At War in Love. The Shadow over Rhudaur Part IV

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
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“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!”

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Second Floor of Eryndil’s home, Cameth Brin. Late evening of November 8, 1347.
Written by Rian
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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?!

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Second Floor of Eryndil’s home, Cameth Brin. Late evening of November 8, 1347.
Written by Valandil
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“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.

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Just a little later. Third Floor of Eryndil’s home.
Written by Valandil
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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.

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The “Merry Messenger Tavern”, Cameth Brin. Night of November 8, 1347.
Written by Gordis
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“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!”