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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 | |
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| Ivordir | May 5 2016, 10:46 PM Post #501 |
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Chapter CCCXXVII: Rangers' Due Naitheg drew his sword. Baralinthor aimed his arrow carefully. Ivordir and his Company had reached the Northern Gate, and they, too, found it guarded. Mithon revealed himself and his men. The gate-Guard demanded peace, but Mithon shot him first. It was then that Duon charged, his remaining men charging behind him, and there was much bloodshed within the halls. And Ivordir began to duel Mithon, who shouted, "You dishonorable cur! You took us to that Haradrim trap!" Ivordir shouted, "It was you who chose to follow! You are bereft of great destiny, a destiny to which you bore witness! You have rejected it!" And Circhon shouted, "You are the traitor, Mithon! And as a Lord of a Noble House, long-lost from Ithilien so long ago, I demand that this violence cease, in my Lord-Father's absence!" "A House of traitors!" Mithon yelled. And then Baralinthor fired. The arrow pierced Mithon, straight through his skull. And Mithon did not have time to gasp his last thoughts: "I...die for Gondor.... for the Tree..... Ithilien............" He fell forward and breathed his last. The remaining rangers shouted, "We surrender! We surrender!" For they lost their morale upon their leader's death, and did not wish to perish, now outnumbered, against Gondorians. They threw down their bows as Duon's remaining ten men bound their hands behind their backs. Only twenty rangers remained alive. But the guards of the Northern Gate had also pushed beyond Ivordir's Company, charging forward. None even twitched, prostrated on the cold marble. Ivordir sighed, "All this death, and not even against the Orcs down on the fields...... authorities will demand answers of us. Of all of us." Sainon approached, beyond the corpses. And he beheld his son. And Sainion beheld his father. They swiftly embraced each other, weeping deeply. For they were tears of joy. Sainion had believed that Ballithor had slain his father. Sainon believed his son had perished. Their reunion was brief. Sainon declared, "....my son..... he...he told me.... you were dead......" Sainion nodded, "I assumed the same, likewise, my lord-father..............." Sainon kissed his son deeply on the cheek, and then looked around, "I suppose we had better settle this mess....." They camped there that evening, the evening of March 15th. They buried the dead. Sainon received a full account from his son regarding all that had occurred since their rude parting in Dol Amroth. And Ivordir turned to the prisoner rangers, "You are coming with us, now. You will be watched, and your bonds will be cut. But you will wield no weapons, lest some black fate for them within your hands." Ioristor spoke-up, "I have a suggestion. Lady Melimir and I are, alas, too old to journey with you into the far East. With Mithon slain, no further threat shall come upon us within the City. There are corpses to be burned on our indoor pyres, blood to wash away........." Melimir nodded, pushing the hair from her eyes. "We have much to do yet. Though I wish my weary bones felt not fatigue; that I could join you..." her eyes welled with unshod tears, and she forced them away, her chin rising in a great show of strength. Daerfalas, at Ivordir's side, seemed to deflate with relief. "It seems we are to be parted again, though I admit that I am glad you will be safe with Lord Ioristor." Mother and son embraced quickly, for both were ultimately pragmatic above all things. They did not weep, but instead clasped one another as though giving the other much needed hope and fortitude. Ivordir embraced his Lord-Father, "Take your servants and go clean it all away with haste. It is dishonorable, to my distaste, and some families may yet ask questions, as to their disappeared sons." Duon stood, "I believe that I may answer to this. My men are strong, but they partook in...." He studied the rangers' faces, minding his words, "in dangerous affairs within the manse of Malnoron and upon Pelargir's Walls." Palanelon spoke, "Of our families' fates..... we shall not know till all is done." Sainon noted, "Pelargir was in utter ruins when we arrived there, its populace scattered into exile or destroyed. And this disheartened Duon's remaining men, to which Sainion stepped-in to cover for his father, "Yet they may yet live, if they escaped to Tumladen before all was lost. You ought to have sought them there." Another man of Duon named Sarndir spoke, "We did.......... but there were too many refugees, and none recognized us as we searched the Vale........ and....and...." Tears fell down sullen faces at the realization: their families had perished in Pelargir. Ivordir turned toward the rangers, "And where dwell the families of your fallen?" One ranger replied, "All in Lossarnach, or hither within the City itself." Sainion sighed, "It was a deadly battle. It appears to have been won in our favor. None shall ever know, I believe...... for any who do not return to their families will, alas, be deemed as slain at some point during the siege...." Ivordir nodded, "Then carry forward the burning of the dead, and scatter their ashes to the winds. Let their ashes coat the stones of the City they fought and died to protect, in love and hope." Ioristor nodded, "Come, Lady Melimir, and all our faithful servants..... let us clean our manse. And then, my servants, you shall have leave to tend to your families, wherever they may dwell within the City..... I pray you may find them alive." The servants ever loved Ioristor. He paid them well, and cared for their families as if a benevolent father. But they knew his command was just: for they could all be hung for treason, if any corpses or blood-stains were found within their walls. Ivordir held the Sigil against his breast, and deeply embraced Ioristor, their hearts touching the Sigil as each held it, while their free arms coiled around them. Ioristor smiled, "Tell Lord Ranyaro...... that a Keeper of Horses sends his love." Ivordir laughed, for his father was no 'Keeper of Horses,' but a descendent of that line: "I will, Lord-Father. Come, Company of the West. We have lingered long enough. The sun is riding toward noon, and we must past the Rammas." And Sainon turned to Sainion and Arhbaineth. And Sainion had told his father of their marriage, and he had embraced them both. And Sainon declared, "My son.... my daughter...... I am tired and weary......... deep are the wounds of the Silver Swan." Sainion paused him, "I do not blame you, my Lord-Father. He dragged you through the dredges of war and sorrow. I would not ask you to cross swamp and desert, marsh and steppe, bog and field, beneath murky forest eave and along the shores of a stranger sea. Stay hither. You shall be safe, and I shall be all the more glad to know it." Sainon embraced them deeply, weeping at the bittersweetness of it all. "Whatever you may do....... return to me.........." Arhbaineth nodded, "Fear not, Lord-Father............" It occurred to Arhbaineth that her family was lost in Pelargir. She wept all the more deeply, "You alone are the remainder of my House now......" She composed herself, "I will protect him. We shall return." Ivordir had heard it all, "March!" And the nobles stood solemnly as Ivordir's Company departed slowly down the mountain slopes. And then they vanished into the shadows beneath the hidden Northern Gate. And it was early evening on March 17th when they reached the still unguarded Rammas, and passing it, they came into the fields of Talath Anor. |
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| Ivordir | May 5 2016, 10:47 PM Post #502 |
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Chapter CCCXXVIII: Through Talath Anor They passed through the northern fields toward Crithost, which they saw had been burned to a crisp by the northern army of Mordor that had taken Cair Andros. They avoided the fallen city, making their way beneath the eaves of the Grey Wood. Most of them carried packs on their backs of medium weight. The heaviest packs they placed on the backs of the rangers. They passed through a deep vale and camped there, the Grey Wood towering above them. They slept till late-morning and pressed-on again on March 17th. They forded a nearby river. Their boots were soaked and muddy. But they seldom conversed. For their goal was to march, eat, sleep, and reach the borders of Gondor, lest they be captured and hung for treason. They journeyed through an emerald-green forest. They heard a charge of horsemen. They hid in the bushes, peering outward from the forest: Elfhelm and the Rohirrim led a charge against the forces of Mordor that had blockaded the eastern road. Their charge swept the Enemy away beneath Amon Din. And Ivordir was forced to wait for the Rohirrim to camp, before he sneakily led his Company past their position in the darkness. And speech was forbidden between his comrades as they passed. Their journey was long and solemn and conversations became permitted, though held only to a whisper. And their march was grueling, their joints ached, and their feet were sore. |
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| Ivordir | May 5 2016, 10:50 PM Post #503 |
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Chapter CCCXXIX: The Eaves of Taur Druadan It was mid-day on March 19th when they finally reached the northern plains where the Rohirrim had encamped. Of late, trees of a similar stock to those of Druadan Forest had crept northward. This had provided a cover for the Rohirrim when they found the Great West Road held against them. The Company found places trodden by many horse-hooves, and many former campsites of the men of Rohan. Here, they rested. And Ivordir interrogated the rangers one by one. He also demanded an inventory inspection of each person's baggage. Ivordir and Sainion and Daerfalas conversed, and found their food-supply would barely get them to Amon Hen, and they had many mouths to feed. Ivordir nodded, "We made it cross-country across Gondor with little difficulty. But that was because we got re-supplied at every town. I think...... that we must make our way westward, and reach the city of Ost Rimmon. It will take time, but we might gain some pack-horses and supplies." Sainion balked, "What have we to pay for all such gear?" Ivordir sighed, "We may indeed be forced to part with the elven treasures. We have each member carrying something. We lost the armor during that terrible storm at sea on our way to Dol Amroth, but at the least, the smaller objects have been spared." Sainion nodded, "It is a wonder that they have not deserted us with such gifts." Ivordir nodded, "They are loyal, the lot of them. Saelbainor and the others run a tight ship. Let us rest for now. We have a long way yet ahead of us......" At dawn on March 20th, they continued their journey, making their way on a trek of 30 leagues. They forded several rivers, which slowed them down in their soggy boots. They rationed their provisions carefully. They ate a strict diet of stale beard and drank sparingly. The forest eventually dwindled, and vanished, as the green fields of New Anorien stretched before them: Calenardhon of old. Ivordir thought he heard soft drumming in the distance, which ceased, as he began to question his own sanity. They marched toward and climbed the tall beacon-hill, Erelas, and nigh dusk, they glimpsed the twinkling lights of Ost Rimmon far below. They descended the hill, and it was nigh midnight er they passed the gates. Ivordir unbound his ranger-prisoners before they reached the bottom. The prisoners were too tired to put-up any fight. They were all garbed in furs and dirty cloaks of the sort that rangers wear when they passed wearily through the city gates. The guards saw their weariness and one of them led the Company to one of the larger guesthouses, which seldom had guests in times of war. Beds were prepared, and they settled in their rooms, happy to have beds beneath their backs, however fleeting they might be. After the guards left, the Company rounded-up the rangers and herded them into a single room, and locked the door. Ivordir closed his eyes in relief, breathing deeply as he fell asleep with Glossel lying at his side in their new room. He knew an ugly two-day's march awaited them. He decided to remain in Ost Rimmon until the 23rd. Getting the provisions will take time, he thought. And the marshes and....swamps....." and then he lost consciousness. Edited by Ivordir, May 6 2016, 10:40 PM.
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| Ivordir | May 6 2016, 04:37 PM Post #504 |
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Chapter CCCXXX: Dawn on Ost Rimmon At dawn, the wrens were chirping. The sparrows were singing in the sunlit trees. Ost Rimmon was built atop and within a great gorge, grey-walled, stony, and it gave-way to rock quarries, where marble was cut and shaped and carried on great carts throughout the great realm. Theirs was among the harder duties, but Gondorians were smart. They had found marble in the southern reaches of the Ered Nimrais long before. They didn't want to haul marble east, then south, then west, in backbreaking and horse-breaking labor. But Ost Rimmon was now the closest operating quarry-system near Minas Tirith. There was an earlier quarry near Nardol, one of the easternmost beacons of Gondor, but it fell into disuse, and then to superstition. Taur Druadan had become a haunted legend to most Gondorians. Quarrymen found no profit in going there. Some feared cannibals dwelt in those deep woods. The children of now downfallen Crithost were told tall tales by their parents: of ghastly tribal men coming into their windows at nightfall, and the time to beware of their approach, was when you could hear their drums slowly doom, doom, dooming, in the deep darkness beneath the eaves of the trees. So it was that Ivordir did not take the Stonewain Valley, or risk the supposed horrors that awaited them there. And they did not have time to ask the Rohirrim about it. Ivordir awoke to find that most of his men were missing. He went down into the basement of the guesthouse, following his questionable instincts. They were questionable because the anticipated behavior was questionable, and it was all questionable and Ivordir couldn't stand it when it was questionable. There they were, right where he knew he'd find them: Angolhel had clearly bathed, un-braided her long hair, oiled it, stroked it, and Lerion and Silevren had shaved themselves using ointment and pumice of their own. They had tweezers waiting for them as the ointment was running low. Silevren had cut himself badly, days before they left Minas Tirith, and turned away from it. But Angolhel had other secrets: she had once had lice hiding within the deep tresses. The smell of Guldrambor's bile had scared the lice away. Ivordir admittedly turned to the tweezers. He hated it. He didn't like the small sores, nor did he like the pain. But it was lesser than other pains, one of the few endured by Gondorian nobles. But now all Ivordir could do was to stand and laugh mockingly at the whole scene. Angolhel had started her dancing when Ivordir gave his command: "Enough!" "You shall not hinder these Rites," Angolhel hissed. "You -will- if you want to get out of here alive," Ivordir retorted. "Have we not yet learned our lesson? First of all, we are leaving for the Mouths of the Entwash in two days, which I understand, from my Lord-Father's books, to be a rather disturbing place for beauty maintenance. You will slaush through the muck of the swamp, you will get your pretty clothes dirty, and your long hair will get filled to the brim with bugs, and don't come crying to me when you look haggard and ugly and your pungent smell makes the men all run away from you. You are lucky that the City Watch did not catch us and hang us all for treason. And here I find you, doing exotic Haradric dances. You dance in a land that hates your dancing. Stop it now before some poor servant comes down here looking for his latest crate to bear to the stocks above, and, seeing you here, runs-off to find his Lord, who will end our lovely expedition right here and now. I am tired......... I have had enough of running away from my own people as if they were Orcs. By the way, you will likely lose your little flasks of oil and ointment in that marsh, and you will look like proper barbarians by the time we reach the Sea of Rhun, even if we reach it............" Sainion rubbed his eyes, "Wait a moment..... did you say the Sea of Rhun?" Ivordir laughed, "You haven't figured it out yet? From the moment Amarthandor here revealed himself in Pelargir, and from the moment I dreamed that dream..... I knew that is where we will go. I cannot report to Yucalwe about everything we did not find in Ithilien by remaining in Gondor. And we are to meet them...... yes, the Eldar of legend whom I've spoken of....... we are to meet them in Rhun." "Where, precisely?" "Where the Carnen bends......" "It's still a stretch of five leagues......" "Five leagues will be enough to patrol." "Where are we supposed to meet the Haradrim again?" Abrazan sighed, "By the Northern Undeep." "You did not say that earlier," Sainion stammered. Abrazan laughed, "Of course not. Not with Mithon's possible spies sitting there with us. But they're gone now. Osgiliath took them. They won't be coming back." Ivordir stammered, "Speak more honorably of them. They died an honorable death..." Angolhel laughed, "They died a -stupid- death! We warned them, they did not listen!" Ivordir's face was flushed, "Keep silent before I....." Glossel laughed, "I do enjoy my husband when he's angry. Come, Angolhel, do not mock him further....... my husband has been kinder toward his women thus far...... let's not hinder that!" Ivordir felt tempted to slap her again. But he thought better of it. He laughed instead, "Of all the lords and ladies in Gondor to find myself with....." And then, Glossel slapped him. Ivordir was furious, "Who do you think you are?" "I am a woman!" Glossel yelled, "And I am rebelling against you, my husband. You goaded me into marrying you. You think you understand me, but you do not. It is all about your lovely, -silly- little Quest. Quest, quest, quest. Well, I'm done with this, you see. I ought to march straight back to Tumladen, where my Lord-Father, in all his 'grace and pleasure,' will marry me off, like I'm some dumb donkey or auroch to be sold at market, to be chopped-up by some farmer into cutlets, and sold as meat to the highest bidder!" All Ivordir could do was laugh, "Like you, most noble Lady, would know anything about livestock and farming. You are naught but a typical shrew, aren't you? I used to respect you, at the least a little bit, but maybe it was because I was attracted to you. Some dumb auroch of a fool I am! There you were, talking my head off about your rival lord's sisters and how you couldn't stand them, while you bullied them all day as children, and made mock mock to their Lady-like ways. Why, I could lock you in a chamber and starve you, but you'd never reform yourself. No, and I have the greatest solution. I had thought of leaving you ladies behind in Gondor with my Lord-Father, oh truly, I did, but I honor and respect my Lord-Father, and I would not be so cruel to him. No, I have a better punishment: I'll make ye come. And I'll make ye march through the muck. And we will see who is the ugliest of all by the time we reach the Falls of Rauros!" "OH! OH! Did you hear him?" Glossel yelled. "He means to reform ME! Why, how charming, how novel! Yes, I do your bidding, by all means! Treat me like you treat your livestock, your horses! Didn't you see all the dead horses out there on those fields? Plenty of living riders, but oh, those horses, they could not bear to survive!" "Those riders kept you from being fed to all the Orcs," Ivordir grinned. "And as for you, my dear......... oh yes. You hoped that I would die out there, didn't you?" "NO!" Glossel slapped him again. "I wailed and languished in terror of the sorrow of your passing, isn't that what you -wanted- to hear?!" Duvaissel smiled, "It is true, my Captain. She truly cared for you, and she clearly could not stand it, could she?" "You stay out of this!" Glossel snapped back. "I......." Colhel laughed, "You mean that you were actually -forced- by your life circumstances to -care- for someone? To fear for someone's life?" "I...." Glossel murmured. Colhel smiled cruelly, "And so now the table's turned. Your husband, your Captain, returned to you, and now you cannot stand it that he did. You missed him, you feared for his death, and now you despise him because he survived. Why, many a woman in Gondor would -love- to receive those tidings, that their husbands finally returned to their homes, alive and well, despite their wounds? And instead there will be weeping and black veils and sorrowful processions throughout the streets, as white lilies and other flowers from Imloth Melui are spread upon the winds, flowing down from each Tier, while the bodies of the dead are carried by sorrowful servants. This could have been you, Glossel, and perhaps that is why you despise your parents. Perhaps that is why you have despised me, and my sister! We know our lot in life, to work and weave, to weep and grieve, to caress our husbands' chests and then their shrouds. But what have you done, my pleasant little rebel, who idolized your precious lost Queen Beruthiel with all her missing cats? What have you done? Tell me, what would you prefer? Ivordir's chest, or, his shroud? TELL ME?! What would you prefer? A life of sorrow as a widow, bereft of all your lordly possessions, because the next man on the blood-line took them? Destitution in the streets, or the need to shelter at the manse of some noble relative, because there was nowhere else to go? I used to think the way you do. I used to. But now I see it in the flesh. The flesh that I've despised. Tell me, my apparent sister! Tell me........ why are you doing this to us?" And Angolhel murmured, "Because she does not yet know the pain and loss of war..... despite having been surrounded by it all. Then, and only then, with your kinsblood fallen, dead around you..... do you truly know what matters in this world......... it is not all some societal confinement or political institution or public pressure........ some things in this world..... rely on love............ you mock me, Captain Ivordir, for my beauty........ but this, I tell you, it is all a show, a display........ I do it because I know it is among the few things men and boys like to see.......... makes them pliable, easier to manipulate to my will......... which I do not do out of malice, Captain........... I do it because I have to......... because it is one of the few things in this world I can do............. but Lady Colhel speaks the truth, Glossel. And our Captain is right, the time for beauty is past. Lice shall return to our hair, which shall wither and grow smelly, uncouth! Our robes shall dampen, it will all get mud-ridden and dirty. Our faces shall be covered in it...... and we will all stink. And we will not be able to stand each others' breath before all is said and done. And we will reek of sweat and bile. And by the time we finally reach the East, men shall flee from our appearance. But I was not always beautiful, Lady Glossel. I once knew such things and shall again. But there are worse things: pain, starvation, and dying of thirst. What sort of expedition do you think you have joined? A great caravan or parade? Nay! We will suffer on this journey, Lady Glossel. And you shall suffer. We all shall suffer, for what we have said and done. I will suffer for the bile I so willfully allowed to slither down my own throat. I wonder...... will we flee from Guldrambor's true visage? Or shall he flee from us, we dirty vermin, when we crawl out of the desert to meet him nigh the Sea? I look forward to when that day comes. I do not fear it." Ivordir nodded in respect, "You are.... wiser than you appear, Lady Angolhel. And I beg forgiveness for my misjudgment." Angolhel smiled, "You meant well, Captain Ivordir. I do not chide you for that........ and yes, our behavior was foolish. Come, ladies, enjoy hot baths, while you can. We have two more days." Sainion followed Ivordir out of the chamber, "Are you certain that Lady Glossel should remain your wife?" Ivordir sighed, "I have barely given her the time of day, since she returned. And this was my fault. I wish marriage could be more than some mere business arrangement! And I believe it can be more. Give her time, Lord Sainion. Give her time. She might come through at the end." Sainion snickered, "I do not know, my Lord Ivordir...... she appears to have a condition!" Ivordir laughed, "Time will tell. Now, have you been seeking-out some noble lord to help us this time?" Sainion smiled, "I am already on it, my Captain. Lady Arhbaineth is as well. She has already sought the markets. I worry about her alone......" Ivordir smiled, "Do not worry yourself about her, Sainion. She is one of the strongest fighter's I've known. She learned much when she was with us, in far-off Eriador." Edited by Ivordir, May 8 2016, 07:57 PM.
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| Ivordir | May 6 2016, 05:56 PM Post #505 |
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Chapter CCCXXXI: Trouble in the Market Ivordir and Sainion stood by one of the windows. They saw Arhbaineth returning empty-handed. Sainion sighed, "I wonder what has happened this time!" Sainion, quite bored and worried for the future, had taken his cloak out of his pack. He folded his arms within his folds. Arhbaineth stormed through the doors and sighed, "No one will aid us. The bulk of the provisions were set to aid the White City. They have little to spare as it is." She gazed at Sainion apprehensively. "What now, my Lord?" Sainion sighed. Ivordir nodded grimly, "I suppose that we are to starve to death in the wilderness. Do they not realize what is at stake?" "They think we are deserters," Arhbaineth snapped. "It is a wonder that they have not sought us for execution already. I do not think they have enough guards left within the City for its protection, or we would have been dead by now." Ivordir laughed, "What a trustworthy nation we are!" Sainion was not amused, "All jesting aside, what can we do now? Evacuate the guesthouse and flee as soon as possible, again?" Ivordir laughed facetiously, "No, let's wait here until their army returns from Minas Tirith, and THEN they can execute us! Of course we're leaving!" "Sorry my dear," Sainion turned to Arhbaineth, "No pleasant dreams tonight." Arhbaineth sighed, "We could..... overpower the remaining guards, raid their remaining stores, and run for the nearest hilltop?" "We are not thieves," Ivordir murmured. "Nor are we cowards, to do just a terrible thing to such a destitute town." "They are not completely destitute," Arhbaineth smiled wickedly. "They are having a noble feast tonight in one of their most prestigious halls." "This is a mining town," Ivordir retorted. "They do not have time for noble feasts." "Nobles do," Arhbaineth smirked. "Do you truly believe that the relative poverty of region has any hindrance on their mirth and pleasure, or on ours?" Ivordir nodded, "No, I suppose not. But surely they must appease the local populace somehow?" "They feed them when times are hard. They have not had many building projects of late, either. Most of the labor has gone to the White City or to other places with greater opportunities. This is practically a resort town now for nobles!" "How perceptive you are, my dear," Sainion smiled. Arhbaineth smirked, "Yes, indeed, I am. Now whip open that cloak!" Sainion laughed and did so, curling the wing of his cloak around her in an embrace, while Ivordir turned away with a scowl on his face. "What is the matter, my Lord?" Sainion facetiously smiled, "You ought to do the same with your Lady, maybe it will diffuse that tall, tense wall between you. You admittedly have not spent much time with her, now have you?" Ivordir laughed mockingly, "Yes, yes, I can see why I would want to! Arhbaineth, you go perfect with him. But as for me, Lady Glossel cannot stand me, especially when I attempt to calm her down." Arhbaineth laughed, "Why? Should I slap her for you, would that make you feel any better?" Ivordir frowned and marched away, "No one is taking this mission seriously anymore. It makes me sick!" Arhbaineth overheard his murmurings as he marched away, "Maybe that is your problem, 'my Captain.' You are taking it too seriously! What mirth to life is there, if we cannot laugh in the face of death?!" Her words haunted Ivordir as he marched toward his room. Edited by Ivordir, May 6 2016, 05:57 PM.
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| Ivordir | May 6 2016, 06:20 PM Post #506 |
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Chapter CCCXXXII: Truer Love Ivordir strode into his room to find Glossel staring out the window. Ivordir sighed, "What are you doing?" Glossel stammered, "Staring out a window? Is that also a crime within thy book of laws, my husband?" Ivordir just sat down on the bed, not saying a word. Glossel laughed, "And now you are going to just sit there and stare at me?" Ivordir snickered, "Sitting and staring at you? Is that also a crime within thy book of laws, my wife?" Glossel sighed, "Oh what a fool I've become. I'm a fool if I love my husband, and a fool if I do not, resisting him." Ivordir slowly slipped his golden cloak out of his pack, "But you cannot resist now, can you, love?" Glossel turned, "You are calling me 'love' now, love? What love have you for a typical shrew like me?" Ivordir smiled, "You're no shrew. You may be one of Queen Beruthiel's missing cats, but you are no shrew." Glossel laughed, "Shall I slap you again?" Ivordir shook his head, "No. I find no enjoyment in it. Nor do I find enjoyment in how confined you feel. You are lashing-out against the wrong man." "Am I? ..........am I?" "You are. Do you think I -want- to go marching-off into the East? Some strange destiny is...." "That's what you men always do. You do something foolish, that hurts others, and then you chalk it up to destiny. Boo hoo!" "It is not as simple..... I mean, if you had been there, up north with me, you might have understood." "Here's what I understand, love. That some old, cranky Elves from some old myth, chose -you-, my husband, not themselves, to go marching-off on some rubbish. And that's that. Not destiny, but their own whims, brought you here." "And brought you here. Have you not noticed, love?" "Oh you....... tell me something. Do you find me pretty?" "I find that you are very pretty. But there is something more important that I have noticed." "And....? Yes? Go on, I can stand it!" "You are a smart girl. You know how the world works around you. But you should follow the lead of Angolhel. She knows when to keep her mouth shut and be smarter than an angry long-lost cat of Queen Beruthiel. She had Silevren and Lerion and all those other men and boys all wrapped around her finger. And that's the way to do it. If you think society is unfair to you, then be unfair to society, fine, but be smart about it........ the smartest rebel doesn't let her oppressors know that she is rebelling. And the smarter rebel will actually control her oppressors, if she knows what she is doing." "And how may I control you, my brave husband? My 'Captain'?" "You already are, love......... you already are............" It was not long thereafter that she finally broke-down and cried, shedding penitent tears, and they wept together, kissing each other, wrapped in each others' arms, wrapped within the golden cloak of the long-forgotten West, and pity finally united them. They finally pitied each other rather than themselves and found something greater through their pity. |
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| Ivordir | May 6 2016, 07:48 PM Post #507 |
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Chapter CCCXXXIII: Of Lord Dinalagos, Ally of Malnoron On the Fourth Tier of Minas Tirith, several forces had gathered. But Angolhel and Mithon's strangely combined efforts had defeated them. There was a great ball held on March 9th, in one of the great manses that had great windows to the northwest and northeast, overlooking the horizon from the Ered Nimrais to the Ephel Duath. Their party was only attended by their allies, who were privy to their scheme. They had plotted to bring the cult of Morgoth-worship into the heart of Gondor, to bring it down as the Dark Lord had brought down downfallen Numenor centuries earlier. But these servants of the Enemy were far more cunning than Saelbainor. They wore Gondorian noble garb: light-weight velvet robes that did not stretch to their feet, wool-woven shrouds that did not fall beyond their ankles. Their sacrificial, hidden rites, occurred without the usage of flamboyant cloaks or any further such rubbish. They obeyed their Master's whims, and their Master remained in Pelargir with Lord Malnoron. They did not know that their Master and chief benefactor would soon perish during the onslaught of the Grey Host on Pelargir, felled by an Army of the Dead. They did not know that they would soon be surrounded. For neither Angolhel nor Mithon had been idle. Mithon's spies had been warned of another gathering of foes somewhere within the City. They attended every major high feast they could sweet-talk their way into. Lord Dinalagos was a crafty lord, but he knew not to deprive his spies, and he had instructed his followers carefully, to expect the presence of spies, and to behave as if nothing out of the ordinary was occurring within their manse. He had commanded them not to look suspicious. Angolhel ordered Malagi, Isenadin, and Daechon to pose as a posse of traveling entertainers, magicians to bedazzle eyes, hearts, and minds. Dinalagos had heard tale of such a traveling magician in Lord Malnoron's service. And so he invited them-in, but he became suspicious when he learned that they had opted to do it all for free. Angolhel had slyly hidden herself near some of Mithon's spies, who had made the error of speaking of the manse in public view of her, and of how all traitors deserved to die. Angolhel deduced that the ranger had spoken so freely because he wished to intimidate any of Dinalagos' spies who might overhear. And so it was that Angolhel had ordered Daechon and the others to make for the nearest doorway and sweep down the halls and into whatever passageways might lead them into the wider complex of vaults. They had even explored the vaults to find the way to the hidden passageway into Lord Dinalagos' manse. They even verified that it was the correct manse when they overheard Dinalagos conversing with his underlings on the other side of the door. And Isenadin and Daechon did their typical act, swirling capes around and pulling hidden swords from their folds, as if they had appeared in mid-air. The audience was ecstatic at the spectacle. And when their act was done, they did not notice the fact that Mithon's second ranger-in-command and his men had all gathered behind the guests, as if it was all some trick. Daechon, Isenadin, and Malagi all performed a vanishing-act. They quickly ducked behind the stage and ran toward the halls, pushing past the servants as they ran. In the meanwhile, the rangers had preoccupied themselves, slaying everyone in the room. They then commanded the surviving servants to place bodies on their stone tables, and one by one, burn them all, till only ashes remained. They were also commanded to clean away all the blood that had poured across the marble floor. The screaming had died-down and no one outside the manse ever suspected a thing, for the stone walls of the manse prevented anyone useful from hearing their final cries of agony. But Lord Dinalagos had escaped as well, and by the time Mithon's second ranger-in-command realized it, the Lord had vanished from the City. He went to visit his relatives in Ost Rimmon, who sheltered him, and these relatives were also privy to his plans. The Master in Pelargir had even thought to hinder the arrival of aid from Rohan, if it should come. But Lord Dinalagos had lost most of his allies, most of his guards had been down in the First Tier drinking, and to avoid further incident, Lord Dinalagos had fled the city with them. And Daechon and the others had returned safely to Ioristor's manse. And Angolhel had believed the danger was finally past. But Arhbaineth soon reported to her chamber in the Ost Rimmon Guesthouse, and then they realized how high the stakes had risen. There was much to risk, little time to waste, and Lord Dinalagos, doubtless, was now aware of their presence in Ost Rimmon. But he did not know what Daechon's Company was, or that it even existed. He did not know that Arhbaineth knew Daechon and the others. And Sainon had revealed the truth to his son: Lord Malnoron was dead, slain by a long-past Spirit. But Sainion had not yet revealed this to the sons of Malnoron, for he did not wish to plunge them into grief, when the time for flight was nigh. And so it was that Sainion came into Amarthandor's chamber. Edited by Ivordir, May 6 2016, 07:54 PM.
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| Ivordir | May 6 2016, 07:55 PM Post #508 |
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Chapter CCCXXXIV: Sons of a Dead Lord-Father The sons of Malnoron met Sainion's tidings with mixed emotions. Amarthandor was half-weeping, "Did your Lord-Father tell tale of our mother?" Sainion nodded, "After they burned the corsair-captain, Bartuk I think his name was, they........ searched the manse........they found a death-note written by her...... she was dying of a broken heart." Auravon and Arancir were weeping in earnest. Amarthandor raised his arms to the ceiling. Gwathron was weeping with them. Amarthandor cried aloud, "Why..... was our noble House so cursed.............. so fell and wrought with wickedness......... and now we have paid for all our crimes............ but she, she who gave birth to us.......... she was brainwashed by our Lord-Father! He killed her, I know it! Now.............." And they held each other close as they all wept in their mutuality, weeping for the horror of it all. Then, many long moments later, Sainion told Amarthandor of Arhbaineth's discoveries. And Amarthandor girded himself and declared, "We will slay the traitor. And we will seize his provisions, in restitution for our Lord-Father's crimes against us." Sainion urged caution, "Revenge is, itself, a wicked path. Be wary of it." Amarthandor whipped his cloak around himself, standing tall and threatening, "If I am fated to become as my Lord-Father was, then so be it! But I will take -them- with me!" Sainion, frightened and unsure of what to do, fled the chamber in search of Ivordir. Edited by Ivordir, May 6 2016, 08:02 PM.
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| Ivordir | May 6 2016, 08:17 PM Post #509 |
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Chapter CCCXXXV: A Darker Vendetta Ivordir was furious at the tidings. But he did not wish to begin a civil war amongst his Company. He did not know where Daerfalas was, but he desired not to involve his brother. He did not want his Lord-Mother to risk the death of her son in Gondor again. And so he kept the tidings hidden from Daerfalas and prepared Duon and his men for their next move. Arhbaineth had told Ivordir everything, as did Angolhel, and the plans were set in motion. They disgusted Ivordir, but there was little to do but to go along with them, for Lord Dinalagos was a clear threat, and Ivordir had Lord Ioristor and Lady Melimir to think of. If Lord Dinalagos returned to Minas Tirith, he could yet cause far greater mischief, and the last thing Captain Ivordir wanted was to march home after a long and fruitless journey to find his family slain at the hands of Lord Malnoron's last living ally. He thought in sorrow of the past few months: how Lord Ballithor had betrayed them, how many a staunch man, like Dolthor, and Nenthor's sons, and Thanguron, had all died what appeared to be pointless deaths. At least their deaths were not pointless to them, he thought. He thought in sorrow of their long leagues in the wilderness, between towns and cities, from barracks to barracks, betrayal to betrayal. He thought of all their mirth and suffering, pain wedded to pleasure, and hope to misery. It is strange, he thought. It is all very strange...... And now his Company was on the brink of more hysteria. Amarthandor would risk becoming Amarthon again, a False King in his pride and vanity, driven to madness on a path of endless vengeance. Ivordir sighed, and, this time, Glossel dared to comfort him, knowing the weight that was standing on his shoulders. "I'm sorry....." she finally admitted. "You are right, there is a middle-ground......... I cannot believe that we are facing a real problem again......" "Life is full of real problems," Ivordir replied, "And in the face of death, some real problems lose importance......... and yet they might still be rectified. A choice stands before you: to let me go in that dragon's den alone, or to stand courageously at my side, risking your own death. It would be most manly for me to forbid this choice, to decide that I cannot morally allow you to risk your life, but I cannot make that decision for you. I realize that now. Your presence here has already made that risk incarnate. You could have stayed behind with my Lord-Father, but I did not dare to ask you then, for I already knew your answer." "That you did," Glossel smirked slyly. "If I am to die, it will not be in that woman's cage called Minas Tirith." Ivordir laughed, despite the lingering terror growing within his heart, "You most certainly will not. Come then, how are we to.... prevent this from growing into a darker vendetta......" Glossel kissed him deeply, as he closed his eyes, feeling her warm, wet lips, and then she said: "Beat them to it. Contend with this Lord Dinalagos before Amarthandor or his brothers are even aware of it. Involve them not, and let them reap the consequences." "It is a hard gamble, you know." Ivordir sighed. "Oh I know..... you fear that they could dive into deeper lust for revenge, with their quarry dead and gone before they have had the chance to enact it, don't you?" "See, you are a smart girl," Ivordir chuckled halfheartedly. "Oh I am.... love..... I am........ and I tell you this. Do not fear for those three brothers. Have you forgotten the supposed powers of their cloaks? If they are of the mythic West, then trust me, love, when I suggest that the powers of the West will chastise their lust for revenge." Ivordir nodded, a smile growing on his face. |
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| Ivordir | May 6 2016, 08:37 PM Post #510 |
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Chapter CCCXXXVI: The High Feast of Ost-Rimmon I hope this'll be the last high feast for awhile........ Ivordir chuckled inside himself. In truth, he was afraid, though he never wanted to admit it. He knew how these affairs always turned-out. Someone dies. Someone dies. Someone dies. Like the turning of the shadow on a sun-dial, he thought. Who knew our Kingdom.... our Realm....was such a murderous, horrific place......... but then again, which Realm has not been so? Blood was shed even in the long-forgotten West............ The last thought made his stomach groan. And to think our own, great, Ranyaro participated in all that horror........... but maybe those Elves need to grow some spine. I've seen more kinslaying in Gondor than in the history of all the Elves combined, or at the least, what little I know of them..... Lord Dinalagos was a kind, pensive, quiet, older man on the surface. But within him sat a brooding malice, the darkness of the bile. He wore a black robe lined with silver. His face was partially wrinkled, but his countenance was strong. His eyes gleamed like coals smouldering in a deep fire. His greying hair flowed down his back to the level of his shoulders. He had no Lady, no children, for none could love him for long, for he was an abusive lover. He loved it when girls screamed as he hit them with his silver cane. But he had also deprived himself of ever having an Heir. Lord Malnoron knew this, promising him a Lady who would obey his every whim. But the promise came with a price: his service. And Lord Malnoron promised and promised, and seldom delivered, as Lord Dinalagos grew fouler in mood and temper, hiding his true feelings from Lord Malnoron, for the promise of an Heir had caused him great anguish in his longing for one. He often dreamed of women as he slept, and this, too, had tormented him. But his wealth was great, for his sister and other relatives had invested in the quarry business, and coin flowed from both north and south of the White Mountains. Lord Dinalagos loved his sister, and some ventured that he loved her too much. By any who ever knew him, it was ever said that Lord Dinalagos loved visiting his sister and her children, out in their country manse in Ost Rimmon, in the lands of the Beacon Hills so far away. And Lord Dinalagos could not halt the Rohirrim or send-word to any spies of Mordor, because he now feared the spies of Mithon, and because he was a base coward: now, at this point, he only wanted to survive the war. He planned to take his family and flee, if necessary, disguising themselves as mere refugees, fleeing into the lands of Rohan and beyond. For now he feared Lord Malnoron on account of Lord Dinalagos' own failure, he feared the armies of Mordor, who might not discriminate between Gondorian friends or foes, and he feared the Master most of all. Saelbainor had also known of Lord Dinalagos. And so it was that he, Duvaissel, Ivordir, Angolhel, Arhbaineth, and Sainion, all hatched their plan, and they would begin by learning who Lord Dinalagos' allies were. They passed beneath his roof in their regalia, and they had Duon and his men wait outside the doors, in fear that Lord Dinalagos might plan on disposing of them in the same way in which the rangers had attempted to destroy Lord Dinalagos. The feast was set, the guests were present, and Lord Dinalagos arose to speak. Edited by Ivordir, May 9 2016, 09:49 PM.
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| Ivordir | May 6 2016, 08:59 PM Post #511 |
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Chapter CCCXXXVII: The Speech "Friends, family, and friends anew, I welcome you beneath our roof, upon this fine eve. I welcome you with wine and boar, chicken and hen, parsley and ale. I welcome our new friend, Lady Arhbaineth, and her acquaintances. They have the hospitality of my House." And then, Lord Dinalagos' sister, Lady Faineth, began to speak: "Welcome, to all who are beneath this roof. A tragedy has befallen our House. Some of you are aware of this. Others are not. But we were cruelly betrayed by the Rangers of Gondor." There was much murmuring in the audience. Lord Dinalagos raised his hand to calm the crowd, "Peace, peace.... yes, it is true that such a betrayal has occurred. I am alive and well, but many of my guests, upon a similar feast, only days ago, suffered terrible deaths beneath my roof. And so I will not blame any of you, if you wish to take this moment, to depart from my halls, with my kindness and gratitude." And many, fearing for their lives, fled the room. Only Arhbaineth and the others remained. Lord Dinalagos declared, "It would appear that we shall endure a quiet feast! Lady Arhbaineth, why do you remain? Or do you think that I am blind? Do you think that I am dull-witted? Your garb is of the same ilk as the entertainers, who distracted us, while the rangers sneaked-in from behind, and dealt us a terrible blow." Ivordir whistled. Duon and his men marched into the great feasting hall in the Dinalagos Manse. Lord Dinalagos laughed, "I knew it! You paltry traitors! Well, I have little secrets of my own accord, do I not, my sister?" Lady Faineth smiled, "Indeed... we do......." She whistled. Two young sons of roughly eighteen years of age came forth. They were approaching manhood. And with them came several guards, nearly outnumbering Ivordir's forces. Ivordir raised his hands, "Peace........ we do not mean you any harm." Lord Dinalagos spat, "Tell that to the guards behind you! Do you not think I've had spies of my own, spying on you all in that Guesthouse that you have all so quickly populated?! Everyone knows that Guesthouse was empty, when the City's Lords' armies marched to the battle!" Angolhel frowned, "Then allow me to inform you on several such matters, my Lord." Lord Dinalagos laughed, "And who might you be? And what might those be?" Angolhel nodded, "I am Angolhel of the Shahadmaradi! I am Haradwaith! And I tell ye, thy Enemy has prevailed!" Lord Dinalagos frowned, "Are ye meaning to tell me that Mordor has actually conquered Minas Tirith?" Alagossel laughed, "Quite the contrary!" Lord Dinalagos' frown grew more pronounced, "The City stands? How?! That Denethor, fool of a Steward, was a dotard!" Angolhel smiled, "Their King has returned. He came with many Gondorians of the southern fiefdoms with him. I tell you that Lord Malnoron is dead, his Master likely also, and that all that you have sought to accomplish in Pelargir and elsewhere has been undone." Saelbainor stepped forward, "I am Gurthbainor. But I am changed. Now, I am Saelbainor. And Gurthbainor is dead. For long years, I served the darkness. No longer shall I serve the Shadow. For the Shadow duped me, and another Master stepped forward in my place. Now you, Lord Dinalagos, beware. Think of your sons. They have barely reached the age of manhood. Do not think that I do not know." Lord Dinalagos scoffed, "They are no sons of mine. But they are my nephews. And you are correct in assuming they are the last of my line. So... Lord Malnoron died before he could fulfill his promises. No wife or Heir for poor Lord Dinalagos, eh? Fine then. Well, my men! What are you waiting for? Get to it!" As the men all prepared their swords, Amarthandor and his brothers stormed into the room. Edited by Ivordir, May 9 2016, 09:51 PM.
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| Ivordir | May 6 2016, 09:16 PM Post #512 |
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Chapter CCCXXXVIII: The Fall of House Dinalagos Amarthandor stood tall and mighty, a spectacle and a terror to behold, his cloak billowing down his shoulders and onto the floor behind and around him. He raised his arms within the cloak, "Dinalagos of Malnoron, your time is past." "No! No!" One of the apparent nephews shouted. "Stop this, all of you! I will not see my family, all I have ever known or cared to know, my beloved mother, my beloved uncle, and the rest of you, all slain beneath this roof!" "Quiet, boy! I shall have words with you yet!" Lord Dinalagos shouted. Auravon, coming to his senses, in the realization of what was about to happen, shouted: "No, the boy is right! Brother, this must cease!" "Tell me boy," Amarthandor replied to the nephew across the room, "Do you wish to know what it is like to be us? To be without parents, who have died cruel and terrible deaths! I could craft no vengeance more fitting for your noble House, Lord Dinalagos!" The nephews embraced their Lady-Mother. Lady Faineth whispered to them, "Now don't you worry. I am not going to let them do this to you." Baralinthor had followed them all, "Do not do this, Amarthandor! Do not destroy another House. There have been far too many felled noble Houses in recent days. Hearken to me! Lord Ballithor was a cruel and heartless man, but he died with some semblance of honor, and for that, at the least, I loved my father....... and my brothers have met worse fates, from what little I know of them. Tell me, is it worth it? When all is said and done? When their blood has stained the marble, when the room is littered with corpses? I ask all of you, is it worth it? Are we not yet sick of all this blood?" Amarthandor laughed cruelly, "So speaketh he who slew Thanguron for sport!" Baralinthor punched Amarthandor in the right-cheek so strongly, he knocked him to the floor. Then Baralinthor said, "Lady Faineth....... no one appears to be backing-down here. Do me a favor. Take your children and leave the room..." Lady Faineth nodded, "I........" Lord Dinalagos spat, "If you betray me, my dear, you die....." And Lady Faineth finally saw her 'beloved brother' for who he truly was: "After everything..... all our evenings on the veranda, all our walks through the gorges.... all our pacing through the gardens...... the birth of these poor children.......... you would put all of that to death, you, my beloved brother? This will end our House!" Lord Dinalagos laughed cruelly, "Go on. Go take the children away." "Come, my sons," Lady Faineth motioned to them. But as they turned to leave, she pushed them forward, knowing what was coming. One of Lord Dinalagos' guards fired his crossbow through Lady Faineth's heart as Lord Dinalagos laughed coldly. "And now!" he declared, "I'll kill all you brothers..... for if my House has folded upon itself in treachery, so shall your own, and the Golden Wing shall not live past this day! So do I thus for your Lord-Father's remarkable failure.... to bring me that bride!" But the rest of the room hardly heard his last words. The clash had already begun. Amarthandor had taken off the cloak and tossed it in the rear of the room, drawing his sword. Five of Duon's men fell, but Ivordir charged with his halberd, the same Yucalwe had given him. They charged into the breach of battle and Lord Dinalagos had grossly underestimated his opponents as the turn-cloak mercenary-guards ran away in terror of the wrath of Ivordir, and Amarthandor crept behind Lord Dinalagos, who had drawn his dagger, madly approaching his nephews in his rage. And Amarthandor stabbed Lord Dinalagos in the back before he could reach them. The nephews stared at Amarthandor, wide-eyed in shock of the horror of it all, and Amarthandor quietly motioned them back around the chaos of the dwindling battle. Soon, the clash was finished. Thus ended the House of Lord Dinalagos. |
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| Ivordir | May 6 2016, 09:25 PM Post #513 |
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Chapter CCCXXXIX: A Sorrowful New Beginning Amarthandor deeply sighed, gazing on the floor at all the blood around them all. He picked-up his unstained cloak. He felt dirty and terribly guilty. He even felt tempted to despair. He pulled himself together and quickly rushed the two nephews out of the manse, and the nephews were quivering in their fear, shock, and they were weeping terribly. Ivordir quickly, quietly, demanded that they all work to clean-up the mess, fires were soon burned, and ashes were soon buried. After the terrible work was done, they all returned to the guesthouse. Amarthandor had already reached his room with his brothers and the two nephews, the last survivors of a downfallen House. One of the nephews stammered, "It is all -your- fault! If you lot hadn't come, our family would still be alive!" He kicked in his sorrow. Amarthandor had made certain that they were unarmed beforehand. The other nephew stammered, "You saw how our Lord-Father betrayed our Lady-Mother! How cruel he was........... and all those memories, all feigned, all wasted...... all false........ he truly hated her, and us, did you not see how he tried to stab us to death?!" Amarthandor looked at them in pity, ashamed. He sighed, "This was bound to happen, sooner or later, if it is of any comfort to you. If we didn't show-up, the rangers would have, and it would have all fallen to pieces anyway......... I know your pain. My Lord-Father and Lady-Mother also died terrible deaths....... and my Lord-Father was to blame......." Auravon nodded, "It is true. We all share in that same grief now.... that great and terrible grief........." They were all soon embracing each other, hugging tightly, as streams of tears flowed down their cloaks, for they all broke-down for their broken Houses. And Amarthandor wept for his revenge. He now knew that it did him no good. So ended the 21st of March. Edited by Ivordir, May 6 2016, 09:30 PM.
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| Ivordir | May 6 2016, 09:51 PM Post #514 |
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Chapter CCCXL: Seizing the Provisions At dawn on the 22nd, Ivordir, Sainion, and Arhbaineth gently informed Daerfalas and the others of what had occurred that night. "Everywhere we go, someone always ends-up getting killed." Ivordir complained. "We lost five good men and gained two more. We have to seize as much wealth as we can." The nephews, in turn, revealed their names: Eiliant and Noruros. Eiliant was too fearful to return to the manse, haunted by the deaths of his family. Noruros girded himself, as much as it hurt him, through grace under pressure, for it was his duty to see to the estate. He found the chest containing his Lady Mother's will, that bequeathed the estate to her children if she passed away, and she took it upon herself to name the eldest, Noruros, as the estate's complete Heir, with the understanding that he would in turn provide sanctuary to his brother. Noruros then gave Ivordir permission to have the men and remaining servants, who were quite shocked and terrified at the whole scenario, to empty-out the excess food-stores, to obtain pack-horses from the stables, and to prepare for a long journey. Noruros also took the family heirlooms and several smaller objects of great value, the family jewels, that could be carried without much trouble. He feared that they would all need to find a new home by the time everything was over. Ivordir fortuitously reasoned that Lord Dinalagos' other manse, in Minas Tirith, belonged to that Lord until further notice. He wished he could tell his Lord-Father about it, and so he wrote a letter, told one of the servants to make for Lord Ioristor's manse, and for the other servants to go with him, to enter into Lord Ioristor's service, and reclaim Lord Dinalagos' manse for the nephews, if they ever should return. He bade them to take a caravan of valuables with them on the journey. And, finally, he ordered Duon to order his five remaining men to guard the servants' passage to Minas Tirith, and to ensure that their mission was fulfilled. Duon's men had long served the defense of Pelargir, they were unnerved by the whole journey, and wary at the thought of marching to Rhun. They were relieved when they received their orders, gladly deigning to enter Lord Ioristor's service, and gladly, they departed. But the nephews were given a choice: to march north and east with Ivordir, or to return with their servants to Minas Tirith. Noruros and Eiliant disagreed with each other, the one desiring to escape from Gondor and from their bloodstained past for awhile, while the other wished to secure their future. One could not live without the other, for they were bound together. They were each the only family that the other had, and they both agreed that they should not part from each other. The Rainbow cannot live without his Sunlit Rain. Eiliant finally relented, and they both deigned to go with Ivordir's Company, in the belief that they might find self and House-cleansing adventure and plunder in the East, and that they might yet return to Minas Tirith as wealthy princes. Noruros and Eiliant did not make clear decisions. They were still grief-stricken and in shock, and they wanted to get away, believing that their adventures would shield them from more death and despair. Ivordir warned them that this would most likely not be the case. And they ignored his warnings. Edited by Ivordir, May 6 2016, 09:53 PM.
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| Ivordir | May 6 2016, 10:02 PM Post #515 |
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Chapter CCCXLI: Troubled Dreams Ivordir and Glossel had awakened on the 22nd from a troubled sleep. They had dreamed nightmares concerning the demise of Dinalagos. At dawn, they took shelter in Ivordir's cloaks, realizing their peril. Their Enemy was attempting to unhinge their minds, or so they had come to believe. Glossel finally believed in the strange destiny that had swept them all away from their homes and livelihoods. Of their current Company were the following: Ivordir and Daerfalas and Raedwyn, Echuidor the Healer, Glossel and Fingaereth and Malfinseron, Gwainoth and Naitheg, Arancir, Amarthandor and Colhel, Gwathron, and Auravon and Rirossel, Saelbainor and Duvaissel, Rostiel and Himelon, Daechon and Isenadin-Ninniachon, Noruros and Eiliant, Silevren, Uialchon, and Tinnuchon, Limben and Tinnedir, Arhbaineth and Sainion, Circhon and his Thirty Followers, Lerion, Alagossel, and Angolhel, Abrazan and Baralinthor, Aegon and Duon, Malagi, Palanelon, Nenthor, and the Twenty Captured Rangers. They were now a Company of Eighty-Nine members. Their servants remained with Lord Ioristor and Lady Melimir in Minas Tirith. Captain Ivordir had ever kept an accurate roster. And Baralinthor awoke from a frightful nightmare. He had dreamed that he was alone, far in southeastern Ithilien, with legions of Haradrim marching to the left, beneath the cliffs far below him. The overlook gazed outward to the sky, lit fiery red, as the sun set toward the West. And Brastor, decked in his full Swan-Armor, came out of the bushes and charged at him, and their steel pierced each others' hearts after a long and tiresome clash, er Baralinthor awoke, breathing rapidly and sweaty, and relieved that it was all naught but a foul dream. "He's dead now," Baralinthor calmly reminded himself aloud. "He's dead." Baralinthor asked to have a word with Ivordir in private. In Ivordir's room, Baralinthor protested: "Leave the twenty rangers here in Ost-Rimmon. Leave them tied-up in the manse. When the authorities of the City discover the suspiciously empty manse," Ivordir's eyes grew wide, "The twenty rangers will inform them that it was -WE- who performed the bloodshed in its bloody entirety! And we shall be marked as outlaws in Gondor forever." "Never mind. But, my Captain, how can we trust these rangers? We slew their leader, and likely their second-in-command, if Angolhel's study of their faces can be relied upon. We cannot guard them, because Duon has lost all of his men, save Palanelon. We have no soldiers, Ivordir! No soldiers, I tell you! Only a paltry few between the lot of us!" "They are soldiers," Ivordir murmured. "Yes, Captain. Watch. Watch them break free of their bonds in the marsh at nightfall, steal our weapons, and slay us all in our sleep." "I have an idea," Ivordir smiled. "And we will need Circhon for this." Edited by Ivordir, Jun 29 2016, 08:33 PM.
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| Ivordir | May 6 2016, 10:37 PM Post #516 |
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Chapter CCCXLII: Prince of Bereft Ithilien Ivordir aroused Circhon from his sleep, "I have an idea." "Concerning what?" "Concerning how we may yet gain the loyalty of these rangers. For we will need it if we are to survive this journey. What House did you say that you were from again?" "From House Lothuial of Emyn Arnen." "Good. Now take my cloaks and wear them proudly, and be not afraid." And Circhon revealed his sparkling emerald-green cloak, "I need not your cloaks. This will suffice. I think I know what you have in mind. But these rangers have known hardship! They are staunch and stern of heart. How can we seek to win them over in..." Ivordir cut him off, "Thy cloak is thine banner. Let it be a rallying cry for them. Yours was one of the upper Houses, was it not?" "It was. But, my Captain, remember that these men have a Captain, a Prince of their own.... Captain Faramir, the Steward's son." Ivordir nodded, "And that Captain is known for his decency, even in times of war. Remind them of this." Circhon nodded, "I shall try to gain their allegiance. I shall try." He mounted his cloak on his shoulders and strode toward the room where the prisoners were held. The rangers quickly roused themselves at his approach. Circhon opened the door as he saw the rangers prepared to thrash him, but then they halted themselves when they saw who it was. They had remembered how Circhon had tried to keep the peace and respected him for it. And Circhon declared: "Rangers of Ithilien, I am Circhon of House Lothuial of Emyn Arnen, and in the name of Captain Faramir, in the name of his grace and courage, I demand that you cease your rebellion, that you may yet grow trustworthy in our Captain's eyes, and find that same grace and courage for yourselves. For you are better than Mithon, you are better than he: a treacherous usurper who took matters into his own hands and away from that of Captain Faramir, ruthlessly spying upon his foes, and then ruthlessly slaying them. His were the acts of a cowardly black-guard, not that of a Ranger of Ithilien!" And all twenty of them were nodding, and the foremost among them spoke: "We followed our leader's orders..... even to the death. Through fen and forest we've been led like beaten hounds........... bound and imprisoned. But you're right concernin' our Captain, brave Faramir." He turned to those around him, "Tell me..... what good has Mithon ever done to us? He paid us little coin for all our sorrow, he left our families to starve in winter, he led us into forays in which many of our brothers fell alongside us....... and then he turned us into traitors. It's our fault, men..... we went along with it. We didn't have the spine to say no to his commands. Our Captain would hang us if he could." Some of them were even shedding tears as the reality of their past deeds caught-up to them. Others nodded in their shame, as the shameful realization dawned upon them all. They were of varied ages. Some were young, having achieved manhood recently, while others were in their thirties, while more still were older and experienced. And the foremost among them turned back to Circhon, "Tell us what to do. We'll follow you. I don't expect this 'Captain' to trust us now, and I wouldn't blame him." "You are right," Ivordir strode through the hallway. "I do not trust you. But nor do I doubt your valour or your resolve. Lord Circhon, give me a hand in cutting these bonds." And Ivordir knew the risks he was taking. They cut the bonds and all marched through the hall, and came out into the fresh, clean air. The foremost ranger smiled, "That was mighty brave of you, if you don't mind me telling you, Sir. We might as well have all stabbed ye to death, if we were lesser men. But we are not, quite fortunately." Ivordir turned, staring him down, "And you know this, Sir, since that thought has clearly crossed your mind. They who slay us will die bereft under an Elvish curse. None shall ever survive it. Go on, touch Circhon's cloak and feel what you may." And as each ranger clasped Circhon on the shoulder, a shiver would run down the ranger's back, followed by a strange, peaceful feeling, a reassurance that they could not comprehend. The younger rangers gravitated toward Circhon immediately. And the elder rangers pledged themselves to protect the Company. The foremost ranger introduced himself as Orel, the Morning Star. Ivordir closed his eyes, "It is a pity that Mithon never had the sense to join us as well......... he came so close..... so close....... he even knew........." Orel sighed sadly, "He blinded himself to it....... he blinded us......... we all have choices, Lord Ivordir. I can dismiss the strange feelings I've felt, touching Lord Circhon's shoulder....... or I can accept them for what they are. I do. They're real, not parlour tricks. Mithon was ever a cynical man. I was ever more of an idealist among the troop." "I am sorry that I had you imprisoned these past few days." Orel smiled, "I couldn't blame you. And I've had my misgivings, have no doubt of that, though I kept them to myself most shamefully. Mithon seemed to grow crueler by the minute. Why do you think we Twenty surrendered immediately during his downfall? We knew he was no good. But orders are orders, especially among we southern Dunedain. It is considered the gravest thing to betray one's superior on the field, or anywhere for that matter......... honor restrained us, and forced us to do dishonorable deeds....... I can't pretend to understand it." Ivordir smiled, "Then let us be honorable now, and forget about it. The past is done. Only the present moment will yield redemption." Orel paused, considering his words, and shaking his head, he bowed, "Very good. When will we depart?" Ivordir nodded, "At mid-day. We are making the final preparations as we speak." Edited by Ivordir, May 6 2016, 11:03 PM.
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| Ivordir | May 6 2016, 11:17 PM Post #517 |
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Chapter CCCXLIII: Through the Beacon Hills They gathered the gear on the nephews' ten pack-horses. Their uncle had been able to afford them with all his wealth from the quarry business. Slowly, word was spreading through Dinalagos' district of the City that something ill was afoot, and that foul-play was involved, as the former guests of the high feast were thrown into chaos and confusion, panic and fear, concerning the lack of tidings from Dinalagos' manse. They had stayed away from the manse for quite some time, but one of the former guests dared to pass it doors, and found it strangely empty, with bare traces of blood-stains still present on the marble floor. Sainion had had some of Circhon's followers maintain a shifted watch on the manse, to watch who came and went, and what they saw. And as soon as the report came, Sainion knew it was only a matter of time before any further remaining Lords of the City investigated the matter. Murder was illegal in the Kingdom of Gondor, and foul-play was kept behind closed doors. Ivordir quickly got the Company together, the baggage loaded onto the pack-horses, and all was prepared in haste. Sainion gave everything a final look-through. They took the horses and marched out of the City, and they made their way through the guarded gates. Word had not yet reached the guards of what had occurred, for tidings traveled slow throughout the City. As swiftly as they came, they parted from Ost Rimmon, and for the first time in a long time, they did not get imprisoned or threatened with death upon their departure. They made their way through the vast green hills, the beacons towering above them to their east and west, and they marched straight for over twenty-five miles. The road was grueling and they camped for the night in the hills. At dawn on the 23rd, they marched forward for another twenty-five miles, then away from the road, and down toward the Mouths of the Entwash. They rested at mid-afternoon on the marsh-borders. Edited by Ivordir, May 10 2016, 11:34 PM.
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| Ivordir | May 9 2016, 10:36 PM Post #518 |
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Chapter CCCXLIV: Into the Mouths of the Entwash They passed through the deepening murk of the muck of the marshes, the crystalline waters of the river flowing beneath their feet. The sky was blue and clear now, faint clouds soaring overheard in the aftermath of the great wind that had flowed from the West as if some great, outpouring, libation of the Vala who commanded it. The air was stiff, yet cool, as a gentle breeze flowed through nearby reeds. The reeds were taller than the men who chopped their way through them. Their boots were muddy and soaked and difficult to move without getting stuck in the muck beneath the river's first tributary. And the flies were buzzing in the reeds. Lizards crawled through the dirt and muck. And there were hardly any birds, save those who had nested in the few willow-trees that dotted each small isle. "Do you know what this here river's named faur?" Nenthor called out. Ivordir smiled, "No, Nenthor, for what was it named?" They plodded along in the muck, the pack-horses struggling between the cold weight of the muck and the hot weight of their baggage. "Faur them Ents, it waus. Some auold legend of 'em Tree-hearders maurchin' on their taull, stiff wauden legs." "I have heard the tale. This river flows all the way away from this here delta, unifyin,' and goin' up up up through the middle-spine of Rohan, between the Emnets, till it bends northwest into Fangorn Forest, a strange and dangerous place, regarded as such by most travelers........ I wouldn't want to brauve them woods." "Staup a-tryin' to sound like yau've gaut my accent. There's no haupe in it. If yau're a nauble, then a-saund noble." "You just said 'noble' rather than 'nauble.'" "I'm a-not as dumb as I appear, Captain." "You surprise me, Nenthor. I took you for..." "I know what you took me for. You don't think your Abrazan fellow didn't teach me how to talk all noble on that ship?" "Forgive me, sir, I...." "No help for it, Captain. It's all in them little things we notice. Them little things we barely see. My sons are dead and I'll a-join them before this journey's over. I don't know why them Elves brought me back to health. I'm nothin' but a poor minstrel who sings in harbors and knows old tales." "There may be something in the singing and in the knowing." "Maybe, Captain..... maybe......." |
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| Ivordir | May 9 2016, 10:42 PM Post #519 |
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Chapter CCCXLV: A Dry Isle After struggling for several leagues, they found their first dry, wide isle. Orel called for his men to halt and search for firewood. He also conferred with Ivordir, "Sir, we had better try to hunt some game on this isle, to split evenly among the men." "And what shall each man get, a morsel?" "More than his share, sir. More than his share. We shouldn't waste the provisions out here." "We can get new provisions in the Wold. We need the provisions now." "Very well, sir, but I disagree." "How much game do you see, sir Ranger?" "There's a buck or two out there in the trees. There's more in the next tributary's currents: plenty of trout to fish. Good cooked on the fire." "Do what you will in this matter, sir Ranger." "Aye, sir." And Orel strove off with ten of his rangers in search of food, while the other ten returned with the gathered firewood. "What we need here is a good, large tent!" Angolhel sighed. "Or a stone palace, for that matter," Glossel balked. And all, men and women, were clad in rangering attire. Their noble garb and cloaks they kept safe in their packs, much of which was loaded onto some of the pack-horses. They had a small herd between all their forces, for Dinalagos had bought that many from his great wealth. He had even hired enough stable-hands to muck the stables. But now there were no stables. The mucking would have been frivolous. They camped here for the night. So ended the 23rd. Edited by Ivordir, May 10 2016, 11:35 PM.
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| Ivordir | May 10 2016, 11:24 PM Post #520 |
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Chapter CCCXLVI: Lost Nephews At dawn on the 24th, they continued their march. The mud was damp and deep. The shimmering waters of gathering pools swished between their ankles. The sun was glaring. The sparrows were singing. The flies were buzzing and biting. Their legs were itching. The sky was hardly cloudy. The Company halted nigh a copse of willow trees. They had eaten their fill of any fish and game the rangers scrounged-up. They saved the provisions. Ivordir had changed his mind: it would not be good to seek provisions in the Wold. The Rohirric families await the Rohirrim: which fathers, brothers, and sons, would not return. They will not await a bunch of strange Gondorians. Gondorians would be the deserters, to the Rohirric families. They might as well execute the lot by martial law. Ivordir knew this. He knew to avoid settlements. He hated avoiding settlements. He had to avoid them. The road would be long and rough through the wilderness. Yucalwe did not know what they would see in the lands nigh the bending of the Carnen. But the Carnen was far away. They had yet to reach Amon Hen. Eiliant and Noruros plodded along. The air was damp and difficult to breathe. Eiliant was hyperventilating. Noruros was attempting to calm him. He had already had his third nightmare. Noruros had had his second. Their beloved mother was dead. Their uncle had betrayed them. And now he was dead. And their manse was gone: the home of their childhood. Innocence had perished in those halls. There was no hope to reclaim it. Their mother had never told them about their father. They wondered what had happened to such a Lord. They had heard the rumors that their uncle was involved in some cult. They knew it was no good. Their mother told them to forget the rumors, calling them lies. They had heard the rumors from servants who had overheard their uncle. They did not turn-in the servants. This bought them some measure of loyalty. These servants would see to their uncle's estate in Minas Tirith: another manse where blood had poured onto the marble. Eiliant was enraged, "What are we doing here, brother? Why did we not go back with the servants?" Noruros shook his head, "We cannot go back....... we can and we cannot...... our bodies may go there, but I cannot bear to see our ruination! Words cannot suffice. You know this, brother. Words cannot suffice." Eiliant knew what he meant. There was no true answer to the horror. Eiliant struggled to place one foot beyond the next. He struggled to lift his boots through the watery mud. His soul struggled with his steps. A part of him wanted to drown himself in the river. He wanted his mother, desperately. There was no one he could trust anymore. Eiliant stammered, "What if our servants betray us, and we return to find nothing?" Noruros nodded, "Then we will find nothing. But we will not return." "What do you mean?" Noruros heaved a heavy sigh, "I doubt we noble sons will survive this long trek into lands of the known Enemy. Do not worry, Eiliant. We will see our mother soon enough." Eiliant nodded sadly, "Do you truly believe it so?" Noruros nodded, "I do...... a hateful destiny seized our mother and our uncle and our home away from us. Why should it not ruthlessly claim our lives? It will give us no pause, no respite. Be content with the shining sun, the scent of soil. The Earth is all we have left, brother, and we will soon lose that too. And we will have nothing. Everything has been claimed away from us. Its only a matter of time." Abrazan nodded, "Death is a gift." Eiliant turned to see Abrazan trudging forward to his left, "What do you mean? It is a vile evil! You call what happened to our mother a GIFT?! How dare..." Abrazan cut him off, "I never said it was a good gift, or an easy gift to take. But I have known beings who know this. Tell me, did your mother ever tell you about the immortal Elves of old?" Eiliant nodded in sorrowful nostalgia, "Yes......" "Bedtime stories," Noruros filled-in the blank. Abrazan laughed, "So you were told such tales when you were far younger." "They are myths," Noruros asserted. "Childish myths. We knew the real world, the world that claimed our mother and our uncle, a world of violent cruelty and deceit...' "Do not remind us, brother," Eiliant asserted. "Each remembrance is a dagger to everything I am." Noruros nodded, "It is the same for me, brother. The pain will never lessen......" Abrazan blinked, "You have discovered trauma. But you are not the first. I tell you this: one of the immortal Elves of legend is my father." Noruros laughed in his hysteria, "You are bluffing! Do you take us for children? Do you take us for soft-minded, witless, stupid.....!" Abrazan shook his head, "No......... but I speak the truth. For this Elf knew trauma. I bet you heard not this in one of your mother's bedside stories. Long ago, there was a harbor, and in that harbor, were the grandest ships ever crafted. And an Elf-lord desired the ships, and the King of the Ship-builders refused to give the ships to the Elf-lord and his followers. Do you know what happened?" The nephews shook their heads as they kept trudging through the mud. Abrazan's eyes glowed coldly, "The Elf-lord made an offensive. He gathered his soldiers. He ordered them to seize the harbor. The ship-builders only had bows and arrows. The soldiers were armored, wielding the first blades ever forged. And the soldiers pushed and shoved at the ship-builders, who replied the same, and then arrows were fired, swords slashed, and Elf slew Elf, blood pouring onto the docks and into the depths of the sea." Eiliant shook his head, "No, this cannot be. Elves were good and wise and only did good things for people. They fed weary travelers when they were hungry, they healed wounds, they clothed people, they....." Abrazan laughed, "You are thinking of more recent Elves, who have learned from their darker past. I wear my father's cloak, but not out here in the marsh." Noruros rolled his eyes, "You do not carry some magical Elf-cloak. You are toying with us. Be careful, whoever you are. It is unwise to goad those who have lost everything! What does it matter? What does anything matter? I should fall on my own sword, right here, in the muck of the marsh. There's no reason to live on!" The Company halted. And Ivordir stared at the nephews with concern. Abrazan slowly opened his pack. The crimson folds of the cloak gleamed within. "Fine, then there is no reason to live on. But humor me, at the least, son of House Dinalagos. Reach-in and touch." Noruros folded his arms, "You have no idea how this makes us feel! You have no authority to command me!" But Eiliant was desperate. He saw his own death on the one hand and a gamble on the other. He was very much afraid of death and so he took the gamble. He reached-in and felt a surge of power, of a force he could neither explain nor hope to comprehend. He felt as if he was safe in his mother's embrace as a child. Eiliant turned and Noruros started resisting him, fighting him off, but Eiliant managed to grasp control of his brother's arm, grab his hand from the top, and then he applied the pressure, dipping the hand downward against Noruros' will. And then Noruros stood aghast, shaking, as he felt the power. Noruros' hand slowly rose to point at Abrazan, "You....you are a sorcerer!" Abrazan shook his head, "No, this power is not of mine own. Do you not yet believe me?" Noruros was still shaking, "Fine, fine, I believe you..... but how can I.....I...." Abrazan smiled, "You do not need to hide from it. You are uncertain. You cannot explain this. Nor can I explain it. But it is an enchantment of the West of old, of the tales you learned as children. Tell me, what would your mother want you to do? To bleed yourselves here, becoming fish-food in the Entwash and the Anduin? Or would she desire that you live-on, if not for yourselves, then for her, who gave her life to protect you?" Eiliant nodded, shaking as well, "He is right, brother." Noruros nodded and said nothing. The Company turned forward again and continued moving north. Edited by Ivordir, May 12 2016, 10:16 PM.
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12:43 AM Jul 11