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17. Wind-Singers Volume III.I: The Final Quest; Ivordir and Daerfalas journey into Gondor to face the Enemy and find tidings of Guldrambor
Topic Started: Apr 5 2015, 04:14 PM (4,136 Views)
Ivordir

Chapter LX: Memories of the Leaves

"I would not have us think of this, I need time. In part, I blame his father, if this was how he was taught. It is confusing to me.... did Yucalwe not read their hearts? Come, sit by my side. That I may tell you of my travels. This will help us, I think, to determine what we shall do."

Sainion sat next to Ivordir on the bed.

Ivordir smiled, "In the far north, there are many lands that you would find strange to you. They are the region of Eriador. At dawn, we found ourselves lost in a deep fog. We could barely see the coastline. The ship-wreck was terrible; and a dear friend died as I passed unconscious. He was a great singer and weaver of tales. Long did we mourn his passing. I awoke in a noble House of Elves. It may seem unbelievable, to you. But the lands of Forlindon and Harlindon, though many have passed away, though many of its once-great cities lie in ruin, there, enclaves of the Eldar remain. Their homes are smaller now, but they are still magnificent. Many of the Noldor fled to Imladris, another mythic realm, but others remained, within a day's ride from Mithlond, the last remaining city of the Eldar east of the Sea. But there are many homely houses, before the Last one, in Imladris."

As Ivordir told his tale, Sainion's eyes wept in an ecstasy of passion that ignited his soul: to think that these things, once thought abandoned across the vestiges of time and myth, over thousands of years, still walked the Earth.

Ivordir continued, "I embraced the Prince of Gold."

On a strange and foreign impulse, Sainion suddenly embraced Ivordir, clasping him tightly, and Ivordir clasped him in return. Something stirred in his heart. An unyielding, undying hope. He felt it pierce his soul. And he longed to journey north. But then the temptation of envy came at him, as his eyes turned on Ivordir, enviously, and Ivordir perceived it. "Do not envy, what I must tell you."

Sainion nodded, chasing his enviousness away from his eyes, concentrating his mind.

Ivordir continued, "We spent many days in the wild. Some were spent with the Elves, glorious and with safety. Yet, even these things, did not stop the tree-roots from piercing our backs at nightfall, nor did it make anything else of that nature cease. And there were a few realms of Men, strange and yet familiar. The Men of Bree, they are, countryfolk, many of them honest, hard-working, and good, but others of them are outlaws and brigands, not to be trusted."

Sainion nodded soberly, "Like the Men of Tarlang."

Ivordir agreed, "Yes, they are quite similar to those men. I learned they are of the same kin as the Men of Dunland. But let us not dwell there long. In Eriador, in the realm of the Elves, is a land of far-reaching fields of green, and pink, blossoming trees, some of them clustered together in great forests. Beyond this, the blossoms end, replaced by flowers growing across the meads and fields and hills, of the Shire, a land of a strange people. They wear strange clothes. They are halflings. They do not enjoy conversing with we "Big Folk" much. So, we kept going around their land, avoiding its inhabited parts. Then came Bree-land, a land similar to the Shire, only with wider forests and vaster fields. Then came the Marshes to the south and the great woods to the north, and the rise of the Weather Hills, where the War of the Last Alliance once began. And I stared in awe and horror of those ruins, of Weathertop, of Amon Sul. There, before my eyes, the fate that could one day befall Gondor, that had befallen Osgiliath. Here, the Dome of Stars was long gone. Osgiliath is blessed to still have its shattered shell still standing. And then there was a grassy land, that seemed a desert, with vast, lonely stretches of the wilds. Beyond this was the Last Bridge, and the deep, forested hills of the Trollshaws. They are more rocky than Ithilien and Dor-en-Ernil. One cannot scale many of their slopes with ease. It is maze-like and confusing. Emyn Arnen has broader, taller slopes, but they slope with greater ease, and so one can ride up and down them without trouble.

We passed through this maze of the Trollshaws, and found an old, trodden road. We followed it to a brightly-lit refuge, and inside, were folk of many different histories. I could scarcely believe my eyes. There were halflings, who had turned too adventurous. There were Dwarves. And there were folk of our kin, and many Elves. I.... was graced to read their histories. It spread back to ancient Arnor, when the Took archers joined the fight against Angmar, and when the Dunedain strove and struggled to fight-back their foes. Then, in that age, folk of many backgrounds rose to fight the Angmarim, after Fornost had been captured by the same foe who now stalks our borders, from the cursed vale that once was the City and Tower of the Moon. No, do not speak that wretched name here. And they had lost their refuge to old evils, including a beast of legend, that came out of the mythic north. Now, they had several refuges and many places, and their numbers were growing in secret.

And there, amongst them, was Makalaure, the ancient singer of myth, the son of Feanor."

At this, Sainion's eyes grew wide.

Ivordir continued, "And the Prince of Gold came with us, and his cousins, but his followers moved onward to Imladris, to dwell with other relatives. We dwelt in that sacred realm for nearly a year. Then, a council was called by the Prince, a council of his House, and it was decided that I, Abrazan, Súldor, Súlchon, and Nenthor would return to Gondor, to begin our movements in the South. And so we returned the way we came, across Eriador, and the Prince of Gold came with us. And Ranyaro, Yucalwe, was with us the entire time, until at last, we embarked. Then, we sailed south, and beheld calm seas, the strange and wild coastal-lands of Minhiriath, and came along the coasts of Gondor, well-provisioned, until, at long last, we returned to Dol Amroth."

Sainion closed his eyes, "And why have you not spoken oft with Abrazan, or the other three?"

Ivordir shook his head, "I have not yet had time, but I believe that time is coming soon. Alas, many duties and concerns befall a Captain, even though I am Captain only in role, and not in title."
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Ivordir

Chapter LXI: The Heir's Counsel

"My Captain... Ballithor has laid many duties upon you... too many for only one person. Do you truly believe that Captain Boromir did not have loyal men to counsel him when he defended the western front? Do you truly believe that Captain Faramir refused all of the attempts of counsel on part of his loyal friends? It is not so."

"I agree......"

"Captain... up to this point, you have heeded the advice of only a small few. Dolthor, who perished. Daerfalas follows and agrees with you oft. Brastor, whom you cannot fully trust. And Baralinor, who you cannot fully trust either."

"Whom can I trust?"

"You can trust in me."

"You have every reason... every reason in the world, to lead us to our doom, for what Ballithor did to your father."

"Yes, except for one detail: it would appear that he has betrayed all of us. My gambit is not against you. Nor was it in the beginning."

"Very well. Sainion, I hereby appoint you as my Councillor. Who else should we appoint? Who else should we trust?"

Sainion began to inscribe names on a fold of his parchment.
"Brastor will become suspicious if you begin to refuse his counsel. You must add him, and, if possible, attempt to sway him to our cause."

"A sound strategy. Whom else, do you suppose?"

"Aegon."

"Aegon is an outlaw, and he detests you."

"I spoke with Aegon, my dear Captain Ivordir. He has a talent for tale-weaving. I helped him realize it. Read this."

And Sainion brought forth the parchment that he had produced with Aegon, merely hours earlier.

Ivordir read the cursive writing in the morning sunlight, "He has the skill. I can picture the mines of Tarlang in this moment. I cannot help but feel... reading this... and it is a hunch, against my better judgment........... very well. But you will answer for him, should he commit a crime." He returned the parchment to Sainion.

Sainion bowed his head low, "Agreed. We shall see about Aegon's friend, the one whom we have appointed to keep watch over him."

"Add him to our list, since he will need to maintain his watch, especially in the presence of such a Council."

"Since Daerfalas is so loyal to you, I will add his name, as well as those of the three fishermen you have mentioned."

Ivordir nodded, "Very good. Now there are nine of us in total. If we add more names than this, I fear nothing will be spoke in secret apart from the rest of the men, which would defeat the purpose of such a Council."

"Agreed," Sainion nodded, "I will inform them covertly. When should we hold such meetings?"

Ivordir hastily nodded, "In the barracks, or in places of refuge. It would prove too dangerous to attempt to hold such gatherings in the wilds."

Sainion blinked, "Then we must convene here in Linhir, before we depart. Tidings of random attacks by small Corsair skiffs on our coasts may force a change in our direction. For apparently they fear a skirmish of the sort that we faced in Dol Amroth. Linhir is preparing for it. And we must plan to meet and speak of our direction again, once we have reached Pelargir."

Ivordir deeply smiled, "You are truly a prodigy. I believe our dear friend, Lord Ballithor of the Silver Swan, has underestimated you."

Sainion briefly laughed mirthfully, "Correction. He has underestimated -us-, my Captain."
Edited by Ivordir, Aug 10 2015, 07:55 PM.
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Ivordir

Chapter LXII: Guilt

Baralinor sat down on his cot and began to reflect on his sorrow. He thought of the old days, how he wished they were back, how he longed to see Yucalwe again. His head downcast, he thought of that final glare at him from Thanguron's eyes. He thought of many eyes. The eyes of his fallen comrades, of his enemies, of those whom his father had tortured. He could see them, clear as day within his mind. Glares of undying, courageous hope, unrequited. Glances of shock, beyond recollection. Gazes of fear, throbbing in terror. And the eyes pursued him.

They haunted him, but none greater than the eyes of Ranyaro himself, that piercing gaze. He remembered when he was a boy, how he felt exposed, as if all of the thoughts and expressions of the world had filled his soul in terror, all laid bare, before the gaze of Yucalwe Ranyaro. It was as if Yucalwe had read his past, had seen his present, and had foretold his future. They never spoke, but it was felt. That gaze returned now, glaring at him, laying bare his crime.

He thought of that alley-way. When he and young Thanguron were boys. Thanguron and his father were visiting the city, from their farm in the Pelennor. Dol Amroth was a place where they could sell their crops for a high price. Competition was tough, and the road was long. Baralinor and his father were returning from Minas Tirith themselves. So, the farm-cart was allowed at the rear of their caravan. Normally, Baralinor would be kept in a litter, carried by servants, or resting in a carriage. But today he wished to walk. He was sick of his time spent away from the eyes of others. Ballithor was conversing with other lords, and Baralinor had fallen behind. He walked alongside Thanguron on that long road. And along that road, they befriended each other, and when Ballithor's guards came, inspecting the lines, Baralinor demanded that Thanguron be allowed to come in the cart with him. The guards brought both of them before Ballithor. Ballithor sighed, "You cannot bring every rabble-lad with you in this life." However, his heart softened when he learned that Thanguron had kept his son from falling behind away from the caravan. And Ballithor barely smiled, "But I will allow this, once, and only once."

And so they traveled together in the noble carriage. The road was bumpy, but the carriage had greater comforts. When they reached the city, Baralinor and Thanguron escaped from the carriage, running carefree through the streets, as boys were oft to do. And then they saw young Sainion with his father. They trailed and followed him. Sainion had wandered away from the others. Then Baralinor seized him, "He is of impure blood. Let's remind him!"

Thanguron shook his head, "Bara, we're friends, but I can't allow this."

Baralinor turned on Thanguron, "You rode with -me- in -my- carriage across that long road, and if you turn on me, I'll expel you!"

"Didn't you plan on this all along?"

"Oh come on, Thang. Look at him, he's a noble princeling. You're what? A farm boy? Here's your chance for justice!"

Thanguron looked at Sainion in his young vestments, seizing him by the collar, "Bara's right. What gives you the right to prance around so nobly? I'm going to make you-"

At this point, Sainion was toiling and struggling, against Thanguron's stronger grip, trying to escape. But then Sainon appeared, "Enough of this. Leave my son alone. I command it!"

Thanguron's skin fell pale in the sight of a noble lord, who could justly punish him. Thanguron released his grip. Sainon approached them, prepared to yell and scold, until he recognized Baralinor. At this, he turned, taking his son, and marched away, saying nothing.

Baralinor turned at Thanguron and smiled, "My father and I will remember your loyalty. Go, I think you'll find your father in the Court of the Fountain, its market day."

Another guard stomped on his patrol through the Lihhir Barracks. Baralinor looked-up, his memories disturbed.
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Ivordir

Chapter LXIII: Of the Unjust Form of Pride

Baralinor breathed heavily as the guard passed by. He returned once more to his memories, where his mind could roam free.

He remembered how he had scowled at Abrazan's foreign nature. He despised that accent. He surmised that Abrazan was poor, of an impure tribe, of impure, lesser men. And he reveled in his own superiority: the glory of Numenor. But he had not seen Numenorean glory as Ivordir had, and Ioristor before him, or as Boromir and Faramir had: the glory of the gift of the Valar, of the West, and of the Eldar: the truest blessing that had fallen under the pride and vanity of Ar-Pharazon, only to rise again beneath the standard of Elendil, of the Faithful, who had hearkened not to the lies of Sauron. It was these Faithful who had served Eldacar, who had consented to the marriage with Rhovanion, who had seen the sisterhood and brotherhood of all men, who had spurned Castamir as a Usurper. Rhovanion would later be replaced in the alliances of Gondor by Eorl the Young and his Eotheod, who became the glory of Rohan. But not so for Ballithor, or Baralinor. For them, Numenor was the most superior power of the world: its greatness as defined by strength, its strength as defined by its superiority, and its superiority as defined by its assertion of the natural inferiority of all of the other peoples of the world: the pride and vanity of Ar-Pharazon that had dared to crush his boot onto the sacred soil of the Undying Lands themselves. And, in their minds, it was every Numenorean's duty to crush all of those who were of "impure" blood. The alliances with Rhun, Khand, Harad, and Umbar, all with the Dark Lord of Mordor, made this easier for men like Ballithor and his son.

But now, these turmoils oppressed the heart of Baralinor. He was caught, between an inward sense that gradually grew, grasping at him from within his soul: that something was wrong with his father's will, and his pride in the nobility of his House, his love for his father. They tugged at his heart, the marrow of his identity. And so, longing to escape, he shifted the focus of his memories, returning to a conversation that he had had alone with Yucalwe Ranyaro.

Edited by Ivordir, Aug 10 2015, 07:56 PM.
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Ivordir

Chapter LXIV: Sons of Swans and Stars

Baralinor thought back to that nightfall, when he was beckoned by a strange figure, whom he recognized. Ballithor had consented to it: that his son should spend some time with the Elf. Yucalwe was still a mystery to Baralinor. They rowed beyond the sea-gate, far into the night. The waves of the sea tossed and turned their ship. It was a distance of over forty-five miles by land. Yucalwe rowed silently, while the boy stared at the stars. After a long while, sea-sick from the turbulent rowing of the boat, he fell asleep.

Baralinor awoke in the cavern. His hands felt bound by something. Something that felt rich, and cool, and smooth to the touch, normally, but it was warmed-over by his body. He found himself wrapped in a vast, black cloak of silk, with red silken lining. There was a strange sigil on that cloak. Baralinor gazed across the cavern. He saw another, sleeping far away. It was Abrazan. Baralinor feared him greatly, and hid beneath the cloak. His heart throbbed with fear, and he began to sweat. It was a strange feeling.

In time, both were summoned by that soft, soothing elven voice. He was robed in silver, and his raven tresses of hair, long and vibrant, fell behind his back. Then, Baralinor felt he was in the presence of an Elf. Yucalwe bade them sit beside a stone table. He brought a silver flask, pouring the water gently, coolly, into a basin, with cups near at hand. After they drank their fill, Yucalwe brought forth the grapes and salted meat that the men had given him.

Yucalwe turned to Baralinor, "Come with me. There is something I would show you."

Baralinor followed Yucalwe down into deeper tunnels. Abrazan had remained behind. The tunnels seemed to stretch north, for several miles. In time, they came to a concealed opening in the cave, and climbing through the brush, they beheld the them: tall, spires of faded majesty and carvings, vast squares, and mansions- the ruins of Edhellond. They climbed the old, faded stairs, spiraling up to the great balcony of the central tower. The spires of Dol Amroth were barely visible to the southwest. And they overlooked the harbor, the weathered quais and places where the white ships once docked, the great statues and old lighthouses still bearing silent witness to their departure, forever from the world, forever and ever.

Yucalwe turned, "A grave shadow prevents me from taking that road, straight across the horizon."

The sea seemed to stretch forth infinitely.

"There, far across these waves, I once dwelt in a city far vaster and greater than these ruins, a realm of -joy- and awe and splendour......... that has since vanished from this world. Do you know why it vanished?"

Baralinor shook his head.

Yucalwe's head fell downcast, "There was a King of Men. A great King of Men. Your father himself told me this story. His name was Ar-Pharazon."

"Yes, our glorious ancestor, who...... turned, who erred....."

"Yes, and do you know why he erred?"

Baralinor shook his head. And Yucalwe took the cloak, the same cloak in which Baralinor had been roused from sleep, out of his pack, and draped it gently on Baralinor's young shoulders, the lower folds of the cloak plunging in black and crimson, shining plumes, billowing in a heap on the dusty, ruined floor of the balcony.

And then Yucalwe said: "Their pride arose, wider and vaster than this cloak. They believed that immortality was a boon that could be seized by force. Numenor sank, and the West was removed forever from the circles of the world."

Baralinor then felt guilty, remembering his father's words, and then he felt trapped between the two figures who had come to define his life: his father and the Elf. Suddenly, Yucalwe knelt down, his silver intermingling with the black and red, clasping Baralinor's shoulders: "And this is why you must remember not to falter into that path. Then, will you find the true nobility, and the majesty..."

Small tears fell, rolling down Baralinor's cheek: "Does my father know of this?"

Yucalwe sadly shook his head, "He has forgotten....... he is a strong man, set in his ways........... but you are young, and have choices set before you.................... and it is my hope that, through your hope, hope may blossom anew in your father's heart........."

Baralinor shook his head, "I do not know how..........."

Yucalwe smiled, "I have seen how you have viewed my son, Abrazan...."

Terror seized Baralinor's heart. He wanted to run away. But then Yucalwe swiftly enveloped him in an embrace, "No, no.... do not be afraid. You have only known what your father has taught you..... but let me teach you something. Once there were men, strong, good men, who were not of Numenorean birth..... of Beor........ Haleth...... Hador.......... from whence the Numenoreans came.............. and they were neither greater nor lesser than each other.................... it is not our birth that determines our fates........ it is our choices, Baralinor......... son of Ballithor......... children of Numenor.............. think of the Faithful, who remained loyal......... and not on the pride of Ar-Pharazon........... find the true pride, the true nobility of love.......... and abandon the falsehoods...... as I once was forced to."

"You are an Elf....... you are always perfect......"

Sorrow stabbed Yucalwe's heart, "No, for I, too, once followed an Ar-Pharazon........... and his name was Feanor.............. do you know why I am here? I am here for my crimes....... for following the false pride that doomed my people................ yearning for the true pride, the truer love, that may yet redeem us.................."

And as Baralinor reflected, another soldier passed by his cell on patrol, and his mind returned to the present, and then, remembering Yucalwe's words, picturing Thanguron's lifeless eyes, he cried. He wept bitterly. He wept in anguish. He wept as he felt darkness enclosing inward, suffocating him.
Edited by Ivordir, May 18 2015, 11:52 AM.
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Ivordir

Chapter LXV: The Journey Home

And as Baralinor felt the fangs of despair beginning to swallow him whole, he recalled how the wind had blown and billowed their robes and cloaks in great gusts, how he had outstretched his arms to feel the free wind arouse his closed eyes toward the piercing rays of the light of the morning sun, how he had turned to his sides with opened eyes to see the brilliance of Yucalwe's cloak, flashing and shining in waves and ripples and rivers and streams of flowing white-red and white-black, ever flickering and changing, ever shining, as if the One Himself had gazed down upon them, from beyond the circles of the world, His Eyes more powerful than the 'Great Eye,' His Gaze more piercing than the eyes of all the Valar combined, shining light and brilliance and glory upon them. And as he recalled all of this, reliving it, the clouds of despair vanished from his soul, dispersed by the truer memory of that light that had fallen upon him. Rejecting despair, Baralinor felt as if he could sing, a song not of discord, but of hope, of everlasting joy.

And he felt as if he could hear Thanguron's voice, singing from beyond the grave, in a reconciling, fair voice, that then absolved him. Then he felt he had to give something in return.

And he recalled how they had walked away, returning to the inner darkness of the cave, without desire, for they were completely and wholly satisfied, not in and of themselves, but in the graces of that knowledge that had been bestowed upon them.

And then Baralinor carried the cloak, folded beneath his arm, and they returned to Abrazan, and Baralinor wrapped the cloak around them both, embracing Abrazan, begging him for forgivenness. Abrazan stood dumfounded at first, but he gazed into Yucalwe's eyes, and remembered what they had discussed, regarding Numenorean pride. "I forgive you" came forth from his lips, and he warmly returned the embrace.

But then Ballithor came, with his men, with more supplies, and he saw this sight, scowling in disgust. He ordered the men to take the supplies away. He turned to Yucalwe, "You would dare to soften my son's heart, to wrench him away from not only me, but from his manhood? I ought to expose your secret and have you expelled from this realm."

Yucalwe turned and gazed at him sadly, "Then your whole realm shall be swallowed into the darkness." And his voice was terrible, his Feanorian countenance rising, and Ballithor's heart suddenly shrank backward into fear.

Yucalwe turned toward all of them, "I do not mean to cause such terror in you. But if you insist upon these harsh, cold thoughts, and actions, then I will fish for my own fish, as I have in the past, and do without this finery, for only goodness can yield goodness, and base wickedness, ruin. Do you truly wish to do this? Do you truly deny the tale, of how Ar-Pharazon and all his men were forever entrapped in caverns, where they shall stay, in their unending agony, until the end of time?"

Ballithor's sword fell to the ground. His hands were shaking. "V.....ve....very well. I...I'll agree to your t-terms.......... few have....ev...ever cause...caused....such ter.....terror in muh.........mim......me............"

Baralinor looked on with wonder. Seldom did he see such a sudden change in his father's demeanor. He continued to cling to Abrazan.

Ballithor slowly smiled, "Very well." He regained his composure. "Since you have insisted, very well. Forget the supplies. Keep them. But from thence forward.......... a sailor will leave them on the shore........... and when you are in need of us, we will be there for you.................. but my son shall not be allowed to see you again without me. Nor shall he be allowed to bring anything thence. Come, my son. At once. And leave that hideous cloak behind.............. BARALINOR!"

Abrazan whispered in his ear, "You should go...... go to your father......... we may yet meet again."

Baralinor deeply sighed, and whispered, "Yes........ my brother......."

Then Baralinor turned and left the cave. He did not see Yucalwe again until they were on their ship, sailing toward Toffalas, when they were faced with darkened skies, and fought the Corsair pirates, and he who appeared to be Guldrambor, who was cut-down as a spy. Then they fled Tolfalas and returned to Dol Amroth, learning of Finduilas' death, and then Yucalwe heard tidings of one Celendil, a Guardian of Dol Amroth, whom he appeared to know, who was banished from Gondor. And then Yucalwe felt compelled to leave Gondor. He sailed out of Dol Amroth with Abrazan, and was not seen by Baralinor again.

But Ballithor had whipped Baralinor back at home, for his "betrayal of his family's blood." And all the love and hope was drained from him, beaten from him, and it was Brastor who performed the dirty work. Brastor with his scowling face.

And Baralinor had arisen, the bloody scars upon his back, tortured into hating Abrazan and all his kind. He begged his father for forgiveness and it was granted. His mind suppressed his memories of his time with Yucalwe.

And now, trapped in a cell, after having killed one of his own countrymen, those memories had resurfaced, as if unbidden, flooding through his mind. And now he reflected on that whipping and that torture with grave anger, rising in his soul, and now he thought of his father with a burning fury.

But first, he would find Abrazan, whom he had avoided since the beginning of their journey. And he thought of Yucalwe. He felt at home, once again, within himself. He wished he could see the sea again. But first, he would need to redeem his now-blood-stained hands. And Thanguron.............. I can never restore life to your body. But let me, at least, restore your memory to justice. He recalled the tale of Turin Turambar's death to his mind, gazing longingly at the guards' swords in their black sheaths as they passed him by.
Edited by Ivordir, May 19 2015, 12:47 PM.
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Ivordir

Chapter LXVI: A Burst of Sunlight

As Baralinor stared at the passing guards, he found himself face to face with Abrazan.

A guard allowed Abrazan to enter into the cell.

Baralinor stared at him in shock, "Have you come to finish me?"

Abrazan shook his head, "No....... I was reflecting..... and I see that you were reflecting......"

Baralinor sat down on the cot. Abrazan sat beside him.

Baralinor shook his head, "Are you certain that I would not strangle you?"

"I am not certain of anything.... save one thing. My father, -our- father, did not place his trust in you unwillingly. You know the Eldar. That they can read souls. They can see, right inside your head. Your thoughts, your feelings, everything. And I know that he must have seen something in you. I saw it on that day we first embraced. I know I see it in your eyes right now. Your fate depends heavily on you now, on what you will choose to do. Do you hear me?"

Baralinor nodded.

Abrazan smiled, "Thanguron was a good man. Do ya miss him?"

Baralinor nodded, tearfully.

Abrazan clasped his shoulder, "And are you sorry, for what you have done?"

Baralinor embraced him, sobbing.

And tears of -joy- flowed from Abrazan's eyes, falling as the dim light of the cell reflected as if a sunrise in each drop.

Abrazan nodded, "I am sorry...... he might have lived, if we had spoken sooner..."

Baralinor shook his head, "No. No. It was my offense....... my crime...... and it was I who had ignored you........"

"You listened to your father......."

"I know that he is wrong now....... Yucalwe was right..... why and how could I not see it......"

"There is something you are not telling me."

Baralinor said nothing. He only released the embrace, as Abrazan watched him take off his tunic, revealing the deep scars in Baralinor's back.

Abrazan's eyes flowed fresh anew with tears, "I see now........... then it was partly not your fault. You were tortured to this............... the offense lies on thy father's head......"

Baralinor closed his eyes, "It was my arrow that slew him..... my poisoned arrow........"

Abrazan nodded, "I know. But you must not despair........... I saw how you looked at that soldier's sword. Do not. For how would your death bring any hope for Thanguron, for his life's meaningfulness? Then, there would be two bodies, buried in the ground. What good would this do? I waited for an opportune time, for a long time.......... but none availed itself. You were too close to that fearsome comrade of your father's. Did you truly believe that our father, Yucalwe, forgot you?"

And Abrazan pulled a richly sewn, silken cloak, a replica of Yucalwe's own, from his pack. It glistened in the light of the cell. Baralinor grasped at it, sniffing it, burying his head within its folds. And Abrazan smiled, "Arise from the folds as a new man. Cast aside your father's prejudices, your terrors and your fears. Be strong. Then, and only then, will you bring meaning to Thanguron's life. Then, and only then, will you bring justice to his death. Come, clasp it around yourself, and rise."

And he did as Abrazan bade. Baralinor arose, tightening his fists, awaiting the rising of the dawn, for the fiery, bright rays of the sun, to flow through Linhir. He would rise with the rising of the sun. And he was not afraid of Brastor.
Edited by Ivordir, May 19 2015, 12:59 PM.
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Ivordir

Chapter LXVII: The Spy of Linhir

Baralinor enveloped Abrazan in a deep embrace, the folds of the cloak flowing around them. Time became entranced. The past merged with the present moment in a fusion of ecstasy: the love that bound them together once as brothers. But the spectre of Thanguron arose to haunt Baralinor's mind.

Abrazan felt him shudder, "It will take time, my friend... it will take time, my brother..."

Baralinor tried to smile.

Abrazan closed his eyes, "Remember. Despair is worse than anything. Worse than what you did. Bring honor to his life by living."

Baralinor nodded reluctantly, "I am still guilty of a grave crime."

Abrazan smiled, "Then you must work it off. Come, let me hide the cloak. Others might grow suspicious."

Baralinor folded it gently, returning it to the sack. Lifting it over his shoulder.

Abrazan smiled, "You will have need of it again. At a better time. I will speak to our Captain on behalf of your release."

Baralinor nodded, and Abrazan left the cell. It all seemed as if a dream. The shadows crept from the corners of the cell, in the dim, flickering light of the hallway torch. And ever as the light flickered the shadows away, the darkness lunged and lurched at the marrow of Baralinor's soul.

But Abrazan stormed hastily out of the cell quarter. For several men arose. They overheard his accent. Abrazan's pace quickened. He rushed across the courtyard. They must think I am a spy. He ran as the guards shouted, drawing their swords, the clang of metal filling his ears. He reached the door to Ivordir's chamber. He knocked loud and quickly. Sainion answered it. Sainion heard the metallic noises. Abrazan ducked into the chamber. Sainion regained his composure, closing the door behind him.

The guards stopped, suddenly stumped at Sainion's presence. The lead guard seemed perplexed, "Where is...?"

Sainion pointed to the right, "Make haste! He is running!"

The guards resumed their "chase." Sainion retreated into their chamber. Ivordir sat on the bed, and Abrazan knelt before him.

Ivordir stared at him in wonder, "Why were you chased?"

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Ivordir

Chapter LXVIII: Native Tongues

Abrazan could not cease his heavy breathing. He gasped and coughed, "I do not know.... I have my suspicions, sir...."

Ivordir muttered, "Did you speak in your native accent?"

Abrazan nodded sadly.

Ivordir clasped him on the shoulder, "It is an even graver crime, that a man may not speak in his native tongue freely......... Gondor should not emulate the Enemy......."

Abrazan smiled, "I agree. The men must have thought I was a spy."

Ivordir frowned, "And they are still searching for you. Worse, this imperils our mission. They might think that -we- are harboring a Haradrim fugitive and that -we- intend ill for Linhir, and especially with the Corsair fleet sailing around Belfalas."

Abrazan knelt, bowing his head, "Forgive me..."

Ivordir muttered hastily, "There is nothing to forgive. Get up. We have to think of a strategy. The men must be in their quarters, not suspecting anything. And if we make any sudden movements........ the entire force of Linhir might entrap us."

Sainion sighed, "From one dilemma to another... and here we were, discussing Baralinor...."

Ivordir frowned again, "We have to get him out of that cell, or his knowledge of our current course would prove detrimental. If Ballithor learns that we have imprisoned his Heir, then the entire mission is over, the quest unfulfilled...........we cannot leave him behind."

Abrazan's eyes blazed brightly, "He has repented of his crime."

Ivordir could scarcely believe his ears, "You were visiting him?"

Abrazan nodded, "Over two decades ago, I was a boy, Yucalwe's adopted son. Baralinor came to us, also a boy, on a special visit. We bonded deeply, but briefly, as Ballithor came and fetched him. I never saw him again, not until this mission. He seemed changed. He avoided me the entire time. And now I have come to realize why. There are scars, Ivordir... deep scars on his back. Whatever Yucalwe did for him must have been undone by his father. He is to blame, more than his son, for Thanguron's death. Baralinor's cruelty was but a shell.......... he is truly terrified within himself. And he is on the precipice of despair."

Ivordir's eyes grew wide, "The very thing that our Enemy -feeds- his satisfaction from. If he is cooperative, then it is helpful. You must hide this from Brastor, whom I do not believe we can trust."

Abrazan nodded, "Yes, my Captain and my brother."

Sainion intervened, "Let me go and fetch Baralinor, in your name, my Captain. Once I have returned him here, I can instruct the men to leave the city, room by room, each hour."

Ivordir smiled, "Very good. To which gate?"
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Ivordir

Chapter LXIX: Discretion

Sainion stared down at the floor pensively, "I think that we need to know where Ballithor is, before we determine our next maneuver. He will move slow, if he has many forces, but I wonder..."

They had been in Linhir resting for several hours, and the sun was setting. It was still March 4th. Sainion sighed, "We need to send several men to western Dor-en-Ernil."

Ivordir shook his head, "This would delay us for one day. We clearly do not have one day. They'll have us all in chains before we can leave."

"We would need to rendezvous somewhere."

"Sainion, it is nightfall. Where are we going to rendezvous outside of Linhir in the dark?"

"If we can vanish in the forests to the north..."

"The forests in the north would delay us by another day."

"Listen, in all due respect, my Captain. Ships sail faster than men move on-foot. I have watched our harbors from high balconies long enough to know this."

"Fleets that pillage coastlines move slow. It evens-out. And it is likely that they will besiege Linhir before pressing forward. What if the fleet reaches Linhir while half of our men are...?"

"My Captain, think it through. I know that you are very wise. Do you not see that they will have no time to wonder whether or not we are traitors if that happens?"

"Sending men to the west would make us look even more suspicious, as if we were trying to sabotage their scout-forces."

"They will need all the men that they can get. So long as Abrazan, in due respect, keeps quiet for the next few hours, we do not have to alert everyone to leave just yet. However, someone will need to placate some nobles who have influence here in Linhir."

"How?"

"Through kindness and conversation, of course. Let me go. Let me take Aegon with me, I shall need to teach him some manners. And... if what you say is true, Abrazan... then I will need Baralinor."

"Very well. You have three hours. And the men will have three hours. I will only allow them to march for three, discern what they need to, ask around in any villages or towns they find, and then they must return. Six hours in total."

"Their Captain should hand-pick them for such a crucial mission."

"FINE! Oh... I am sorry Sainion. I do not mean to raise my voice. I'm just sick of everything falling awry!"

Sainion bowed, "As are we all, my Captain."

Sainion swished out of the room, his robes and cloak billowing behind him.

Edited by Ivordir, May 26 2015, 10:10 PM.
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Ivordir

Chapter LXX: Escape

Sainion maneuvered down through the great hall of the barracks. Turning the corridor beyond the courtyard, he reached the cell block. He spoke with the Captain of the Guard, with Ivordir's signed orders. The guard nodded gravely and unlocked the doors of the cell. Baralinor sat in the shadows.

Not long thereafter, a guard marched by on patrol. A cell-gate was open. And a young man with a bleeding forehead lay on the floor, in a mess formed by his robes. He ran to his fellow guards, calling aloud. They brought the body to the healers. He was bruised and battered, but alive. The guards called for a wide search for the fugitive. The guard who had let Abrazan into the cell was quarantined and questioned. The guard told him what little he had learned, and Abrazan was implicated. The men began a wide search of the barracks for both Abrazan and Baralinor. Abrazan hid in a wardrobe in Ivordir's room. Ivordir assured the guards that there was nothing out of the ordinary. The guards continued their search.

Ivordir began to breathe heavily. He had been granted a key to his guest-room in the barracks, tailored for officers. He locked Abrazan in his room and went to the healers. Sainion was resting peacefully, with bandages covering part of his head, and salves to prevent infection. He remembered what he had learned in the north, and asked for Kingsfoil. Ivordir dipped a salve into the warm, soothing hot water, laced with Athelas, and applied it to Sainion's forehead. Sainion's breathing began to relax. Ivordir smiled. He was glad that they had Kingsfoil.

Ivordir turned to Aegon, who stood near at hand in disbelief. Aegon sighed, "Not another death..."

Ivordir smiled, "No. And he chose you to speak among the other nobles of the city with him. But now... it seems that task falls to the both of us, and to Daerfalas. We have to exonerate Abrazan, and try to find Baralinor before the guards do. From what Abrazan told me, Yucalwe chose Baralinor for a special purpose, one I cannot yet fathom, given his crimes. But I know this: never argue with an Elf. The Eldar have a strange foresight into that which is yet to come."

"Fancy talk, explain."

"Alright. Our mutual buddy in the northland wants the outlaw alive. He don't want anythin' else. Got it?"

"Yahsir, Captain. I got it."

"We need to teach you somethin.' You know how to weave a tale. But can ye weave a tell in someone's voice?"

"I think I..."

"Listen. I am quite content to acquiesce your acquaintance. Means: I'm happy to meet ya."

"How am I supposed to do this?"

"Look at him. Look at him breathing on the table, the bandages on his head. And think clearly and carefully about him. For he chose you. He chose you above the rest of it. And I believe, truly, that you can save us."

"Give me his robes. I'll try my best."

And Sainion opened his eyes.
Edited by Ivordir, May 26 2015, 10:10 PM.
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Ivordir

Chapter LXXI: Lord Arodon of Linhir

The three robed and cloaked men entered the chamber, where many nobles were dining and conversing. Their Host was Lord Hadoron. The air was filled with the scent of wine

and the noise of conversation.
Ivordir had instructed Aegon to observe, keep silent, and avoid speech unless commanded by a nod. He would remain with Ivordir at all times.
They settled to the side, further away from the higher lords, save one: Lord Arodon.

Ivordir spoke first, "My Lord. We have come from Dol Amroth with all haste." He presented Ballithor's seal.

Lord Arodon nodded, "And who are your brave companions?"

Ivordir smiled warmly, "This is Lord Daerfalas, of a noble House of Pelargir. And this is Aegon, a Lord of Tarlang."

Aegon bowed his head, and Ivordir glanced toward Daerfalas.

Daerfalas dipped his head with upmost politeness, giving away nothing but a gentle, "My lord."

Lord Arodon smiled, "The realm of the Ship-Kings. Our oldest and greatest city, save Minas Tirith of course. It was once only rivaled by Osgiliath of old, until those
Castamiran swine ruined it!"

Ivordir bowed, "My lord, there is a matter of which I should speak, if you hold influence in this fair city. Do you?"

Lord Arodon seemed insulted, "You have not studied your lineages lately, have you? I am the Master of the Watch. I serve in Linhir's defense."

Ivordir bowed even lower, "Forgive me, my good Lord. I did not know. It has been a long road...."

Keeping his head bowed in deference, Daerfalas could barely manage to supress his smile. The pride of a Lord was a safe gamble indeed.

Lord Arodon studied Ivordir's face carefully, "I know..... I can see it in your eyes. Tell me of your troubles..... and how should I name you?"

Ivordir's face flushed with nervousness, "I am Ivordir, my Lord. And I command nearly 30 men. Lord Ballithor sent us ahead of his...."

Lord Arodon blinked, "Yes, yes, I have heard the rumors. War's brewing in the East. I can feel it. The western fronts are watchful. But we have little to spare, if the beacons
are lit. We have heard rumors of Corsair ships that are besieging Belfalas...we do not know their number, but it is our duty to prepare in order to protect this city...."

Ivordir nodded, "Yes. But we have a problem. One of our men made a grave mistake in the mountains above Dol Brannor......... we had him imprisoned in the Barracks. We
wished to interrogate him, sent one of our brave companions to bring him to me. He escaped. But I do not want him dead. My friend has survived his wounds."

Lord Arodon nodded, "I understand... so that is why so many guards are running about the Barracks. Our city is not as large as Minas Tirith, or Osgiliath..... but one could
hide. Where would he flee to?"

Ivordir shook his head, "He murdered one of our men. He is Lord Ballithor's son. You can see the nature of our problem....."
Edited by Ivordir, Aug 10 2015, 07:58 PM.
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Ivordir

Chapter LXXII: Lord of Tarlang

Lord Arodon's eyes blazed, "I never once trusted that man. He always had that grim look about him, when I saw him from a distance in Dol Amroth. His face was ever cold,
and his eyes as piercing as fiery coals........"

Daerfalas tensed slightly, as the truth was a harsh one. He lifted a brow and rose his gaze to settle upon Lord Arodor's face, assessing him.

Ivordir nodded, "I should have suspected something was awry...... and worse, I fear he may be in Belfalas......... I fear what he might do to us, if he catches us. But
leaving his son behind would imperil our mission."

Lord Arodon scoffed, "And what -is- your mission? How would leaving a traitor behind ruin the defenses?"

Ivordir shook his head, "If Lord Ballithor recalls us, then you have several less men on the front. If all the lords of Gondor did this, there would be no front. And the
Enemy would pour through, across the Anduin like a flood, a black tide. Its the principle......."

Lord Arodon smirked, "An honorable man..... I do enjoy conversing with honorable men." He turned to Daerfalas, "And what do you think of these matters?"

Daerfalas lifted his chin proudly, his eyes ablaze. "I follow my Captain, my Lord," he says simply, in a low, stern voice that does not broker argument.

Lord Arodon smiled, turning to Aegon, "And you?"

Aegon's face flushed with fear. He would be discovered. His accent was not refined. He slowly nodded his head, saluting Ivordir.

Ivordir smiled, "Aegon is a man of few words, but very loyal. I would trust him with my life."

Lord Arodon laughed, "Or a man of no words at all, it would seem!"

Ivordir bowed, "He has experienced a grave loss of late. He does not keep silent out of disrespect."

Lord Arodon's laughter was silenced. "Forgive me, then...... you have my sincerest condolences for your loss."

Aegon bowed his head, mustering-up as formal of an accent as he could think, imitating Sainion: "Thank you. My Lord."
Edited by Ivordir, May 30 2015, 05:35 PM.
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Ivordir

Chapter LXXIII: Honor and Lies

Lord Arodon bowed in return. He turned to Ivordir, "I will call for my attendants. They will deliver orders to the Barracks. They are to find the wayward fugitive, and
bring them to you.

Daerfalas loosened the breath he was holding gently. This was well-received news.

Ivordir smiled, "Thank you, my Lord," and bowing his head, "There is one further matter. My Lord........ one of my brave companions was a southern Gondorian...... who had
learned and acquired a Southron accent...... and now your men have mistaken him as a spy. He is in hiding......"

Lord Arodon nodded, "I have heard such rumors....... I believe you to be honorable and true, Ivordir............. I will order my men to cease their search for him. We
will concentrate our efforts on Lord Ballithor's missing son...."

Ivordir smiled widely, "Thank you, my Lord. Now, if you will kindly excuse us.... we must tend to our men. We have many decisions to make, and little time."

Lord Arodon clasped Ivordir's shoulder, "Before you depart...... I would have you know....... the Lords of the City have decreed that no military forces may depart from
Linhir, for the Corsair Fleet is fast-approaching."

And Ivordir gazed into Lord Arodon's old and weathered face, his gleaming eyes, his impeccable smile, his blue-velvet finery..... and said: "I must obey the orders that I
have received. Lord Ballithor has the ear of Prince Imrahil himself............."

And Lord Arodon replied, "Then, with that threat, you are not the honorable man that I thought you were. I will not help you. I ought to throw you all in chains.........
but instead, since we may yet need your men, I will forbid your departure. I will continue, for the sake of honor, to uphold my word to you. But you will not set foot out of this
city. You and your men will fight, and face the tides. Now get out of my sight, all of you!"

Daerfalas tensed, and stiffly followed Ivordir.
Edited by Ivordir, May 30 2015, 05:35 PM.
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Ivordir

Chapter LXXIV: The Council Convenes

Back in the Barracks, Ivordir called his Council together. He addressed all of them at once: "We have our mission, and we are forbidden to leave this city. I am open to
suggestions."

Brastor grinned cynically, "In all due respect, Captain...... this mission is a farce. We are better to wait for Lord Ballithor to arrive, to settle matters."

Sainion closed his eyes, touching his bandages gently, "I should have been there......."

Ivordir shook his head, "It would not have mattered. The tides were poised against us."

Suldor stood, "There is a way out of the city."

Sulchon smiled, "Yes! We should all dress as fishermen, and sneak out with the morning cast!"

From where he stood Daerfalas straightened. "That would be cowardly," he pressed.

Ivordir muttered, "But then we have nearly thirty suspicious fishermen sailin' out of port at once."

Aegon laughed, "Yah sir. We'd crowd the entire harbor!"

Several laughed. It was all they could do. One toil after the next. The men were growing weary.

Brastor spat, "It all went awry from Dol Brannor onwards. We should've avoided that cursed Linhir. We should have taken Baralinor's advice, made for the woods and Ost
Anglebed across the river. And now we're stuck here, like rats in a drowning ship. And if we had done that, Thanguron would not be dead, Baralinor would not be
missing..... many things have gone awry under your leadership. I thought it amusing at first, now its insulting. What was Lord Ballithor thinking, putting -you- in
charge?" Brastor spat again on the floor.

Daerfalas took a step forward, his frown deep. "This is not the fault of Captain Ivordir. This is mere circumstance. Did we not expect evil to befall us on our
journey?"

Ivordir bowed, "I ask myself the same question, every time I wake-up. But we cannot divide, not here, not now. Or else, we fall, all of us..... including you, Brastor."

Brastor was prepared to spit again, but he held his tongue. He nodded impatiently.

Suddenly, there was a rash of heavy knocking at the door. It was one of the guards, "Sir. Sir. We found your fugitive. He's surrounded, on the fountain, in the square
outside the Barracks."

Ivordir nodded, "Quickly, all of you!"
Edited by Ivordir, May 30 2015, 05:36 PM.
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Chapter LXXV: The Fount of Linhir

Baralinor sat, huddled on the highest tier of the fountain. The men did not fire their arrows. Ivordir gazed up at him, "Baralinor! Come down from there. You need not ruin
your fate."

Baralinor's eyes blazed with wrath, "You all abandoned me. You all abandoned me. Thanguron was a fool to defy me! My father's men will destroy you all!"

Daerfalas held his shield aloft.

Abrazan stood beside Ivordir, "And this is what despair will do to a man, my Captain. Turn him into a caged animal, caged inside his own head. Feral as the cats of Queen
Beruthiel."

Ivordir shouted, "I order you to come down! I order it! We shall not harm you. You have our word."

Lord Arodon had emerged from his mansion, observing the scene from a distance, moving closer. He smiled at Ivordir's words.

Baralinor clung to the fountain, "I would rather perish here. Then my father will prevail!"

Ivordir shouted, "And you would deprive your father of his Heir? Of his lineage? Of his beloved son?!"

Baralinor spat and seethed, "Yes. All the vengeance in the world for him."

Ivordir laughed, "So now you want vengeance on him, and yet you want him to bestow his vengeance on us. How can this be? You are mad! I know that you are hurt......."

Baralinor's eyes gleamed in their insanity, "You can never know how hurt I was! You, favored of our Lord! You....."

Without either knowing it, Abrazan crept slowly around the fountain, climbing it from the rear.
Edited by Ivordir, May 30 2015, 05:36 PM.
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Ivordir

Chapter LXXVI: Son of Ballithor

Daerfalas lowered his shield, his eyes on Abrazan.

Abrazan reached and seized Baralinor's sword-arm, shaking the blade from his hand. Then he drew his mace, and held it nigh his head: "Listen. You have one choice now. You
change your ways now, and live. Or you seethe in stubbornness, and die."

Baralinor kicked at Abrazan, who fell backwards, grabbing the edge, twisting his wrist as he fell.

The mace fell to the ground with a clang. Baralinor approached the edge of the fountain, "Give me one good reason............."

And Abrazan stared at him with soulful eyes, "If you slay me....... then you shall surely fall...... and you shall fall at the hands of the Son of Stars. Have you
forgotten everything? Have you lost it truly?"

Baralinor seethed and stomped on Abrazan's hand. But Abrazan clenched his teeth against the pressure, and refused to let go.

And Abrazan gazed into his eyes, piercing Baralinor's heart. Baralinor's feet gradually ceased their stomping and squishing, and then he fell backwards against the spire
of the fountain, resting against it.

Abrazan climbed back up, "Come now. Let this be ended."

Daerfalas remained on-guard. The Men were silent, awaiting Baralinor's answer.

Baralinor climbed down with him, fighting back his tears. Then Brastor and another seized him.

Lord Arodon approached Ivordir, "Any other commander of men I have witnessed
would have ordered a volley. I am impressed with you, Ivordir."

Ivordir bowed, "We will stay and fight in Linhir's defense."

Lord Arodon shook his head, "No. You must go. They will need you in the east."

Ivordir fell into confusion, "But my lord! What of the law, of the order?"

Lord Arodon smiled, "I will endure the consequences. Go, with my seal."

They returned to the Barracks, mustering the men, who gathered their supplies and newly-awarded rations. They all marshalled at the gates. Then, they marched away,
vanishing into the night.
Edited by Ivordir, Jun 2 2015, 10:13 PM.
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Ivordir

Chapter LXXVII: Through the Gilrain

It was still the 19th. The road was long and hard. They pressed through the sandy dunes and rocky clefts that surrounded Linhir. They camped and rested, arising on the 20th. They were now in the sea-climate, within fifty miles of the coast. Nigh the mountains, snow would fall, and the land was snowy and harsher. But here only the rains fell, winters were wet, not frozen. It was a Belfalasian climate, more akin to a cold Spring than a frigid Winter. They rested and began again at sunrise on January 21st. Then, they passed over fertile ground, picking their way through
the forest nigh the river, hoping for a ford to cross it. They knew that the main roads of Lebennin were risky, and they would not betray Lord Arodor's trust. But
gradually, the river opened wide, into a long and sullen lake. The men needed more rest. So they made their camp as best they
could among the trees.

Several men contracted rashes. They spread through the camp like wildfire. The fleas and flies nabbed and bit at them. And other unpleasant
insects crawled near at hand. The men had brought several herbs with them. The healers among their force worked hard to fight back the rashes, and pleasant scents filled
the air from boiling pots on the campfires.

Baralinor's hands remained bound, and Brastor was his watchman. They stayed away from the bushes and closer to the council members. Aegon, however, was free, and he used
his father's old herb wisdom to help them. Several men were hungry for something other than rations, but Aegon saw the bushes and stopped them, recognizing the poisonous
kind of berries.

They were camped for the rest of the night, as some of the men tried to sleep, while others struggled with the rashes that had grown on them across the hours of marching. The
rashes came when some had foolishly removed their gloves for berry-picking. Then it was the 22nd. Their march was long and slow, as they tramped alongside the lake, through fens and ferns
and muddy-ground. Their boots were caked with mud, their footprints woven deep into the soil. Then, the river turned shallow, and they forded it. Several men complained,
but most spoke little and held their piece. After crossing the river, they made their way due east, as the sun crossed the hour of Noon in the sky above the canopy. And the forest gave way to
several pleasant meadows, with the light of the rising sun shining on their faces. Then they came to a cleft that climbed high up several cliffs. It was wide enough for
ten men to stand abreast.

They climbed up the heights, as it gave way to the ruins of an old road. They camped here for the night. At dawn on the 23rd, they continued, as the road wound to and fro for hours, through many vast green fields and plains, past farmsteads, and then up, through the forested hills. Then night came and they slept again, and then the sun rose on the 24th, and they pressed ahead through similar terrain, catching glimpses here and there of old mansions between the hills, and it rained and the ground was sopping wet, and the air was still cold. But they were far from the mountains and the climate was wet, but not snowy, because of the sea, fifty miles to the south. And then the lights of Ost Anglebed flickered in the distance. The men trod onward for several
leagues, as the lights grew larger, and the city taller, and then they passed through the great gates. And they marched to the barracks, and revealed their seals, which
were accepted by the Warden.

And they were brought to their rooms, and then they all slept for the night.
Edited by Ivordir, Oct 1 2015, 10:42 PM.
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Chapter LXXVIII: A Restless Night

Ivordir dreamed of the past. He dreamed he was in the strange Hall of Laurelin. He saw Yucalwe's hand outstretched toward him. He awoke.
The room was dark and quiet. The brazier was still aflame.
They had journeyed across the Gilrain and hilly lands, and up the cliff-pass that bordered Ost Anglebed, through February 20th.
Tarion, Orchalon, and Preston were among the rash victims. They were already incensed at their comrade's death.
But they were grateful to the healers, and to Aeglos, for their aid.

Ivordir paced throughout his chamber. He did not yet know their new direction. And he wondered why Yucalwe never spoke to him of Baralinor.
And he thought back to the past, when he had embraced Auruiron, and felt a song of hope singing within his soul.
The thought of it seemed to brighten the shadows for a moment. Then, it was gone. The memory faded. The dark tendrils of reality awoke within him. It was all wrong. He wished he was north. He wished he never left Harlindon or Eriador. He wished he could have lived with Elves forever...
He sought Daerfalas in his room, knocking at the doors.

Daerfalas stirred, the sound of a rapping at the door rousing him fully awake. He shook his head as though to clear it from the last tendrils of a dream, a pleasant fog that slowly dissipated away as he remembered his mission and purpose. Climbing to his feet, Daerfalas approached the door and opened it. Ivordir was at the other side, and Daerfalas offered him a sleepy smile of relief. "Captain," he said in greeting. "Forgive me, have I slept too long? The bed is soft, and the hall is quiet."

Ivordir smiled, "Yes......... it is very quiet............ may we speak?"

Dipping his head, Daerfalas took a step back, and waved his Captain forward in invitation. He wore his tunic, and his travelling leathers were piled neatly by the foot of his bed. Ivordir had seen him in such a state before, and he did not worry. "Does something trouble you?" he asked frankly, closing the door behind them with a gentle thud.

It was now the early-morning of January 25th, just after sunrise.
Edited by Ivordir, Oct 1 2015, 10:42 PM.
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Ivordir

Chapter LXXIX: Lingering Doubts

Ivordir nodded, "Brastor and Baralinor were adamant about coming here............ they perspicaciously mentioned the Castamiran history........ and Thanguron died for it......."
Clasping his hands, Daerfalas frowned. "It reeks of Castamiran sympathieson their part. I did not suspect that of them. Did you?"
Ivordir blinked, "There were conversations with Ballithor that worried me............. but it is nonsensible. Most of the Men of Lebennin are descended from the mountain-folk, who wed with the Numenoreans.... which is odd, considering their so-called notions of "pure blood." Somehow........ there must be some, from the coast, who are either not of mixed blood, or who are pretenders...............it is all nonsense, but the old histories............ they can still cause rifts, for we have long memories........ Daerfalas......... I am afraid of losing these men. All of them. I fear we have stumbled, tired and road-weary, into a trap. I do not trust Brastor, I do not know what to think of the Warden..... who likely only saw us as weary soldiers seeking rest. And then there are those three who stood by Thanguron......... they worry me as well. Have you heard any dissent among our ranks?"

Thoughtfully, Daerfalas strode over to a small side table in the corner of the room. He sank into one of the chairs, and gestured for Ivordir to do the same. Once they were sat, face to face, he leaned forward, and fixed Ivordir with a stare. "There will always be dissent. There will always be those who question your actions, your leadership. Men may speak ill, and waggle their tongues, but the true danger is when they act. Yes," he conceded with a slow nod, "I have heard whispers. So have we all. A company of our size holds little secrets. Do I think those Men are in danger of mutinous actions? That remains to be seen. For now they are healing, fed and clothed. That will ease them for a time. But Baralinor must be dealt with. If he is spared any action at all, their anger will continue to fester."

Ivordir heaved a deeper sigh, "I know............... he killed a man. One of our men. But Abrazan told me that Yucalwe had chosen him for a purpose...... and that he was getting through to him. His hands are bound, he is still imprisoned for his crime. What would you suggest, that I take him up the Beacon of Anglebed and behead him before all of Lebennin? What if.......... Yucalwe foresaw something......... what if Baralinor's death led to the deaths of us all, our mission rendered a failure?"

Daerfalas shifted in his chair, his frown deep upon his brow. "I do not think that would be the wisest course of action. Our company thins. We cannot afford to lose Baralinor. And if indeed Yucalwe foresaw his necessity to our mission, then we absolutely cannot put him to death." He heaved a great sigh. "I...trust the Elves. I trust my memory, sometimes more than I trust the Men of these settlements. We walk a dangerous path together, Captain...Ivordir. And I have no answers. What justice can you mete out, so that our Men are pleased, and we do not tempt fate?"
Edited by Ivordir, May 30 2015, 05:23 PM.
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