At War in Love. The Shadow over Rhudaur Part IV

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.

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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.

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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.