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17. Wind-Singers Volume III.I: The Final Quest; Ivordir and Daerfalas journey into Gondor to face the Enemy and find tidings of Guldrambor
Topic Started: Apr 5 2015, 04:14 PM (4,126 Views)
Ivordir

Chapter CXCXIII: The Barricade Shuts

Gwainoth and Sarndur could hear the commotion from their rooms. They barred the doors, hoping to pass from notice undetected; their shared room had been more hastily put
together, for they were not nobles, and unaccustomed to luxury. Gwainoth was the more frightened of the two. He knew little the ways of the sword, and did not know who was
attacking, only that he could hear the screams from outside their walls.
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Ivordir

Chapter CXCXIV: A Sellsword's Loyalties

Naitheg could hear the commotion. He was alone, untrusted by the other Men. This amused him somewhat, but his levity was short lived. It seemed that he was forever cursed
to be followed by troubles. The attack came from nowhere. Men with swords came upon him. They failed to kill him, but left a great scratch along the side of his arm. When
they were dead, Naitheg went in search of some of the other Men, who perhaps were in need of assistance. He had noticed that many of them, particularly the young mason,
were most inept at self defense.

He came upon a gaggle of Men, who raised their swords at him when he came close. They made to charge at him, when he heard a voice cry out, "Wait!" It was a lady; she
rushed forward, and her eyes were wide like saucers as she stared at him. "This Man! He followed Aegon from Pelargir. Haedirn made him prisoner. Tell me, Man, do you come
to seek us harm?"

Naitheg gave her a levelling look. "I didn't surrender myself to the Old Man just to die here lady. Raedwyn, was it?" She nodded, a little hesitantly, and beckoned him
forth.

"We can use one more sword. These are Lady Melimir's servants, sworn to protect her," Raedwyn gestured to the Men, who allowed Naitheg to pass into her ranks. "Protect her
with them, and I will see that you will be...given some more freedoms."

There was no time for Naitheg to give answer. They were attacked by a larger group of Men loyal to Amarthon's father. The battle raged on.
Edited by Ivordir, Aug 12 2015, 09:14 PM.
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Ivordir

Chapter CXCXV: Knights of Osgiliath

Amarthon's Lord-Father, Malnoron, stood defiantly in the courtyard before the manor. He stroked his short beard and sighed.

Amarthon and Echuidor reached the room to find Gilorn and Haedirn barely breathing, covered in blood, lying on the floor.

Gilorn's eyes twitched, "Those men.........traitors......."

Amarthon worked on helping them up. They ached but managed to stand on their feet. They had been knocked to the ground and nearly killed in their charge.

They made their way toward the side-door, where Aegon beckoned to them. Amarthon gave Echuidor to Aegon and said, "Get out of sight, all of you. I must return and find my
brothers...."

His cloak draped, trailing blood behind him, as he stepped over the corpses of many men. He gazed down in horror at the faces. Some wrinkled with lines of age. Some in
their prime of manhood. And some of them, were his own age. One such soldier was gasping for breath. Amarthon knelt beside him, removing the young man's helmet. The young
man could not speak, but his eyes gazed at him. Amarthon covered his neck-wound with his cloak, begging within his mind to the powers of the West. He removed the cloak but
the young man continued to bleed. And so Amarthon kissed him on the cheek, trying to comfort him. The young man tried to muster a smile, a final grasp at gratitude. Then
his eyes rolled back. Amarthon noted the calm appearance of his eyes, as he closed them, shedding soft tears. And as he stared at the dead man's face, horror swept over
him: his brothers.
Edited by Ivordir, Aug 12 2015, 09:15 PM.
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Ivordir

Chapter CXCXVI: The Shadow Blurs the Golden Wing

He found Malfinseron and Auravon, his eyes gazing widely in shock at how Malfinseron had buried Auravon's right hand in the cloak.

Amarthon reached, but they shook their heads. Amarthon muttered, "And where is Arancir?"

They crept carefully around the corner in the hallway outside of Malfinseron's room. They looked to see several soldiers approaching them. They drew their weapons.

One of the leading soldiers uttered a command, "All four of you are hereby ordered to appear before Lord Malnoron of the Golden Wing. Surrender yourselves."

Amarthon nodded to the others as they dropped their daggers on the floor. He whispered to Malfinseron, "If I cannot reason with my own Lord-Father, no one can....... I
knew I recognized those insignias..............they are unmistakeable now. It all seems so long ago........."

They were marched outside to find Arancir and Rirossel crouched-over, kneeling on the ground, with swords above their heads.

Lord Malnoron's eyes gleamed sharply, "I heard, my sons, that Lord Denethon suffered trouble at his annual Ball. He had sent me an invitation, but I gracefully reclined.
For I had other business. Business that included a meeting with one Lord Ballithor of Dol Amroth, less than two weeks ago."

"Let them go!" Amarthon stammered.

Malnoron laughed, "My third-born son and my apparently new daughter-in-law? Did you truly believe that I would have you executed? You are fools to believe that you could
hide yourselves from me entirely. I am aware of Lord Ballithor's plans, but there is something of which you are all not aware: I strive to thwart his schemes. My first-
born son....... my beloved son.... know that I overheard you and Auravon conversing, over one year ago."

The relief in Arancir's face was palpable as he caught sight of Amarthon and and Auravon, though he dared not rise.

Auravon shouted, "YOU WHAT?!" He continued to clasp his bloody stump and dirtied cloak in pain, applying as much pressure to it as he could. He winced and clenched his
teeth in his agony, but his body remained in partial shock. He could not weep.
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Ivordir

Chapter CXCXVII: Lord of Guldrambor

Lord Malnoron suddenly revealed an empty phial in his hand, "It tasted quite uncouth, until I added it to my wine..... a quite pleasant combination. To think my own,
worthless, First-Born heir, was revealed to be heir to a long-lost line of Kings, stretching back to Ar-Pharazon. Since the line of Earnur has perished, as the line of
Castamir before him, and the northern lines are dead..... then perhaps our attitudes toward the King's Men must finally change. You do realize that most of those tales are
naught but myths? Ar-Pharazon the Great was a brilliant ruler......."

Amarthon shouted, "Then you would side with the Eye of Mordor!"

"And why not. Tell me, my son. What has loyalty to a decaying house of Stewards brought our country, our very family? All of these men have sworn allegiance to our cause.
In fact, my trading partners from the South have assured me....... that our line will survive, and when they invade....... our street shall be completely spared. And Lord
Ballithor of the Silver Swan stands in our way. Now where is Baralinor.... I wish to declare my resolve before your very eyes......"

One of the soldiers whispered, "My Lord, I regret to announce his escape. My men are searching for him presently."

Malnoron drew his sword, "Thank you, in his absence, for volunteering to join in my demonstration of my resolve." He stabbed the hapless soldier in the neck, the other men
gazing at him in shock, as the soldier's body collapsed on the ground, a pool of blood forming around his neck.

"Are there any other men who swore allegiance to me, who wish to confess your failure? Only I alone can spare your families and your legacies from the coming wrath. The
eastern shores of Osgiliath have been lost for months, and the eastern skies are already darkening... and if any of you dare report me, or what has been done here, to the
higher authorities of Pelargir.....then the Shadow of the East shall shallow all of you, your wives and children.... everything. And you will also be forced to contend
with half of the nobles of Pelargir and me besides. Serve our cause out of love for the return of our King, at long last..... but know and comprehend the consequences of
the utter failure to uphold that cause. Have I made myself clear?"

The other men nodded soberly.

Malnoron continued, "Your Mother awaits us in Pelargir. She, also, is most loyal to our cause. Why do you think that she tempered me all those years, and pestered me with
her odd dreams concerning you? Far be it for me to challenge destiny, as Ballithor would have me do. Why do you think I allowed you to serve under his command? Or have you
forgotten your original quest? He is still alive. Instead, I heard the following. You had returned to Pelargir, yet not once did you return home to meet with us and
discuss your current status. Moreover, you frolicked and danced, abusing the powers you had received, in the House of one of our greatest foes: the merchant's widow.
Moreover, you sought escape, mortally defamed our House's reputation at the Ball, and aided in the escape of a young man who openly betrayed his own Lord-Father in colder
blood. Lord Denethon currently survives, though he is resting in the care of healers. And he alone shall decide what to do with you, Malgelir. I cannot protect you from
him. You shall face the consequences of your crime. You shall also bring your Lord-Father a message: to join me or perish with the Silver Swan. The Silver Swan shall
thereafter be known as the Crimson Swan by the time I am finished with it, gurgling to death in its own blood."

The courtyard was as silent as burial ground. "Now, will one of you men have the decency to find Baralinor before he escapes? I shall have him decapitated for all to see."

The men allowed Arancir and Rirossel to stand. A soldier nodded and ran into the building.

Malnoron turned coldly toward Malfinseron and then to Rirossel, "Malgelir......... I will give you one small grace, at the least. This Lady, I hear, betrayed
you........... if you prove your manhood, I may yet be able to convince your Lord-Father to spare your life. Someone give him a sword."
A soldier forced a blade-hilt into Malfinseron's quivering hands.

Then Malnoron commanded, "I hereby give you the right to execute my daughter-in-law for her aggregious treason against you. Go on now, boy."
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Ivordir

Chapter CXCXVIII: The King's Command

Malfinseron grasped the sword. He felt tempted to do it. He would fell the serpent in a final fell swoop. And then the men would kill him. He tightened his grip on the
sword.

Amarthon raised his arm, "Father, end this madness! As Heir to the Throne, I command thee thus. You are meddling with powers you cannot comprehend."

Malnoron balked, "Heir, you may be. But a son may never presume to command his father, even a future-King."

Amarthon grinned, laughing inside himself, "Yet such an Heir may command himself. Come, my brothers, my new sister. We are leaving."

Malnoron shouted, "You will not stride away from me!"

Arancir stood, unfettered by will. He moved towards Amarthon, and thought he could feel Rissoriel move beside him.

Amarthon nodded, "We shall, father. Because you know that if you attempted to detain me or the rest of us, that I would have you thrown into the darkest vault of Minas
Tirith and locked there forever in just repayment for thine treachery. You would be wise to cease this attack, return home, giving our mother our regards. A son shall
respect and obey his father. But a subject shall not dare to presume to detain his future-King. You sent me to Harondor as a poor, witless boy. I have returned a man. I
would prefer to continue to respect you as my Father, provided that you cease this madness. We march now."

And all Malnoron did was stare at them, saying nothing, his wrathful eyes gazing at them madly. He felt his mind tighten with his fists.
He turned to his men, "There is but one way for me to teach my son and our future-King a lesson. Ensure that not a further member of his Company survives. When he is
abandoned and bereft with my other sons in the wilderness alone, they will return to me, crawling on their knees and begging for my pardon..."
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Ivordir

Chapter CXCXIX: The Barricade Bursts

"There's nothing for it," Sarndur said finally, and the tone of his voice was resigned. Gwainoth looked up from where he sat, nearly overcome with despair. Sarndur
continued. "We have to try and escape. Otherwise we'll be trapped here as prisoners, and who know what fate will await for us then?"

It took them but a few moments to free the doors from the stack of furniture they had used to blockade themselves in. There was little sound now. Neither of them knew if
the silence was for good or ill. Quietly they opened the doors, and Gwainoth peered without. He saw no one. "Come!" he gestured to Sarndur. They ran, aimless. Their path
was unimpeded. Hope unharried them. A blade appeared from nowhere. The soldiers had been waiting for them. They swung at Gwainoth, who jumped back, nimble in his youth. He
saw the next sword swing, and cut into Sarndur's side. "Run!" Sarndur gasped, even as he flung himself at the soldiers. Terrified, Gwainoth paused. One of the soldiers
stepped towards him, and he ran. "RUN!" he could hear Sarndur cry out again.

Gwainoth could hear the soldier behind him closing the distance between them. Despair nearly overcame him again, and his heart fluttered as quickly as a rabbit's. He
turned a corner, and came to a halt. There stood another group of armed Men. They all turned and stared at him, and he threw his hands up, and closed his eyes, awaiting
death. He could hear the sound of shouting, and felt Men rush past him in a flurry. They were roaring, and he heard the sound of swords clattering. Carefully, he peaked an
eye open. He saw Raedwyn, and Lady Melimir.

They were coming towards him, and Raedwyn grabbed his arm. "Quickly!" she said. "You were being followed. More are likely to come in his place. Are you injured? Look at
me!" she shook him, and he stammered.

"Sarndur..."

Raedwyn did not respond. Instead she called out for Naitheg, who appeared at her side. There was blood on his sword. He had been the one to slay the soldier following
Gwainoth. Naitheg sheathed his sword, and smirked at Gwainoth, who trembled. "Little soldier," Naitheg leered, and Raedwyn cast him a dark look.

"You swore to keep us safe," she said sharply, "and you have done well so far. Now. We must get Lady Melimir to safety. I recall seeing a door leading out of the town.
Take us there, and you will have my full recompense for all your previous actions."

"Very well," Naitheg said, and he had the appearance of one playing at boredom. "Come, and follow me. I'll lead this rabble to safety. Lady Melimir," he bowed to the
widow, who glowered at him silently. "You could use better servants in the future."

"Have strength," Raedwyn whispered into Gwainoth's ear. The young mason felt himself renewed in his resolve. He nodded, and followed Naitheg. Lady Melimir's servants,
those left standing, lead the rear.

Naitheg led Lady Melimir's party down a corridor, quiet and secluded, away from the main courtyard. Once outside, they could see that the town was completely walled, yet
there was one section easy to scale.

They were swiftly joined by Gilorn and Haedirn, who had hid themselves behind a wall nearby.

On their way hence they found two bodies, both littered with arrows. Gwainoth recoiled away from them, and grasped Raedwyn's arm
tightly. "The scholars," he whispered. The Men hushed, and even Naitheg held his silence. Balharn and Thorunnd lay dead, having tried to escape using the same route. The
soldiers that had slain them were nowhere in sight, but they moved on with more caution even so.

Lady Melimir's soldiers helped the ladies scale the wall first. The servants went next, and then Gwainoth.

The Knights turned around at Naitheg grimly, but with little choice, they scaled the wall as they saw Malnoron's forces gathered in front of the manor.

Naitheg was last. He surveyed their surroundings, subdued.
Despite his past allegiences, he did not celebrate death. Grimly, he climbed the wall, and lead Lady Melimir's party away from the town, under the cover of dark.
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Ivordir

Chapter CXCXX: Perished Knowledge

Arhbaineth and Sainion had found themselves in a precarious position outside of the side-door of the manor. They had two wounded men, their Captain among them, and Aegon

hear the sound of arrows. They had ducked to the ground and crawled, dragging Ivordir and Daerfalas as they moaned, into the nearby bushes. They had seen the scholars run

forth, and Ivordir moaned to warn them, but it was far too late. Sainion had motioned everyone on their feet as they took shelter behind the wall. There was a commotion in
front of the manor and the archers had retreated.

"Now is our final escape," Arhbaineth had whispered.

But there had been no way in which the wounded, whipped young men could climb a wall.They had circled around the manor, hiding beneath the windows.
Several men circled around and caught them. They were Melimir's spies.

The foremost among them spoke, he was hooded and cloaked in the manner of a ranger like the others, for the spies of Melimir had prepared themselves prior to their departure from Pelargir: "Listen, carefully. We barely managed to escape the manor, with great loss. We were forty and now we have lost half our ranks. The soldiers also brutally butchered the Lord and Lady of the Manor in their beds, along with all their children."

Arhbaineth wept at those words.

The spy continued, "We have to get out of here alive. The other surviving ten of us are seeing to Lady Melimir's defense. We can only hope that she survives this, or the
balance of power in Pelargir will shift against Prince Imrahil, and worse, I fear for our Steward himself. Our plan is quick. We are going to require Melimir's cart with
all her treasures. It is in the stables of the Manor, under guard, along with the other cart. It all still has its disguise as being carts of feed-sacks for farming."

Sainion closed his eyes, "In all due respect....... we lost our potential disguises. We lost our advantage. And now you want us to hide in carts that will only weigh down
our road, no matter how precious its heirlooms and riches are, and you want us to somehow persuasively sneak out of this town on farming carts in the dead of night! No
guard at any gate will be persuaded, we will swiftly come under assault. I say we abandon the carts, knock the gate-guards unconscious as you did so aptly in Pelargir, and
get us out of here!"

The spy nodded, "Our orders from our Lady stand. She did not order us to abandon the carts, and we must hold to our duties, no matter how impractical. Would she have
ordered us otherwise? Most likely. But she never formally changed her command since her last, when we first set-out from her Manor in Pelargir."

Sainion sighed, "Our lives are in danger and you....you think this is such honorable behavior, do you not? I will tell you what honorable behavior has given us since we
first rowed from Dol Amroth: one stream of deaths and deceit after the next."

The spy shook his head, "The longer we stand here squabbling, the more likely our foes will surround and KILL US! Now follow me, if you want to live."

Sainion grasped Daerfalas' hand firmly, "Fine then, but if we die, it shall be your fault."
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Ivordir

Chapter CXCXXI: Blood for Riches

They sneaked around the base of the Manor and reached the stables, kicking-in their rear-door. There were several woolen tarps, used to protect farm-goods on the road in
case of rain. There was a farm nearby, outside the walls, owned and worked by the now-deceased Lord of the Estate.

The spy nodded, "Quick, climb on the treasure-sacks, and we will use these to conceal you."

Sainion nodded begrudgingly. The tarp reeked of cow manure.

He felt Arhbaineth's tender warmth by his side. He felt emboldened. Ivordir ached and strove to hold his tongue from moaning. His senses were slowly returning to him.
They heard the sound of horses being tethered to the carts. Then, they heard the creaking sound of the wheels as they wheeled across the dirt. The leading spy had stolen
one of the sigils from the corpse of a foe. He displayed it as they drove the carts away from the manor. Malnoron had entered inside the manor to survey the damages.

Baralinor and Nenthon were on the second cart. They had escaped with the spies in the midst of the fighting. The two revered knights had regrouped with Lady Melimir and
her forces. Nenthon's heart bled at the thought of leaving his sons behind, without even the grace of sailing their bodies into the Sea.

Their chests ached as various treasures jabbed into their chests beneath the stinky tarps, but they held firm in their courage. Soon, they heard the sounds of gates
opening, and then they were on a road. The spy directed them to head north.

Sainion finally peeked his head out from beneath the canvas, "Where are we going?"

The chief spy nodded, "First to find Lady Melimir. My men and I will re-enter the town if need be. Then, we will make for Tumladen. As soon as we cross its border, we will
be under the direct protection of Lord Denethor, and none will dare interfere."

Lady Melimir was not difficult to find. The spies had heard the sounds of feet running across the fields in the darkness. They guided her and her survivors to the road.
Then they heard the sounds of others, walking. Their hands clasped their daggers and swords tightly.

Amarthon came into sight, "We marched East, but doubled-back north and west, hoping to sabatoge my Father. This is beyond all hope..... who all are here?"

Sainion came off the cart, "I am, and Arhbaineth, our Captain, Daerfalas.... Aegon and Gwainoth apparently. Our twain brave elder defenders....... Baralinor......... where
is Abrazan?"
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Ivordir

Chapter CXCXXII: A Wounded Reunion

Amarthon shook his head, "I have Malgelir and my two brothers, and Rirossel with us. Ah, there is Raedwyn.......and Echuidor, our healer......"
He closed his eyes, "And one of the sellswords of Ballithor, who has apparently turned to aiding us......... and Nenthor the Fisherman....."

Abrazan flew back his hood, "I am here. I had seen the men coming and warned the spies of Melimir. Alas, we could not hold them at the gate, and alas that I did not run
throughout the Manor warning everyone........... I did not know who we were contending with........ his men overran us......"

Amarthon clasped his shoulder, "It sounds as if you did not have a choice.......... the fighting started in terrible haste...."

Abrazan nodded.

Baralinor tried to muster a smile, "We have lost many........ but we are still, counting Melimir's spies, nigh our original number of thirty, if that is of any small
consolation......"

Sainion muttered, "There is strength in numbers. We cannot afford any losses this time. None. Every single setback on our journey managed to cost our Company dear. And I
would rather our men were alive and breathing, and instead we have needless deaths and carts of heavy riches."

Abrazan closed his eyes, "We still have the cloaks?"

Amarthon nodded, "We do. All of them. And we will need them if we are to survive our greater foe...."

Abrazan mustered a small smile, "At least we know the Powers have not abandoned us. How is it that you escaped?"

Amarthon closed his eyes, "My Lord-Father, Malnoron, is a traitor to all that we hold dear. He has sided with Corsairs and other Southrons, he has aligned himself with
Aman- Guldrambor, pardon me, and he has aligned, therefore, with the land of Mordor. He has become duped by........ he overheard Auravon and me, back when the phials of
bile and Guldrambor's dark lies were twisting..."

Abrazan placed a warm hand on Amarthon shoulders, "Listen to me. You must not blame yourself for this. You have expiated your crimes, you are new, and different now.
Understand. Your father is responsible for his own actions, his alone. I am sorry that he drank the poison...... sorry for all of it.....But you must know and understand.
You stood up to him, did you not?"

Amarthon nodded, "I knew that he could not bear to detain or murder his own son.... he believes that I am to become the King, and I used it to our advantage...... we
marched away from him, there was naught that he could do to stop us. But we changed our course as soon as we left the town."

Auravon sighed, "Their men could be regrouping as we speak. Let us press on. The river is thirty leagues from here, and I would place them between us and our Father's
forces...."

And so they continued on again, deep into the shadows of the night, their path guided by the light of the stars.
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Ivordir

Chapter CXCXXIII: Nightmares Rising

But in Glaniath, Malnoron was fuming, "Are you meaning to tell me that you allowed several men with carts to escape to the west?"
Several guards fell dead after their throats had been slit.

Malnoron sighed, pointing to several of his leather-clothed soldiers, "You are my finest scouts. In gratitude to Lord Ballithor, I now know the nature of their mission.

Lord Ballithor shall not know of my treachery, and it is my guess that neither shall Lord Denethon catch wind of it. I shall return to Pelargir to contend with Denethon. I
command you to divide your ranks in half..."
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Ivordir

Chapter CXCXXIV: Toward Tranquil Waters

They camped after seven miles of toil, and did not even bother setting their tents. They awoke at mid-morning on the 6th.
And after twenty-five miles of hunger and thirst, aches and minor wounds, toil, sadness and woe.... they finally reached the river. The moonlight of midnight gleamed
on its pleasant surface. The Sirith was flowing calmly, and the spies had scouted-out a natural plateau of stone that overlooked the river.
There were several of such formations where the river flowed through rocky foothills. They had brought-forth their camp equipment from the second cart, and their camp was
hidden, for they had traversed on a smaller road through vast and storied forest, that led to the old way to the Beacon up high on the cliffs across the river. They had
managed to hide their carts in the heavy brush, taking the most valuable, smaller objects with them, and hiding the rest beneath the tarps, posting the most honorable of
their men to guard them. Then they pressed two miles west along the river, where they found the plateau. The tents were hard to set-up due to the stone, and so they
tethered sticks to the posts, to balance the beams. They hoped they would not encounter strict winds, but advised against the maintenance of candle-light or torches.

They laid-out bedding material on the floor. You could still feel the hard stone through the thick blankets that they placed on the floor. But they gently lay Ivordir and
Daerfalas to rest on and within their cloaks, on top of the thick blankets on the stony floor of the tent. The touch of that fair silk managed to sooth Ivordir,
relinquishing his pain. For the first time in hours, he finally fell asleep again.

Amarthon looked down at his cloak. It was dirty and bloody. He climbed down and washed it in the river. It miraculously emerged dry and untarnished. He took it as a better
omen. They were not abandoned by the West, despite all that had happened to them.

Auravon had cradled what had once been his right hand the entire way. He had felt dazed at times, but felt soothed by the cloak, and began to believe that he had not
suffered significant blood-loss. They slowly removed the cloak to reveal that a great healing process was underway.

Auravon beckoned to Arancir, and the same rituals were performed. The cloaks were clean. They hastily restored Auravon's cloak to his hand. Amarthon began to wonder if the
old tales of the Five Sisters were true. If so, then their waters had spoken positively to the cloak.

Rirossel cradled a weeping Auravon in her arms as they fell asleep within his cloak.
Edited by Ivordir, Oct 1 2015, 11:03 PM.
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Ivordir

Chapter CXCXXV: A Sober Hour

Amarthon resumed the watch with Malfinseron. His brother had told him everything about Malfinseron and his change of heart. They began to try to fall asleep amidst the
gentle symphony of crickets in the thickets nigh the plateau, beyond the gentle swaying of the walls of their tent in the gentle breeze, as Amarthon tucked-in Malfinseron
gently, as they finally began to fall asleep, ever gently.

But Nenthor did not sleep peacefully. He sat outside, overlooking the river, and wept for his sons, until he finally closed his eyes and slept on the hard stone of the
plateau.

And Aegon stayed with Gwainoth. Aegon, too, felt disheartened by the loss of so many brave souls, Sarndur not least among them.

The two elder knights fell asleep in their tent in their armor, their swords resting at their sides, that they might rise in the midst of sudden conflict. It felt stuffy
and uncomfortable. Their courage was stronger.
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Ivordir

Chapter CXCXXVI: Blood of the Fallen Company

Sainion rested with Arhbaineth, sharing a tent with Baralinor and Abrazan.

Sainion could not help shake the feeling of melancholic sadness. His near-despair deepened in his melancholy. He thought of futile days of cloak-dancing, of useless
splendour. He thought of the dead faces, and their faces when they were living.

Of the original Company, now lived only the following: Ivordir, Daerfalas, Sainion, Baralinor, Gwainoth, Nenthor, Gilorn, Haedirn, Naitheg....and Echuidor the Healer, and
Abrazan.....Malgelir Malfinseron, Amarthon, Auravon, Arancir.... and Brastor, while gone, still lived.....

Their ghosts haunted Sainion. Trenardir, whipped to death, with his superstitions amidst the sounds of howling in the Ernil woods...Dolthor and Maglon, cut-down by
ruthless outlaws...... Aeg murdered in the tavern of Ethring...Thanguron shot-down, Preston likely tortured to his doom, Tarion and Orchalon slain in barracks-combat....
They had lost a treacherous sell-sword in the same barracks... And now they had lost Balharn and Thoruund, Sarndur and Aeglos.......and brave Suldor and Sulchon, denied
forever the grace to have died on the Sea....

Sainion continued to mull over it in his head cyclically as he struggled to fall asleep, their faces churning throughout his mind in an endless circle....Eyes brimming with
pity and regret, wrath and woe, terror and horror....And some with bliss ere it was wrested forever from their living eyes....

Finally, Arhbaineth kissed him on the lips, calming his senses. His final thought ere he finally fell asleep: "Life still lives alive...."

Arhbaineth's kiss was one of desperation. For she, too, felt traumatized. But their cloak soothed and calmed them as they rested in its folds for what remained of the
night.

They all slept through sunrise, deep through the rising dawn. They didn't begin to awaken until Noon-time.

And as Sainion soberly opened his eyes, his cloak became sinister: a blackened Quest with a rising cost of blood. He thought of Amarthon's cloak. Blood was the price of purer gold, with no reward but death. He imagined in his memories of how they had danced. Within the shadows of his mind, he saw the cloaks dripping, blood flying in droplets in the air, pouring on the ballroom floor. His stomach churned. He wanted to throw himself in the river, but the river too, within his imagination, began to flood with blood. He was drowning. Sainion ran out of the tent. Arhbaineth stirred and saw his foot vanish beyond the tent-flap. She ran after him.
Edited by Ivordir, Aug 12 2015, 11:51 PM.
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Ivordir

Chapter CXCXXVII: Cowardice Purged

Malfinseron awoke and withdrew into a corner. He was quivering in fear.

Amarthon awoke and yawned not long thereafter, the sun was blazing between their tent-flaps and onto their eyes. He turned to gaze at Malfinseron, "What is wrong?"

Malfinseron cowered, "I....I.... am guilty, blood deeply stains my hands........"

"They appear clean to me," Amarthon retorted.

Malfinseron closed his eyes.

Amarthon smiled, "I heard you saved my brother's life."

Malfinseron shouted, "He lost his hand!"

Amarthon blinked, "I know that he did. You could not help that. But you defeated the soldier who delivered that blow, did you not?"

Malfinseron nodded.

Amarthon's eyes slowly wept, "We have lost many on our road......... I do not pretend to not feel sorrowful for it all....... so many brave, dear men...... perished over such.........to think my own Lord-Father would dare! HOW DARE HE! How..." He was weeping in earnest now, unable to hide his true feelings any longer.

Without a whim or thought, Malfinseron girded himself and darted from the corner, guiding Amarthon back down onto the heavy blanket that served as a makeshift bed. He held onto Amarthon tightly in his arms, "We are both trapped with fathers who appall us..........."

They were now both weeping and they cuddled close together beneath Amarthon's vast cloak, the sunlight gleaming on the silken gold, reflecting brightly, as they wept in the deep-crimson lining, embracing each other tightly as they wept. They were weeping for their fathers, whom they loved even as they detested their fathers' vicious crimes... and the cloak soothed them, but most of all, their newly-growing bond soothed their souls...

And after what had seemed a timeless vigil of weeping, Malfinseron smiled, "Thank you....... all of you... for saving me from the darkest foe of all....... myself........."

Amarthon tightened his embrace, "Thank you for coming with us......"

Malfinseron nodded, drying his tears, "My beloved prince..."

Amarthon smiled, "Come, let us rise. There is something I would do..."

They stood and Amarthon whipped his cloak around Malfinseron's shoulders, sending him into shock. He gently draped it and spread its train, billowing onto the floor. Malfinseron quivered, for he could feel vast bastions of peace welling in his soul.

Amarthon knelt on the floor, "My beloved prince..." He kissed the cloak, reverence flying within himself. Malfinseron turned, his eyes glistening. They renewed their embrace.
Edited by Ivordir, Aug 19 2015, 10:57 PM.
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Ivordir

Chapter CXCXXVIII: A Fallen Son

A fold of red silk whipped back onto the stone plateau, o'er darkness trailing o'er the solemn grey rock, trailing ever slowly, folds whipping to and fro in the high winds that crested up from the river. The river-water churned deeply down below into the shadows. The form jumped, crimson whipping-up like rose petals as it flew behind him.

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Sainion hung dangling from the precipice. He felt a heavy force pulling him back. Arhbaineth had girded herself and grabbed at his cloak as he fell. He had nearly scraped himself to death as he dangled toward the cliff with full force.

And as he dangled, the darkness continued to churn in its deepest depths. Arhbaineth felt as if the fabric was aiding her. She pulled and tugged with all her might, as her husband labored to climb the wall.

When he reached the top and rolled deeper into the plateau, Arhbaineth seized him, slapping him hard across the cheek: "DON'T YOU EVER DO THAT TO ME AGAIN!"

He shuddered at the sudden, harsh tone of her voice, for it deepened the shame that he now bore. He felt ashamed for having tried to kill himself. He felt ashamed at his selfishness in doing so. Once more, he had wounded her, his wife, the woman he claimed to love with all his heart. His heart felt rent asunder by his betrayal. When he looked up again, he no longer saw that stern face, but two eyes filled with pity, glistening with tears.

And he wept bitterly, and she wept, and others in the camp had stayed in their tents and avoided the whole mess. And then he embraced her, and she returned it with all her strength, cradling him tightly against her clothed bosom. They returned to their tent and snuggled close, resting in their folds of beauty. Their eyes glistened as they stared, as in their hearts, they re-affirmed their vows.
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Ivordir

Chapter CXCXXVIX: Gazing from Shelter

Baralinor gazed from within the shelter of Abrazan's cloak, as well as his own. He felt safe within that warmth, insulated by the wondrous cloak. Then he hid again in the folds of red beauty, clutching the cloak, rubbing its soft, smooth, thick surface against his cheeks, burying his eyes and nose within it. He had heard the commotion outside and would have intervened, but Abrazan bade him to relax, for Arhbaineth had saved Sainion.

But now Baralinor hid in terror of the thought of death. The more he thought of dying, the more he buried his face in beauteous folds. Abrazan spoke softly and gently, "I am afraid, too. No, my friend, please... rest... it is what Yucalwe would have wanted. Dream of him, my friend, if it gives you strength."

Baralinor frantically showered the cloak with kisses. He could not cease to kiss it. But Abrazan stared ahead as if a statue.
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Ivordir

Chapter CXCXXX: Arhbaineth's Pity

Sainion slept as peacefully as a newborn babe as Arhbaineth gazed down at him, his head resting on her lap. She felt that wrathful urge, that sad chip on her shoulder. She had experienced an accidental beating, followed by two attempts at suicide, on part of her husband, the same prince of her dreams who had persuaded Baralinor to turn away from despair. She clutched at the silk harshly and felt tempted to sob away her sorrow. But she gazed down at his sweet, smiling face, and clutched the silk ever harder. He betrayed me... but can I bring myself to betray him? I...

He stirred restfully. She felt it coming. She felt the temptation to chastise him, or to toss herself off the cliffs, to see if he would try to save her as diligently as she had saved him. Instead, she gazed down at him with her beaming eyes, approaching slowly, a soft whisper of warm air hovering between their lips. Then they conjoined, their hearts throbbing as they kissed each other. But Sainion perceived the shadow in her eyes. He felt overwhelmed with tears. He clutched her tightly, “....I........”

She remembered earlier, how relieved she had felt, right before he fell asleep. She had vacillated again. She knew it. She returned the embrace in equal fervor. All she could do was to hold him closely to her heart. It was all she could do.

Sainion felt miserable in that embrace, realizing the degree of horror he had inflicted on her. She perceived that misery. It brought Arhbaineth no satisfaction.
They both felt their hearts slowly calm, the marrow of their being softened. They hid in the deepening beauty of their cloak, an ecstasy of peace and undying love seizing their souls. They rested there, in their deep, sweet beauty. They hid their faces in the crimson folds. Stronger still, was the greater fabric that bond their souls.
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Ivordir

Chapter CXCXXXI: Deeper Wounds

Auravon paced to and fro in his tent-chamber, his cloak billowing behind him. Rirossel sat there and watched him quietly.

“How could you rescue such a.... monster!” She barked and seethed.

Auravon turned, “You dare to defy ME?”

She shrank back, “Oh no... not you also... what has he said to you? Tell me what Malgelir has said to you!!!”

“Nothing ill,” Auravon slowly replied, as he attempted to calm himself. “Do not call him by that name again. He is Malfinseron now!”

“Changing a name doesn’t change who someone is!” Rirossel shouted. “He tortured me, he abused me, and why would you trust such...such...!!!”

“I do not know why,” Auravon closed his eyes, “It is a gut feeling.”

“And will you not listen also to my gut?”

Auravon whipped his cloak around, “Listen... I care for you... and I will never hurt you...”

“You already have, by sparing him! I want him DEAD! I want his rotten little corpse thrown into the river!”

Auravon blinked, “And were your words to me earlier, back at Glaniath, concerning his redempt-“

“REDEMPTION!” Rirossel yelled, “You talk to me of ‘Redemption!’ What of me, how I was violated, how I was forced to suffer in near-eternal agony, while he stood there and laughed and mocked and cracked his whip, and took pleasure in it! He took pleasure in it! No change can come to such a... vicious beast! He is cruel, he deserves to die, how can you expect us to have a content marriage if he does not die? You, I thought you were the beloved of my dreams, and now you dare to conspire with my greatest of nightmares, who terrified me even in my dreams, who came me no recourse, abandoned me bereft of hope and justice... but I suppose it is all good fun for you men, you boys, in all your various schemes to enslave us... well I will not be your slave, Auravon! I am a proud Lady, of a noble House, of the Blood of Numenor, equal to you in everything! And I will not be your slave. Nor will I be a wench to be bartered or traded from house to house in matrimony! Nor will I allow you to cast me, as a certain King once did unto his so-called beloved Queen, adrift in the sea with her wild cats...”

Auravon’s heart sank low, as he barked with a hint of bitter sarcasm: “Fine. I’ll toss him in the river. Will you be quiet then?”

“OH!” She yelled. She stormed out of the tent and vanished, as Auravon began to sob. He could not stop sobbing. He felt tempted to hate Malfinseron, but what he hated most of all was the father, who had never truly taught his son the better ways, the truer ways, the brighter ways, of bonds of love and peace, that Auravon knew in his heart were superior to that of the body politic that had corroded since the loss of the line of Kings.
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Ivordir

Chapter CXCXXXII: Above the Lashes

Ivordir lay in a daze, wrapped tightly in his cloaks, resting peacefully alongside Daerfalas in the tent. It was dawn on the 7th. The past several days were all a nightmare to him. He no longer knew what was real. He floated, feeling various strange movements. But the cloaks somehow alleviated the pain, slowly and gently. He felt as if he was floating down a river. A part of him longed for home, desiring for an end to the quest once and for all. He dreamed of his library as he slept. It was easier to read than to trudge through fen and forest. He stirred slowly. He wondered where he was. The tent was unfamiliar. His back still ached, though not as harshly. He reached behind and felt it. The scars. The cloaks had not expiated him of the scars. He missed the old feel of his soft, smooth skin. He wondered at the Valar. He turned to his side and saw Daerfalas. He was relieved to see his beloved brother still alive. He rolled over closer to him with some difficulty, but he was careful to not moan loudly.
He stared into those closed, peaceful eyes, gently, softly pressing his lips, against Daerfalas' left cheek.

Beside him Daerfalas stirred little. His brow was smooth, and peaceful in his rest, but the many days they had spent under torture had taken its ware upon his countenance. He appeared young and fragile. There was a hint of dampness to his skin, the last lingering signs of a fever. His dreams were scattered things, wisps of images and words he could not discern. Only the sound of the camp brought him forth from his deep sleep. His eyes blinked open, and they were glazed, as someone trapped between rest and reverie.

"Ivordir?" he whispered, his voice rough from disuse. He could not see his brother, not yet, but he could feel his presence.

"Where are we..." Ivordir muttered aloud. "If this is Malgelir's notion of.... no wait.... were we..... guided from our cells, by whom? I can't remember........"

He stood and came to the entrance of the tent, where he saw Amarthon and Malfinseron emerging from another. But to him, Malfinseron was still Malgelir. Ivordir shouted, "Amarthon.... what are you....doing..... with that........"

Amarthon shouted back, "Captain! Wait, I can explain-"

Daerfalas struggled to sit up. He rose onto his knees, peering after Ivordir, "What can you see?" he asked, his brow drawn in confusion.

Ivordir grabbed two swords quickly from within the tent. "Malgelir is here......" His eyes blazed with wrath.

He stormed to the entrance, tossing the sword to Malgelir, "Now, to the death... that justice shall be served... even if I should die surrounded by all your men, I shall take you with me..."

"Malgelir?" Daerfalas echoed, his voice wavering. "So we are prisoners still? Yet there are swords here...wait. Ivordir..."

Ivordir did not hear his brother. He charged, roaring aloud, as Malfinseron weakly attempted to parry his attacks.

Daerfalas stood on two uncertain feet, and followed Ivordir outside of the tent, his eyes blinking rapidly. "Wait! Ivordir!"

Ivordir beat the blade out of Malfinseron's hand, Malfinseron fell backward and crawled toward one of the tent-posts.
Ivordir laughed, with a hint of cruelty in his tone, "Wait! I have waited far too long for this! Come hither, Malgelir. Die now for your crimes, that justice shall be fulfilled, at least attempt to die with honor, you faithless cur!" Ivordir thrust his sword down at Malfinseron, who quickly rolled out of the way of the blade.
Ivordir shouted, "You embarrassing little maggot! Come now and..."

From the entrance of the tent Daerfalas stared, uncomprehending at what he saw. A camp. Yet there was Melgelir, on the ground. He hurried over to Ivordir, and stood a few paces back; this was wrong, something was amiss...

Ivordir thrust his weapon down again. It cut away a fold of Malfinseron's robe. Ivordir raised his blade again, "Now, cur of Ballithor the Traitor, in the name of Lord Denethor, Son of Ecthelion, Ruling Steward of Gondor, I, Ivordir, son of Ioristor,"

"Maggot, you say?" Gilorn's gentle voice cut him off as he approached, his aged hand clutching his sword-hilt at his side. "I have not heard such harshness, save from the tongues of Orcs. Is something amiss, my Captain?"

Haedirn stood at his side, "I advise caution. Too long have you excluded us from your councils. We were forced to observe one folly to the next, but this may prove the worst, in all due respect, my Captain... can you not already see that the boy has changed?"

Ivordir laughed, "And how are you, elder, such an acute judge of character?"

Gilorn nodded, "I can see it in his eyes... all he is is a frightened boy. If anyone is to be blamed for your torture, I would blame his father."

Daerfalas crossed his arms over his chest. Now he was angry, as his confusion ebbed away. The coward on the ground, he thought to himself, was no child, but a Man. Yet he did not move, to await a proper explanation.
Edited by Ivordir, Oct 1 2015, 11:04 PM.
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