Eryndil looked among them, and there she was… Caelen! And she… oh my! His mind went racing back to that morning. As they had sat opposite one another, leaning toward each other and he holding her hands to calm her… he had fixed his eyes upon their hands, or her eyes, and tried as he might not to notice the advantageous view afforded by her posture and the cut of her dress. But glances he had stolen at the soft roundness of her upper form, until the falling of her golden red tresses had recalled him to himself.

 And now, as she ascended the stairs toward him, he held the same advantage once more – and owned it a lovely sight. Just then their eyes met – her lovely eyes, set off by that wondrous hair, and her face brightened. But he saw that those next to her looked at her sharply, and she stifled her intended greeting and lowered her head to avoid looking into his eyes. Now conscious of herself, she placed her hand over the top of her gown and climbed the last few stairs, then swept past Eryndil and Camglas without a look or a word, along with the other married servant women, now rushing along in silence at their discovery on the main stair.

 Caelen had slowed and trailed them, and now glanced back with a slight smile. But just as she neared the corridor which turned into the servants’ stair, she walked right into a servant. He dropped the load he carried, and was quite exasperated at first, but stopped complaining as he beheld her. Caelen, quite embarrassed, bent down to help him pick up his things – and Eryndil’s mind raced, seeing her now in THIS posture.

 “Well…” said his father. “Shall we stand here all night? This dose of courtly ways will do me for a week or two, I suppose. Come on now, son. The way is down the stairs, I suppose?”

 Eryndil came to himself and realized that he had been staring. But Caelen was gone now. Eryndil looked toward his father, who gave him a wink, and down the stairs they went without speaking, through the Hall and out the doors into the fading daylight.

 When they had gone a little distance, his father began to speak to him. “Will you go down the hill with me tomorrow to fetch my wagon?” Camglas had meant to do so on this day, until summoned for his audience. So he had sent a servant with word that he should come the day after.

 “I don’t suppose Vilyandur could help?” asked Eryndil, hoping to give his brother something to do, partly to take some load off himself.

 “Hmph!” replied Camglas. “Your brother Vilyandur is pretty useless! Didn’t even make his first appearance today until just before we left. I just don’t know about that one…”

 “Strange,” answered Eryndil. “I saw him this morning when I got up – some time before dawn… though I didn’t see him again myself until we left.”

 “Yes, well if he was up when you got up, then he was STILL up!” said the Thane. “And Gildurien is as bad as he. I’ve tried on occasion to set her up with a good marriage – or at least a marriage of some kind. But she won’t have it! Not any of those I can find. Now she’s fifty-five, and I’ll be lucky to marry her to a more-or-less respectable innkeeper - or miller. Maybe Hendegil’s prospects will be brighter. But I had hoped to see Gildurien married before I died, so she wouldn’t be a burden to your brother Dornendur.”

 Eryndil was silent as he digested all this. But at last, returning to the question at hand he said, “I’ll go with you father. Of course, the King may keep me late tonight, but then I think would not require my companions and me tomorrow.”

 “Good then,” his father said, and then continued, “of course, you’ll be off the hook if your ‘married’ friend comes by. After all, she may be in need of guidance, so as not to go stumbling about in hallways and such.”

 “Father…” began Eryndil. His father turned to look at him closely. “She is a rather silly girl after all, isn’t she? Not very sensible, I think.”

 Camglas returned his gaze to the path before them, sighed and then at last said, “Maybe not so sensible in some ways… the ways that sense grows into. But in the important things, the things that really matter, she’s the most sensible young lady I’ve met in many a year.” Then adding with a smile, after a short pause, “only excepting my Hendegil, of course!”

 Eryndil smiled himself, first at the pride his father took in his sister, and then at his father’s approval of Caelen.

 His father went on, "so... when we first came yesterday, you two didn't seem to be getting along so well."

 "Yes," admitted Eryndil. "We had quarreled a couple times in the few days before."

 "Oh, I see..." and Camglas nodded expertly. "That happens at times."

 "I think maybe she's not angry any longer," volunteered Eryndil.

 “And of course,” his father’s eyes twinkled once more, “she views well from above, doesn’t she?”

 Eryndil blushed brightly and turned his face half away, hoping the growing shadows would hide the color - and hoping even more that this line of conversation was about over.

_________________________________

Notes:
 * 1249 - the date of an incident that stained the royal family of Rhudaur and many noble families as well. As recorded in the Annals of Rhudaur:

 He (King Tarondacil - editor) thus wrested control of Amon Sul from them (Cardolan - editor) once more, but within 3 years (1248 - editor), Celebrindor of Arthedain had gathered his own forces and dislodged them. Neither Rhudaur nor Cardolan could contest with Arthedain alone, and indeed, in their years of warfare they had been mostly well-matched, sometimes Rhudaur winning the field, and other times Cardolan – and thus they had shared the Palantir. Therefore, Tarondacil called a council with Cardolan (1249 - editor) under the pretext of joining together in opposition to Arthedain, and Menelcar came with many men, for he did not trust Tarondacil. There, Tarondacil put on a great display, with pomp and ceremony. A servant was provided for each guest from Menelcar’s delegation, but on a signal, each drew a weapon and struck his guest, for the servants were in fact warriors of Rhudaur. None of Menelcar’s delegation survived, all were struck down.

 And in the Annals of Cardolan:

 XVI Menelcar Born 1113, Crowned 1247 (134), Reigned 2 years, Slain 1249 (136) Treacherously slain by King Tarondacil of Rhudaur. For he and all his leading nobles were invited to a parley with Rhudaur, where they might decide how to join together and drive Arthedain away from Amon Sul. They were presented with a lavish feast, even for the men-at-arms who accompanied them, but on a signal, each man’s servant (actually warriors in disguise) as well as their other hosts, drew a weapon and slew the entire delegation of Cardolan. Last of all, that he was able to see the destruction of his men, Menelcar was slain by Tarondacil as two men held his arms. And Tarondacil laughed with merriment, delighted at his deception made under pretext of truce.
It was 5 years later that Tarondacil was overthrown. Few of his nobles would rally to his aid, and by then, even most of the Hillmen distrusted him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Callon & Caelen's room in the servants' quarters of the Palace. Night of November 6, 1347.
Written by Rian
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 Caelen lay in her bed, a slight smile playing across her lips and a dreamy expression in her eyes. "Those girls weren't so silly after all!" she thought, the smile widening into a rueful little grin as she reflected back on the last few days. 

 She felt Eryndil's touch on her skin again and sighed, closing her eyes. He had such nice, warm hands ... Callon, the horse trainer, had more muscular legs, but Eryndil had broader shoulders ... She rubbed her cheek against the pillow, remembering yet again being held tight against those shoulders, and sighed. Then she thought of Eryndil standing at the window, his back to her, and how those broad shoulders tapered down so nicely to such attractive, um ... "hindquarters" ... She giggled, still not used to the idea that she was actually looking at him that way.

 She wondered what Eryndil looked like without his shirt on. She remembered the day when Callon had stripped down for a swim with their friends, like they had been doing for years and years when they were all children together, and the girls had suddenly stopped and taken a second, furtive look at him. Caelen, startled, looked at Callon and noticed with surprise that the being that she had thought of as merely her brother was also now a strong, attractive man. It gave her a queer feeling; it was irritating that this new dimension had entered into things that had been so simple and pleasant. Girls that had never been very friendly with her suddenly started coming over to talk with her, especially when she was with her brother. She had hated the hypocrisy and despised the girls.

 And then girls that she had once merrily climbed trees with had suddenly decided that they would rather not do such childish things anymore, and she had spent many hours alone in the tops of trees, climbing as high as she could and feeling the fresh wind on her face.

 And now, suddenly, she understood what those girls were feeling (although she still didn't like the hypocritical ones).

 She turned over and wrapped her arms around her pillow, and suddenly she was in the forest with a shirtless Eryndil holding her tight against his chest with one hand, a bloodied sword in his other hand as a gigantic wolf lay dead at his feet. "My darling," he whispered into her hair in his strong, deep voice. He raised her face to his and kissed her gently, and the scene faded gracefully into the mists before anything more ... well, intense ... happened. What might happen after a kiss was firmly forbidden to enter her mind, for it brought with it the memories of the terrifying, groping hands on the road ...

 She turned over, and suddenly she was in a corner of the castle grounds, crying over the mean things that the servants had said about her, and Eryndil suddenly appeared (with a shirt on this time, since she couldn't think of a good reason for him NOT to have a shirt on - wait, maybe something had spilled on it ... and Eryndil suddenly was bare-chested, carrying his soiled shirt in his hand). "Oh, sweetheart, what's wrong?" he said, dropping his shirt and sweeping her into his arms. She told him all her troubles while he stroked her hair and held her close, and then again he raised her face to his and gently kissed her - but this time, Caelen experimented with letting the dream Eryndil go a little farther - he kissed her again, and again, the kisses growing stronger and more passionate, before Caelen brought the curtain quickly down over the scene again.

 She took a deep breath. That last scene had started to get just a little uncomfortable for her ... half of her really liked it, while the other half was getting more and more frightened. She decided that keeping it to just one kiss was more pleasant to dream about, and returned (in her mind) to the forest scene.

 Eryndil was safe to think about - she knew he didn't like her in any special way, for he was always correcting her. Even tonight on the stairs, she had tried to give him a friendly look, and he had just looked at her with a strange expression on his handsome face, and then seemed to glance at her bodice and quickly look up again with a clenched jaw and pained look in his eyes. Caelen sighed - the top button had come off of her bodice, and she hadn't sewn it back on yet - he probably thought she was being immodest again, and would lecture her at great length the next time he saw her.

 Yes, Eryndil was safe to fantasize about - attractive, manly, and noble - but safe. He would certainly never give her any unwanted attentions.


Chapter 14 - Eviction from the Palace

Chapter 14. Eviction from the Palace

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 Callon & Caelen's room in the servants' quarters of the Palace. Morning of November 7, 1347.
Written by Rian
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 Caelen put the finishing touches on the little room that she shared with her brother. She looked around and smiled; everything looked neat and clean, ready for Hendegil's visit, and the fresh greenery in the little bottle added some much-needed softness. She touched the leaves gently; they reminded her of her mother, and all the little touches that she used to add around the house that added beauty and softness. Caelen decided that she would keep fresh greenery in the room every day from now on. 

 A crisp knock on the door made Caelen break out into a smile that made the room much more pleasant than any amount of greenery, and she eagerly stepped over to the door and opened it. But it was not Hendegil; it was Thillas, the head housekeeper - the one that kept both the palace and its servants in ship-shape. 

 "May I come in?" she asked curtly after a few seconds, as Caelen stood there blinking at her in confusion, forgetting to ask her in. Caelen had been expecting Hendegil's friendly face, and this was a bit of a shock.

 "Of course, Thillas! I'm so sorry; I was expecting someone else and you surprised me!" said Caelen apologetically, ushering the housekeeper into the room and indicating the one chair that was available, as she sat on the bed.

 Thillas pursed her lips together and cleared her throat. This was not going to be pleasant, but she was never one to avoid unpleasantness. Good housekeepers never avoided messes; they tackled them head-on. She raised her left eyebrow slightly in the way that made the lower housemaids panic as they remembered the obscure corners that they hadn't dusted.

 "I've always prided myself on running things here in the palace efficiently and ... properly," she started off, putting stress on the last word and raising both eyebrows for emphasis. "But something has come to my attention recently that I am VERY displeased about."

 "Yes, Ma'am?" said Caelen a trifle guiltily, hoping she wasn't blushing. Had she heard some of those dreadful rumors about her that had been flying around?

 "We at the palace took on you and your ... husband ... in good faith," she continued, noticing how Caelen's large eyes grew larger at the meaningful pause. "I have not heard of any complaints about him - his work AND his behavior has been exemplery - but I'm sorry to say that I can't say the same about you."

 Caelen bit her lip nervously. Thillas' eyebrows lowered ominously, and her eyes narrowed.

 "I have been hearing the most shocking rumors about you ever since your ... husband left, and if even one of them is true, I would be seriously displeased - SERIOUSLY displeased!" She leaned in towards Caelen to emphasize her point, making Caelen pull back despite her effort to remain calm.

 "What exactly have you heard, Ma'am?" asked Caelen in a small voice, pulling Callon's shirt from under its daytime resting place under her pillow and nervously playing with the hem. It never even occurred to her to try to bluff it out; she had faults, but dishonesty wasn't one of them, and maintaining her brother's ruse had been extremely difficult for her.

 "I have heard," said Thillas regally, sitting up straight again and crossing her hands across her ample breast, "that you schemed to get your husband to go on this trip so that you would have a free hand to try to better your position in life; that you feigned your pregnancy to play on your husband's and our good will so that you wouldn't have to work so you could chase after other men; or that if you WERE pregnant, that you took steps to end it so that you would be free to pursue your own schemes; that you played on the generous heart of our prince Daurendil, extorting an invitation to ride with the young royals, which was ENTIRELY inappropriate for a person in your position; that you encouraged the Prince Daurendil in ways that no modest lady in your position would even consider, such that he, in his innocence, was moved to give you a gift of riding clothes, which you TOOK! most inappropriate! and then FLAUNTED around town in the most brazen manner; that you are currently chasing after one of the King's new young advisors in case your schemes with the Prince come to naught - need I say more?" She turned her head slightly to the right, and her left eyebrow reached new heights as she fixed Caelen with an inquiring look - a look that clearly expected to hear no good ...

 "No," said Caelen softly, her face white. She sighed and looked down at Callon's shirt, and then held it up to her face, closing her eyes at its touch. "I'm sorry, brother, I cannot keep this up anymore," she said, then took a deep breath and put the shirt back in her lap, although she kept a tight grip on it. She looked at Thillas steadily. The housekeeper was surprised; she had expected furious denials or bribing tears. Perhaps she HAD misjudged the girl ...

 "Callon is my brother, not my husband," she said simply. Thillas' right eyebrow joined its sister near the top of the housekeeper's hairline.

 "We were orphaned in a terrible fire, and I was cruelly harassed by a brute of a man that wanted to marry me and was going to force me into it. My brother and I had to flee our home. On the way, we were waylaid on the road and almost killed." She paused, a blush coming into her cheeks at the memory of what she was going to say next. "I wish I HAD been killed, though, Ma'am," she said. "It would have been better than what those men did to me."

 Thillas furrowed her brows, bringing them closer for a hirusitic conference. Was this a ruse to gain her sympathy, or was this true? Her eyebrows suspended judgement for the moment and waited to hear more. 

 "But we were rescued by some of the King's men, lead by one Eryndil of Ostinand - who I think is the man you referred to in one of those rumors that you heard."

 Thillas nodded curtly. The eyebrows increased their vigilence ever so slightly. 

 "We spent several weeks at Ostinand with Eryndil and his family, and I came to love his sister as the sister that I never had - and by the way, it was his sister that I went to visit yesterday - he merely walked me home out of courtesy. Then when we came to Cameth Brin, to our horror, we found that some of the very men that attacked us on the road were in the group of Hillmen camping around the Road. My brother was naturally very concerned for me. And when we got to the stables, there were some rough men around that ... that looked at me in ways that alarmed him, and so in his concern, he grasped at the only thing that he could think of to give me some protection - he said that I was his wife, and that I was with child."

 The housekeeper's eyes were now almost as large as Caelen's. The story was wild ... WILD! ... but yet ... she gave names of people and places that could be checked. And she spoke plainly and with a certain simple pride that, in Thillas' extensive experience, spoke of an honest heart. The eyebrows relented slightly.

 "I know it sounds ... " Caelen paused and shook her head, at a loss for words to describe the recent tumultous events of her life - "crazy, but it's true - and when my brother returns, he will confirm what I say. Oh, and Eryndil can confirm it, too - my brother wrote him asking him to support the ruse, since he knew that we were NOT husband and wife. Oh, and Arinya knows, and the Prince Daurendil - oh, and you are right, I should NOT have accepted the riding outfit - but I love riding so much! - but I was terribly wrong, and I have returned it - where was I? Oh yes, Arinya and the Prince know, and Eryndil, and his sister and family. They can confirm it, too. And I'm so, so terribly sorry for all of the trouble I've caused - I was trying so hard to honor my brother's wishes and his attempt to protect me, but it was so hard - I HATE lying!" she closed vehemently.

 Thillas sat back in the chair, absolutely speechless. Of all the messes she had been called to deal with, this one took the cake. Her eyebrows sagged; there was simply no expression that they could conceive of that was appropriate to this situation. But wait - one thing was clear: this was the married servants' quarters, and this young lady was NOT married. Her eyebrows rallied; THIS they could handle. 

***

 As Hendegil reached out to knock on the door of the room pointed out to her as Callon and Caelen's room, the door was suddenly opened, and a stern-looking lady walked out in a huff. Hendegil peered into the room, and her curiosity turned into concern as she saw her friend's face.

 "What is it, Caelen? What happened?" she asked urgently.

 Caelen looked at her friend. "I have to leave," she said in a dreamlike voice.

 "Leave? Where? Why?"

 Caelen took a deep breath. "Remember those awful rumors about me that I told you about? Well, that was the head of the palace servants, and she came to ask me about them." 

 "Oh, no," said Hendegil, a worried expression on her face as she took the chair that Caelen indicated. Caelen sat down wearily on the bed and took up her brother's shirt again, mindlessly playing with the hem, which was now starting to fray under her nervous fingers. 

 "It's a long story, but I ended up telling her the truth about Callon and me," continued Caelen. "I just couldn't keep it in anymore! And then since we weren't 'married servants' anymore, we can't stay in the married servants' quarters." She shrugged her shoulders - she was used to the world being difficult now. "So I have to leave and find somewhere else to stay, although Callon can stay in the men's quarters. I can't even stay here and work because she says there's no openings - although I think that she just doesn't want me around. I guess I've upset things around here too much."

 She turned to Hendegil. "Do you know which inn is ... would be safest for me to stay in? I don't know much about these things ..." she finished in an uncertain voice.

 Hendegil assumed a stern expression that rivalled Thillis'. "I know of an EXCELLENT place for you to stay," she said firmly. "Eryndil's inn!"

 Caelen looked at her, a confused expression on her face. "How odd - there's an inn in town with your brother's name on it?" she asked, incredulous. "Callon always said that I never notice anything, but ..." she shook her head.

 Hendegil looked at her friend and shook her head. Caelen was a warm-hearted, generous, honest, loving person - but not always too quick on the uptake. But she had been though a lot lately, Hendegil reflected, trying not to think of what it had been like for Caelen on the road ... and now her brother, her only remaining family, was gone, and she had just been evicted from the small room that was her only home, merely because she told the truth.

 "No, silly!" she said, taking Caelen's face between her hands and shaking her head at her with a smile on her face. "You're staying with me, at my brother's house!" And she laughed with pleasure as she watched Caelen's expression change from confusion and sorrow to elation and relief.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
On the King’s Road from Cameth Brin to Tanoth Brin. Mid-morning of November 7, 1347.
Written by Valandil
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As he walked down the switchbacks and steep inclines, Eryndil’s mind turned over the discussion from last night’s meeting. The King had actually met with them, which was rare – and the meeting had gone rather late. Each detail of the day’s earlier Council Meeting was gone over time after time, but most often, the talk had come back to Broggha.

 Lastorion and Rondaran had commended the King on his wisdom – for he should certainly be rid either of the Orcs at Dol Hithaer or else of Broggha, or at the least, Broggha’s reputation would be diminished. Naurlith had mostly been silent. Only Eryndil had suggested that Broggha might be up to something. When pressed, he couldn’t come up with a plausible theory – even he dismissed after brief consideration whether Broggha might be in league with the Orcs (although it was not without precedent – for King Valandur of old Arnor was slain in an engagement in this very land, against a force of Hillmen supplemented by Orcs, and even a Troll or two – but that was 700 years ago!).

 At last they had ended, and with Eryndil’s request to accompany his father to Tanoth Brin the next day, the King had told them all he would next summon them the day after Broggha left town. Lastorion had shown interest at Eryndil’s request, and after told him that he wouldn’t mind a visit to the lower city himself, if he might accompany them. He had met Eryndil and Camglas at the gate to the inner city this morning, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes, while they also dropped Hendegil off to go visit her friend at the palace. So the three men walked along, passing now the Loud Waterfall and the camp of the Hillmen, leading two horses to pull the wagon back up.

 On they came to the bridge over the Tanoth River and through the open gates into Tanoth Brin proper. Eryndil had only come down here twice since his arrival in town, but some from the upper city never ventured down at all. They passed along Market Street and stopped at the Market Street Inn, where they hitched their horses and went in. Eryndil had never been inside the place before. It was larger and more prosperous than most of the other establishments around – kept a good reputation too. It was nicely located, just off the Tanoth Brin Market itself, on the main thoroughfare.

 Lastorion engaged Eryndil in small talk while Camglas settled up with the innkeeper for the repair of his wagon. But about this time, a tall, older looking fellow in a grey cloak came from the back of the place and shuffled past them to take a seat by the fire. Camglas had watched him closely as he walked past. Eryndil made way for the man to pass between himself and Lastorion, when he noticed Lastorion’s face.

 Lastorion looked as if he had seen a ghost!

 His father’s voice took Eryndil’s attention away from his companion, “That man smelled of the forge. Is he the smith who wrighted my wheel?”

 “Aye, the very same,” answered the innkeeper.

 “Well, here’s your asking price for the fix,” replied Camglas, reaching under his cloak and drawing out a couple silver coins from the bag at his waist. “A bit high, by my reckoning, but “this is the city”, they say!”

 “Don’t you even want to see it first?” asked the innkeeper.

 “Not necessary – I trust you. Besides, if it isn’t fixed right, I’ll know right where to come, won’t I? Just have someone ready to lead my son here around to where he can hitch it up, awright?”

 Eryndil turned back to Lastorion, who had recovered himself, but now had a look of remiss on his face, “Eryndil my friend, I cannot believe that I had forgotten this, but I had already arranged to meet with another friend at the palace before noon. I may be late as it is, but I should certainly be getting right back.”

 “Well, wouldn’t you want to ride with me in the wagon?” asked Eryndil.

 “Oh – certainly not. Wouldn’t want to trouble you. Besides… the time it would take to hitch it up, and the rate a wagon would have to go up that hill. No… I’d best just be leaving.” But Eryndil noticed that Lastorion gave a quick, furtive glance over toward the old man seated by the fire. Then Lastorion turned abruptly and was gone.

 “What’s eating your friend?” asked Camglas, just coming up behind Eryndil’s shoulder.

 “Oh – I guess he had some place to be…”

 “Well, never mind that. Look, when the innkeeper sends his boy, take the horses around back, hitch them up to the wagon, and take it on back home – to your home that is. I just mean to have a drink or two with yon blacksmith… to sort of treat him for fixing up my wagon. I’ll be back presently. Get along now.”

 “But father – can you get back alright?” Eryndil wasn’t thinking just of him finding the place – but wondered if the King’s Road might be unfriendly toward an older Thane traveling alone.

 “I’ll be alright son – and I’ll be home long afore dark. You just get the wagon up there. Be careful how you handle those curves…” and then his father’s wry smile returned and he winked, “but keep your eyes off the serving girls around here as you go – alright now?”

 Eryndil was puzzled, but watched as his father turned and made his way to the old blacksmith and began to engage him in conversation, taking a seat beside him just as the stable boy came to bring Eryndil around back.


Chapter 15 - Eryndil's Inn is Full

Chapter 15. Eryndil's Inn is Full


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Eryndil's house in Cameth Brin. Afternoon of November 7, 1347.
Written by Rian
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 Eryndil's house in Cameth Brin, afternoon of Nov. 7 

 "And here's your room!" said Hendegil graciously, ushering Caelen into the nicest of the available guest rooms in the house. Hendegil was thoroughly enjoying playing "mistress of the house" with her brother's home.

 The servants had already brought the baggage into the room and were working on unpacking. A maidservant had opened up the bag containing Callon's clothing and was holding up a man's shirt with a quizzical expression on her face.

 "That bag has my brother's clothing in it," explained Caelen hastily, trying not to laugh at the maid's expression. "I guess you can just hang it off to one side of the wardrobe. I don't want it to sit in a bag until spring, or it will get musty."

 "Yes, miss," answered the maid, nodding her head and continuing with the unpacking.

 "And now I'll show you over the rest of the house," said Hendegil, again assuming the air of an experienced hostess, and glad that they had the house to themselves - Eryndil and her father were out getting their baggage wagon, her mother and the rest of the family were out shopping at the market (except for Vilyandur who was probably still sleeping), Hendegil didn't remember what they had said, just that they were going to be back shortly before dinner, along with everyone else.

 It was a nice house, and Caelen looked with pleasure into the various rooms. It had all been so sudden - it was a little unreal. Just a few hours ago had been that awful interview with Thillas, and knowing that the other servants were talking behind her back and saying all sorts of terrible lies about her, and then Hendegil had come like a breath of fresh air and whisked her away from all of that. And now she was in this pleasant house, with a friend whom she loved dearly even though she had only known her a short while. It seemed just too good to be true! Now if only Eryndil wouldn't lecture her very often, things would be perfect!

 They continued their tour through the house and finally came to another door, which Hendegil opened with a cheery "And this is Eryndil's room - isn't it nice? Large and airy, and a very nice view!" Caelen hesitated just a second - perhaps they shouldn't go in ... but then her curiosity got the better of her. And Hendegil had said that Eryndil and his father would be gone all day. And it wasn't like she was going into his room on her own - Hendegil wanted to show her the room, along with the rest of the house.

 They walked over to the window (Caelen surreptitously letting her fingertips graze over the furniture as she went) and gazed out.

 "Yes, it's very nice," said Caelen, and turned back to look over the rest of the room, which was far more interesting to her. It was a nice-sized room, and Eryndil kept it reasonably clean - Caelen blushed as she thought of her own messy tendencies. 

 Suddenly Caelen remembered some things in her baggage that she preferred to not have the maids handle.

 "Oh!" she exclaimed. "I need to run back to my room for a moment - I have some things that I'd rather unpack myself ... "

 "Oh, ok - I'll meet you back in the drawing room, then; all right?"

 "All right," answered Caelen, and she turned around and walked rapidly towards the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Eryndil's house in Cameth Brin. Afternoon of November 7, 1347.
Written by Valandil
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 Eryndil wished his father had not been so quick to reward the smith. The wheel barely held together on the trip back up the hill, and that with the wagon unloaded! There was no sign of Lastorion, so he must have made it quicker after all. But Eryndil even had to stop and support the back left corner around a few turns, while the horses pulled the wagon forward. His cloak was too bulky for that work and got in the way, so he had to take it off, despite the cold winds. And now – his tunic was torn – probably ruined.

 He dropped the wagon off with his own servants at the coachhouse out back, telling them to mind the bad wheel and strode quickly toward his house, his cloak back on over the tattered remnants of the tunic. He passed the maid, who informed him that the cook was in the kitchen below, and that the housekeeper had taken his mother and the others to the market – the Cameth Brin Market, that would be, thought Eryndil to himself. Declining the maid’s offer to take his cloak – but asking her to prepare him a hot bath, he made his way to the stairs, feeling exhausted.

 Up the empty stairs he went, pausing briefly at about every other landing. When he reached the Second Floor, he paused for a bit longer, looking down the deserted halls. He removed his cloak and hung it on a peg. Half of what remained of his tunic went with it, so he shed the rest in frustration. That was his favorite tunic! Well, he’d get another from his room, then go see about that bath.

 He walked on down the hall to his room. Odd - the door was open - they were usually kept closed once the weather started to get cold. His mind on the doings of the morning and the strange behavior of his friend Lastorion, he walked into his room.

 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Eryndil's house in Cameth Brin. Afternoon of November 7, 1347.
Written by Rian
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 Caelen turned around and walked quickly towards the door, and straight into the chest of a shirtless Eryndil, who was walking briskly into his room. 

 "Oh!" cried Caelen, startled, grabbing at Eryndil and trying not to fall, and then suddenly pulling her arms back in horror and embarrassment as she realized she was touching his bare chest.

 "OH!" exclaimed Caelen, mortified, as Eryndil grabbed her and pulled her to him, trying to keep her (and himself) from falling. Legs and arms tangled in rather interesting and embarrassing ways ...

 "Ooooohhhhh!" breathed Caelen slowly as she regained her balance and Eryndil released her, and she was able to see Eryndil's nicely-muscled upper body at close range.

 "OH!" exclaimed Caelen in embarrassment, blushing furiously as she realized he must have seen her staring at him. She stamped her foot in anger and addressed the grinning Eryndil with flashing eyes. "You STARTLED me! What are you DOING coming in here like that?!"

 "And YOU startled ME!" replied Eryndil. "And as this is MY room, I was just coming up to get a new tunic - the one I was wearing suffered an unfortunate accident on my way home. I didn't expect to see you ... two ... here," he added, finally realizing that Hendegil was there also.

 "Hendegil was just showing me around the house, and she wanted to show me your room, too," said Caelen defensively, biting her lip nervously in that mannerism that was now very familiar (and starting to become very appealing) to Eryndil. "She told me the view was ... was ... very nice ..." she added, her voice trailing off and her eyes dropping down to admire his muscular frame again, almost against her will. 

 "I hope you like it," said Eryndil slyly, torn between the desire to laugh and a more intense desire that was starting to spread throughout his body. There was a noise that sounded suspiciously like suppressed giggles coming from Hendegil's part of the room, and Caelen looked up again, flustered.

 "It's nice, but I've seen better!" she said, her chin raised high and her eyes studiously avoiding looking below his eyes.

 "And so have I," thought Eryndil, glancing down for a moment at Caelen's bodice, which was still missing the button. He looked back up at her, his eyes twinkling, thoroughly enjoying the discomfiture of the one who had been making him feel so flustered himself lately. Perhaps Caelen read his thought in his eyes, for she suddenly felt an urgent desire to get away from him as quickly as possible. She remembered her errand and gratefully seized upon it as an excuse to leave

 "I have to go to my room - that's why I was rushing out - I have to talk to the maid about some unpacking!" she said, trying to figure out how to get past him in the doorway without touching him, as he didn't seem to be moving out of the way.

 "Your room?" he inquired, puzzled.

 "Oh ... talk to your sister about it!" she cried, trying again to edge past him but seeing that there wasn't enough room. Finally, in desperation, she stomped her foot again, shouted out "MOVE!", slapped his arm as she would slap an unruly horse, and heedless of everything else, pushed past him and ran off down the hall.

 "I believe she thinks I'm a horse!" said Eryndil incredulously to his sister, who joined him at the doorway as he watched Caelen gallop down the hall.

 Hendegil smiled, and then turned back to look at her brother, who was watching Caelen as she disappeared down the stairs. Her smile grew broader.

 "You'll need to wash up before dinner, brother - I'll have some water sent up. Hot ... or cold?" And with a laugh, she ran off down the hall.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Eryndil's house in Cameth Brin. November 7, 1347, early evening.
Written by Valandil
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Now what in Middle-earth could be keeping your father?” asked Rildorien, pacing back-and-forth across the floor of the Great Hall.

 Eryndil made no answer. He had already told his mother all he could tell her. His father was headstrong and independent, but it wasn’t like him to be out THIS long, and alone in a strange place. Eryndil knew what he must do.

 “Mother, I’ll take some men and go find him. You and everyone else, go ahead and sit down to dinner. Don’t hold it any longer.” Then, catching Narwaith’s eye, he called out to him, “Narwaith, you will come with me. Pick five other men, make sure Norumar is one of them, and let’s bring two of our Tanoth Brin boys. Round them up as quick as you can, then arm yourselves and meet me back here. Soromo – send someone up for my cloak and sword!”

 Activity sprang to life all about them, one servant running upstairs, the others bringing forth dinner. Narwaith went first to the basement guard station, then back through to the guard-room in front and quickly had the necessary men assembled and the rest reapportioned to follow suit. Eryndil was strapping on his sword, his cloak held ready for when he finished, but his mother had not ceased speaking to him since the last word of command had died from his lips.

 “No Eryndil, how could we eat without you? And your father? But shouldn’t Vilyandur come? He could help you. Besides – it’s his father too! But why so many men,… and your sword? Do you think there will be trouble? Oh but do be careful…”

 “Mother,” and Eryndil paused to collect himself before continuing, holding up a hand to signal the servant with his cloak to wait. “Trouble is what I plan to avoid – and I’ll avoid it best by being ready for it. Now,” and he signaled for the cloak, which was immediately draped over his shoulders and clasped at his breast, “please stand aside and let us pass. See – I am all ready and the men are assembled. The sooner we leave, the sooner I’ll have your husband… my father, back here to you, and all the rest of us.”

 But just as Eryndil turned to leave, there was a commotion at the front of the house. Before any sense could be made of the confusion, Camglas himself came through the outer vestibule, where he had engaged the guards, and burst into the house proper. With him were two other men, one tall, cloaked in grey, the other not so tall, and cloaked in brown. Camglas’ spirits were high, and his voice was loud and boisterous, but his guests were subdued.

 “Ah Eryndil, my son… there you are! I have found a right good blacksmith for you, and another good man besides. As your father, I took it upon myself to hire them for you – took them right away from that ole innkeeper at Market Street, I did!”

 Eryndil stood with his mouth agape. He wasn’t sure what stunned him more; his father’s timely appearance, or the sudden announcement about his new employees. By the time his father had finished ranging the hall, greeting everyone upon his return, reacting joyfully to the news of Caelen’s new living situation and placating Rildorien through some of her harsher redresses, the excitement had all died down, the men-at-arms had faded back to their posts to return their arms and dinner was set. Eryndil found just the moment he needed to take Camglas aside as the men and other servants returned to take their places at the lower tables.

 “Father,” he asked, “what is this? I have no need for a blacksmith.”

 “Oh, trust me on this one,” answered his father with full assurance, “this one is a true prince of a man!”

 “But father, he isn’t even much of a blacksmith. Why, the wheel he was supposed to fix…”

 Camglas’ face looked more sober at once and he looked steadily into the eyes of his son and lowered his voice so that no others could hear, “Yes, he told me it was his first wheel. But son, trust me that this is the right thing to do… to bring these men into your household. For a short time at least.” Then he paused and added, “You have my solemn word upon it.” And then, after beginning to turn he said further, “Oh – and no need to make any mention of it. Certainly not to any neighbors or any in the palace grounds up yonder.”

 Camglas then turned toward his appointed place at the table leaving Eryndil behind to wonder who ELSE might invite someone or other to live with them, here in his house. The place was like a village already. He saw that Hendegil and Caelen were talking among themselves and looking up at him – how their eyes sparkled. But Eryndil wasn’t sure what he felt any longer. Certainly very confused – and as if things all about him were starting to take on a life of their own.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
An apartment in Cameth Brin. Late afternoon of November 8, 1347.
Written by Valandil
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I tell you Rondaran, it was HIM!” said Lastorion, exasperated.

“But how could that be? How did he escape? Why weren’t we told about it?” replied the other.

“I don’t know! And I don’t know… and I don’t Know!” stammered Lastorion, as the possibilities began to creep across his mind. “Maybe they think… we were in on it! Or… maybe they want us to take the fall for the whole thing. But it’s not like it was our idea! We just… helped!”

“It wasn’t our idea – but YOU thought it was a good one anyway! I knew we shouldn’t have gotten involved,” commented Rondaran.

“Where have you been anyway? It was yesterday morning that I saw him, and you haven’t been around since. Where have you been?”

“Bored… mostly.”

“Well… in town at least, it’s only us who know about it. At least I think that’s all. And we’ll both keep quiet, right?”

Rondaran was quiet.

“Naurlith? No… you didn’t tell Naurlith, did you?” wailed Lastorion.

“Well… we agreed that we would. He seemed more inclined to fall in with us than Eryndil, that’s for sure. But anyway, where did you say that you saw the old man?”

“At the Market Street Inn – down in Tanoth Brin,” answered Lastorion, looking crestfallen. “He was working there… as a… blacksmith.”

“Well then, let’s go pay us a visit to that inn, unless you think we’re best served in just staying clear of things?”

“Doesn’t matter,” replied Lastorion. “I went back down there today. He’s gone.”

“Oh Eru…” muttered Rondaran.

- - - - - - - -

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
At Eryndil’s home. Late afternoon of November 8, 1347.
Written by Valandil
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Naneth, where are you going?” asked Eryndil, looking up from his seat at the fireside. Naneth was dressed to go out, and her son, the maid and the maid’s children were all set to go with her.

“Why, to market, sir,” answered Naneth. “What with your family here, we’ve got lots of stocking up to do. 'Nothing but the best for the master’s family', isn’t that right now?”

“Well… yes, I suppose so. But my family… are not they already gone shopping?”

“Oh pshaw! Shopping for clothes and treats and trinkets and things – the like of which they see here in town and cain’t get in the country. We’ve got to shop for things to keep on the board before ‘em at dinner time. By your leave, sir…”

“Are none left in the house then? Besides me?” asked Eryndil.

“Well now… the cook is in the kitchen, using up most of what’s left on hand for this evening’s dinner. The scullery maid is there with her. Soromo is probably ordering someone about, which’ud must likely be Borngol, who’d be here too. Then there’s your soldier-men, I s’ppose.”

“Alright, alright… but be careful. We’ve only got so much to go around,” cautioned Eryndil.

“But of course, sir. I’m always careful with the master’s money. Still though… for family, nothing but the best. G’day to you now, sir. Come along the rest o’ ye.”


Chapter 16 - After-Dinner Talk

Chapter 16.  After-Dinner Talk

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Eryndil's house in Cameth Brin. Evening of November 8, 1347.
Written by Rian
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As she looked over the dinner on the table, Rildorien's brow was deeply furrowed. She was very worried - but not about the dinner, or even the strange way that her husband had unexpectedly brought home those new servants the night before. Well, she was worried a little about that, though the excitement around it had died down in the past day. But that worry was dwarfed by another one.

 She thought back to when Caelen had shown up in the riding outfit just a few days ago. Her heart had gone out to the poor, young thing - orphaned and alone - and she had tried her best to help her. And then Caelen had burst into tears, and Rildorien had seen Eryndil's face - he had always hated when women cried, and would do anything he could to help. Then Eryndil had carried Caelen upstairs, and didn't just leave - he was attentive - very attentive - and had to finally be shooed away. 

 Rildorien was very glad when Caelen had gone home. 

 And now Caelen's home was Eryndil's home, too, thanks to Hendegil's precipitous invitation to her to come live with them.

 It's one thing to comfort a poor, unfortunate orphan girl in need, but another to have this poor, unfortunate orphan girl be of marriageable age and extremely good-looking (Rildorien couldn't deny it) and have her established in your home until spring with an unmarried son who appeared to be showing signs of interest in her ... a man who was very strong but also very tender-hearted and hated to see women cry ... a man whose heart could be played upon and won by a scheming adventuress ... a man who would then be stuck for life with an unsuitable wife when he could have married so much better ...

 Well... it was actually Eryndil's home, she conceded to herself... but that only made it worse!

 Although Rildorien was a very kind-hearted woman, still, she was a mother - and a mother whose older son's marriage had brought her sorrow, and whose next son seemed unlikely to marry at all, or marry worse. Rildorien had always had a special place in her heart for her youngest son, and she thought that Eryndil should aim a little higher than a young lady who was little more than a stablegirl. She would have to nip this in the bud. Eryndil would thank her for this later ...

 Rildorien prepared for battle. 

 Her eyes quickly scanned the room as she assessed the field - Hendegil was on Caelen's side, and her husband seemed to be leaning that way, too, but she thought she would probably have allies in her other son and daughter. It wasn't going to be pleasant, but she had better start tonight, before things got too entrenched.

 As they all sat down to dinner, Caelen gave a little sigh and a pensive smile.

 "Penny for your thoughts, Caelen," said Camglas with an encouraging look as he passed the potatoes.

 "Oh, nothing much - it's just that it's so good to see a family together like this. It made me think of my family and all the wonderful times we had together. I'm trying to remember those good times instead of remembering the loss."

 "The little schemer!" thought Rildorien angrily. "She knows how to play on the hearts of good men! I will NOT let my son be caught by her!"

 "That is wise," answered Camglas. "Although both are true, the good things are the more important truth."

 Caelen smiled radiantly at Camglas. "Thank you - I like how you put that. I shall always remember it!"

 Rildorien looked at the smiling faces of her husband and youngest son and tried to quell her rising panic. She cast about to find some way of putting Caelen in a more negative light while not seeming to do so. She can't have been educated very well - that was it! Although Eryndil's skills in the wild wouldn't have led one to believe that he was a very cultured man, he was, both by inclination and instruction. She cast about for a way to bring up the subject, but Hendegil unexpectedly gave her the opening she needed.

 "Oh Father, we'll have to read some poetry after dinner - I was looking through the boxes you brought from home and found some of our favorite books!"

 Turning to Caelen, she asked, "Do you like poetry, Caelen?"

 Rildorien started to say something, but Gildurien, who disliked Caelen for reasons of her own, beat her to it.

 With a light little laugh, Gildurien casually remarked, "Oh, Hendegil, growing up with all those horses, she probably didn't get many chances to read!" Turning to Caelen, she inquired sweetly, "Did your mother teach you, dear?"

 Caelen bit her lip and took a deep breath, then she pushed back her chair sharply, stood up, and declaimed in a clear, strong voice:

 "There standing lone, while endless fortresses of stone engulfed the thin, clear ringing keen of silver horn on baldric green, his hopeless challenge dauntless cried Fingolfin there: 'Come, open wide, dark king, your ghastly brazen doors! Come forth, whom earth and heaven abhors! Come forth, O monstrous craven lord, and fight with thine own hand and sword, thou wielder of hosts of banded thralls, thou tyrant leaguered with strong walls, thou foe of Gods and elvish race! I wait thee here. Come! Show thy face!' "

 She sat down, and then added quietly, "Or would you like it in Sindarin?" 

 Gildurien, shaken but not beaten, fought back. "But that's not the end of the story, is it? I believe the noble elven king met his doom there - and a rather unpleasant one at that."

 "But that's not the end of the story, either," answered Caelen. "It hasn't been written yet. And even if it were the end, still, as your father said, the good things are the greater truth."

 There was quiet for a moment, for Gildurien didn't want to speak against her father, and then Caelen's voice came again, softly and musically, through the quiet in the room:

 "Though all to ruin fell the world and were dissolved and backward hurled unmade into the old abyss, yet were its making good, for this - the dusk, the dawn, the earth, the sea - that Luthien for a time should be."

 Again, there was silence. Rildorien glanced at Eryndil and was alarmed at the expression on his face. He was smitten - absolutely smitten with this girl!

 "Well, Hendegil, I don't think we need our books to enjoy poetry tonight, do we?" said Camglas, with a warm smile at Caelen. 

 "That was beautiful, Caelen," said Eryndil earnestly. "Would you favor us with some more after dinner?"

 "A little, if you would like," she answered shyly. "But I would like to hear from everyone else, too."

 As they finished dinner and moved into the drawing room, Hendegil pulled Caelen aside and took her hands. "Well done, Caelen! That showed Gildurien! She can be a little snobbish sometimes!"

 Caelen gave her a shaky smile. "I hope I didn't make her too angry at me!"

 "Oh, don't worry about her!" replied Hendegil. "She always seems to be angry nowdays! But seriously, Caelen, do you know Sindarin?"

 "Well, just a little," answered Caelen. "My parents loved to study, and spoke with the elves that would pass by on occasion whenever they could." She leaned in closer and whispered, "But I was devoutly hoping that she wouldn't take me up on my offer, because I don't really remember more than a line or two of that bit in Sindarin!"

 Hendegil laughed, and the two girls walked hand-in-hand into the drawing room to join the others. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Eryndil's house in Cameth Brin. Evening of November 8, 1347.
Written by Valandil
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 They filed into the drawing room for their after-dinner conversation; Hendegil and Caelen first, then Eryndil, followed by his parents; Camglas and Rildorien. Glambeth followed tentatively, for her grandmother wished for her to get as much refinement as possible while away from her mother – but Paurblung was excused, for he was only 10. Gildurien and Vilyandur came last of all, reluctant by inclination to join the rest, but bored by the alternative – and still hoping to slip out for the night again a bit later.

 The room was decent-sized for its placement in a narrow city-home like this one, but it was a bit cozy for eight. The seating had been modified since the arrival of Eryndil’s family though, so it was comfortable enough. Once they had all taken their places, Camglas turned the conversation to one of his favorite topics – life at Ostinand.

 “Well Eryndil,” he began, “your secret has been found out!”

 Eryndil waited curiously for his father to continue, while everyone else looked at Camglas expectantly. Even Vilyandur and Gildurien perked up and paid attention.

 Camglas, having gotten the attention he wanted, continued with a slight wink, “Yes Eryndil, I’ve heard all about the long visit you had with your girl, Emelbeth.”

 At the implication, Eryndil blushed slightly despite himself, but it was Caelen who spoke up, “His girl!” and then to Eryndil, “Who is this Emelbeth?”

 But Hendegil came to her brother’s rescue. “Emelbeth,” she began, “ is an elderly widow who lives all alone on what’s left of her family’s holdings. Her house had fallen into disrepair of late, but none had been able to help her get set up for winter. Father had a mind to, but kept getting turned aside from it. But… while he was staying in our home, Eryndil took a few of his men over and did the job up right.” Then Hendegil turned toward her brother and smiled. “He tried to do it on the sly too, only father found him out anyway.”

 Caelen seemed reassured, and Camglas added. “We didn’t used to have much of that – a household being left with no claimants. But now I have three or four standing empty, besides Emelbeth’s, which will likely be empty at her passing. Used to be that SOME distant nephew or cousin would take it up. These days, there’s even less of THOSE around.”

 “So,” Rildorien asked Eryndil, “did you see anyone else while you were home? In town perhaps?”

 Caelen wondered right away if Rildorien was hinting at something or other, but Eryndil met her question right away, “No… not really. Well… I did see one of those odd ‘nephews’ father just mentioned. Father,” and he turned back to Camglas, “I ran into young Inost one afternoon and sat with him for awhile. Really all the time he could spare. He seems to have really got his hands on things now.”

 “Yes, indeed!” answered Camglas, beaming.

 “Who is Inost?” asked Caelen, not feeling quite so threatened this time around.

 “Inost is a young man who grew up right down in Tanoth Brin – second son of a tradesman here, but his great-uncle had a modest household, just 80 acres, but on some choice land. Inost’s grandfather left some years back to make his own way, but the great uncle died without any sons. What was that… Eryndil, wasn’t it just over five years back? When you were home for the summer?” Eryndil nodded.

 “Anyway, his brothers wanted to stay in their father’s trade here in town, but Inost thought it would be a good opportunity for him to take the place, so he did. Problem was, he didn’t know the first thing about farming, or running a household – or even how decent folk behave in our part of the kingdom.”

 “The auspicious beginning to his arrival,” said Hendegil, who paused and then went on, “was the turning out of his great-aunt, the wife of his great-uncle. But father and Eryndil straightened him out on that one – Eryndil especially, I believe.”

 “Well, no matter,” Replied Eryndil. “By the time I left, he was all set up for the winter, but I always wondered whether he’d last through the next.”

 “He did son,” said Camglas. “Oh, there was still much to teach him; proper care of his livestock, when to sow and when to harvest, rotating his crops, making what he had last through the long months to come – doing upkeep on his buildings. But the boy has really taken to it, and shows a lot of promise. He has a fine household going there, and is a great asset to my thansh’r.”

 “Besides,” Gildurien added, winking toward Hendegil, “he’s about the most appealing eligible young man on your thansh’r, father.”

 Rildorien looked a bit scandalized, but Camglas only chuckled and continued. “Sorry girls, not for much longer, if what I hear from the birds and the goats is so. Inost’s old great-aunt – the one he once tried to turn out – has thrown a cousin’s grand-daughter his way," and here he looked significantly Eryndil's way, "Sweet Glimwen, the miller’s daughter! I don’t know if they’ll make it official at Mid-year – or else move it up to Sowing, or even Yule…”

 A bit of a scowl crossed Rildorien’s face and she glanced quickly at Eryndil, looking for a reaction.

 “Anyway,” Rildorien spoke up, “we need not bore our guest with talk of things back home. Surely she knows so little of such things.”

 “Oh, not at all!” exclaimed Caelen. “This is just the sort of talk I grew up with – at my… father’s household.” She looked deep in thought for a moment, and then smiled. “Really, this makes me feel right at home.”

 “What sort of household did your father run, Caelen?” asked Camglas.

 “We had 200 acres. My great-grandfather had grown the family holdings to 800, but had four sons, and the Thane bade them divide it evenly. My grandfather was the eldest, but he was glad to share with his brothers, keeping them close, instead of having them re-settle in other parts far and wide. But my father had only sisters, so Callon stood to get the whole 200 one day.”

 “Well, 200 acres is good, but 800 acres is a lot, and in most parts even Elderman Householders are capped at 400. But what of your great-uncles and their shares? Why were you and Callon not able to find refuge among them?” asked Camglas.

 “Over the years, one thing and another happened. Some of those had to be divided further, but one disaster or another overtook all my father’s family. By the time I was a little girl, we alone still held our land of all the relatives, and my grandfather passed early, leaving his land in my father’s hands. Strangers held the rest of it, mostly hillmen, but some Dunedain as well – or some mixed, I don’t know. But then of course, disaster overtook my father as well.”

 “Were there tenants?” asked Camglas.

 “Six families at first. Later eight – then ten or twelve, I’m not really sure, as my father’s cousin’s lost their holdings – for a few of their tenant families came, asking to live among us.”

 “What of your father’s sisters, Caelen?” asked Hendegil, instinctively reaching out with a hand on her shoulder. “How many were there?”

 “There were three. The eldest moved to Tanoth Brin, before even we were born. The youngest married a householder somewhere away south – but has kept to herself, and we wouldn’t know where to find her. The middle sister… she still lived with us, and was with my parents when, when…”

 Rildorien saw the looks of sympathy universally bestowed upon Caelen, and could hardly help from feeling likewise herself. But, noting where the most sympathetic looks originated, she thought it might be wise to break this train of thinking.

 “Where are those servants with our desserts? And, can we have them bring my harp? And Hendegil’s flute? Caelen, do you sing?”

 “Yes, ma’am.” Answered Caelen, glad at the thought of what was coming.

 Rildorien looked just a bit crestfallen, but just then the servants arrived with a tray of pastries and mugs of a hot, steaming liquid.

 “Apple pie and hot apple cider!” exclaimed Hendegil. “My, they sure do serve a lot of apples here in this house!”

 Eryndil and Caelen glanced discreetly at one another, and smiled.


Chapter 17 - The Grappling Hook

Chapter 17. The Grappling Hook

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Near Eryndil's house in Cameth Brin. Late evening of November 8, 1347.
Written by Gordis
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 “A little higher, Rhaglas, and more to the left!”

 The young courtier swung the grappling hook again and let it fly towards the small balcony. The hook hit the wall and landed with a muffled thud on the street pavement below. The old siege hook was swathed in several layers of cloth, so it made little sound - at least no one inside the house seemed to notice. There was a large company assembled in one of the rooms of the second floor and the sound of many voices and an occasional song floated out into the quiet street.

 It proved a difficult task to find exactly what room had been assigned to Caelen – but a little bribery works marvels even on the most trustworthy maids. To Daurendil’s delight they had found out that the room had a balcony overlooking the city battlements. Now the prince and two of his best friends were making an attempt to climb the wall to the balcony.

 Rhaglas made another try, this time with even less success, as the hook flew wide and narrowly missed one of the dark windows of the first floor. Daurendil hissed in frustration. “Can’t you aim better?” he asked. “Once you hit a window we are undone…"

 “Try yourself then, my Prince”, his friend replied with not a little ire in his voice. 

 “I can’t reach the second floor” Daurendil shook his head angrily. “Please, try again!” 

 “Let me have a go at it!” offered Celemir, who stood slightly behind in the shadows of the city wall. Rhaglas passed him the hook. Celemir took his time swinging the hook in circles over his head, and then with a sharp movement of his hand he let it fly towards the house. This time the hook flew straight and dropped onto the balcony floor. The three friends let out their breaths. 

 “Now pull the rope, very gently, lest the hook misses the railing” the prince whispered. Inch by inch the hook scraped over the balcony floor and soon become solidly stuck in the intricate metalwork of the railing. The friends gave the rope a few pulls to be sure that it was safe to climb.

 “Now go, Daurendil”. Rhaglas gave the prince’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Good luck for your talk with the Lady. And may your tongue be more useful that your hands”. 

 Daurendil was a good climber. In a matter of moments his strong lithe figure reached the balcony of the second floor. He pulled the rope up after him and concealed himself in the shadows by the side wall of Caelen’s balcony.

 ***

 After a very pleasant evening with much poetry and even a few songs that they had sang together with Hendigil, Caelen finally retired to her room. Stretching lazily, she went to the window and looked out. The night was very quiet – and the bright full moon looked right into her window. Wishing to take a breath of fresh air before going to bed, Caelen draped a woolen shawl over her shoulders and opened the balcony door. She stepped outside marveling how warm the night seemed – so unusual for November. The small balcony had a breathtaking view over the highest wall of the battlements and onto the winding King’s road that descended from the plateau towards Tanoth Brin. But Caelen paid little heed to the landscape, as, fascinated, she watched the Moon. She thought of her brother traveling somewhere far away. Perhaps at this very moment he was also looking at the silver fruit of Telperion, remembering her?

 Her musings were interrupted by a slight cough. Caelen almost cried out in fright. Startled, she looked to her right. There was a man standing on the balcony, smiling at her. He turned his head slightly and the full moon lit his face – Ohh! it was the Prince Daurendil himself!

 “Good evening, Caelen” he whispered. “Do not be afraid, I only come here to apologize. I know you were booted out of the Palace because of me… I almost strangled this old toad, the housekeeper! And Mother… oh, I better won’t speak of it…”

 He approached and took Caelen’s hands in his. “Now, tell me that you bear me no grudge, so we can continue to be good friends!” 

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Second Floor of Eryndil’s home, Cameth Brin. Late evening of November 8, 1347.
Written by Rian
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 Caelen's heart was still beating like a hammer in her chest - to find a man on one's balcony in such an unexpected manner was unnerving, to say the least! 

 She had kind of known, although she tried to ignore it, that the Prince giving her a riding habit was not something that was "done". But this - him appearing on her balcony at night - was DEFINITELY not "done"! She already had a bad reputation from the riding habit incident; THIS incident would ... she couldn't even THINK of what it would do to her reputation! She had to get rid of him - and fast!

 "Of course I bear you no grudge, Your Highness," she said in an urgent whisper. "I know that you meant no ill, and I will be glad to remain your friend. But my reputation suffered because of ill-natured gossips - and this (although I'm sure you meant no harm) will only be WORSE! Please - you must leave - and NOW!" 

 She managed to pull her hands free, despite his protests, and with a final whispered "GO!", fled into her room, shutting the doors (which unfortunately had no lock).

 Daurendil sighed. All this work, and not even a kiss! Ah, well - at least she wanted to remain friends. He would visit her properly tomorrow - he'd come in state to visit her and show up this Eryndil, too. He blew her a kiss through the window, where Caelen was peering out at him with wide eyes, and got ready to descend ...

 ... and found that he had a problem - the eternal problem of people that climb up or down with ropes - how would he get the dratted rope off of her balcony after he got down?

 "Caelen! Caelen!" he mouthed at her, motioning frantically for her to come back out on the balcony. But his Caelen wouldn't budge - she stood there shaking her head and frantically motioning for him to leave.

 So he did the only logical thing - he opened the balcony door and walked into her bedroom to ask her to please throw down the rope after he climbed down.

 Caelen fled out the other door like a deer before the hounds.

 Eryndil was walking down the hall, "just checking things out before I close down the house for the night," he told himself - but actually to have an excuse to walk by Caelen's room. He remembered his encounter with Caelen in his bedroom yesterday, and his mind started to wander a bit, wondering what he would find if he walked into her bedroom like she had walked into his ...

 ... and he was nearly bowled over by a frantic Caelen who came flying out of her room like an arrow shot from a Lorien bow.

 Her eyes were huge, and she was gasping so that she could hardly talk.

 "What's wrong, Caelen?" he demanded, holding her by the shoulders. She made a few incoherent noises and then looked towards her room, and then back at him with her eyes even bigger than before, breathing hard and looking like a frightened rabbit.

 "Robbers? HERE?!" thought Eryndil in amazement. He put Caelen behind him and strode into her room, ready to face anything - anything but what he DID face - the Prince Daurendil, holding a ... what in the WORLD was THAT?!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Second Floor of Eryndil’s home, Cameth Brin. Late evening of November 8, 1347.
Written by Valandil
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

 “Your… highness?” said Eryndil, with only a slight nod of his head, rather than a bow. He stood at full height then, shoulders apart, waiting, intending that every aspect of his demeanor said, ‘you are a son of my King, but what are you doing HERE?’

 “Ah… er…” began Daurendil, then finally recovering himself somewhat, bowed and continued, “At your service, Sir Eryndil.”

 After a short pause, another nod from Eryndil followed, “At yours, your Highness.”

 “So… so this is YOUR house? This is where you live?”

 “Yes.”

 “Odd that. You know… for some time, and not so long ago, it was hardly occupied, and I took to practicing… that is to say…”

 “Yes?” Even as the exchange continued, Eryndil felt himself relax on the inside, but tried not to show any change to his expression or posture. This boob of a Prince had put himself in a rather tight corner – and Eryndil had no desire to make getting out of it any easier for him. And… if he tried anything, he was clearly alone, and Eryndil didn’t doubt he would have the better of him – perish the thought that he would have to grapple with a future King over the sanctity of his own home though.

 “Well… having had a few too many drinks, I suppose, I took a fancy to the idea of trying to make a little climb… with this!” He held forth his grappling hook. “Upon reaching the balcony, it was clear that the place was occupied, and I realized someone was coming. So… I tried to hide in the draperies, hoping that the person might only come in and out, and that I could then easily slip away.”

 “Now…” and here the Prince showed a look of great surprise – and Eryndil noticed his increased use of hand motions, “you can just imagine my surprise when I saw that the person who had come into the room was none other than… Caelen!” He paused for effect.

 Eryndil nodded once more, his face still hard, “Small world,” he offered. From the corner of his eye he could see that Hendegil had been drawn out of her room by the commotion and was standing behind him, by Caelen. Hearing other footsteps in the stairway, he signaled his sister to shut the door. “Go on,” he said in a low voice.

 Prince Daurendil lowered his voice, but increased the wildness of his gestures. “Then… still feeling quite badly that I might have previously offended this honorably young lady,” he bowed in Caelen’s general direction, “I revealed myself and attempted to apologize to her for my earlier indiscretion… and well, I suppose this was a greater!” and he looked quite crest-fallen.

 “Is this when you chased her from the room?” asked Eryndil.

 “Oh no, no! Not at all!” and the Prince looked genuinely distressed. “You see, she had most graciously accepted my apology, and I had turned to leave… when I realized I needed someone to throw down my rope, after I had climbed back to the street!”

 So THAT was it! Eryndil couldn’t suppress a smile, and Hendegil made a sound indicative of a stifled laugh. Caelen still looked rather in shock, but Hendegil had the advantage of coming in after Eryndil was there, instead of first meeting Daurendil alone, in the dark, on her balcony.

 “And… who is THIS young lady?” continued Daurnedil, smiling and bowing toward Eryndil’s sister.

 At that Hendegil pulled her robe closer about herself – she had almost been in bed when she had heard the voices from Caelen’s room.

 Eryndil stepped forward. “This would be a rather inopportune time for introductions, your Highness. Here, I will throw down your rope.”

 Daurnedil’s climb back down to the street was a bit more difficult than the climb up, for there was a small, enclosed courtyard in front of the house, and the rope went outward at a fairly great angle. His two friends in the street held it taut though. When at last he reached the ground he signaled for Eryndil to throw him the rope.

 Eryndil paused for a moment, looking at the grappling hook fixed to his balcony. He was about to detach it and toss it down when another idea struck him. Drawing his dagger, he cut the rope from the hook, and tossed the free end of rope down to the men in the street.

 “Here’s your rope, your Highness,” he said in a suppressed voice. “I will return the hook to you tomorrow… so that you do not try any more climbs this evening. Good night!” and then he drew shut the doors, moving to lock them. He grimaced when he saw there was no lock… what kind of a place had Soromo and Naneth been running here, before he moved in? But then he took the hook and looked it over. In the morning he would see if Harda could make one like it for himself. Meanwhile, he would send Borngol around tomorrow as well, to get a lock on these doors and to check all the other balcony doors around the place.

 “Good night Caelen… Hendegil,” he said. “Come on Hendy, let’s go.” He opened the door and there stood his father, his mother, his niece Glambeth and a couple servants. Good thing Hendegil had come in, or the ensuing talk would be all the worse.

 “Caelen thought she saw a… spider.” explained Eryndil, significantly tapping the grappling hook into his left hand with his right. He moved on past them all and up the stairs to his own room. With some looks quizzical, and some (notably Rildorien’s) otherwise, the group dispersed – but Caelen spent the night with Hendegil, in HER room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Just a little later. Third Floor of Eryndil’s home.
Written by Valandil
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

 Eryndil lay in his bed looking at the ceiling, wondering what steps he might take to keep the Prince away from Caelen. At once an idea struck him. He smiled and turned over on his side. Yes – that would make her appreciably safer from him!

 He realized then that Caelen lay just now directly below him! Well… almost directly. More like, just over there…

 Down below, Hendegil and Caelen heard a sound like a heavy piece of furniture being dragged over a wood floor. “What in Eriador is Eryndil doing up there?” asked Hendegil. But Caelen only shrugged and the two girls lay back down. They had checked – Hendegil’s balcony doors still had their lock, and they had locked the door to the room as well.

 Meanwhile, Eryndil lay back, satisfied at last, and after many pleasant thoughts, spent the rest of the night in peaceful sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The “Merry Messenger Tavern”, Cameth Brin. Night of November 8, 1347.
Written by Gordis
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
 “Now that was a disastrous expedition!” Daurendil commented. 

The three friends were already at their third bottle of strong Lebennin wine, when the Prince finally broke the heavy silence. Celemir and Rhaglas only nodded. Defeat hung in the air. The companions sat concealed in a dark corner of a small, almost empty inn by the City Gate. They knew that the worried palace servants would be searching for them by now, so they chose this inconspicuous place over their usual haunt – “the Cock and the Piglet.”

 A pretty coquettish maid brought the fourth bottle, swaying her hips provocatively on the way. The girl felt elated to serve the noble lords and even the very prince-heir Daurendil himself – but nobody spared her even a glance.

 “So… what do we do now?” asked the Prince irritably. “We can’t repeat our venture, as the balcony doors are now bound to be locked and Caelen will undoubtedly be well guarded”.

 “Tell me,” Rhaglas inquired, “the man there – Eryndil, was it? – did he look as if he had his own plans for the Lady?” 

 Daurendil thought back and then slowly nodded. “I guess he did look possessive, much like a cock protecting his hens. Mayhap he is courting her himself.”

 “It must be so,” Rhaglas agreed, “as I also heard something, back in the Palace.”

 “What was it you heard?” The Prince frowned.

 “Hmm… I think I won’t repeat it – it was nothing but palace gossip. But I must say it was rather insulting for your lady.”

 “Blasted gossip mongers!” Daurendil smashed his goblet on the table. “When I am King, I will order to whip any maid who invents dirty tales about me and my friends… Villainous tardy-gaited strumpets!”

 “Wait, wait,” Celemir interrupted. “It seems to me that our first objective is to eliminate this Eryndil.”

 “Eliminate?” Daurendil looked at his friend incredulously, his face slowly turning red. “You mean – kill? That is what you mean, treacherous knave?” Swaying drunkenly, he rose to his feet, grabbed Celemir’s collar and shouted “I am a Prince of the House of Dauremir, a Heir of Elendil, I will NOT spill the blood of a loyal man only because he happens to court the same woman!”

 “You misunderstood me,” Celemir pleaded, not a little frightened. Daurendil was the youngest of the three friends, but still he was the tallest of them and maybe the strongest. And, to top it all, he was the future King. “ Please, calm down, your Highness! I didn’t say “kill”!” With the help from Rhaglas, Celemir finally managed to free his collar.

 Daurendil fell heavily back into his chair. He shook his head to clear it a bit. “Sorry, Celemir", he stammered. "What exactly did you mean, then?”

 Pouting, Celemir took his time to put his rich clothes back in order. The magnificent collar of Khandian lace had been irretrievably damaged. Finally, he deigned to explain. “I meant to send this Eryndil somewhere where his loyalty could be of use to the Kingdom. What good is he here entertaining all his family and a bunch of guests in this house – a gift of your father’s – and idly spending the King’s money? Wouldn’t he be more useful somewhere where the fate of the Kingdom is decided? Sweet Eru! – there is going to be this funny winter campaign in the North – he would be most needed there, don’t you think?”

 Daurendil looked down and swirled the dark red wine in his goblet. He had a nasty feeling that sending Eryndil with Broggha was just another way to kill him – to send a man to a certain death and have his own hands clean. But the plan had its appeal – without Eryndil, Caelen would probably become much more amenable to his advances. As it happens so often, his good side finally surrendered to his bad one.

 “But how can I send this man anywhere, while my father had so recently summoned him to the city to be his councilor?” he finally asked.

 “Why – aren’t you yourself a member of the Council of Rhudaur, my Prince? You are a Councilor, so you are entitled to offer counsels to the King. The King needs a trustworthy man to watch Broggha. I know, Nimruzir goes with them, but the General is old and close to dotage. His eyes and his brain are not as sharp as they used to be. Eryndil would be the King’s eyes in this expedition. And due to his relatively low rank in the army, he will not arise much suspicion - he will see more and learn more than Nimruzir ever would. Explain all this to the King, Daurendil, and you will make your Father agree to your proposal.”

 “Hmm…I don’t know whether he would listen to me at all” the prince mused. "Somehow he never takes me seriously.”

 “It is high time to change that” Celemir replied firmly. “It is time to show His Majesty that you are a child no longer!”


Chapter 18 - "I want you to marry Eryndil"

Chapter 18. "I want you to marry Eryndil"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Eryndil's house in Cameth Brin. Morning of November 9, 1347.
Written by Rian
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

 Eryndil walked into the morning room and paused a moment to admire the pleasant sight before him: Caelen and his sister sitting together on the couch, talking and laughing and doing needlework together, the bright morning sun glinting off their shining hair and fresh young faces. He smiled and then sighed; if only life was this simple! It wasn't safe for these young ladies to go out in certain areas anymore, or at certain times. What was the world coming to?

 Hendegil and Caelen looked up from their work at the noise of the door and Eryndil's entry.

 "Eryndil!" said Hendegil gaily, with a meaningful glint in her eyes as she glanced at Caelen and then back at her brother, trying to see if she could get a reaction out of him. But he wasn't biting this time.

 Caelen held up her work with a satisfied smile. "Your sister is showing me a new stitch," she said. "It's really pretty!" Then her expression changed to one of determination as she added, "I've neglected my needlework terribly since my mother passed away, and I'm determined to do better." 

 "It's always so much easier with a friend, though, isn't it?" said Hendegil, and then added, with another sly smile at her brother, "We're SO glad you're staying here with us!"

 "I'm so grateful you took me in," said Caelen seriously. "My brother and I owe so much to you ..."

 "Oh, nonsense," broke in Eryndil, trying to make light of what they were doing to help Caelen. "You're doing ME a favor! You're keeping my sister entertained and out of trouble!" He gave a mock-angry stare to his sister, who made a face back at him.

 "He's right, you know, you're doing us the favor," she said to Caelen, and before Caelen could object, she added firmly to Eryndil, "And now I need YOU to do me a favor - would you please keep Caelen amused while I look for some thread I left in my room?" She rose quickly and left the room, leaving the other two occupants staring blankly after her.

 "Well, shall I read to you?" suggested Eryndil quickly. "My sister often asks me to read to her while she sews."

 "That would be nice!" agreed Caelen. "You choose, please!"

 Eryndil scanned the books on the shelf, but before he was able to make his choice, they were interrupted by a knock on the door, and a messenger was shown into the room.

 "Eryndil, son of Camglas, thane of Ostenand?" asked the messenger with a bow.

 "I am," replied Eryndil, and took the proffered letter. He scanned it quickly - it was a summons to meet with the King on the following day. He got out some money for the messenger's tip, but the messenger was busy digging in his bag again.

 "Caelen, wife of Callon, ostler at the King's stables?" he inquired, looking at Caelen as he pulled a small pouch out of his bag.

 "Yes," answered Caelen, wondering who would be sending her something.

 "Then this is for you, ma'am," said the messenger, as he handed Caelen a small pouch of money with a bow. "60 silver pennies, double-counted and sealed. If you could just put your mark on this receipt, please ..." 

 "But what is it for?" asked Caelen as she took the money pouch from the messenger and then turned to Eryndil to see if he could shed any light on the situation. But the look that she saw on Eryndil's face made her drop the pouch in horror.

 "No! NO!" she cried, her hands tearing through her hair in her distress, backing away from the pouch on the floor as if it were some deadly thing. "NO! Callon!"

 Eryndil rushed over to her and grabbed her wrists, stilling her frantic movements. "No, we don't know that!" he said urgently. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have looked like that - usually an officer will come with that kind of news ..."

 He turned his head around quickly to the messenger, still keeping hold of Caelen's wrists. "Isn't there some kind of message with this?" he demanded angrily. "There must be something!"

 The messenger put down the receipt form and re-checked his list. "Oh, sorry - yes, there's a letter with this," he said, pulling it out of his bag and extending it to Eryndil, who quickly took it and scanned the outside.

 "It's from Callon," he said to Caelen, and put it into her hand, helping her sit down on the couch again. "I'm sure it will explain the money."

 "Is that ALL?" he asked the messenger with bit of irritation in his voice and more than a bit of irritation flashing in his eyes.

 "Yes, sir, that's all - but I'll just double-check, sir," replied the messenger, mindful of his upcoming tip and hoping that he wasn't going to leave with nothing. "Yes, that's all, sir, and I'm sorry to have caused the lady any distress..."

 "Yes, yes, just be more careful next time," replied Eryndil impatiently, listening to Caelen's little sounds as she read her brother's letter and trying to guess what they meant. At least she didn't sound too distressed ... He shooed the messenger out with a small tip, and walked quickly over to Caelen, and, after a second's hesitation, sat down on the couch with her, anxiously awaiting information.

 Finally, Caelen looked up at Eryndil with a shaky smile. "It says here that the money was for his extra duty," she told him, and gave a big sigh of relief. 

 "Well, that's good news!" replied Eryndil, also with a smile and a sigh of relief. "Of course, that doesn't mean that he wasn't killed in the battle," he thought grimly, trying to keep his cheerful expression firmly on his face.

 "Of course, that doesn't mean that he wasn't killed in the battle," said Caelen slowly. Eryndil looked at her, startled - it was like she could read his mind ... "You were thinking that, too, weren't you?" she added.

 He nodded - he couldn't deny it. "It's always a possibility, but I think the chances he survived are very good."

 She set her chin resolutely. "I just can't let myself worry about that, can I? I just won't worry - it won't do any good. I'm sure he's fine," she finished firmly.

 "Good girl!" said Eryndil approvingly; then, trying to get her mind off of her brother's fate in the battle, he pressed her, "And what news in his letter? If there's any that you can share with me, " he added politely.

 "Oh, yes," she said, opening up the letter again, then lifting up her eyes to his with a quizzical expression. "It was ... such an oddly-written letter, though - I almost didn't recognize it as his ..." She shook her head, and then applied herself to reading the letter out loud to him.

 "My dearest Caelen," she read, and then suddenly stopped with an exclamation. "Oh! THAT'S why!" she said excitedly, pointing to several little swirls that were drawn after her name. "He wrote something to me in code! Those two swirls mean to take the first word in each sentence that makes sense until the ending marks - two swirls again. A single swirl means the end of a sentence. Now let's see what he wrote!" she finished eagerly, pointing to the first word.

 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- 
My dearest Caelen, ~~

 I am grieved to have to write this news to you, for I miss you and love you very much. I want to be with you so much - even being away a week was hard - but something has happened on the trip and they have ordered me to stay longer. You know I would rather be home with you, but duty compels me to go with the Princess to Amon Sul. To do this grieves me, as we cannot be together for several months now, but I must obey against my desires. To marry you gave me such happiness, and to have to stay away grieves me. Eryndil and Arinya will be there to help you if you need it, thought.

 If you have any problems or need help, I am sure they will be glad to come to your aid. He is a good man and one whom I would trust you with, even trust your life with. If he asks after me, please give him my greetings and tell him my message that you read in this letter. You also like Arinya, and she seems both kind and wise, and I hope you can spend time with her, too. ~

 He - I'm speaking of Eryndil again - can also help you if you have any problems with housing - you should be able to stay in our current quarters, though. Is that fine with you? A bit small, but clean and safe. It's good that we got settled in before I left. The man next to me reminds me that I must get this letter off now, so farewell for now. ~~

 Ah, Caelie - would that we could be home together but Eru has decreed otherwise for us, and we must meet what comes to us with courage and a good heart. I love you and miss you and look forward to our reunion. If anyone travels to Cameth Brin from here, I will write you again, but I think the winter will prevent this.

 Love always, Callon

 ps - I am being paid extra for this change in plans, and have sent the money (60 silver pennies) to you to spend as you think necessary. Please have a few nice dresses made up for yourself, and perhaps a few nice things for me, for I am hoping we can spend some time with friends like Eryndil and Arinya when I return. At the least, be sure to have a new riding habit made up for yourself and throw out the old one, for I know it grieves you to wear it. 

 I hope you see and understand everything that I've written in this letter - it's been very hard to write, I had to write in such haste.

 love always, Callon

 -----------------------------------------------------------------------------

 Caelen's finger pointed to the first word in the first sentence. "See now, I start here - right after the two squiggly marks - and take the first word of each sentence after that that makes sense. "I ... then 'I' again, so check the next word - 'want' - so it's 'I want...', then 'you' ... "

 But Eryndil had caught on much faster than Caelen had realized and was far ahead of her in working out the coded message, and was now smiling broadly; indeed, trying not to laugh out loud, for now his question to Callon, which he had thought could not be answered until spring, had just been answered - and in the best possible way.

 Caelen continued reading Callon's letter, her finger tracing across her brother's words to the beginning of the next sentence. " 'I want you to', then 'to' again, so it must be the next word ..." and then she stopped, her mouth open in shock, for the next word was "marry" - and the one after that was "Eryndil"! She covered up the letter and looked quickly up at Eryndil with eyes open wide, hoping that he hadn't seen the message, but she saw by his expression that he had.

 "Oh!" she exclaimed in horror, blushing furiously. "You must be thinking terrible things of us! You must think we're ... we're treasure seekers or ... or fortune hunters or .. or whatever it's called!" She covered her face with her hands in embarassment.

 "Caelen, of course I don't think that!" said Eryndil firmly (or as firmly as he could with such a broad smile on his face). "I'm only the third son of a thane, after all - and you've turned down advances from a prince - twice! Or maybe more," he finished with a smile as he considered his most recent meeting with Daurendil in Caelen's room.

 "More!" she said with a little shudder, remembering how she had worked hard avoiding the over-amorous prince. "But yes, that's true ... a treasure-seeker..."

 "Fortune-hunter" corrected Eryndil, trying to look serious.

 "Fortune-hunter certainly wouldn't have done that," she said thoughtfully. She furrowed her brow in concentration. "But maybe I turned down Daurendil because I knew it would impress you, and I knew that the King and Queen wouldn't let me marry him anyway, and ..."

 Eryndil laughed - he just couldn't keep it in anymore - Caelen was anything BUT a fortune hunter! Caelen stopped short, looking up at him uncertainly.

 "Is that what you did, Caelen?" he asked her, putting a serious expression on.

 "No!" she said sincerely, shaking her head. "Really, we're not ..."

 "I know you're not!" said Eryndil decisively. "Now enough of that topic!" He pointed to the letter. "Now why don't you finish your brother's message - after all, it might say, 'I want you to marry Eryndil ... if he's the last man left on earth!"

 That got a shaky smile from Caelen, and she uncovered the letter and found the place where she left off. Eryndil politely turned his head away, but Caelen said, with a little laugh, "No, go ahead and look - nothing could be any more embarassing than what you've already read! And I'd like you to see what he wrote me - I'm sure it's something good, because he is good."

 They smiled nervously at each other, and Caelen continued. "... if ... he ..." 

 "See?" said Eryndil. "If he's the last man left on earth!"

 Caelen giggled nervously and then continued. "... if ... he ... asks ... you." She pointed to the swirl after the word 'you'. "And that mark means the end of the sentence. So the next one starts with "He" - "He ... is ... a ... good ... man." She pointed to another mark after "man". "And the double swirls there mean the end of the coded message."

 Eryndil sat back and gazed out of the window. "I want you to marry Eryndil if he asks you. He is a good man." 

 "He's referring back to a conversation we had the night before he left," explained Caelen shyly. "He was just trying to do everything he could to take care of me in case ... in case he didn't return. He said that ... that travel was ... could be dangerous ..."

 "THAT'S an understatement, especially after what they went through!" thought Eryndil wryly.

 "... and if he didn't come back, that I should go to ... to you, because you were a good man and would help get me settled somewhere, and that ... that ..." She took a deep breath, then continued quickly. "That IF you wanted to marry me someday, for some reason, that he wanted me to accept, because ... well, he thought you were a good man. Like he said. There - now you know everything," she said, biting her lower lip nervously and twisting Callon's letter into a wrinkled mess. "And I don't blame you if you never speak to me again ... or Callon either ... but he was just trying to ..."

 "Caelen," said Eryndil. He took the letter out of her hands and put it on the nearby table, and then took her hands in his. "Caelen," he repeated, and she stopped her nervous movements and sat motionless, her head bent down, too shy to meet his eyes.

 "I have sisters, Caelen, and I can understand your brother's actions," he said. No response, but he could tell she was listening intently. "I would have done the same thing in his place - if I were the only family that Hendegil had, and I was setting out on a journey that I might not come back from, I would certainly do everything that Callon did for you."

 He could see Caelen take a deep breath and relax slightly.

 "And I am honored by your brother's approbation of me, for I think that he is a good man, and I value his praise." As he hoped, that got Caelen to look up at him with a tentative little smile on her face. He had to fight the urge to kiss her right then and there, she was so sweet and lovely ...

 "I'm so glad that you didn't take his message the wrong way!" exclaimed Caelen. "And you're right - if I was a fortune hunter, I guess that I would have encouraged the prince! I never thought of that!"

 "That's because you're too honest and pure-hearted to even think of fortune-hunting - and so is your brother."

 Caelen relaxed even more, and her smile lit up her face. She gave Eryndil's hands, which were still holding hers, a grateful little squeeze, and then suddenly blushed and looked down again in alarm as a new expression spread over his face - one that she had dreaded to see, and yet somehow welcomed, too ...

 "Caelen, do you trust your brother's judgement?" asked Eryndil.

 This was dangerous ground. Caelen tried feebly to pull her hands out of Eryndil's, but he held them tighter - and then raised them to his lips and brushed them with a soft kiss, and then another.

 "I ... well, usually I do, but ... but ... " It was hard to concentrate with Eryndil kissing her hands like that, but she had to give herself an excuse to not take her brother's marriage advice - she couldn't remember exactly why, for a moment, and then remembered the attack on the road and her vow to never marry. But she had never expected it to be this hard - she had never expected to actually like a man like she did this man - so strong, yet gentle, and so honorable and good ... and she felt such strange feelings around him - strange but intoxicating, and rather exciting ...

 She rallied, trying to speak casually, like a man kissing her hands was an everyday occurance. "Well, you know that you didn't think that marriage ruse of his was a good idea ... so I usually trust his judgement, but sometimes he makes mistakes, so ... well, not always ..." She trailed off incoherently.

 Where was her resolve when she needed it? Why did marriage - at least to Eryndil - suddenly seem not such a bad thing anymore? But then she remembered again the robber's hands on her body, and the talk of the maid at Ostenand, and knew that Eryndil, with all his gentle kisses right now, would want more than kisses when they were married ... and she suddenly pulled her hands out of his. He let them go this time - he had to be careful to not force anything on her, and he knew it.

 She looked up at Eryndil, trembling but defiant. He looked back at her with such love in his eyes that it was like a physical blow to her resolve. 

 "Caelen, I love you," he said simply and sincerely. "I love you with all my heart." He saw the defiance waver; the resolve become doubt. She looked down, knowing that it was the love that she could see so clearly in his eyes that was shaking her resolve to not marry. But Eryndil wasn't giving up so easily. He reached out and put a hand under her chin and lifted her face up. She still wouldn't meet his gaze. He took his other hand and started gently stroking her hair and saw her relax a little, seemingly against her will.

 "Caelen, look at me," he said softly, and slowly her eyes rose to meet his.


Chapter 19 - "Congratulations, Caelen!"

Chapter 19. "Congratulations, Caelen!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Eryndil's house home at Cameth Brin. Late morning of November 9, 1347.
Written by Valandil
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

 “Caelen, I love you. I love you with all my heart.” Eryndil watched Caelen’s eyes and saw an uncertainty… about his love, or about her own feelings? But then she lowered her head and he could see her eyes no more. Each of them still clung to Callon’s letter with a hand outstretched to the side, but he took his free hand, and placed it under her chin. She let him draw her chin slowly up, but she cast her eyes down, so that he still could not see them.

 “Caelen… look at me,” he said. She did. Slowly at first, she turned her eyes up toward him, glanced at him, then briefly back down, but at last she looked full into his eyes.

 Eryndil swallowed. This was it. He now knew his heart, and he knew what he wanted, but did Caelen feel the same way? With all he had done for her, and them having just read together her brother’s wishes, it all seemed so easy. He might never get an opportunity quite this good – at least not for a long time. He wondered though if it would be wrong of him to press it now. Would her circumstances make her accept him, when otherwise, of her own free will, unswayed by help received, or by her brother’s will, she might refuse? But he pressed on.

 “Caelen, I love you, and I want to marry you. Will you marry me and become my wife?”

 He kept his eyes focused straight on hers, and watched as they passed from delight, to alarm, to doubt and at last to resolve.

 “No… NO!” she replied, turning aside and putting a hand over her face. “I cannot do that.”

 Eryndil was baffled. Everything made sense for her to say ‘yes’ – but she hadn’t. He unwisely followed that line of thinking in his reply.

 “But Caelen, I don’t understand. I am a thane’s son, while your father was a householder. I have a position with the King, and this house to my own name, while you are dispossessed. What’s more, I have taken care of you and watched over you – both on the road, and here in town. Besides all that – even your own brother thinks it a good idea, and has already given his approval.”

 She turned to him sharply. This time her eyes looked directly at his, but they were filled with anger. “What then? I owe this to you? And do you think women marry only to get a roof over their heads? If I only wanted that, I could have stayed home!” She stared at him angrily for just a moment, then at last pulled the letter from Eryndil’s hand and turned her back toward him, clutching the letter to herself with both arms across her chest.

 Eryndil did not know yet, but would learn later, that he was fighting a battle with Caelen’s own fears. Some part of Caelen was hoping that he would win, but it was still up to him to carry the day.

 “Caelen… no. You owe me nothing. What I have done, I have done freely, of my own will. On the road, it sprang from duty – but since then, it has sprung from my love for you. I… I thought you knew. They say that women see it in a man… almost before he knows it himself. And… and I thought you might like the idea yourself. That you would be happy to be my wife.” Thinking she relaxed a bit – or stiffened less, might be more correct, he placed his hands on her shoulders and gently prompted her to turn back toward him.

 “Face me, Caelen… please,” and she slowly turned, head down once more.

 “Caelen, if you keep your head down, I have no other recourse to place myself before you…” he stooped down onto one knee, looking hopefully up into her face. She smiled slightly, and a very small laugh escaped before it was stifled. Was she beginning to cry?

 It came into Eryndil’s mind that her rough treatment on the road, just a month ago, might be the biggest obstacle he faced – not to mention that she was out on the road then because of another thane’s son! A new tactic jumped into his mind.

 “Caelen, marry me, please! I know that other men have not recommended themselves to you well, but my heart is true and my word is good. I will do you no harm, but protect you always, because of my love for you. And… if you fear still that you would receive from me what you have from the rest, then I now promise you – that I would wait – as long as you need, before we… before… before our marriage is consummated.”

 She clearly looked surprised. Inside, Eryndil had his own doubts about this offer – or even whether he should have given up after her first refusal. Should one really be talked into marrying another? There was a time to press, and a time to release. But still, his heart urged him to press.

 “Caelen, I will wait… be it ten extra days, ten months… even ten YEARS! You will be my wife and I shall prove myself to you. Will you not have me? Bid me rise and we shall be wed… this very Yule! Or else go out, for I shall not rise without your bidding while we stay in this room together.”

 It wasn’t long before Caelen touched Eryndil’s shoulders and gently, wordlessly, urged him to stand. The doubt and fear had been erased from her countenance, and replaced by joy and release. They quickly settled on the Yule – just over seven weeks away. Eryndil bowed and Caelen curtsied, and at last they reached out tentatively for a brief embrace. As it ended, Eryndil held her by the shoulders at arm’s length, beaming with joy.

 “Caelen, I am overwhelmed with joy by your acceptance! I must rush out and inform my family. But first… to make it official… don’t you think we should seal the arrangement with a kiss?”

 Caelen was hesitant at first, but it did seem the right thing to do. She pulled back her hair, smoothed out her dress, placed her arms straight against her sides with clenched fists, inclined her head, closed her eyes, and – after declaring, “You may now kiss me,” she puckered up her lips and waited.

 Eryndil watched her in amusement, then tentatively leaned down and mischieviously, kissed her upon the nose. “Oh, he said, I suppose one of us at least must keep our eyes open for the process.” Then he placed his lips upon hers and held them there… and held them, and held them.

 At last, Caelen opened her eyes and asked, “Are you finished?”

 Eryndil rose up and laughed. “Oh Caelen, I love you! Here…” then he took her in his arms, drew her close, and kissed her a bit more properly. By the time she came up for air, she had relaxed a great deal and had started to enjoy the procedure.

 “Um, Eryndil… can we try that again? Maybe just a little longer this time?”

 He was more than happy to oblige. As they kissed, one hand holding her close, the other caressing her face, her neck, her hair, he could feel her body responding to his. As she placed her own hands upon him, he felt himself responding as well – more strongly than he had expected. Caelen at first she shrank back slightly, but as they kissed some more, she drew herself back to him, and her resistance passed away.

 Wild thoughts raced through Eryndil’s mind. He had been a fool to promise to wait as he did. Why wait ten months – or even ten years after marriage? Why wait even now? After all, they had agreed to be wed – they were engaged! Would Caelen agree to slip up to his room this very evening? Would she go up there with him right now? He pulled away from their kiss just enough to ask her,

 “Caelen… do you believe that I love you?”

 “Yes…”

 “Do you love me too?

 She paused, “Yes… yes, I do! I really DO!” and she threw her arms around his chest and squeezed him tight. He caressed her hair, and her shoulders, as he thought about what he might next ask.

 But no… it just wouldn’t be right. He had ALWAYS wanted to wait – to wait until he was really, truly married. He could wait that long now at least – and Maybe Caelen wouldn’t want to wait any longer than that herself.

 Besides, he thought of all the men he knew – those in the army, or other young nobles – who would talk a girl into bed with them, promising their love, even marriage – but moving on afterwards, breaking those promises. Most had tried to convince him to follow suit, but he had stuck to what he believed was right. Besides, if he knew some men from their end of it, Caelen likely knew some girls like that from their end of it.

 He looked down at her tenderly. At last she had acknowledged her own feelings for him. He had begun to feel so sure she felt that way, but started to doubt a little when she refused him. He suddenly felt the responsibility for those feelings she had. He couldn’t let her down – couldn’t even introduce the thought to her mind, that he might use her, then cast her aside, and his question went unasked. Just as his resolve to maintain his self-control established itself, Caelen looked up at him and asked with a smirk,

 “So… who is Glimwen? And why would your mother prefer a miller’s daughter to that of a householder?”

 Eryndil drew back a bit, regretting the interruption, but almost grateful that things took a different direction. Even if this might get a bit awkward.

 “Glimwen’s father is not your typical miller. You see, her grandfather was a thane’s younger son, like me, and a veteran. Served his fifty years, and knowing the land, took his estate just outside Duinand – on the opposite side of town from our home of Ostinand. He married the daughter of a neighbor thane, then bought and re-built the old, run-down mill. He hired others to work it, and supported himself and his family somewhat modestly from the gains. He and his son, Glimwen’s father, soon built two more mills close by – one up the river and the other down it. And as the farming round about was good, they prospered. The old man is gone now, but Glimwen’s father has charge over three mills, and works grain from all about.”

 “Ah – a gentleman miller then!” said Caelen with a smile. “Now,” more crossly, but feigned – or at least Eryndil hoped so, “What have you to do with his daughter?”

 Eryndil looked a bit embarrassed. “Well – with their family being practically thanes themselves, they were very close in our family’s social circle, so we saw each other much. I think my mother began to harbor hopes of joining our families – through Glimwen and myself, long ago. But also… it was she who taught me to kiss like we just did.”

 “She did! I mean… you DID!?”

 “Yes. It was sort of a ‘good-bye’ when I first went away to join the King’s army – over fifteen years ago. I saw her again, in passing, when I was back home five years back, but we did not speak – nor do anything else! I was actually surprised she had not married another by then. But I knew my own mind better at the time, and just somehow knew she wasn’t the one for me. A sweet girl though.”

 “Yes, I’m sure…” said Caelen, and Eryndil wasn’t quite sure how to read what he saw in her face. But Caelen enlightened him a bit when she added, “Taught you to kiss… Just kissing, right?" he nodded. "Well, if ever we meet, I must either thank her, or else strangle her. I don’t yet know which!”

 Their next kiss was interrupted when they heard sounds from outside the room – sounds of people approaching.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Eryndil's house home at Cameth Brin. Late morning of November 9, 1347.
Written by Rian
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

 Suddenly, they heard the unmistakeable sound of voices outside of the door, and the turning of a door handle. What was turning out to be a very nice kiss indeed was suddenly cut short, as they pulled apart and looked at each other in confusion, not quite sure what to do. 

 Eryndil's expression suddenly turned from confusion to alarm as he saw the somewhat rumpled condition of the recipient of his ardor. He reached out to try to smooth down her tousled hair, but Caelen, guessing what his expression meant, had already whirled around to the large mirror on the wall behind her to assess the damage herself. What she saw there made her gasp; her clothes were rumpled, her hair was a mess, and her lips were as red as the blush that was starting to spread rapidly across her cheeks. 

 "What shall I do? Where can I hide?" she whispered frantically, trying desperately to smooth down her tousled tresses and clothing while realizing that nothing could hide the condition of her mouth in time to evade the glance of whoever was coming into the room. 

 "Oh, no! I dropped my sewing!" came Hendegil's voice into the room, along with the sound of bouncing supplies in the hallway. "Oh - over there, under that chair! Oh, and the needles rolled under that table!"

 Eryndil blessed his sister's sagacity - he had a feeling that somehow, she had known what was going on between he and Caelen, and was trying to give them a few moments to regroup. He quickly assessed the situation and the room, and came to his conclusion.

 "You must hide in my arms; there is nowhere else," he said firmly as he held out his arms to her. He rather liked the idea of that, anyway, and the feeling it gave him when Caelen came rushing into his arms for protection, burying her face into his broad shoulders and covering what was still showing of her face with her hand. He embraced her waist with one arm and held her head against his shoulder with the other, with his forearm providing extra shielding. And just in time; Hendegil and her parents walked into the room and stopped dead at the sight of Eryndil with Caelen in his arms.

 The sewing supplies hit the ground again.

 Eryndil had decided that he must seize the offensive position while it was still up for grabs, and immediately addressed them with the commanding tone in his voice that had led men into battle and victory, and a bright smile on his face that didn't need to be feigned, as it came from the true joy in his heart.

 "Rejoice with me, mother and father, and Hendegil my sister: after much persuading on my part, for she is modest and shy, Caelen has agreed to become my wife! She is still rather overcome with the idea, though," he finished in a softer tone as he looked down at her in a protective manner and stroked her hair, both to show his affection for her in front of his parents and to try to smooth out the remaining signs of his previous passion.

 "Oh, Eryndil, congratulations! I am SO happy for you!" said Hendegil sincerely, and she ran across the room and reached up and gave her brother a kiss.

 "Oh, Caelen, don't be shy; I'm so happy you'll be my real sister now!" She kissed the small bit of Caelen's head that was not covered up, and Caelen, responding to her sincere expression of her love, left Eryndil's arms to embrace his sister (being careful to conceal her face on the way over).

 "Oh, Hendegil, I'm SO happy! I've always wanted a sister, and there's no one else I'd rather have than YOU!"

 Camglas, in the meantime, had been giving his youngest son his sincere and heartfelt congratulations. Caelen had pulled away from Hendegil and was heading back to Eryndil's arms, her head down and shielded by her long hair, when she was intercepted by her beaming future father-in-law.

 "I know you're shy, my dear, but can you spare just one quick embrace for your future father-in-law?" Caelen, responding to the warmth in his voice and his previous kind treatment of her, turned to him and laid her head softly on his shoulder as he gave her a brief and gentle embrace. "I'm so happy to have you join our family, my dear - just let me know if my son gives you any trouble, and I'll fix it for you!" Caelen nodded shyly, her hand covering her mouth, and paused a moment, not sure if it would be rude at this point to return to Eryndil's arms, since she had embraced both his sister and father but not his mother.

 Rildorien had been giving rather cool congratulations to her son, and was not showing any signs of speaking to Caelen. Eryndil gave his mother a significant look and a nod towards Caelen, and Rildorien chose her course of action.

 She reached towards Caelen and pulled her into a brief but decidedly frosty embrace. And as they pulled apart, she let fire.

 "Congratulations, Caelen," she said, a dangerous glint in her eyes.

 Caelen froze.

 "What?" she asked in a quiet but tense voice, as though she couldn't quite believe what she had heard and was afraid to find out that she was right.

 Eryndil, who had been looking at his mother, sensed that something was amiss; some long-dormant memory stirred in his mind about etiquette - there was something about "congratulations" now, wasn't there? He turned his head to look at Caelen, and was astonished at the expression he saw on her face. Something was definitely wrong, but he had no idea what it was. He quickly glanced around the room - Hendegil's face wore an expression like Caelen's, but his father looked pained and uneasy.

 "I said congratulations, Caelen," repeated Rildorien, looking at Caelen calmly but defiantly. Eryndil looked back and forth between his mother and his betrothed - clearly, there was something wrong, but he had no idea what it was. What was wrong with congratulating Caelen? There was something just on the edge of his memory ... Confused, he waited to see how Caelen would answer his mother.

 He didn't have to wait long.

 Caelen turned white and slapped Rildorien hard across her face.

 "How DARE you insult me like that! How DARE you insult my mother!" she said furiously to Rildorien, who stood immobile, with the imprint of Caelen's hand showing up red and angry on her cheek.

 Eryndil's jaw dropped; he stared at Caelen, incredulous. 

Camglas looked at Caelen with an expression of reproach mixed with pity for a brief instant, then turned and took his wife gently by her shoulders. "Rildorien," he said sadly, shaking his head, seeming to plead with her. But Rildorien didn't answer - her eyes were fixed on Caelen with an expression of anger and contempt.

 Eryndil grabbed Caelen's shoulders and turned her around hard to face him. She wasn't white anymore; she was flushed red and breathing hard, and mixed with the anger in her eyes, there was disbelief and pain.

 "Caelen! You apologize to my mother right NOW!" he commanded, angry and embarassed at the behavior of his betrothed. Caelen stared back at him, her eyes flashing. "She owes ME an apology!" she cried out, trying to pull away from his grip. 

 "For what? he demanded angrily, giving her a slight shake.

 But Hendegil interrupted. She put her hand on her brother's arm. "Leave her alone, Eryndil - she overreacted, but ... it was understandable."

 Eryndil stared at his sister in disbelief. "Understandable? WHAT is understandable? I certainly don't understand it!" he shouted, angry that he couldn't understand what was causing this disruption between two women that he loved.

 Hendegil turned to Caelen. "Go wait for me in your room, Caelen," she said quietly. "We'll defend you." Caelen, after a brief moment of indecision, nodded her head and quickly left the room. Eryndil moved to go after her, but Hendegil stopped him with a hand on his arm. "She needs you here," she said firmly.

 The door shut behind Caelen, and Eryndil, feeling like he was drowning in a tumultuous sea of womenly complication, said, "Hendegil! What's going on?!" He didn't want to speak to his mother, who was standing there immobile with that strange expression on her face, the slight imprint of Caelen's hand still visible on her cheek.

 Hendegil sighed. "Mother congratulated Caelen," she said, as if that explained everything.

 Eryndil stared at her for a moment, completely at sea. "And... ?" he said, with an exasperated hand gesture.

 "Don't you remember the etiquette that your mother taught you?" said Camglas quietly. "You congratulate the MAN on an engagement; you NEVER congratulate the woman."

 Eryndil, who had been staring at Hendegil with his mouth open, suddenly shut it, trying to think. He now remembered Rildorien hammering this particular point of etiquette into him, but for the life of him, he couldn't remember the reason behind it. To him, it was just one of many such rules that sometimes made sense and sometimes didn't.

 Finally he broke the silence. "Why?" he asked simply.

 Hendegil sighed in exasperation. "Because you congratulate someone on achieving a goal!" she almost shouted. He looked over at Rildorien, then back to Hendegil. A faint realization of what Rildorien had meant by that single word was beginning to dawn on him.

 Hendegil decided to spell it out for him. "What mother was saying to Caelen was that Caelen had purposefully schemed to get you to propose marriage to her, and she had now achieved that goal."

 Eryndil looked at Rildorien, shocked. Rildorien was now looking a trifle uneasy. But Hendegil had one more thing to say.

 "She basically called Caelen a whore."


Chapter 20 - The Quarrel

Chapter 20. The Quarrel

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Cameth Brin Palace. Afternoon of November 9, 1347.
Written by Serenoli and Elfhild
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 Odaragariel had quite recovered from her bout of jealousy - but she had been very quiet for a few days, and had spent some time thinking very seriously about her life, which rest assured, she did not often do. 

The truth was that she owed a lot to Rhudaur, and more particularly the King, and all his family, for taking her in the way they had. The tacit, unspoken agreement was that one day she would marry Daurendil, and Rhuduar and Imlad Mitheithel would be united under one ruler. Not that a marriage was necessary for the King to give Daurendil the rule of Mitheithel - but it would be much neater that way, and she supposed the loyalty of the people would be won easier if she was by Daurendil's side. It would repay her debt of gratitude, and she was certainly not displeased to think of herself as the possible future queen of all Rhudaur. She did not dream of it, or hope very much for the day to come - she was content with her life of luxury, and idleness, content with her friends, and content with the thought of a safe future ahead of her.

 She liked Daurendil, of course, but as a friend, as someone who was merry and thoughtless enough to be pleasant. In truth, she liked his brother Amantir more, but even Amantir was much too dull at times. If she ever thought of him as her future husband, it was more in the line of how he could be worked upon and improved. She came to the conclusion that the real reason she had been so upset to see Daurendil paying so much attention to Caelen, had been because she was about to lose her guarantee of a future. This thought, oddly enough, comforted her. She was easier in her mind accusing herself of disappointed greed then of disappointed love, and maybe she was right in her self-analysis.

 One thing she had learned from her maid who carried her all the palace gossip, was that she had been guilty, certainly, of supposing Daurendil to be courting a married woman. Caelen was most decidedly not a married woman, nor was she with child, and while Odare was relieved, she still did not like her - to think she had come with her lies and deception, and made a merry fool of them all! She was glad the woman had been evicted, and was now living with some friends - she knew not who they were, and she decided she did not care much. 

She was continually hearing more stories of Daurendil's foolishness over the girl, including a gripping tale of a midnight raid in which he had attemtpted to carry her off with the help of a grappling hook, of all things, which she half-believed, but still could not help ridiculing everytime Tarniel brought it up. It was just so fantastic, and she knew it was just the type of thing to appeal to the Prince. Well, he would not be happy before he made a thorough fool of himself, and Odare, at least, was ready enough to laugh at him, and tease him in as friendly a fashion as she could manage when the time came.

 In the meantime, there were bigger things afoot. Amantir had been her informant for the recent Counsil meeting that had been called when the news of Gimilbeth's kidnap had come through. She was very interested in the fact that they were going to her homeland - the more so, now that she remembered just how long it had been since she had been there. She was not exactly sure how they had all managed to use Gimilbeth's kidnap to set out for war in an entirely different place, but it was of course a good thing... And surprisingly, Broggha, the uncouth hillman was to lead his men to free a fortress in her land... she wished she had had more to do with it, but the truth was, she knew next to nothing about what was going on in Mitheithel. She was determining to find out all she could, and be more interested in her people's welfare than her own, when a more unpleasant issue intruded itself upon her notice. 

Tarniel, who had been reading a book, had looked up and said, "Oh, Odare, you know that necklace I gave you... oh, a month ago? That time when the bear went wild, I mean. I was meaning to ask it back for sometime past - unless you want to wear it again, in which case, of course, I don't mind in the least."

 Mewlips take the girl for remembering! She was very sorry she had lost the necklace, but much, much sorrier that Tarniel was bringing this up, just as she was determining to reform. "Well, you know, when... I mean, I've been..." she looked up at Tarniel, who was looking at her, bemused, and decided to just confess, "I lost it."

 For a moment, neither of them said anything - Tarniel was looking very quietly at her friend, her expression not having changed one whit. 

"I must have lost it when I was, you know, attacked by the bear," Odare mumbled. She was glad she was wearing short sleeves under her cloak, for with a little manipulation, she placed her arm such as to display clearly the scar left by the attack - she needed all the sympathy she could get. "And I missed it when I woke up, but I was much too frightened and ashamed to own up, and I set some people to search for it, but it didn't turn up, and I wanted to tell you, only - well... the time never seemed right for it."

 She shuffled her feet under her dress, which was an extravagant and puffed up frock in deep purple, for she had not remained long in her defiant jewellery-less state. She risked a glance at Tarniel's face, who was now starting to look horrified. At least Gimilbeth would not hear of this for many days, she could not have borne the taunts her carelessness would undoubtedly bring upon her from that source...

***

 Tarniel stared in disbelief at Odaragariel. So the emerald necklace, Elessya the Green, the heirloom of the House of Dauremir, was gone!

 "I wish you had told me of this when it had happened," she said at last, rather piqued at her friend. 

 "I was so worried that you would be angry at me," Odare confessed sheepishly, her gaze darting to the side.

 Tarniel studied the scar on Odare's arm and then looked to her face. "Not really angry, just disappointed. You should have told me when it had happened, not waited all this time."

 Odare winced, hearing the irritation in the princess' voice. "I did not mean for it to happen... It was not a careless mistake, like simply misplacing it somewhere." 

 Tarniel thought back to the chaotic night when the huge bear went wild at the feast. A dignified crowd of lords and ladies instantly became a screaming, running mob of terrified people, like a swarm of ants trying to escape from a destroyed anthill. Chairs were knocked down as their inhabitants had leapt from them and headed towards the doors. Ladies fainted and their attendants desperately tried to get them off the floor so that they would not be crushed under the press of the throng. Personal belongings could easily get lost in such madness.

 "You were only lucky that you were not killed," Tarniel replied, her expression softening.

 "The chain must have broken, and the necklace got kicked around by the crowd," Odare suggested, her chest tense with the sigh of relief that she did not risk letting loose just yet.

 Tarniel cocked her to the side and tucked a loose stray of dark hair behind her ear. "And no one was able to find it?" she asked pensively.

 Odare nodded. "I had the feasting hall searched thoroughly. It is my supposition that someone unscrupulous, like one of Broggha's scoundrels, pocketed it, and now it graces the neck of one of their women." Attempting to gain even more pity, she put on her most morose face and then stared down at the floor sadly. "Again, I am sorry, Tarniel. When I borrowed the necklace, I had no way of knowing—"

 Tarniel put her hand up. "What happened is in the past and we cannot change that. But we have other problems." A wry smile touched her lips. "What do we do if my father, the king, finds out about this? I do not think he will be very pleased at either of us, especially at me, since if I had not leant you the necklace, then it never would have gotten lost."

 The eyes of both girls met, each one wondering what they would do.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Cameth Brin Palace, King Tarnendur’s study. Afternoon of November 9, 1347
Written by Gordis
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

 “No, Daurendil, it is out of the question!” the King replied to his Heir’s long and heated speech. “I need Eryndil here – there are many others who could be sent to the battlefield.” He frowned darkly and studied his obviously much disappointed son. Despite the Heir’s usual impeccable attire, the dark circles under the youngster’s eyes were plain to see. 

 “I am a bit curious,” the King continued, “what is the real reason of your sudden interest in the matters of State in general and Eryndil in particular? I have a bad feeling that you are not as disinterested as you want to appear.”

 Daurendil squirmed under his father’s piercing gaze as the King had an uncanny ability to see right through all his ruses. Still he tried to wriggle out of it. “What do you mean, Father?” he asked innocently. “I simply … appreciate Lord Eryndil’s … many fine qualities and…” 

 “That’s why you have paid him an unexpected visit last night?” came a cutting reply. “Or was it just a visit to his house that, as I heard, harbors the famed ostler’s wife?”

 Daurendil’s color abruptly changed from white to angry pink. “She is not his wife,” he almost shouted, “she is but his sister and an honorable, innocent maiden!”

 “If she is innocent and honorable as you say, then why in Ungoliant do you try to ruin her reputation?” the King hissed back. “First this bloody dress…then this grappling hook… You are a fool, Daurendil!”

 “So you have set spies on me?” The Prince knew that he was threading on a dangerous ground, but his anger overcame his better judgment.

 The King shook his head in disgust. “Let me put this straight, Daurendil” he said coldly. “As you didn’t return to the Palace last evening, your poor Mother has spent a sleepless night. And so have I. I deemed I had the right to know what kept you in the city so late – so I took measures to learn it. Must I say that I didn’t like what I learned?”

 The Heir, his cheeks even redder than before, stood looking sullenly at his boots.

 “If you have nothing to say, then you are dismissed” the King barked, suddenly out of patience. “Go and reflect on your unseemly behavior!”

 Trying to hide his angry tears, Daurendil turned and fled the room - the door banged violently behind him. He stopped at the landing and cursed several times, using the vilest words in his vocabulary. It helped but little – he still felt … he felt he could kill somebody with his bare hands right then and there. Or, more precisely, he felt he was going to dissolve into childish sobs.

 Everything …everyone turned against him! Father, Mother, his friends, Eryndil …even Caelen herself! His sister, the sweet little Tarniel, betrayed him also – for hadn’t he begged her to intervene, to save the day by writing a simple dratted letter? Too much to ask evidently – instead the prissy girl must have spilled it out to her dear Arinya, if not to Mother! Well – she was going to hear what he thought about it!

 Daurendil gritted his teeth and stalked towards his sister’s rooms.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tarniel's sitting-room in the Palace, Cameth Brin. Afternoon of November 9, 1347.
Written by Serenoli and Elfhild
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

 Footsteps outside the door. Loud, angry footsteps. Odaragariel, who was feeling guilty, gave a start. Had they been found out already? Someone banged the door open, and Odare looked up slowly, prepared to find the accusing gaze of the King on her. Instead she found Daurendil, looking accusing, certainly, but not at her, at his sister. In fact, he hardly seemed to notice her presence.

 "You didn't do it, did you?" he began unpleasantly. He had just had a humiliating interview with his father, and he was in the mood to quarrel. As brothers will, the one person he had found whom he could boss around right now, with some reason at least, was his younger sister. "The one, simple, small thing I ask of my sister, and she does not do it. So affectionate, so sweet as she is." He sat down heavily on the best chair in the room and glared at Tarniel balefully.

 "What did you ask her to do?" Odare asked, curious, and somewhat relieved that they were safe about the necklace for now.

 Tarniel answered, "He asked me to give Caelen a riding-dress. Apparently, he had already presented it to her, but she had returned it as she thought it was improper of her to accept it from him." She shot her brother an angry glance. How dare he barge in here and start haranguing her about this, especially in the presence of Odaragariel! Embarrassed, she felt heat infuse her cheeks.

 "And you wanted your sister to make the gift proper, is that it?" finished Odare for her. 

 "Yes! I don't see that it is something unreasonably hard to do. If Tarniel and you could just say that the riding-dress was a gift from all of us who went hunting with her that day, then, why she could even come back to the Palace from that man's house where she's living. You might make her your lady-in-waiting or something like that!" Odare was looking at him, incredulously. Did he really expect her to pretend to befriend this girl so he could court her? 

 Daurendil meanwhile, had softened his tone somewhat, almost wheedling, clearly hoping that if he could convince Odare to help him, his sister would fall in line. "I mean, its not right, her living in an unmarried man's house. She was desperate, of course, didn't know anyone and he took her in - but if you two extended hands of friendship, she could just stay here! Besides, I don't trust that man. Some thane's useless son, and he is obviously trying to take advantage of her helpless state. I thought he could come in handy by going North - goodness knows we need loyal men on the front, there are too many Hillmen going anyway. And father just shot me down. Absolutely would not hear of it. First Caelen, then father. What do they see in this Eryndil?" he ended bitterly.

 "Are you sure your wish to see him go with the army was purely due to your desire to see him useful?" 

 Daurendil got up, all haughty disdain. "What are you trying to insinuate, Odie?"

 "Nothing much. Except that you are obviously smitten with this girl, but unless I'm wrong, she prefers Eryndil. She returns your riding-dress, but thinks nothing of living in his house. Seems to me I detect more than a hint of jealousy in the works."

 "I think you're jealous yourself!" said Daurendil wildly. "You're the one that convinced Tarniel not to do what I asked her. You probably got that hag of a housekeeper to kick Caelen out in the first place!"

 "Enough!" cried Tarniel. "I did not take anyone's advice in not doing what you asked, I acted on my own judgement."

 "And even if she asked me, I would hardly help you to entrap that poor girl!" added Odare, though it must be added, she hardly thought of Caelen as a helpless girl, and as far as entrapping went, she thought Daurendil was in more danger.

 "What have you got against Caelen? Why won't you two help me?"

 Tarniel replied in a calm tone, "Well, I can't help you because it is just not right. Caelen returned the riding dress; can you not take a hint? It is obvious that the girl does not want anything to do with you, so stop meddling in her life. Think of your reputation - and hers. Caelen has a penchant for scandal, and it brings shame to the royal family for you to chase after her like a drooling buffoon!" The emotion had risen in her voice, rendering it high and shrill. Pausing, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

 "As for Odare, you know that - how shall I put it? We all expect you and Odaragariel to marry someday." There, the words, unspoken all these years, were out, and hanging in the air. "In her position, she could hardly hold your rope while you climbed up this girl's balcony!" Her fists clenched at her sides, Tarniel stared at her brother with newfound defiance.

 Daurendil was looking shocked, and Odare took this opportunity to add, smiling maliciously, "Oh, we heard about your little adventure. I daresay your father and mother have heard, too. No wonder the King was so reluctant to let you send your rival to his death. Very honorable scheme, Daurendil. Did you come up with it yourself? Such a neat plan. Saves you the hassle and guilt of killing him yourself, but gets him conveniently out of the way!"

 "And are you all that honorable yourself? What about your schemes to get Caelen out of the Palace so that you can marry me and become the queen? Why don't you just marry Amantir? Less trouble, and you might convince father to let you rule that barren waste that you own." 

 Odare had said pretty much the same thing to herself in her head, but that did not make it any less painful to hear Daurendil say it. Half of her wanted to burst into tears, the rest of her too angry to let herself display any weakness.

 "You can not say that to me! Do you think that... I care for you and Amantir only so I can snag you as husbands? You and I have not been friends for ten years, for you to insult me like that for a girl who you've only just met, who doesn't care for you, merely because she's beautiful! I owe your father a lot, I owe Tarniel a lot, I owe Rhudaur - but I don't owe you anything. I don't have to spend a minute listening to your filth, if I don't want to."

 "But I have to listen to you accusing me of being a murderer." replied Daurendil quietly, shaking with anger. 

 Odare did not reply. The silence was broken by the door opening, and Amantir entered, looking moody. "I thought I heard loud voices." No one replied to this, so he went on, "Father sent me to look for you, he says he has some good news. But, oh, look, here he is himself. And my mother as well. Quite a royal procession." He smiled at his own joke, and sat down on a chair nearby, as his parents entered the room as well. Tarniel's room, normally a large airy place was looking distinctly crowded, and everyone, even the King, was looking slightly awkward.

 "I was coming here to talk to Tarniel alone, but I suppose it matters not that you are all here. You will be relieved to hear that your sister Gimilbeth is safe. I have just received a letter from her." No one looked very relieved, though Tarniel murmured something about being glad. Daurendil was still glaring at Odare and she was looking at the wall, fighting against a lump in her throat.

 "And," the King adopted a sterner tone and faced Tarniel, "I also wanted to tell you a strange story I heard from the messenger. Apparently a Hillman was executed by the order of your sister, for being found in possession of an emerald necklace - Elessya, in fact. I thought you had it, Tarniel. If it was stolen, why did you not tell me of it?" 

 "Oh, stop picking on Tarniel!" Tarnendur, shocked, and more than a little surprised turned to face the wrathful Odare. "I lost it when that bear attacked me and your Hillman must have picked it up then. I only told Tarniel of it today. It was very irresponsible of me and I am sorry. I am glad to hear the necklace is safe, however." Picking up her courage, she added, "I have also decided that I will never marry Prince Daurendil. I renounce any claims I ever had to being his wife. Better to do it formally now that you're all present."

 "What are you talking about, girl?" the Queen was looking at her, bewildered. 

 Daurendil said, laughing, "My dear Oddie, I wouldn't marry you if my entire family went down on their knees right now and begged me to. I wouldn't want all my children to end up looking like you, see?"

 Odare struggled to come up with something horrible enough to say to him, but words failed her. "Right. I'm leaving."

 "Be my guest." he said, bowing her out of the room. "Shut yourself up in your room and howl - see who cares."

 "No, I mean, I'm leaving Cameth Brin. I'm going back home, to that barren waste, as you call it." turning to the King, she said, and avoiding looking at Tarniel as much as she could, she went on, "I will be forever grateful to you, sir, and I will always remember that you were my friend. But - I can not stay under the same roof as your son. There is an army leaving to go there right now - Eryndil might not be going with them, but I will be."


Chapter 21 - Testing and Hardening

Chapter 21.  Testing and Hardening

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Eryndil's home at Cameth Brin. Noon of November 9, 1347.
Written by Valandil
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What do you mean, ‘packing’? Start UNpacking! You’re not going anywhere.”

 Caelen visibly tensed at his words. She seemed about to erupt, but as he smiled, she began to soften – seeing this as an insistence of his love, not as a rebuke for her actions. Still wavering, she said, “But I don’t need to be here… stirring things up with your… family. I have some money now… I can, I can…”

 Eryndil drew closer, until he stood just inches before her and held her arms at her side. “Look Caelen, Hendegil has explained things to us a bit, and we’ve all had a good long family talk with my mother. For her part, she misunderstood some things – and I think she’s beginning to come around.”

 “You mean… you mean it’s not over? Even after I… after I sla…” she couldn’t quite say what she had done.

 “No Caelen, it isn’t over. And I don’t think I’ll EVER be over you.”

 Eryndil thought it would just be a quick little kiss this time, but after a few moments, Caelen responded enthusiastically. Eryndil hung onto her as well, and found that his hands slid all too easily down the length of her back, to the roundness below. She stiffened and pulled back from the kiss just briefly, but only to look into his eyes. Then she resumed and relaxed herself, her own hands moving up and down Eryndil’s back, until they passed below his belt.

 The sensations were driving Eryndil wild. It would be very hard to wait the next 7 weeks – and then some. And… what had he said about waiting 10 days? Or had he promised 10 years? He forced himself to break it off. It was the middle of the day, and his sister would be along soon.

 “Now Caelen… I have a couple… errands I have to run today. I’ll be back though, and maybe this evening, we can… talk… a little more,” he said with a smile. “Hendegil will be here soon to stay with you. In fact, I think I hear her coming now. I have to… I really have to… go now.”

 It was hard to extricate himself. He didn’t really want to, after all, but it was time. Caelen sat on her bed as Eryndil began to pull things out of her bag. This embarrassed her, especially when some particular items came up – and she stood back up and pushed him away, but they ended up laughing and teasing one another. When Hendegil knocked and entered, Eryndil composed his features and excused himself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  Around back of Eryndil's house, by the Blacksmith’s shop, early afternoon of November 9, 1347.
Written by Valandil
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 Eryndil watched Harda work at the small shop they had contrived for him just behind the stables and coachhouse. The man was meticulous with his work – very slow, but very sure once he had begun. Eryndil supposed this to be attributed to his age, though most practised smiths he had watched worked much more smoothly, even well into their years.

 Harma was there watching as well, staying by Harda’s side as often as his duties permitted. Camglas sat nearby at a stool – and as he often permitted Harma to stay near Harda by joining the two of them and insisting on Harma’s attending him, the trio had become a frequent threesome.

 “So Harda, you say yours will be even better than the one I gave you as a sample?”

 “Yes, young sir. You can fasten it to the head of a javelin, or a heavy arrow. And while the hooks at first lay tight against the shaft, when the head strikes something, they will spring out like this…”

 He demonstrated the concept on his model – made from scraps of this and that, pressing the hooks against the shaft and shoving it into the side of his anvil, which released the hooks from their places.

 Eryndil nodded, trying not to act too pleased with it – but really, it seemed quite remarkable. He wasn’t even sure why he had decided to ask for such a thing, but on a whim it had struck him as something that might be handy to have.

 “Alright – get started on the real thing then. I’ll take your sample back to the man from whom I borrowed it.”

 Eryndil pulled his cloak and hood closer about himself as he stepped away from the heat of the smithy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Cameth Brin Palace – later that afternoon - November 9, 1347.
Written by Valandil
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
 The King had kept Eryndil waiting for some time – but that of course, was his prerogative. Especially when Eryndil had come without being summoned. Orefim had mentioned other interviews the King held with family members throughout the course of the day – but it was not necessary. Eryndil knew his place – and it was now his place to wait.

 When at last he was summoned and beckoned in to meet with Tarnendur, Eryndil was a bit surprised to see the other family members as well. For while Tarnendur stood before him in the center of the room looking somewhat troubled, in the back and off to one side stood Daurendil, with his mother Queen Eilinel and sister Tarniel sitting before him. The only ones not present were Amantir and Gimilbeth – but she was away.

 Eryndil bowed to first his King, saying “Your Majesty”, and then bowed in succession to the Queen and their two offspring. The King gestured for him to come forward and spoke next.

 “Eryndil – you have requested an audience with me – for two items, I understand. What are they now? Be quick.”

 Eryndil bowed and replied, “Three actually, Your Majesty, for I first must congratulate you on the successful rescue of your elder daughter, the Lady Gimilbeth.”

 From the corner of his eye, Eryndil saw that the other family members shifted a bit at this, but King Tarnendur only nodded and asked, “And second?”

 “Second, Your Majesty, as a man in your service, I must inform you that I am now engaged to be married.”

 The King’s demeanor brightened into joy, “Really now! Well, aren’t you a bit young? But who is the lady, and of what house?”

 “She is the Lady Caelen, of a good Dunedain household by Tanoth Methed.” He noted the reactions of all the family. Tarnendur raised an eyebrow and glanced significantly back to the others, Daurendil and the Queen appeared somewhat dismayed and Tarniel showed the girlish delight that young ladies are inclined toward in instances of such announcements. Eryndil smiled at her in a natural response. Was she looking at him with admiration, he wondered.

 “We are to wed at the Yule, Your Majesty.”

 “The Yule?” asked the King, and the Queen now seemed a bit alarmed. “Had you not heard of our plans for a Royal Ball at Yuletide?”

 Eryndil had not, but it made little sense to admit it. “Then it would be my highest honor to wed at sunset on Mettare*, and then to come as newlyweds seeking a royal blessing when we arrive at the ball’s commencement.”

 Eryndil had never been to a Royal Ball before – only simple balls in the country. And, he would later learn, that while it was standard practice to marry at high days in the country, those in the city learned to reserve those days for special events such as this.

 “Very good then,” said the King, and then after glancing back toward his family once again and looking rather pleased he continued, “I shall be happy to bestow the royal blessing on the newlyweds.”

 Eryndil bowed at the compliment and paused, uncertain how to proceed. At last the King looked a bit perplexed and said, “There is then a third? What is it?”

 Eryndil glanced over at Daurnedil, now looking a bit sullen.

 “You may speak,” continued Tarnendur. “My family must see at times the things that come before a King, and how he would answer them. For before too many more years have passed, my throne and my crown must pass to another.”

 Eryndil was rather uncertain, but at last he found the words.

 “Long yet may you reign, oh King Tarnendur, but there is truth in what you say. Your years are full, and the son who will succeed you will come to the throne young. And it is precisely of this about which I come to speak.”

 Tarnendur looked puzzled, but nodded for him to go on.

 “Daurendil is a fine young man, and when he has come into his own, will be without equal in this land,” of this Eryndil felt sure. Daurendil was as tall as his father, about three to four thumbs higher than Eryndil, who was himself quite tall. Daurendil’s stature was still slight, but a Dunedain man of his frame at 20 could be formidable at 40 or 50 – if the years between were spent vigorously, rather than in idleness.

 “What he wants is testing… and hardening, Your Majesty. As a young man, he has already learned much of the ways of court and council. But he lacks the learning of a soldier, and a woodsman, and the strength that learning adds to body and mind. Why – I’ve taken such youngsters, yet none who could approach him, and made true men of them, even as was done for me when first I entered your service. The idleness of his life in Cameth Brin, well, it does him less good than he could have otherwise, and perhaps leaves him too much opportunity… for… misjudgments.”

 Eryndil paused, and suspected he was being impudent. Even that the King might become angry and order him away, maybe even remove him from his service, for this breach of decorum, and began to doubt his own judgment. This suddenly didn’t seem like such a great idea after all.

 But the King merely cleared his throat and asked, “So… what would you propose?”

 “Well…” Eryndil went on uncertainly, wondering if he was getting just enough rope to hang himself, “I know that an army is to go afield this winter. The conditions will be harsh – but an expedition of this kind might be just what it takes for Daurendil to become a fit leader for men – to earn the respect he must have from such men in times to come. I ur… I suggest to you, Your Majesty, that your son Daurendil lead the Rhudaurian regulars in the expedition to take Dol Hithaer.”

 At first the King displayed no signs of reaction or inclination, one way or another. But at last, looking quite amused, he declared, “Well how very interesting. This very day, I have heard from two different men, each asking that the other be assigned to this venture and sent away from me.”

 But, and perhaps with mock seriousness, we went on, “But really I could not be parted from either of you. And you see, Daurendil,” turning back to acknowledge his son, “the man is about to marry. We cannot send him out now – before he weds. Nor would it be good to force his intended bride to marry him early, then separate them so soon, would it?”

 Turning back toward Eryndil, the King continued, “But you have a point about Daurendil, Sir Eryndil. He lacks… direction, at times. The type perhaps that a father should rightly give, but a father who is also King, must first be father to his kingdom – to the great loss of his sons. Besides all that, the wildest… rumors pass around at times, oh, all sorts of things, don’t you know.”

 The King paused for a moment, as if in thought, and then at last looked up and spoke decisively, “The solution to all this is right before us. Daurendil,” and he beckoned to his son, who came before him and stood beside Eryndil, but not very close. “Daurendil, your habits must change, and you must enter into rigorous training. Amantir will join you in this, and we shall gather other young noblemen of such years, just as was done in Arnor in days long past.” Daurendil nodded his acknowledgement.

 “Eryndil,” said the King, turning now toward him, “you shall train them. This shall now become your chief duty, though I do not dismiss you as my advisor. But with Broggha away for the winter, my cares will lighten by themselves – and you may start the day after Broggha leaves. Until this time, we shall gather Daurendil’s young companions in training about him. And of course… you may lighten your own duties a bit at the Yule and just after – for you will have other hard duty come upon you at this time, of your own choosing.”

 Eryndil was taken a bit aback, not even sure what part of that had struck him the most. It was all a bit much. But Tarnendur looked quite pleased with himself, Queen Eilinel seemed a bit embarrassed, Daurendil looked rather upset and barely able to keep his self-control. Tarniel had a look of mischief and delight – and only she and the King looked into Eryndil's face.

 Eryndil took it that he had been dismissed. But first he turned to Daurendil, “Your Highness, something of yours which you had loaned me, I believe.” He drew the prince’s grappling hook from a bag and handed it to him. Then, retreating backwards toward the door, he made a last bow to the King with a final, “Your Majesty” turned out the door and headed back for home.

 * mettare = "last light" in Quenya, and refers to the last day of the Year.


Chapter 22 - Reconciliation

Chapter 22. Reconciliation

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Caelen's room in Eryndil's home. Afternoon of November 9, 1347.
Written by Rian
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 Caelen stood by her bed, lost in thought. Hendegil had just left her, after a long and satisfying conversation where she had filled in all of the details that Caelen was longing to hear about the conversation that had taken place after she had left the library ("and then what did SHE say?" "Oh, he really said THAT?") Her heart warmed as she thought back on Hendegil's description of Eryndil's empassioned defense of her to his mother, culminating in a respectful but firm declaration that if anyone was going to leave his house, it would be his mother instead of his wife-to-be, but that he knew that she and Caelen would soon be the best of friends. And Camglas defending her, too, along with Hendegil! It was truly heartening. 

 "And mother will come around soon, Caelen - she has already almost entirely changed her opinion of you - and really, it was just because ... well, she just wanted her youngest son to marry well, forgetting that "well" doesn't necessarily mean rich or famous. She's really not like that at all, normally - I don't know what was wrong, but ... she'll come around, don't worry."

 Then Hendegil reached over and gave Caelen a hug. "And I won't let you go away, either - I want you for my sister!" Then in a more serious tone, she added, "And my brother needs you, too, Caelen - someone with a little spirit in them!"

 Caelen laughed, then blushed. "Do you think she'll ever forgive me for slapping her like that?" she asked earnestly. "I can't believe I lost my temper like that!" 

 "Oh, I think she will - and actually, I think she'll admire you for it eventually!" laughed Hendegil. "I think I would have done the same thing in your place!"

 "Well, I hope you're never in that place!" 

 After a few more minutes of conversation, Hendegil had left Caelen, at Caelen's request. She needed some time to think, and to do something that she knew she needed to do - apologize to Rildorien.

 But it was much more pleasant to think about Eryndil, and what Hendi had said he said about her, and about his coming to her room and telling her in that deep, firm, masculine voice that she loved to hear (when it agreed with her inclinations, that is) that she wasn't going anywhere, and that kiss ... and then the delightful explorations - first tentative and shy, then more assured and possessive - that followed.

 She could still feel his hands on her body - even more so when she closed her eyes, she found out. She got an idea, hesitated a moment, and then, opening her eyes to make sure the door was closed, took her hands and briefly touched her own body, trying to imagine what it had felt like to him. Did it feel nicer if she just tightened up that muscle a bit, or was it better softer? She tried a few options, then finally laughed rather sheepishly at herself and gave it up - it was just too hard to separate the sensation of being touched from the sensation of touching. Instead, she decided to concentrate on remembering what HIS body had felt like to HER hands - and smiled a smile that, had he seen it, would have made Eryndil feel that even 10 seconds was too long to wait.

 ***

 Lunch was over, and Caelen had not come for it. Hendegil had made apologies for her friend, saying that she was rather tired and needed to rest, and that explanation was sufficient for those who had not been in on the altercation in the library. Lunch had been rather a silent affair, but now it was over. The others had left - Hendegil after giving her mother a hug and a kiss - but Rildorien had lingered at the table.

 She got up and walked over to the window, looking out at the November shrubbery but not really seeing it. She had begun to deeply regret her intentional insult to her future daughter-in-law, and was wondering what the best course of action would be to mend it. The slap was inexcusable, of course ... but really, so was her comment ...

 There was a knock at the door. 

 "Come in," called Rildorien, and one of the maidservants entered the dining room.

 "A letter for you, ma'am, if you please," said the maid with a curtsey, holding out several folded sheets of paper to her mistress.

 "Thank you," said Rildorien, taking the letter and dismissing the maidservant with a nod of her head. She waited for the door to close, then opened the letter and glanced at the bottom - it was from Caelen ... She quickly went back to the top and started reading:

 -------------------------------------------------------------------- 
Dear Madame,

 I most humbly offer my sincere apology for slapping your face in the library earlier today. It was inexcusable on my part to do that, even though I felt most grievously provoked by your comment. My mother always said that our actions should not be governed by the actions of others, and even though I was provoked by your comment, it was very wrong of me to act on that provocation in the way that I did, and I humbly ask for your forgiveness.

 I don't blame you at all if you don't forgive me, for to strike an older woman in the house of her son is something that even I can hardly believe that I did, now that I have calmed down and am able to reflect on the matter. My mother would have chastised me most severely for it, and very rightly. She always told me that I would have a lifelong battle with my temper, and she was right - and oh, how I miss her guidance and help! However, all I can do at this point is beg your forgiveness and hope that you have mercy on me and my faults of temper.

 But madame, here I feel that I must be bold and defend my character to you, for the accusation implicit in your "Congratulations" is one that is abhorrant to me, and is entirely false, and I feel that I must tell you this, whether or not you will believe it. For I am the chosen betrothed of your son, and I think I have the right to respectfully request that you listen to my explanation.

 My mother taught us that to say "Congratulations" to a woman on her engagement was one of the worst possible insults to offer, for it infers that the woman was actively trying to entice the man to offer marriage to her for her own personal gain. To put it in the worst possible words, it is the same as whoring, because it is selling love for money. 

 I have been guilty of many wrongdoings, mostly from my unfortunate temper, but I have NEVER tried to entice a man to marry me - in fact, while growing up, I was never interested in marriage at all, and because of the terrible circumstances during our trip here, the thought of marriage was completely repugnant to me. While I was at your home in Ostinand, I had even made a decision to never marry, and told my brother of this decision.

 And even if I did overcome my repugnance and decide to try to entrap a man, I would never have chosen your son - knowing him as I do, I know it would be absolute foolishness for me to even attempt it. For madame, you know your son, and that he is the model of integrity and uprightness, and you know me, at least a little, and have seen many faults, I'm sure. So how could I even think that I could succeed in tricking him into proposing marriage to me? It is an impossibility. His character renders him immune to the types of things that these women would try to trick him into a proposal, and my faults rise up before me and declare that his wanting to marry me is impossible. Even now, I don't see why he wants to marry me, but he kept pressing me to accept in the most insistent way, and so I finally did, because of the honor and respect I have for him, and because I could see that he truly wished to marry me, despite my many faults. So I hope that you will clear me of this charge of entrapment, for I certainly never did such a thing, and would never even consider it, especially with your son.

 Madame, your son has pledged his troth to me, and I to him, and I have no doubt that he will carry out his pledge, for that is the type of man that he is. I will try my very best to be a good wife to him, by the grace of the Valar and the help of Eru, and to be an addition to your family that you will be proud of, at least a little. I do not bring position, or talent, or other worldly things to him and his family, but I do bring a heart that loves and honors your son and his family, and a willingness to strive to correct my faults. 

Sincerely, 
Caelen
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 There were many expressions that had crossed Rildorien's face as she read through the letter, but the one that remained was a gentle smile. "The cheeky girl!" she thought, the smile widening as she shook her head at the letter. "Offers me an abject and humble apology, then demands - absolutely DEMANDS that I listen to her explanation! But she's right - she IS the chosen betrothed of my boy (no matter that her boy was now 40 and towered over her - a mother is a mother!) and he WILL marry her, and she deserves a hearing ... and she WAS respectful in the letter ... and perhaps I would have done better to be a little more firm with MY mother-in-law in those early days!" 

 Rildorien sighed and gazed out of the window, then turned back to the letter in her hand and read through it again. Even before the letter, her feelings towards Caelen had gone through a considerable change after Caelen had left the room and Rildorien's husband, son and daughter had all firmly admonished her, and told her things that she hadn't known, and insisted on her admitting things that she HAD known - and even when she had said the insult, she knew in her heart that she was wrong.

 It's just hard for a mother to have dreams for the little boy that she had always favored, and have someone come along that didn't fit those dreams, and that you knew would take him away from you in a large measure. But Rildorien's marriage had been a happy one, and she knew now that it was only her selfishness and misplaced ambition for her son that had made her reject Caelen as his bride. Rildorien was a good woman, and once her little selfish fit had passed, she was wise enough to see and appreciate Caelen's many virtues. And it was very clear indeed to her that her son loved Caelen very much.

 She sighed again, but this time with a little smile on her face, and picked up her pen to answer Caelen's letter, but hadn't gotten farther than the salutation before there was a quiet little knock at the door.

 "Come in," Rildorien called, and was surprised to see Caelen's head peep through the door, with large eyes and the type of expression on her face that you see on your favorite dog after he's stolen the meat off of the table and he's not sure if you're still upset with him.

 "I couldn't wait any longer," she began tentatively, and then boldly stepped into the room. "Do you have an answer for me yet?" she asked shyly, biting her lower lip nervously as she looked at her letter in the hands of her future mother-in-law.

 Rildorien stood up with a tender smile on her face and held out her arms wide to her future daughter-in-law. "Here is my answer," she said, and Caelen ran to her.
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