At War in Love. The Shadow over Rhudaur Part IV

Chapter 10. The Infamous Ostler's Wife

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

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

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