Welcome Guest [Log In] [Register]

Welcome to Leaves of Laurelin. We hope you enjoy your visit.

You're currently viewing our forum as a guest. This means you are limited to certain areas of the board and there are some features you can't use. If you join our community, you'll be able to access member-only sections, and use many member-only features such as customizing your profile, sending personal messages, and voting in polls. Registration is simple, fast, and completely free. We hope you'll enjoy your time here.

Join our community!


If you're already a member please log in to your account to access all of our features:

Username:   Password:
Add Reply
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 (4,119 Views)
Ivordir

Chapter CCLXXXVII: The Trial of Traitors

Far to the northwest, in Tumladen, Saelbainor was kneeling on the floor in one of the wider, lower chambers of the manse, his cloak trailing behind him, as Amarthandor
stared down on him coldly, fingering the hilt of his sword.

Amarthandor sat in deepening silence, staring at him. The room was more silent than a grave. The soldiers of both Companys watched from the edges of the room, prepared to
fight to the death.

Saelbainor buried his face in the floor, "I....was born.... an enemy of Gondor......a cruel and terrible wretched spawn of Umbar......serving my Masters in their cruelty
and lust for power...........and to fell beings I professed my life......................."

Ivordir and Mithon observed the scene curiously.

Amarthandor's voice was deep and heart-wrenching, "Give us a reason why you should not perish for thy loathsome crimes, Gurthbainor..................."

Saelbainor uttered, ".....thou hast seen the signs......."

Auravon's voice retorted, "Tricks, formed by the vile bile.........."

Saelbainor shook his head, "Nay......... unless thou didst drinketh, of late, of that fell bile........"

Lord Brenion was not involved with the proceedings, for Ivordir knew that if he was, an execution would not have been a mere question.

Amarthandor stood, grasping a golden fold, "This cloak hath betrayed its Master..............."

Saelbainor nodded, "Then it couldst not belongeth to that Master, in truth.........."

Amarthandor flashed a dagger, and swirled the cloak around and over Saelbainor's head, as he mocked Saelbainor's fell rituals. He held the dagger to Saelbainor's throat,
while pressing the fold against his face, "How feel thee thus......................"

"I am not afraid," Saelbainor boldly retorted, "For I feel at peace within these folds."

And then Amarthandor undid the fell worship, kissing Saelbainor boldly, "Receive the kiss of Truth." Then he withdrew and returned to his seat, leaving Saelbainor stunned
on the floor before him. Amarthandor turned to Arancir, "What say you, brother?"

Arancir watched on, his face grave. "He looks afraid," he said finally, with honesty. "And their journey hence must have been perilous. Does he strike you as a man, truly
contrite? Or are his words a poison with the means to infect us all? I lack the wisdom to say, for I understand his plight...perhaps all too well." He grimaced and looked
away.

A man raised his hand. A soldier with a bandaged side. He came forth, "I once served Lord Dochon, who led an attack-force against their company in the wilderness, at the
command of Lord Malnoron."

Auravon gazed at him in wonder, "And how art you hither thence?"

Palanelon came forward, kneeling beside Saelbainor, "I can vouch for these men. I was wounded on the field of battle. My brother even more gravely so. My brother died in
that man's arms!" He pointed to Isenadin. "And that man could not have been a brutal killer...... and if he was once, then he is no longer....... for my brother died with
some semblance of hope and dignity. And then he saved my life, preventing my wounds from suffering infection.............. and so I gave them my sword."

Mithon spoke-up, "You speak wisdom, then, brave soldier. For no one truly ill at heart would behave rudely on the field of battle, not even to one's foes. And I've seen
Haradrim bury their dead."
Edited by Ivordir, Nov 19 2015, 12:35 AM.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Ivordir

Chapter CCLXXXVIII: A Vow of Honor

Palanelon nodded, "These are no Haradrim. Haradrim steal tufts of hair from the men they kill, and consume their bodies on the-"

Mithon broke-in, "All lies and tales woven by prattling old ladies to frighten young lordlings."

Palanelon sighed, "Forgive me, my lord............."

Behind Ivordir, Daerfalas shook his head with a deep frown. "So they are not beasts. That does not mean that they are true to their words."

"I am no lord," Mithon continued. "I am naught but a servant of Gondor. And whom do you serve, soldier?"

Palanelon bowed, "Gondor............."

Auravon spoke-up, "Can anyone else, besides the traitors themselves, vouch for them?"

Abrazan raised his hand. They turned in shock. Abrazan nodded, "I have lived among my people, though for a brief time, but I remember well the eyes of cruelty within
Umbarrim Corsairs' faces...... the eyes that burned my village down............." He stared into Saelbainor's eyes with his piercing gaze, then into those of Saelbainor,
"I do not see those eyes here. And I can see them, even when they are hidden. My father taught me this, how to observe them carefully........."
Mithon nodded, "He taught you well, for this is true. My superiors might have ordered their deaths, but I cannot in good conscience do so, due to the signs that we have
witnessed."

Auravon turned to Arancir, "Brother?"

Arancir shifted uncomfortably. "I would suggest caution, at the very most. These Men know how to bewitch others with their words. Though I do not doubt Abrazan's ability
to see into the hearts of Men. What may we do? Keep them under watch until they have proved themselves true? Is this possible, Captain?" He looked beseechingly towards
Ivordir.

Ivordir sighed, "There is only one way to prove it so. And it would appear that Amarthandor has done so. We witnessed in Pelargir how the bile reacted to the cloaks of the
Eldar, simmering and smoking, and burning. If we desire further proof," he came into the center of the room, standing before Saelbainor, "You will kiss the cloak of the
Eldar, son of Umbar. If thy lips burn and perish, then you and your entire company are false, and shall be put to death. If your lips remain fair and free, then so shall
your lives."

Saelbainor nodded, "I consent, my lord."

Ivordir gathered a fold and extended it to him. Saelbainor buried his lips in the smooth, golden fabric, and closed his eyes. There was a sudden pleasant scent.

Saelbainor began to weep, bitterly, "And even so, I shouldst thence perish, for all the dead.............."

Ivordir nodded, "Rise, Saelbainor."

Arancir moved closer to Auravon, grasping his arm. "He spoke truly...he even weeps for the wrongs he has committed..."

Mithon added, "And redeem thyself in the eyes of Gondor, before the Crown of the Faithful, the Fountain Ever-Flowing, and for the White Tree that shall one day bloom
anew......"

Saelbainor nodded, "I vo-"

Abrazan silenced him, "Speak no further, redeemed one. My father took a Vow of Honor, once......... and it only served to ruin him, despite his good intentions. So let it
be a promise to your spirit of equal weight as a vow. But speak not the word."
Edited by Ivordir, Apr 11 2016, 02:56 PM.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Ivordir

Chapter CCLXXXIX: A Watch Prepared

Mithon nodded, "Much wisdom have I heard this eve. I believe there is no danger."

Ivordir smiled, "Come, then, for it is time for the final verdict."

Ivordir returned to his place, and Palanelon, bowing, to his.

Amarthandor dropped his sword, "Saelbainor, I believe that Gurthbainor has been executed for his many murderous crimes, and those of his followers. Saelbainor, arise
anew." And many soldiers, Haedirn and Gilorn included, applauded as Saelbainor arose.

Mithon turned to Ivordir and Daerfalas, "A word with you both."

Ivordir hearkened to him, "Yes, Dunadan?"

Mithon smiled, "I believe in redemption...... and I believe in honor...... the Faithful, after all, required redemption, in order to escape from the foul King's Men of
old..........Even still, breathe not a word of this to anyone outside our circle. It would be best if this entire disaster in Pelargir passed unknown."

Ivordir nodded, "I could not agree more." He turned to Daerfalas.

With little reluctance, Daerfalas nodded. "Indeed, though I cannot say I like this secrecy, and fear what should happen should any learn of it."

Mithon smiled, "Very well then. Gurthbainor is executed, thus declared. We should still remain watchful and wary, but not to the point of casting them away, or treating
them as distrustful criminals..... for to do so would risk a return to their evil, and worse terrors to come."

Ivordir nodded, "Let us be quick about dividing our ranks."

"Yes," Mithon nodded. "Both parties should leave separately from the Gates of Tumladen." He continued, "I suggest that the lesser-trained and skilled in wilderness
survival and combat should press onward to Minas Tirith, with several protectors."

Ivordir nodded, "We should send Gilorn and Haedirn and several of Lord Brenion's men, along with Amarthandor and his followers, this Saelbainor and his new company."

Daerfalas crossed his arms. "Aye, that seems best to me."

Mithon closed his eyes, "Ah, now that does pose a threat. If their words are false and they truly remain as traitors, then I am sending some of Gondor's most dangerous men
unhindered into the Capital."

Ivordir nodded, "And yet, if they are truly penitent, then they could even aid in halting any fell plans that Saelbainor's former Masters in Umbar had set into motion."

"It is a gamble," Daerfalas conceded, "as all things are now."

Ivordir sighed, "There is one way to tell........ we must play-out the gamble, Daerfalas, for the sake of your mother, and for us all. Saelbainor must stay with us this
evening. We can trust our martial strength to protect us in battle, if need be, and we can trust in the West to protect us."

Mithon shook his head, "It is risky, but it is right. I applaud your courage, Ivordir. I do believe that we shall see each other at the light of dawn, or so I would hope."

Ivordir nodded, "We shall prevail, I believe.... we shall. Good evening to you, Mithon."

"Agreed," he replied smoothly, a small yet bright smile playing upon his features. "Captain Ivordir and I shall endure."

"Good evening......." Mithon nodded and parted from the chamber.

Amarthandor had overheard vast swaths of the conversation as he turned the corner of the room, "I agree as well. My brothers and I will maintain our watch over the
others."

Haedirn also turned the corner, "And Gilorn and I will maintain our watch over their soldiers in the soldiers' quarters."

"Excellent," Ivordir nodded. "Good evening to you all."
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Ivordir

Chapter CCXC: A Watchful Night

Ivordir, Daerfalas, and Saelbainor, passed into Ivordir's chamber. Some time had passed between the conclusion of the trial and this moment. Ivordir spoke with Amarthandor on some additional matter, but it was revealed to neither of the others.

The fire in the hearth was ablaze, as a flickering, ominous light filled the room. It reminded Saelbainor of his old lair beneath the manse of Malnoron. His stomach hurt.
He outspread his cloak, bowing low. "What is thy command, my Lord," he declared.

Ivordir felt entranced by Saelbainor's glittering, golden folds and sparkling eyes. Ivordir closed his eyes, "Tell me of the land of your birth. Let us begin."

Feeling as though he should sit, Daerfalas circled the room. Restlessly he leaned upon a far wall, his eyes fixed upon Saelbainor.

Saelbainor declared, "I do not remember. I remember only the Halls of the High Manses, the dark-robed men, the old ruins of the King's Men and their importance, the fallen
tower of Ar-Pharazon's victory before his conver- fall, and how oft I thence didst gaze upon the Grand Harbor from high windows." He slipped excessive folds of silk into
the appearance of billowing sleeves on his arms.

Ivordir nodded, "I caught that slip, although I suppose it is difficult to change one's entire life within a small span of days......................tell us of Malnoron."

Saelbainor nodded, sitting on a chair across from Ivordir, who sat on the bed thoughtfully.

"I came to know of him through my Masters. My Masters whipped me, they scourged all doubt out of me...... I can still feel their lashes on my back. Malnoron was a
tradesman who traded often with some of the Masters."

Ivordir nodded, "And how..... did you learn such fell....."

"The Masters taught me. But I had devised a plan of my own accord..........for I had read legends of our then-Master, the Lord of the Rings, who appeared in beauty and
fairness, and glory.......And thus, I sought to emulate him...........and so I received goods from the silk traders, weaving the webs of my plot.........."

Daerfalas shot an alarmed look to Ivordir.

Ivordir gazed at Daerfalas, "And how, Saelbainor, did your plot fail?"

Saelbainor sighed, "First, Amarthon disappeared...... he had told us his tale of the East, and we believed him....... then, after many sacrifices, Malnoron himself
betrayed us, and the Masters abandoned me and my followers.............."

Ivordir sighed, "And then those wondrous occurrences with the Sun and the winds and the scents upon the air began to occur..... and apparently you fought a battle on the
road north."

Saelbainor nodded.

Ivordir smiled, "Let me tell you a strange story................."
Edited by Ivordir, Nov 7 2015, 07:39 PM.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Ivordir

Chapter CCXCI: A Final Trial

"I know about the Elf," Saelbainor bowed, "For Amarthon had told me......."

"Amarthon told you what?" Daerfalas interrupted, looking somewhat disturbed at the mention.

"He is Amarthandor now," Ivordir replied, "And he is trustworthy now."

Saelbainor nodded, "Amarthon told me of the Elf, Yucalwe, and of Amanuiron and all of it...."

Ivordir smiled, "And the poison did not succeed. Yucalwe regained his mind, in time, and trained us in the north.........."

Saelbainor smiled, "I art gladdened to hear of these tidings....."

"You did not know Yucalwe," Daerfalas interceded, his voice soft. "And yet you claim happiness to hear news of his health. Why?"

Ivordir nodded, "Now, Saelbainor.... please understand our perspective on this matter. You are guilty of high treason on many counts, and the murder of innocents. You may
have repented of them, but we remain in doubt. You could be...a player, a serpent in hiding, awaiting the moment to strike............."

Saelbainor nodded, "I know what thou fearest most, Captain Ivordir......let us be done with such fears and quarrels.".

And Saelbainor stood and outstretched his black cloak, lined with gleaming gold, his chest cocooned by glittering silk, rushing to the floor and pouring behind him as if a
river.

Ivordir nodded, rushing into Saelbainor's arms, finding no weapon upon him as Ivordir patted Saelbainor's soft shoes and trousers and belt, inspecting his arms and hands. Ivordir plunged into shock as Saelbainor embraced him.

Saelbainor uttered, "Thou knowest well thy trial....."

Ivordir nodded, releasing the embrace, "For the final proof, then. Lend me thy cloak, for I shalt lend thee mine."

Daerfalas watched with a careful air, yet he sat still and composed.

Ivordir took the cloak of Auruiron and the cloak of Yucalwe, as Saelbainor removed his cloak from his shoulders. Ivordir cloaked Saelbainor, bidding him to rest on the
nearby cot.

Ivordir turned to Daerfalas, "We must endure this together."

There was a second cot next to the bed. Ivordir took to the cot, lying down, beckoning to Daerfalas to take the bed.

Ivordir outstretched Saelbainor's cloak, for half of it to drape across onto the bed.

Daerfalas lay upon the bed, never taking his eyes from Ivordir, awaiting his cue.

Ivordir tossed the excessive folds toward Daerfalas.

Taking the edge of the cloak, Daerfalas spread it comfortably. It felt strange, but there was no danger within its folds, and he settled himself.

There was a fair scent emergent beneath the folds, as Ivordir buried his face within them, sensing nothing ill. He buried his face into the sweet, glimmering gold. As soon
as he reemerged for air, he fell asleep.

And Saelbainor lay himself on the cot, cloaking himself within both capes, of Auruiron and Yucalwe. He slept the most peaceful sleep he had ever slept.
Edited by Ivordir, Nov 7 2015, 06:42 PM.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Ivordir

Chapter CCXCII: Honor among Sellswords

In the soldiers' quarters, Gilorn laid himself down on a hard cot. His backbones ached from the day's training as he clenched his teeth and closed his eyes. He blinked,
noting the presence of Naitheg.

Naitheg too readied himself for rest. He felt the eyes of another upon his back, and smirked to himself. This was not in itself unusual. The other Men didn't trust him. He
cared little. Turning, he loosened the ties on his tunic, and sat. "Do you have need of anything?" he asked Gilorn bluntly.

Gilorn moaned deeply, "A strange question for a sellsword to ask......................................... or do I detect a hint of honor? No thank you...............'

"Honor?" Naitheg smirked, and he too lay down, folding his arms underneath his head. "I know not the word. But you know this, I think." He sniffed, and closed his eyes,
the very picture of rest and comfort. "Perhaps I will be sent to accompany the Lady Melimir. I would like that. The retinue will be the easier journey."

Gilorn laughed, "You won't sway Mithon....... he'll be wantin' ya kept under lock n' key.....now maybe if you slew a hundred Haradrim and lived to tell the tale........."

Naitheg snorted softly under his breath. "Perhaps I have. What would you know of it? I won't be kept here, anyhow. My sword arm is too strong, and such strengths are
needed by our captain." He chuckled. "Now shut up. I am readied for bed, and seek my rest."

Gilorn laughed and muttered to himself, "Sellswords............ if only they'd kill as many Orcs as the coin they're paid." He closed his eyes and fell asleep.
Edited by Ivordir, Nov 7 2015, 06:42 PM.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Ivordir

Chapter CCXCIII: The Former King's Ruling

Amarthandor addressed his guests sternly: "How will you regain our trust?" The room sat silent.

Daechon came forward and knelt before him, "My Lord..... I am guilty of bearing witness and participating in the slaughter of innocents..... I deserve to die."

The rest of Saelbainor's followers came forward, kneeling one by one, uttering the same sentence.

Then Amarthandor arose, outspreading the wings of his cloak, as the blood-red silken lining fell to the floor. His brothers did the same. Amarthandor declared, "We, too,
are guilty of these crimes. We shall not pretend otherwise. Let us, in brotherhood, and sisterhood, now dedicate ourselves to new resolve, in penitence for our many
crimes." They retracted their arms once more. Beds had been prepared against the walls of the vast chamber.

Then Daechon and Isenadin stood before them. Daechir declared, "In dedication to our new resolve, we would like to perform this dance." Amarthon reluctantly nodded.

They performed their dance in a barrage of light and color. First Daechon's flaming red glided on the air with Isenadin's sunbright orange, which fell away, revealing deep
blue and green of the shifting sea and deepening woods, in turn removed, revealing silver of the stars and the purple of royalty.

They all applauded when their dance was done. Amarthandor kept his reservations, the marking horrors of the past, to himself.

Fingaereth and Malfinseron were present. Fingaereth pulled on Malfinseron's robes, drawing him down toward her, and deeply kissed him on the lips, their hearts throbbing.

Then she whispered, "That other short man may yet........I do not know..... I have a... familiar feeling....."

Malfinseron nodded, "You may speak with him."

Fingaereth approached Isenadin, who had seen her kiss.
Edited by Ivordir, Apr 20 2016, 02:16 PM.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Ivordir

Chapter CCXCIV: The Final Departure from Tumladen

They all awoke the next morn and gathered in the main hall. Lord Brenion presided over the commisioning of the recruits and the division of the groups. Fingaereth eyed
Isenadin curiously. Malfinseron eyed Isenadin with concern. Lord Brenion's daughters and Glossel opted to journey to Minas Tirith. After the speeches and fine, fair words,
inventories were made, belongings and provisions were gathered, and all were dressed for travel. Many horses had been prepared for both groups. The horses were to be
delivered back to Tumladen by rangers, in Ivordir's stead. Lord Brenion had spared no expense in hiring-out the most skilled steeds of the Vale, and several caretakers
were assigned to each group.

The Companies set forth at a slow trot, as Brenion watched hauntingly as they passed away from his courtyard. It was a silent and somber morning. They passed through the
gates of Tumladen, and looked abroad, the vast plains and hills stretching before them, as the road wound round to the left.

The two Companies road together for a time, and at mid-Afternoon, they reached the crossroads.

Ivordir shook hands with Saelbainor, "Let not our trust be betrayed."

Saelbainor vowed, "It shall not be thus."

Ivordir gazed toward Daerfalas and Melimir.

Mother and Son shared an embrace, though their farewell was not tearful. Lady Melimir held her head high, and Daerfalas kissed her hand. "I leave thee in good hands," she
said, and he laughed. "And I you, Mother," he said. They smiled at one another. In their faces shone hope. He nodded to Raedwyn, who returned the gesture to him. Then he
returned to Ivordir's side, moving close to his brother, at last ready for their depature.

With a brief wave, they split directions. Ivordir's Company began the long road southeast. The nobles journeyed on the road nigh the mountains.
Edited by Ivordir, Nov 7 2015, 06:43 PM.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Ivordir

Chapter CCXCV: Bond of Sorcery

It was evening on the 25th as Silevren's ship continued to sail. It had not yet turned the bend to Minas Tirith. Silevren rubbed his clean-shaven chin as he sat with Lerion in private once more. Lerion stood before him, outspreading his vast cape, bowing his head, "What is thy command, your Grace?........."

Silevren smiled, "Come, my brother..... attend me............."

Lerion approached him slowly, maintaining his outspread, silky wings. Lerion smiled, "Behold my serpentine Being........" He hissed. Soon, they were both enveloped again beneath his cloak.

Silevren felt Lerion's warm breath again. Lerion hissed, "Greater triumph shall be thine....oh King."

Silevren deeply kissed his cheek, "Receive the kiss of brotherhood." And Lerion returned the gesture on the lips, "I shall obey unto thee... my King......"

They warmly, deeply, tightly embraced. And Lerion whispered, "I am ever coiled around thee...."

Lerion suddenly withdrew, slowly processing across the room, his dark-purple folds gleaming and glittering behind him. Silevren watched in awe. Lerion outspread his arms anew in glittering beauty as he began to spun in rapid succession. He did not appear transfigured. Suddenly, he halted, "Why am I not........"

Silevren shook his head, "It must have its proper place and time........"

Lerion nodded. He outspread his glittering ruby-blood-red lining once again, the folds draping from his arms aloft, as he returned, his cape flying and billowing aloft, to coil once more around his brother and high King.

And Silevren buried his face again into the depths of serpentine, sorcerous folds. His head curved round, through the deep caverns of silk. He gazed into Lerion's eyes.

Lerion gently stroked his hair, "My King...... my Golden King.......will you bring peace to my people?"

"Yes, my friend...............and we shall avenge thy father..........."

"You would have loved him, and he, you....................."

"Shelter me, my Sorcerer..... hide me within thy magic.... for I am frightened............."

"You need not be.............."

Outside the ship, the sun was setting, as the light of fiery skies slowly dimmed, darker and darker. They had passed by several harbor towns. And the White Tree still flew defiantly.

Within the cloak, Lerion smiled, "My brother..... my King..........................you calm down and rest within me.................for I am thy serpent..........................."

Silevren's eyes gleamed, "And I shall crown thee........ King and Master of Harad..............."

Lerion shook his head, "No, your Grace....... there can only be one Ar-Pharazon to lead us all to victory."

"Then let me adore you, as if you were a King, my serpentine Sorcerer............let us end the feud between our peoples...................." They deeply kissed each others' cheeks, embracing closely.

Then Lerion arose, twirling his cloak around himself, and as he pressed forward, he held his arms aloft in the manner of Silevren, his vast cloak billowing behind him. "Your Grace....... grant that I may tell you of my people......."

Silevren stood, nodding, "It is granted......"

Lerion whipped around, outspreading his cloak again, glittering fiery red as desert sands, "Then come within my folds once more, that you may imagine this with me.............."

They returned to their place of rest once more, vanishing beneath the cloak. The sun was in its final stages of setting.

Edited by Ivordir, May 3 2016, 07:14 PM.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Ivordir

Chapter CCXCVI: The Shahadmaradi

"Ja..... sa godo losa......" Young Lerion, then Salagostri, heard the Mumak-retainer say.

Salagost smiled, "Then it shall be............."

Young Salagostri gazed upward at the massive trunk, beaming eyes, and gigantic ears and posture of the oliphaunt. Most haunting were its tusks. He feared its tusks. His father kept him out of the way. Young Salagostri was standing there with his friend, Gosmadi.

Salagostri's mother was an abducted Gondorian woman. She had been a serving woman and healer at one of the Harondor outposts. She had enough to fear from her fellow comrades, save the honorable men who protected her. But the Haradrim convoy had overrun the outpost, and she had tried to hide herself. The Sorcerer dismounted and found her cowering in a pantry. The Sorcerer, for his spying on behalf of Umbar in Pelargir, had known some Gondorian. He spoke to her gently, with compassion. She felt entranced by his charm. She had detested the Haradrim, regarding them as mere animals. She fell beneath his wings and, in time, she was wed, but not willingly. She had consented for the sake of her own survival. Nine months later, Salagostri was born. His mother had, in secret, tried to find a medicine man to destroy her child within her. Her husband was the closest in the tribe to this role. He learned the truth, and she, in her despair, fell from the Mumak's tower, landing impaled on its left tusk. Salagost was devastated, but his child was safe, and protected by others in the tribe. He raised Salagostri to hate his mother, and through her, all of Gondor. Salagostri desired to infect that cursed realm with venom from his own serpentine fangs, in retribution. The fact that his own mother desired his own death, because it was inconvenient for her, and because of her prejudice disturbed him. And so it was that he never knew the innocence of childhood. He knew only the Black Serpent, his idol.

They went into the chief tent at nightfall, where there were dancing girls, twirling as if they glided on the air in their silks. Salagostri watched in awe as they made-way, each grasping a rear-fold of Salagost's vast cloak, dancing with it, twirling it, rolling themselves close to him within it, and then outward, outspreading it as wide and beautiful as they could, as Salagost bowed before the Elders.

And Salagostri recalled as they road the leagues across a portion of the desert, how the sun had beaten down hot on their sweaty necks and backs, and how they had endured. The vast, tall sandy dunes had made him prone to mirages. Salagostri had held onto his father's back, and Gosmadi unto Salagostri, deeply within their shelter beneath Salagost's cloak. And here they had remained, safe from the beating rays of the sun, and from the chill of night. And the strange stars shined brightly beneath the gaze of nightfall.

Their tribe was of the Shahadmaradi, ruthless to the southern Dunedain of Ithilien.

When the dancing had concluded, and Salagost had bowed, he presented his sorcery: his fortune-telling. And he remembered the oases in the desert, the palm trees swaying in the breeze alongside crystalline springs, and the fertile fields nigh Umbar. He recalled his tribe's nomadic wanderings from the Steppes of Khand to the deep jungles of the south. He recalled how some had died of heat-exposure, while others had lived, for water was ever rationed carefully. He recalled the emerald-beauty of the sunlight in the jungle, he recalled the silk-worms and how they were bred, how the fabric was woven and traded, and he recalled the fearsome half-trolls that made him pale with fear, and the dark-clothed Masters who he saw from afar from time to time, and the terror of the mere thought of slavery, and the fighting-pits in Umbar, as many mysteries were illuminated while Silevren listened, ever gazing into the dark pupils of Salagostri Lerion's eyes.

And Lerion recalled his rivers of tears when he had learned of Gosmadi's death in a convoy of Mumakil, journeying through Harondor. For he had regarded Gosmadi as his own flesh and blood. And he recalled his last image of his father, Salagost, within his mind, who had refused the warnings of his son: Salagost had stood, his vast cloaks flowing powerfully in the winds behind him, at the peak of the tower of a Mumakil, beautifully and brilliantly in the heights of his pride. And Lerion had nearly destroyed himself, when he learned of his father's death.

Lerion concluded his story, as Silevren had intently listened in awe and wonder, of a land he had never known. He gazed into Lerion's glistening eyes with compassion.

"I would have loved him, your father," Silevren confessed.

And Lerion embraced Silevren closely, as they kissed each others' cheeks in a rapid succession, borne from pure pity and compassion and nothing more, as they wept together beneath the cloak. Small openings in the folds had kept the air flowing within their deepest shelter that had become as if a Temple.

The sun had set completely. And when they had besotted themselves with tears for what seemed an eternity, they emerged from the folds for cleaner air, falling asleep in each others' arms.

And as they dreamed anew, Silevren felt the slick, silky, cool skin of a serpent coiling around him. He no longer feared the sound of hissing. He adored it, kissing the serpent before him. There was a flash of light as they held each other deeply. And Lerion and Silevren danced in the Citadel of their dreams.
Edited by Ivordir, Nov 7 2015, 06:43 PM.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Ivordir

Chapter CCXCVII: The Serpent's Dance

It was the Citadel of Gondor within the palatial space of their dreams.

Lerion smirked, "Come....."

A hooded, black figure stood silently, unseen, in a corner of the chamber.

Silevren nodded, as they twirled beside each other, as deep, dark purple, and flaming red, spun into sparkling, golden majesty, flapping, fluttering, overlapping, as they glimmered, glittered, and gleamed as bright as stars.

There were the shouts of several Gondorian men. Silevren yelled against them. But Lerion stood in their midst, gazing coldly into the rangers' eyes, his cloak pouring onto the floor around him, stretching toward the pillars. He raised his arms and spun, shining brighter and brighter. The rangers drew their bows and arrows. Then Lerion ceased to spin, his arms outspread, as he levitated, his cloak draping to the floor in vast falls and currents of light and splendor, glittering as if the silken stars dotted his blood-red, fiery firmament. Fierceness grew in his wrathful, vengeful expression, his eyes turning yellow, his forked tongue fluttering as he hissed, as his pale skin turned silky, shiny black, in a flash of light.

Silevren gazed in shock at the entire display.

The large serpent's tail struck the rangers, their arrows bouncing off a vast and storied tail. The rangers ran and vanished. Silevren ran forward, embracing a far larger serpent. The Black Serpent hissed, gently coiling itself around Silevren, who stood entranced, gazing into the serpent's eyes. The serpent became enveloped with light. Silevren blinked. He embraced Lerion once more, pride swelling in his soul.

Silevren's heart was flying. He ran up the stairs and stood before the throne, his vast, golden cloak training all around him. He grasped the cloak with both hands, outspreading his arms, as Lerion knelt on the floor before him, his eyes glistening in awe and wonder of his beauty. Silevren seemed to heighten in his majesty. His robes and cloak glittered brighter and brighter. He was suddenly enveloped in light. The light changed in its form.

Silevren saw the ceiling growing closer. He darted aside, nearly thrashing into the walls and stained glass windows. He glided between each pillar and statue. When he desired to move his arms, he felt a curious gush of air beneath them, with the sound of flapping wings. He found himself gazing down at Lerion.

For Lerion stared in awe of the golden vision, as the bat flew above him, nothing dripping from his neck. It was the vision of Sauron's escape from Beren and Luthien, in the First Age so long ago. But this bat was not wounded. He landed in Lerion's arms, crawling onto Lerion's shoulder.

The hooded, black figure moved forward. Lerion turned and noticed him, terror mounting in his soul. He seemed as if one of the Wraiths, the Dead Kings, whom the Haradrim served and feared.

The being whipped back its hood. It was Amanuiron.

Amanuiron smiled, "I am the servant of the Master. He hath granted thou such gifts. For now, thou shalt only dream them, until the appointed time. Continue on thy Quest."

Lerion bowed, speechless. When he lifted his head, Amanuiron had disappeared. Then, Silevren flew back to the throne, returning to his previous state in a flash of light. He swiftly ran down the stairs, enveloping Lerion in his cloak. And there, unified in their folds' depths, they reawakened from their dreams.
Edited by Ivordir, May 3 2016, 07:14 PM.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Ivordir

Chapter CCXCVIII: Dreams and Reality

Lerion slithered through the multiplicity of folds that consumed his being. He rested his head against Silevren's chest, while Silevren stroked his long, silky hair. He had anointed it with precious oils, and he had used his blade to shave his chin on a daily basis. There were small scratches dotting his face.

Silevren's eyes were glowing with pride. "Come Lerion, let us rise, and attempt to bear our dream into reality....."

Lerion laughed hauntingly as he arose, whisking his cloak around himself, hooding his face, as the cloak slithered behind him on the hard, wooden floor. He struggled to maintain his balance as he spun on the shifting beams of the ship. Silevren spun as well. They felt anew, a childlike innocence, coupled with a terrible fearlessness, a pride that verged on folly. The sun had arisen.

Silevren processed back toward their place of rest, as if it were a throne, and spun around, raising his arms as if in preparation for his transformation, and Lerion did the same. Their hearts were throbbing with delight. And they were shimmering in sunlight, Lerion's body shielding its rays, for their vessel had turned northward-bound along the Anduin.

Their buried their faces within each others' folds, tenderly kissing the silk that bound them. And then they tenderly, deeply, kissed each others' cheeks, in a spirit of brotherhood.

There was a knock at the door. Lerion answered it. It was Uialchon, "Good morrow my King, Lord Sorcerer," he bowed to both, knowing his displacement, keeping his angst to himself, "What is thy command....?"

Silevren smiled, "Gather the others in the main chamber of the hull. Our Sorcerer is going to perform a ceremony."

Uialchon knew which ceremony his King was referencing. He bowed and fetched the others.
Edited by Ivordir, May 3 2016, 07:20 PM.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Ivordir

Chapter CCXCIX: The Sorcerer's Power

Lerion uplifted the rear folds of Silevren's vast, deep-blue cloak lined with fiery red, as they processed to the main chamber in the hull of the ship. The others were awaiting them. The Twilight Brothers forgot their angst, gazing in awe and reverence, for it seemed as if Silevren's majesty had ever grown more brightly, as Lerion's cloak billowed far behind them. As Silevren regally outspread his cloak and sat on a wooden chair, his makeshift throne, Lerion beckoned to the others, while Silevren's other followers watched with wonder. Rildis and Caldor clutched the tail-corners of Lerion's cloak that practically stretched to the door. Tinnuchon and Uialchon clutched the flap-corners in the front.

Lerion declared, "Your Grace.... I do declare to presume to present, great powers unto thee...." He began repeating his late-father's formula. "Let us begin by recalling the vast waves and dunes of desert sands...."

The four began vibrating and shaking Lerion's cloak, so that it made the mirage of the desert within their minds.

Lerion continued, "In the shimmer of our cloak, now shine our stars......" And they saw the stars above the firmament within their minds, as they coiled his cloak around him.

And then Lerion declared, "And now behold our prophecy:" And the others outspread his cloak vast and wide, its folds facing Silevren, as Lerion continued: "The False Heir shalt oppose thee, but ye shalt triumph o'er him."

Silevren nodded soberly, remembering Amarthon, and the threat that Amarthon would pose to Silevren's reign. The ritual ended, as Lerion slide onto a cushion by Silevren's feet, the cloak coiling around the chair as if the body of a snake. This was the vainglorious image of prideful treachery, prompted by vain, flamboyant dreams, bewitching the minds of Silevren and Lerion and their followers, in the strangeness of the rites that they uphold. It was not Gondorian. It was not Numenorean. It embodied the vanity of the cruel King's Men, the men who built and fortified Umbar as their stronghold, the bastion toward which Beruthiel was set adrift on her vessel with her cats, the bastion toward which Castamir's sons fled. Thorongil's assault had gravely wounded her, Umbar, the last remnant of Ar-Pharazon's glory. And the Haradrim had ruined and defaced the statue. But Lerion heard differing tales. He did not detest Silevren. He loved him, for in Silevren, Lerion saw a final end to the Age-old conflicts between the North-men and the Southron Realms. Silevren's Gondor would be different. Silevren's Gondor would not leave the Southron tribes to starve to death as enemies. Silevren's Gondor, ruled ultimately by the Lord of Mordor, Annatar, would lend its aid to their peoples. It was unto this dream that Lerion dedicated his life. He would put to death the Gondor that had slain his father. He would put to death his Mother-Gondor, the Gondor that cared naught for Lerion's life, the Gondor that wished him dead... the Gondor that had tried to destroy him. One day, he reasoned, he would ride atop a Mumakil through Ithilien, as gloriously as his father before him, and no archers would dare to rain fire on him, for all the rangers would be dead. And he, Lerion, would seek to find the rangers who had slain his father, a bloody heap of torn, bleeding silks beneath a Mumak's hide, and grant unto them the most tortured and terrible deaths, and he, Lerion, would not flinch, but bathe himself in the pleasure of their deaths. Deep within his heart, he remained Salagostri.

And so he slithered around Silevren, his King, his beacon of hope within the shadows. And Silevren, too, sought an end to the Age-old conflict, as much as he sought to punish the hardened soldiers against whom Silevren's life had been unjustly measured. None would dare to disrespect a scholar, ever again. And so the twisted forms of ancient Maiar, in mindset alone, enveloped the entirety of their being. Amanuiron stood as a living torch of hope, the Emissary of Annatar, the Lord of Mordor. It all appeared very fair, the gold that glittered, and no one on that ship felt the foulness of it. For the Sorcerer's greatest power was his ability to manipulate the minds of his listeners, painting vague and paradoxically precise images, through language. None would deny the power of the tongue. And his prophesies seemed real, his words, irresistible, and even the Twilight Brothers decided to place angst for e'er away upon that fateful deep and darkest day. The traitors sailed into the heart of Gondor. And no one in Harlond knew about it.
Edited by Ivordir, Nov 7 2015, 06:45 PM.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Ivordir

Chapter CCC: Apotheosis

Silevren folded his cloak on his arm and proceeded to march upstairs to look abroad on the deck of the ship. The sun was shining palely in a cloud-ridden sky, as soft mists blanked the riverbank on either side, so that they sailed as if adrift, lost in a sea of mist.

Below, Lerion still prostrated himself on his cushions at the foot of Silevren's chair, the rocking of the vessel moving to and fro, gently.

Uialchon remembered his angst. He turned, whisking his cloak of azure-bright blue velvet lined with aqua silk behind him, his expression cold and stern, "And so..... great Sorcerer....you have managed to remove our brother and King from our sight, you have removed his long, majestic beard, and I must dare demand! Why........what do you seek to accomplish!"

Tinnuchon stood beside his brother in his emerald and golden-green silk-cloak. They were all still wearing the black and silver robes that they had worn in the presence of Gurthbainor.

Lerion smiled slyly, "So....... you fear displacement. You fear that I will steal thy King and brother away from thee! And that now shalt thee contend with me..... and all the powers of my majestic beauty......." He outspread his cloak, the fiery silken lining draping to the floor from his arms once more.

He proceeded to tell them of he and Silevren's dreams, as Uialchon's heart sank down toward despair, as Tinnuchon caught his brother's depressed glance. But then both gazed into the depths of Lerion's folds as they listened, deeply entranced as they gazed into their depths, as if they stretched infinitely into light and shadow and beauty. Tinnuchon declared, "Then let us bond so close..... that we shall be unified in purpose.... for the sake of our brother, our Highest King.....come, brethren....."

Lerion smirked, "That is a greater story.......yes......brethren.....come, come........."

They were soon all swathed in Lerion's dark purple, bathing their faces in fiery blood-red. They embraced each other deeply in the silence of their rising ecstasy. Kissing each others' cheeks deeply, they all rested on Lerion's cushions, hiding and ensnared beneath his vast and storied cape, feeling the same reverence and authority that Silevren had felt beneath the fusion of orangey-red and purple in their colorful vibrancy within folds.

The ship continued to sail through an ever-deepening mist. And as Silevren stared at the sailors hard and sweaty at work, hearing their accents, he wondered why their behavior did not seem strange to them. And then it dawned on him: they were members of Lerion's tribe. They would need to take a vow of silence before they reached the shores of Harlond, to hide their accents, and to maneuver as hastily toward and through Minas Tirith as they could, guised as lordly, tanned, southern Gondorians. But Lerion, through his Gondorian mother, had skin of a lighter hue, and through his time in Pelargir, he had mastered Westron.

Deep, down below, prostrated within the folds, Uialchon and Tinnuchon sat in awe, entranced, by Lerion's verses of poetry:

~What brave, Haradrim, standing tall against the tides~
~Could best the apparition of my father's height~
~While the ranger-vermin runs and hides~
~From the billowing majesty, gliding in sunlight~

~From the majesty of a tower so high~
~Above the Mumak's glistening eyes~
~His silks then made him seem to fly~
~A shining Star within the skies~

And Lerion paused there, on that verse, in careful avoidance of what followed: his father's bloody, dirty, darkest death. And Uialchon kissed Lerion tenderly on the cheek again, "You are truly courageous..... my brother...... oh woe upon me that I ever felt anger against you......"

"Oh no," Lerion gently hissed with his voice, "No woe........my beloved brother...." He returned the brotherly kiss. Lerion smiled, "Rest now...... calm yourself.......... for victory and triumph shall arrive ablaze upon us all........."
Edited by Ivordir, Nov 7 2015, 06:45 PM.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Ivordir

Chapter CCCI: Doubts and Retractions

Caldor sat with his head in his hands, as Rildis tried to console him. He rested himself gently against her, on her lap, as she gently stroked his hair, leaning-in and kissing him. His wife's kisses gave him a blossoming of hope within his soul, but the shadows crept around him as he tried to close his eyes, her warm lips caressing his own. Tears streamed down both of their faces. For Caldor could not shake the older victims of sacrifice from his mind. He had tried to, he had plunged into the ecstasy with his wife, and he had tried to love, even worship, Silevren and his Sorcerer. But it was all for naught. The beating drums of his guilt overcame the beating drums of his desires. For the cloaks that danced were truly drenched with blood, accompanied by the soul-shattering sound of screaming. The followers of Silevren, and Gurthbainor before him, had drowned themselves in a fanatical ecstasy that was not romantic, and it was not glorious, for it was only their antithesis. His thoughts wandered back to his initial victims, who were victims, for his wife's suitor was also forced into an arranged marriage. And Caldor wept deeply, as his wife kissed him, as she herself wept bitterly. They wept in the tragedy of their love: drenched and cloaked within the blood of others. There was no escape.

Caldor dreamed that he could hear their voices. Secretly, they both had refused the bile. And the influences of Amanuiron passed away as phantoms in nightmarish shadows. The darkness of their crimes and current treacheries now stemmed inward upon them. They gasped inside themselves, for there was no escape. They were traitors, murderers, complicit in the doom of many, and so they gripped each others' hands tightly. They could not bring back the dead. But they could prevent more death.

And so they went before Silevren and his "Court," drawing swords. Rildis shocked them all, her blade glowing coldly in the sunlight.

Lerion laughed, "And so the traitors reveal themselves at last. I see my wiles didst not bewitch thee thus......"

Silevren stammered, "Caldor......... do you truly choose this course of action?"

Caldor tossed his sword as Silevren ducked down from his chair. Caldor drew a second sword. There was mayhem within the hull of the ship as blades clashed. The crewmen above were hard at work, the gulls were crying, and they had encountered rapids in the river. The combatants struggled to maintain their balance as the ship shifted to and fro, grabbing beams, and they often fell from one side of the ship to another, struggling to fight. Tinnuchon tripped on his own cloak, but his brother pulled him back, out of range of Rildis' blade. Rildis sighted Lerion cowering in the corner. She grabbed his cloak, pulling him closer to her. But then he suddenly stood, "Thou seeketh to destroy the Serpent! Oh Mother-Gondor, how I hast longed to do this unto thee.............."

Caldor continued to fight-off both Twilight Brothers, when suddenly, he heard a piercing scream. He turned to see a mass of silk in the corner. Something thumped onto the floor. Lerion's head emerged triumphant, as he whipped-back his cape, revealing a pale, limp Rildis. For Lerion had parried her sword with his dagger, and slithered around her arm, disarming her. He had ensnared her beneath the blood-red folds that all coiled around her neck. She felt his oppressive lips, kissing her against her will, as his warm breath beat harshly on her face, before it vanished, as she felt harsh blows beat her fanatically, and then the folds coiled tighter.

Lerion's eyes beamed with fanatic madness, "And now, thy precious Mother-Gondor........."

Caldor dropped his blade, running to his wife. Her body had rolled out of the cloak. There was a strange and curious smile on her face, as if she had seen something that made her smile at the last. But Caldor did not notice it. He tried to kiss her dead lips, weeping bitterly. And as he wept, he remembered how he had ruthlessly slain his wife's suitor among many others, and all the sacrificed dead at once. A strange, sudden feeling of peace flowed through him, as he thought he saw a dim, ever-growing, light.

He felt Lerion's folds snake around his neck.

The Haradric crewmen dumped the bodies in the river.

It is said in some fisherman-bard's mythic tale that two lovers fell into the Great River, flowing through glimmering sunlit waters unto the sea, toward the West.
Edited by Ivordir, Nov 7 2015, 06:46 PM.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Ivordir

Chapter CCCII: The Golden King

But Silevren shouted, "Such be the fate of traitors!" And he did not weep, for his heart became stern and cold. And Aurion, Melimon, Annun, and Astaron, and Farion, all ministered unto him. And Caldor and Rildis' cloaks were divided amongst them as spoils. Annun took Caldor's purple velvet, as Astaron took Caldor's silk of red and silver, as Melimon took Rildis' silk of emerald-green, as Aurion and Farion took their black and silver silks. And Tinnuchon took Caldor's glittering emerald-green, lined with gold. And Uialchon took Rildis' glittering azure-blue. And in their spectrum, they proclaimed their triumph, cursing the fallen. The ship had left the rapids. Dancing, they proclaimed their first sacrifices since Pelargir.

Then Silevren performed Gurthbainor's ritual anew. He had taken Caldor's silk of flaming gold, a silk that matched closely with the golden cloak of his dreams. Caldor had afforded it due to his great wealth. It glittered brightly. Reverently, they clad him, draping it gently, as vast as they could. They all prostrated themselves at the floor, staring upward at Silevren in his beauty.

Silevren called them one by one. And the sunlight glittered through the fiery golden folds. As soon as he ascertained their loyalty, he dismissed all save Lerion. For in truth, Silevren's heart was wounded by the betrayal. He demanded, "Are you certain that they were traitors?" Anger rose in his voice, "ARE you certain that they did not have mere doubts?"

Lerion shook his head, "It matters not." They drew their swords. "What further proof do you require?"

"They...they were beautiful, and I loved them......."

"They were vicious traitors!" Lerion hissed. "They did not love you........................perhaps we should consult with our Guide............"

Silevren sighed, frightened and stricken with grief, nodding. They drank the bile, then vanished into Lerion's folds, returning to the citadel of their dreams. And, this time, they beheld Amanuiron awaiting them at the center of the room, his vast golden silk, lined with fiery red, streaming far behind him, as his golden, silky, straight hair fell to the floor in vast plumes.

Amanuiron beckoned to them, as they took their positions nigh the Throne. Silevren and Lerion sat, enfolded in each others' cloaks, unified completely. And Amanuiron held his arms aloft beneath his cloak, radiant as the stars of Varda.

Lerion and Silevren awoke not long thereafter, their minds more fell and twisted than ever before, confident in their cause once more.
Edited by Ivordir, May 3 2016, 07:16 PM.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Ivordir

Chapter CCCIII: Through Outer Lossarnach

Mithon lead-on through the fertile, sunlit fields, the sunlight streaming on their hooded faces as they rode, cloaked in leathers and woolen-weave. It was a journey of
seventy-five miles from Tumladen to Emyn Arnen. The road wound steadily through the hills and tilled fields. They rested in a dell formed by a vast hill-side, their tamers
tamed the horses, and watering-holes were found for them to drink. Ivordir spoke little, save when he conferred with Mithon at certain points. Ivordir knew that he was
steadily losing his authority, forcing himself to rely more on the ranger.

The sun rose on the next morn. It was February 26th. The land flowed past them as it ever had. Spring was approaching. But it was not yet harvest-season. The fields
produced no yield. The sky was partly cloudy, but a field of deepening blue soared overhead, with the sun shining. They kept to the roads, which hastened their journey.
They arrived at the Erui at evening. Ivordir beckoned to Daerfalas to come to the river. The sunlight was glittering in the water, the currents ebbing and flowing in their
tiny tides, overlapping. Ivordir stared in wonder, pondering whether or not the old myths of the Five Sisters were true. He washed his face in the river. The water felt
pure and clean.

He stared at the crossing and uttered, "And so it was here that King Eldacar defeated Castamir............ that base Usurper........................ did Thanguron know
this place, I wonder?"

Baralinthor's voice startled him from behind, "I.........I wonder the same..............."

Daerfalas went to the water's edge. He was careful not to keep his gaze too long upon Ivordir, not wanting to seem overbearing. He turned when as he heard Baralinthor's
quiet approach.

"It was a dark time in the history of Gondor........... very dark. Brother against brother." Mithon appeared from the reeds, a brooding expression on his face.

Ivordir laughed, "Of course it was, Dunadan. Why speak you so obviously?"

Mithon lightly laughed, though his expression was difficult to read.

Ivordir turned to his brother, "......what make you of this place?"

Reaching low, Daerfalas brushed the very edge of the water with his fingertips. He gazed upward, towards the land beyond, and could see little beyond the high reed grasses
growing wildly along the river's edge. "It is seeped with history, and yet I hear only the calm of the current. When we are gone, whom shall remember such histories? Shall
these grounds remember?"

Mithon smiled, "Are you so certain that we shall be gone? Even so.... the soil will always remember."

Daerfalas hummed a near silent response, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.

Mithon nodded, "We must tend to our camp. I'll hold the first watch."

They camped on the slopes above the river, under the cover of the trees. For Mithon feared the likes of Malnoron, wanting the higher ground and cover of the woods. And
Ivordir gazed that night, at the myriad of stars in wonder and hope. His cloaks comforted him beneath his leathers. At dawn, they set-out again, crossing the river, as

Baralinthor bade farewell to Eldacar, and to Castamir................ and to Thanguron......................... They passed into deeper Lossarnach, and here, they left the
road. Arnach loomed in the distant north, while they turned directly East. The air was filled to the brim with the scents of roses among other flowers and fair herbs that
were gathered in great bushels in the brush, red and pink and purple and white as winter snow. It was February 28th.
Edited by Ivordir, Nov 7 2015, 06:46 PM.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Ivordir

Chapter CCCIV: A Deeper Vale of Flowers

As the hours passed beneath the hot sun, beating on their sweaty necks, they climbed into a land of many foot-hills. They descended into a vast forest of trees bearing

many white and pink blossoms. And at their feet were a myriad of tall bushels of herbs and roses, briars and flowers.
Their rears were sore from all the travail of the dusty road.

By late-evening, as the sun was setting, Mithon motioned for a pause. He uttered a strange call, similar to some strange bird. A response was heard.

They dismounted to find themselves surrounded by several grim southern Dunedain.

The foremost among them spoke, "Mithon! Who bring you hither?"

"Peace, my Lord, peace. You may lower your arrows." The foremost nodded as the others lowered unset their arrows, returning them to their quivers. To Ivordir's surprise,
they obeyed Mithon's command.

Mithon smiled, "There will be time to discuss this later. For now, we must set-camp by the river. At dawn, we cross into Ithilien. Ivordir and his comrades wish to aid us
against the Haradrim."

The sun had set by the time their camp was made. Small fires were lit further from the swaying brush in the cold, nightly winds.

Ivordir huddled next to Daerfalas by the fire, across from Mithon.

Mithon spoke to his comrades, "My brethren, I fear that grave corruption has awakened within our fair country........ noble lords consorting with our enemies among other
trials. Ivordir, here, fought these enemies, these traitors, and he journeys with us, under our protection. He cannot risk journeying directly to Minas Tirith, and...."

Ivordir nodded, "We fear that some foul-play is occuring somewhere within Emyn Arnen..... whether it is a hoax or Morgul spells or other fell tidings, I do not know."

The rangers nodded.

Daerfalas at his side stared into the fire.

The foremost among them spoke again, "Mithon, I charge you with this task. For I must journey to the north. Bring report to me at Minas Tirith, and write which lords are
traitors, that I may bear it before my father......."

Mithon nodded, "It shall be done. I shall dispatch loyal men to watch them for now, and to intervene if necessary, to protect our land..."

The foremost left the fire.

And whether or not this ranger was, indeed, Faramir, Captain of Gondor, it was not known to the eyes and ears of Ivordir.

Mithon turned to Ivordir and Daerfalas, "Get some rest. We have a long and weary road ahead of us on the morrow....."
Edited by Ivordir, Nov 7 2015, 06:46 PM.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Ivordir

Chapter CCCV: Into Ithilien

At dawn, on the 1st of March, they graciously thanked the caretakers, and Mithon assigned several rangers to their defense, on the long return home to Tumladen. The rations were
divided amongst the men in packs on their backs. And Ivordir stared at the majesty of the horses of Gondor as they all were lead away through the forest. They climbed down
to where a forest of tall reeds hugged the waters of the Anduin. The ground was soft and muddy. They reached the hidden port where the rangers kept their skiffs. It was
not impractical to cross the river via boat. They grabbed their oars and toiled against the currents of the Anduin. Ivordir stared northward as they crossed the river. The
White City was not yet visible. And Ivordir thought of all the mysterious lands that he now knew were north along the same River. They reached the forested embankment on
the other side of the river. Eight rangers left their company, to return the skiffs back to their hiding places, and to resume their watch over them. It was unsafe to
leave transports unguarded. The vast forest now lay before them. Ivordir pondered Yucalwe's tales as Mithon led them forward. They climbed a tall hill and Ivordir stared
back across the vast fields and forests of Lossarnach. He thought of Sainion and Arhbaineth and the others, hoping that they were safe. They came upon the Western Post,
Mithon's normal station. It was now mid-day when they took their rest, eating only their allotment of rations.

Ivordir turned to Daerfalas, "We have finally..... reached it..........." He stared at the vast fields, remembering all who they had lost, and all the toil they had
suffered. He remembered without pitying himself. He also strove to remember the times of goodness.

There was little need for preamble, and Daerfalas set a hand upon Ivordir's shoulder. "Your mind has wandered upon our journey, Brother. The roads we have travelled have
been long, and we have said many farewells, and met many new companions. Yet I see a heaviness upon thy brow." He sighed in understanding. "We should rest. And put our
minds at ease, that we go down the right path.

Ivordir nodded, "Very well."

An hour later, Mithon called them all to order.

From his spot by the fire Daerfalas rose, and joined the others.

They were thirty once more, in total: Eleven rangers, including Mithon, ten Tumladen recruits, including Ciron, and then there were Ivordir, Daerfalas, Abrazan,
Baralinthor, Naitheg, Echuidor, Nenthor, Aegon, and Gwainoth. Of the rangers, they did not yet learn their names. But Ivordir knew of Ciron.

Mithon called them to order, warning them of the dangers of the wilds. No one was to ever wander alone.They tramped onward through the brush and lush, rich soil. The
sunlight flickered through bright-green leaves. Several of the rangers pressed-on in their advance, warding away hostile wildlife: bears and wild cats and other fanged,
clawed beasts.

As the sun was setting, they had journeyed for nearly twenty-five miles. They camped on a flat space. And Minas Tirith itself was visible through the trees, in all its
glory.

Ivordir stared at the glimmering, glittering spectacle. He longed for home. He clasped Daerfalas on the shoulder, "We are not far........"

And Mithon gazed at the City in pride, "Nothing can be more precious........ oh last bastion of Numenor......."

Even Daerfalas paused, moved as he was, and in his countenance shone the light of hope and home. "She is as beautiful as I recall...more so now."

Ivordir warmly embraced Daerfalas, "......my brother.........."

And Daerfalas returned the embrace, and felt for the first time the weight lifted from his brother's shoulders, if only for that mere moment; to face that which they meant
to save, was indeed a wonderful happenstance, for it was needed sorely. The White City glittered.
Edited by Ivordir, Nov 7 2015, 06:47 PM.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Ivordir

Chapter CCCVI: Legion of the Silver Swan

In Dol Amroth, far to the west, Prince Imrahil had called a gathering of the nobles, major and minor, in the Great Hall. It was revealed to many that Corsair brigand incursions had grown rapidly. They were growing steadily every day. No one wished to utter the words, "fleet," or "war," but Ballithor was ever cynical. He kept his mouth shut. He knew that several of the nobles would be required to "investigate" the incursions. He hoped to be one of them.

Then, when it was over, the vassals were approached by more major nobles: one, of whom, Ballithor had swayed to his own influence. But Ballithor was an astute actor. He knew how to play the noble servant. And so it was that he was granted command over several hundred men, and ordered to confront the Corsairs in Belfalas. Several nobles were involved with this effort. But Ballithor commanded his own force.

They marched out of the white gates of the city in their pageantry, the sun shining on their swan-insignias, helms and armor, gleaming on their velvet cloaks that flickered in the sunlight, and they rode up the hills and plains of the peninsula for several hours. Then, the road bent southeast, then south again, as they made their way along the coast.

They climbed the heights of a tall plateau, lined with cliffs and large rock formations. And there, they set their camp. Ballithor's tent was of a bright blue. He detested the colors black and red. He called the vassals beneath his influence to order, and among them was poor Sainon, who was forced to march beneath the banner of the man he hated most.
Edited by Ivordir, Nov 7 2015, 06:47 PM.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
1 user reading this topic (1 Guest and 0 Anonymous)
ZetaBoards - Free Forum Hosting
Free Forums with no limits on posts or members.
Learn More · Sign-up Now
Go to Next Page
« Previous Topic · Wind-Singers · Next Topic »
Add Reply

banner_468_6