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18. Wind-Singers Volume III.II: The Final March; In the aftermaths of The Hunt and the Artifact: Auruiron, Cellindien, and Inheroth embark with their Host toward the East.
Topic Started: Apr 6 2016, 02:01 PM (3,112 Views)
Ioristion

Chapter LVIII: A Greater Coronation

"Are you certain that you wish to go through with this?" Fareon wondered aloud.

Lerinon scoffed, "It is much too late for this.....my gwador...."

Fareon smiled, "You have made peace with our father?"

Lerinon nodded solemnly.

Malchon entered the King's Chambers, "It is time, my King.............."

Fareon had decided to allow Lerinon to wear both golden capes for the ceremony. Over top of them, he wore the deep velvet green cloak lined with golden-green silk that he had dreamed of: it had belonged to Dairlingul. Fareon and Malchon upheld Lerinon's left cape-folds, while Inheroth and Calemir took-up the right, and they processed mightily into the Throne Room, their faces beaming, his brilliant folds flowing, his magnificence, shining, as they processed on a silver carpet, up to the Throne, where Dairlingul awaited them with the Crown, his silver mantle glistening.

Lerinon turned and faced his audience, many across the realm had come, and the Company sat in the front, beholding the spectacle, as Lerinon declared: "Long ago, I was born with my brother in the Realm of Doriath, and in that realm, reigned my father, King Dior of Menegroth. I have neither Silmaril, nor the halls of Menegroth, nor the forest of Neldoreth: but I have my blood. As Silver King Dairlingul served the Realm, then so shall I. And while I long to reign in an era of deep peace, a menace rises on our horizon, a lingering Shadow, whose cruel talons clawed into our Hall of late, ruining our High Feast, aiming to slay us all. But here we stand!"

The audience applauded.

Lerinon smiled, "And here we stand to defy the Darkness. I may call and have need of thee...."

Then Dairlingul spake the ancient rites: "From Cuivienen, we awoke, and gathered thence, upon these shores. In Doriath, we once did dwell, amidst the Halls bejeweled, of Menegroth fair and free, neath Neldoreth, evergreen, er unto this Realm we came. By Elbereth, Queen of the Stars, and all the Powers who reign, I crown thee King."

And as the crown came down again upon Lerinon's fair head, his dark-brown hair flowing behind him, glistening in the sunlight that flowed through the great windows behind him, his bearers outspread his lofty capes, that all the while glistened, gleamed, and glimmered, as the apparition of his magnificence grew manifold, and all within the chamber bowed and knelt before him, as he outstretched his arms. aglow with beauty. Then he sat down upon the Throne, as the others draped his capes resplendently around him, as several ellith came forth, dancing, in dresses and capes of silver, their brown and darker shades of hair gliding on the air as they twirled, as drummers drummed. Then they held a fairer reception in the High Hall of Feasting, and while the dark memories of the shadows rose to hinder their mirth, many cast their memories aside, dwelling in the present moment, acknowledging the wrongs that had been done, and moving forward. They ate roasted salmon and trout and mackerel. Then they sang the old dirges, and Lerinon learned much of their history from them. By evening's end, many were much too drunk. Then all dispersed into their chambers and all the wings of the Halls were filled to the brim with sleeping guests.

It was nearing Midnight when Lerinon processed into his chambers. He had given Fareon back his cape to sleep-in. He sighted the silhouette of Dairlingul in his azure cape and silver robes, staring out the great windows of the sea. Lerinon approached him silently, his capes rustling on the marble floor behind him, green and pale golden-green and gold all glowing palely in the moonlight. They stared at the shifting, glistening waters far below, the waves thrashing upon the rocks. A great wind billowed their capes behind them, gently as they draped, rustling on the floor, their upper folds vibrating vibrantly, vigorously, in the wind.

So ended the 15th of April.
Edited by Ioristion, Jun 16 2016, 02:32 PM.
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Ioristion

Chapter LVIX: Beornor's Journey

Elves had offered to escort him, but Beornor had refused, for he wished to move alone. Even still, the cloaked Noldor trailed him. Beornor wandered in his leather armor and fur cloak. He had dealt with Woodsmen and heard tale of Beorn's exploits in Dale and Erebor. He knew of the risks. He didn't know why Melimwe trusted him. Melimwe had explained to seek-out certain signs. Eldrand died for dubious reasons. Beornor wanted vengeance. He didn't blame the Elves, nor honor, nor Eldrand himself, but the foe whom drew forth all ill.

He stroked his beard as he saw signs of life ahead. Fishermen fished the river, washer-woman soaked their clothes, children played by the riverside. The sparrows were singing. Blue-jays dotted across the waters. Sea-gulls cried. The Elves had given Beornor some gold from their treasury. Elves seldom dabbled in money, but gold had been delved, and they kept it, on the occasion they dealt with mortals. Beornor bartered one gold coin and received enough money to last him for weeks in the taverns. He paid to cross the river into Eir.

In Eir, Beornor passed many monuments and statues on cobblestone roads, markets and parks, and all manner of life thrived around him. He could scarcely believe his eyes. He passed by the Statue of Uif, the great hero who had slain many Balchoth in a war that was little known in the West. He passed by the Council Hall, where the lords of the mortals gathered, to discuss their economics and public policies, and defenses. The Councilmen were elected among the nobles. The Master of the City was an ever-shifting position. They didn't want a single noble House to dominate everything. Much coin was made through trading with Dale, Erebor, Thranduil's Halls to the northwest, to the Iron Hills to the north, and to the Easterlings in their great cities of farther Rhun. They also traded daily with the various factions of Dorwinion. Dairlingul's Realm had been the closest, and received the most benefits, from such trade. But other realms gained the benefits as well. The rivers Carnen and Running were the key to successful trading. Many storms ravaged the Sea of Rhun. As such, their boats would trail the coastlines, and they would avoid sailing to and fro across the Sea directly.

Beornor entered the Reaver Tavern, sat himself down, and drank himself sorrowfully to the brim with mead, getting thoroughly drunk, mad at Eldrand's death. Their group had come a long way since they first left the Anduin Vales. A long and tiresome way it was, a cold way, a way of death. They had expected to be jumped by goblins and Orcs and wargs in the Misty Mountains, to turn into bears and claw their way through their deaths, and now they were far away from all of that, faced with much worse odds.

Several travelers frequented the tavern that evening. Storytellers wove intricate tales, dancers danced on table-tops, and musicians played on their lutes and harps and lyres on the stage in the tavern. The room was filled to the brim with mirth and laughter. Strangers huddled in the corners. Some drunken men had fist-fights and had to be ushered outside.

Beornor caught sight of a young man, of dwarven-height, robed in dirty blue silks sitting on the far corner of the tavern. His hair was golden-brown, long and silky, but fettered and messy, sweaty, much of it flowing down beneath his robes. His almond-eyes were golden-brown. His skin was of a rich, deep, reddish tone that shined bright in sunlight. Various types were present: farmers, laborers, stable-men, learned men, scholars, they were all partaking in the same mead. The young man was fingering a dirty iron coin.

Beornor stared at him carefully. He moved slowly among the throng, getting closer, and closer. A drunkard yelled-out, "I hear they've got some new 'emperor' across that sea, that! A pretty one from what I've heard, more lady than man. I wonder if he'll go out with me some night?"

The young man removed a phial from his dirty silks, a black liquid huddled in its contents, and he sneaked a drop of it into the drunkard's mead, as the drunkard boasted vainly. Beornor burst over to the drunkard, "Man........ see that snitch in the blue over there? He just tossed poison in yer mead!"

The young man made a run for it, Beornor, the drunkard, and several other mad drunks, giving chase. The young man soon vanished into a maze of alley-ways. They couldn't find him. When they got back to the tavern, many were staring at the poisoned mead. "I owe ye me life!" the drunkard exclaimed.

Beornor took the mead, "I don't know how to get rid of this here poison."

"Leave it to us," a calm, gentle voice spoke. Many eyes gazed in awe at the hooded and blue-cloaked strangers, whose hoods were covering their eyes, whose faces seemed young. Alunil nodded, and took the mead, and the Noldor quickly left the building. Not knowing what else to do, the Noldor lit the mead on fire, and let the ashes simmer, the bile disintegrating.

Beornor came out of the tavern much later and stammered, "I said no help from ye!"

Alunil sighed, "Melimwe's orders. Who produced the bile?"

Beornor described the young man.

Alunil nodded, "Take us to that alley-way. Our senses our keen. This traitor will not escape."
Edited by Ioristion, Dec 18 2016, 08:23 PM.
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Ioristion

Chapter LVX: The Alleys of Eir

They made their way to the entrance to the alleyway. Beornor revealed that he had been casing the tavern for weeks. The Noldor revealed that they had been trailing Beornor's movements carefully, slipping to and fro across the river in an Elven boat, hidden among the rushes and cattails, while they entered and exited the city carefully. Many travelers came through the gates and rowed in and out of the quays. Beornor's journey to the tavern that day had been the same for many other days. He had frequented other taverns. He had listened carefully. It was the evening of April 15th. Beornor also revealed that there were more of those blue-robed types lurking around. Swarthy Easterling nomads frequented the tavern from time to time. Beornor could not understand their language, but he could tell: they had many dialects. An occasional soldier or two would also frequent the tavern.

Alunil knelt-down and saw several black drops, smouldering on the cobblestones, "This way." Alunil had lost his companion to the spiders' poison in Thranduil's Halls. With them were Galu, Raen, Hannas, and Alwendil, all whom had comforted Auruiron after their escape along the Forest River.

They made their way through the maze. Several homeless folk slept there. Beornor felt sorrowful, he gave them coin as they passed through, the Elves nodding approvingly. Alunil cracked, "You men are vicious..."

"I know," Beornor grunted.

They made their way up and down several stairs. Alunil caught sight of a wisp of blue as someone vanished within a nearby tavern, "He just gave himself away."

"Tread with caution," Beornor grunted. "I'd expect a trap. These sorts are as fell as goblins."

They passed into the tavern, Alunil leading the way. The atmosphere mirrored most of the taverns in the city on the surface. Yet this one was more refined. They were serving wine. The garb of the clientele was nobler, richer, and brighter, in varying shades and hues of color, yet also travel-worn, and some of them looked dirty.

Beornor sighted the young man, who was trying to slip out the rear door, and Beornor rushed and tackled him. Several similarly garbed men, though less dirty and far taller, revealed their daggers. The Elves drew their swords.
Edited by Ioristion, Dec 18 2016, 08:24 PM.
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Ioristion

Chapter LVXI: The Brawl

"Do not do it!" Alunil yelled. "We are not mere, paltry, Silvan Elves. We are the Noldor!"

Raen stammered, "Alunil..... remember what became of our kindred... when Ulfang turned traitor...... blades can cut."

"Peace," Hannas spake. "We do not wish to fight. We only seek answers."

The knife-bearing men were clearly in awe at the sight of Elven-kind. This had made them pause in their attack. Beornor stammered at his quarry, "Why did you do it? Why did you lace the mead of some poor sot of a drunkard? What it because of his rant?"

The now-terrified young man slowly nodded. An older man in similar garb stepped forward, "So he wasted it! Go ahead. Kill him."

Hannas whispered to Alunil, "We should seize him for questioning."

Alunil nodded slowly.

The resulting brawl was devastating. Corpses littered the floor. Only the Elves, Beornor, and the young man had survived the attack. The rest of the tavern had evacuated. Beornor had used his axe. He did not wish to suffer the fate of Eldrand. Then Beornor shouted, "There will be guards, arrests, investigations! We have to get out of this city!"

And so they fled back through the alley-ways, dragging the young man in his now-bloody blue silks with them, and they made their way to where the Elven boat was hiding. They sailed across to the Dorwinion side of the river and slipped beneath the trees. As soon as they passed into the Elven borders, they nearly collapsed of exhaustion. Hannas volunteered to struggle to remain awake to watch the young man. The rest swiftly fell asleep.

And on the 16th, the young man revealed his name: Sasuko of Sakuta. He had been sent with some members of his Order on a mission from Sakuta's High Council. Upon interrogation, he revealed much of the realm of Sakuta, its command-structure, Anzulbar and Narushon, and many others.

But by the time they reached Lerinon's Halls, it was too late: Yucalwe, Melimwe, and Saelbainor had already departed for the south.
Edited by Ioristion, Jun 20 2016, 06:50 PM.
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Ioristion

Chapter LVXII: The Pressures of Ruling

It was now the 17th of April. Lerinon had declared a time of celebration among the Realm that had lasted several days, celebrating the new coronation, for he had hoped to woo his opponents with mirth and splendour, and to maintain some form of peace at the least. But Dairlingul then advised him that this time was nearing to its end. There was much work to be done now and little could hinder it. Lerinon had deemed ruling his birthright. His eyes glazed-over in shock at the mention of that accursed word, "work." It was nearing the noon hour and they had already dined, and Lerinon prepared for litigations throughout the remainder of the day, with Inheroth and Dairlingul at his side. Auruiron was still much shaken by all that had transpired. And Lerinon had relieved Agarwaenor of his duties for the present, deeming him -worthy- of a rest. One by one, the hall filled to the brim with Elves of various kindreds, all on business with the King. Lerinon heaved a deep sigh. Dairlingul was smirking slyly.

First, Lerinon called forth the Elves who did not have to worry themselves over titles or the pressures of rule. A trade dispute here, a border litigation there, steadily the pile grew. A vintner had complained that men had stolen several of his casks in the dead of night and rowed them across the river into Eir's territory. A farmer had complained that hunters were overstepping their bounds and hunting wild kine nigh his vineyards without permission.

The kine had wandered off the southern steppes into the forest in search of more fertile grass in the meadows between the trees. At each turn, Lerinon looked to his left and to his right, to Inheroth and to Dairlingul. Dairlingul would whisper prudent responses, "Send guards to the northern vineyards. Send game-herders to the southern meadows."

Inheroth, on the other hand, was just as bewildered as Lerinon, and his brow was a prepetual furrow of boredom and puzzlement. The logistics of rule and politics had never been his forte as it had been Agarwaenor's.

As these trifles grew in scope, Lerinon kept turning to Dairlingul, and Dairlingul was simmering, for he realized that destiny apparently appointed a King who had never ruled a Realm in his life.

Lerinon would initially declare, "You are Elves. You are strong. Defend your lands." And Dairlingul would reply, "In all due respect, our King, your Grace, means to say......."

The nobles were gazing at them with their cold, suspicious eyes. They waited as patiently as spiders await their prey. Finally, the room was two-thirds empty, leaving the nobles to settle their disputes with the King. Lerinon's face was sweaty, his breathing had accelerated, his eyes were darting rapidly from side to side.

Lord Fanon stepped forward, "In all due respect, to your Grace, I have observed these proceedings with disdain. You have sought to win-over our hearts with mirth and wine, we, who ever supported," he addressed Dairlingul, "You, my Silver King, for century upon century, and thy father before you! What would he say unto you right now, your Grace? What would he say? You have forfeited your entire lineage, for one fell dream, emanating from a cruel foe who clearly meant to slay us at our high feast, and all the while, you would support this stranger, because he claims to be long-lost Elurin from Doriath, born from the words of some old, shriveled, mortal?!"

In his seat, Inheroth braced himself, going utterly still even as his face visibly paled.

Dairlingul put a warm, firm hand, on Lerinon's shoulder, and answered: "I am no longer your Grace. Would you dare to deny the portents, Lord Fanon? You would dare deny what now sits within thine sight?!"

Lord Fanon folded his arms, "This Herald, Agarwaenor, has ruled far better in the past week, than have you in one day, oh 'Golden King'! Dairlingul, you alone can rule this realm with grace. Take back thine crown! Why use this Lerinon or Elurin or whoever he calls himself as thine royal mouthpiece!"

King Elu Lerinon stood, his eyes gazing down on Fanon fiercely, "You are a bold lord, to think, that you may address thine King in such a tone. Dairlingul, it would prove just, for you to decide his fate, for you have known him longer than I, and my heart tells me to perform the worst to him. Shall we imprison, or exile him?"

Dairlingul grimly smiled, "I know what a mortal King would do to him, but we are neither kinslayers, nor torturers. Such wickedness behooves me. To imprison him would place the realm at grave risk, if he escaped, for he has many allies hither at Court, many who are hither within this room. You will need this Realm behind you if we are to survive the shadow. Yet complete mercy may also convey weakness..."

Lerinon turned to Inheroth.

Inheroth frowned deeply, considering the options. Finally he nodded once and solemnly. "A merciful King is a just King, is he not? You did not expect all of these lords and nobles to love you right away, and your suspicions were correct. Do not punish him for fearing his new King's Rule; instead, give him reason to love you and follow you. A second chance, as it were. 'tis up to if he should heed such generosity."

The Golden King Elu Lerinon glared at Lord Fanon, "And if we exiled him, he might join our Enemy, believing him to be a friend, falsely thus, for he would be mislead most cruelly, and left to die, bereft of kith and kin, in the worst of ways. You have heard the words of my Gwador, Lord Fanon. What say you?"

Now Lord Fanon became afraid, and reluctantly bent the knee, "I............ I would.... say that you are a most gracious Lord. Forgive me, I have forgotten my place, and I have wronged you....... please know that my intentions were pure. I care for this realm. I love it, and tend it thus, as if it were mine own garden. I lived in Doriath long ago. I remember Dior the Great, our great and glorious Queen. Tell me, my King, I beg of thee......... do you recall her favored flower?"

The Golden King shook his head, "I do not recall.......... and yet, I do recall this. You must understand. We were young elflings at the time, my brother and I, and this I am certain you remember."

"Yes," Lord Fanon boldly replied, "But were you not young enough to remember?"

The Golden King shook his head again, "I know the game you are attempting to play. It will not work. And you truly are a bold Lord, to risk spurning our mercy in such a manner! Be that as it may, I heed the words of my Gwador. Tis true, my crown came upon my head not long ago. Very well. Let this then satisfy you: I remember Dior the Great in all his glory, robed and decked in golden and deep evergreen, the Silmaril shining upon his brow, filling all the Hall with near-blinding light, and majestic was his countenance, and his Queen, my Lady-Mother, stood proudly at his side."

Lord Fanon nodded, "Yet that glorious memory, I share as well. And for the record: her favored flower was a rose that bloomed in a bright near-golden color, it bloomed in some of the most cherished meads of Neldoreth, in between the deep and ancient trees."

Lerinon folded his arms, flaring a fold of his golden cape as it gently brushed Inheroth's left cheek before it landed smoothly, "A golden rose. Need further proof be stated?"

Lord Fanon folded his arms, "A lordly dress need not correspond to a golden-petaled flower."

Lerinon angrily stammered, "Then what could I possibly state to you as evidence of mine claim?! If I state something private, that no one outside of King Elu Dior's household would have known, you would then deem it inadmissable, and furthermore, dear Sire, if I stated anything that anyone would have known, you would still deem it inadmissable, as public knowledge!"

Malchon laughed inside himself, He is truly as mad as Thranduil in his fits!

Dairlingul toughened his grip on Lerinon's shoulder, and he had had enough, as he declared: "Enough of this! First of all, how dare you, Lord Fanon, dare to question my Judgment, my final royal decree, of a reign through which you had found such apparent comfort! Secondly, my Lord, how dare you mock the Sage Sindri, one of the most gifted mortals I have ever met, who clearly has been touched by some great Power, and finally, Lord Fanon, consider this: your Grace, our King, is right, regarding such 'evidence' in any case. I for one believe that my portents have aligned themselves so neatly with his words. So be content with thus! Your Grace, I recommend the following decree: Let he and all who follow him remain within this Realm, but be forbidden to depart from these very walls, until such time in which they might prove their loyalty. In this way, they shall not be terribly imprisoned, and thus receive mercy, but nor shall they be free to give our guards the slip, and plunge directly, heedlessly, foolishly, into the darkest dooms you have described. Clearly, Lord Fanon, you require protection from yourself, for you have lost your better judgment! Now, on your knees, prostrate thyself before thy Golden King........."

And then Lord Fanon barked, "Lord Amanuiron was right, concerning you........... he spoke unto me, long ago. He warned me gravely of this 'return of Elurin,' and the dark mischief it would wrought upon this realm." Lord Fanon pointed at Lerinon, "He is the traitor! The deceiver! And Amanuiron is the Light Lord! Emissary of the West indeed........... Lady Melian was a Maia. Amanuiron possesses the same grace and power of spirit as her........... but you, Lerinon, the Accursed! You have poisoned our realm, and you and you alone, are responsible for the bile... you are the cruel foe, who sought to kill us........."

Lerinon motioned to his guards, "Arrest the traitor. Lock him in dungeons deep and dark, till we determine what shall be done with him. You were offered mercy, and you have most stubbornly refused it. Now reap thine just rewards........"

And Dairlingul nodded sadly.

And as the guards dragged Lord Fanon kicking and screaming out of the chamber, a whole host of lords followed them, as Lerinon, Dairlingul, and Inheroth, could only gaze onward in horror. And for those who remained, they swiftly knelt down, pledging their allegiance to their King, and deigned to pursue their business another day.

Then, there was a knock at the doors. Beornor, Alunil, Hannas, and Raen, entered the chamber, their garb all blood-stained, dragging the young blue sorcerer with them, as Beornor declared, "We found a foe, and slew his gang of spies."

"Tend to his hurts, and treat him gently," Lerinon spake, without advice for the first time that day. "I am stricken with grave grief......... and look at yourselves. You slew the Second-born, and most of you are First-born........ my mind aches. Keep watch over the prisoner, and give him only one chamber, with only one guarded entrance. We shall question him further on the morrow ..... and look to your own wounds, and find rest for yourselves.........."

It had just occurred to Beornor that one of their own Company was now the King, "Yes........." His eyes were blustering with shock, "Yer Grace........" He bowed, and they parted from the chamber.

Dairlingul leaned-over to Lerinon again as the room was empty of all save the Golden King and his counselors, "That was a prudent move, your Grace, for you would not want this young Edain conferring with Lord Fanon. For now we know that he will be ripe for honest treason. Yes, for you know we Elves can never lie, for that only the mortals can do, and know that Lord Fanon foolishly acts on his best intentions, truly believing that our foe is an ally. Well, it will be hard to turn him from that deceit, and it is ultimately the fell labors of our foe that are responsible."

"I am tired........" Lerinon heaved a deep sigh, "Gravely tired............ I am sick of ruling. Please, return to your chambers...... I need some time alone with Inheroth."

When Dairlingul left the room, Lerinon stood and began his rant: "I am cursed! CURSED I SAY, CURSED! A King should ne'r be forced to endure this! Such abuse! What King am I, to be forced to bow, unto the needs and whims of traitors! How dare they! HOW DARE THEY DEFY THEIR KING! Do they not know? They deny me mine claim.................. the world denies me mine claim............. Why, I shall toss them all in prison, as Thranduil would, and unseam thine thoughts from thine deepest hearts, and unseam thine desires several fold, and unseam thine hopes and dreams to woe, and cast their precious whims to the cold, dark sea, and toss them to the Void, as far and vast as they can see, and then they shalt bow before me, and know it thus: I am their KING!" His eyes had grown wide and wild. He seemed to be ranting at the walls of the chamber as if they were closing-in upon him.

Inheroth rose to his feet and approached Lerinon slowly and calmly, his face carefully blank. He fought the urge to feel dismay at the sight of Lerinon so utterly frenzied. King Oropher had always been subtle and calm, and his son's anger, though it burned brightly, was a cold, calculating thing. He was not used to seeing the flash of mad anger within any King's eye, and so he imagined Lerinon to be a doe unaware through a thicket of heavy trees; he moved soundlessly until Lerinon was close enough to touch, but he did not reach out. Instead, when he spoke, he made sure his voice took on a lilting, musical note, a gentle song. "They defy you because they are afraid," he said simply, "and fear becomes anger, and they lash out. These nobles will squabble like children, I think...but you are above them. You will not give into your fury. Instead my lord, my gwador - King Lerinon - you will rule them, justly and sternly, and they will learn not to defy you in time." His voice lowered into a whisper. "It takes time. This you know to be true. In time they will love you, as I do."

Lerinon shook his head, "Nay..... Guldrambor has already ensnared them in his fell grasp! It is too late...... they will join him and defy us, and seek to put an end to us, as our foe weaves his cruel lies throughout their hearts as spiders' threads...... he will feed upon the coldness of their hearts, as cold and stern as thine brother's........."

"'tis not inherently a bad thing, my King," Inheroth replied smoothly, even as his heart sank. He did not like being reminded of the discontent that remained between his brothers, for it was a gap, nay, a chasm he did not know how to climb out of, and the thought of it seemed as terrible as the darkness in the East. "Was not said that Elu Thingol was such, ruling upon his throne? Yet others would name it differently; strong and sterdy, unbreaking. You must be that too, do you not see?"

Lerinon nodded grimly, "And do you not remember the tale of what doom befell Elu Thingol?"

Inheroth cast his eyes downward, his mouth drawn in an unhappy line. "Yes. He was betrayed."

Lerinon's eyes grew wide and feral again, "As we are now....... and so shalt we take our little justice upon them before they render their fell treachery upon us........"

Inheroth trembled despite himself, and sighed deeply. "But then they will only fear you the more, and those Elves who are undecided as of yet will think that they have cause to fear you, and that would turn into a desire to hurt you, to displace you...no, thank cannot be. You must find some way to avoid it all. Justice cannot be forced."

Lerinon stammered, "And what do you know?! You saw 'King' Thranduil and what he did to ME! It is high time I shalt show them mine true............" And he began to listen carefully to his own words, he trembled at them, he collapsed on the floor, as Macilon's prophetic warnings flowed through his mind, slowly breaking him.

Falling to his knees, Inheroth finally reached out to press his fingers against Lerinon's arm in what he hoped was a reassuring touch. Truly he wished to shake his brother, perhaps bring some sense to his fractured mind, but he knew that such a show of violence would amount to nothing. "I know very little," he admitted in a whisper, "but I know that you may someday be worth this throne, and that you do not have to endure this alone, even if it seems that way. Dairlingul, despite his previous faults, will help, as shall I, and your brother, and mine, and one by one your people will see in you what I do. Despair not, gwador. You have seen the possibilities and you know what to avoid. So perhaps you need only look inward, and listen keenly to the sound of your own words. I may know nothing, but you already know all." He sighed deeply, and hoped that even if Lerinon did not heed him, his brother would know a calm to sate the fire that burned within him.

And then Lerinon broke-down and wept. He wept for the horror of it all.... and now he truly wished he could return to Minas Noldorion far away, with neither scepter nor crown nor staff of rule, and with naught but his old, dusty tomes surrounding him there, in his home, where he had lived the good life. He wept for his dead homeland, his dead childhood, his dead mother. For now it seemed to him that all of time became an unending span of dying, everything ever dying, into the dead, lifeless, past. For now it seemed to him that all of time became an unending span of dying, everything ever dying, into the dead, lifeless, past. And his own immortality then seemed to him a horror. He wept for that. He wept for the olden days now long since past, and for the future to come. He even came to believe that he was cursed, and that it was his true father's Silmaril, that had cursed him. He remembered the olden words of yore, concerning tears unending, and the day's deathly ending, and all the dissonance that followed. He wept for the centuries of endless, fruitless waiting, that finally bore the bloodstained Song-filled harp, only to steal it away, binding it beneath a golden bough. He wept for the ending of an Age.

And Inheroth wept with him, even when he could not say why, and he pulled upon his brother's arm and pulled him up to his feet, for the floor was no place for a King, even a King for longed for a past that existed no longer.

And then Lerinon fell into the gestures he only ever knew, deeply embracing Inheroth, deeply kissing the tears upon his warm, pale cheeks, wrapping gentle golden folds around them both. And then they chastely sought their place of rest, to sleep chastely, for it was ever chaste, that they may dream blessed dreams, gently, alongside each other.
Edited by Ioristion, Jun 21 2016, 10:51 AM.
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Chapter LVXIII: Heir to a Throne Forsaken

It was now the 18th of April.

Ioristion had grown sick to his stomach. He had cloaked himself and his Beorning friends when the darkness struck. They all averted the nightmares together. But it spooked the Beornings and made them fear the Elven Halls, and so Ioristion sent them away with Melimwe to inspect the vineyards and drink the latest vintage. But Ioristion now preferred to brood alone in his chamber. He felt very much upstaged by his brother, with whom he no longer shared the old familiarity. It was worse than Cellindien's betrothal. Rostoriel could not stand Ioristion's new onset of depression. She had tried to comfort and console him, but he, per usual, refused to listen, and so she, too, needed time alone to brood over her circumstances. Rirossel was too busy with her husband and son to be bothered with the plights of Ioristion.

Ioristion drank one of the worst vintages from the wine-cellars of what formerly were the Halls of the Silver King. He did not know what to call them now. He had heard of the disaster in the Throneroom and it made him very nervous, it made him want to crawl inside a wine bottle and n'er come out. He had lost the old bonds of loyalty. Rostor i Finlos might as well defend each other, he thought to himself, and he, himself, might as well die on the battlefield, since he had slowly grown newly estranged from his wife and son. His son now hero-worshipped one who counted himself among the traitors of Gondolin and forces of Morgoth. His wife could not bear it. Ioristion did not know what to make of Macilon, for his explanations as to the dreams and channeled powers of the West through cape and artifact alike made sense, and even more sensible was his explanation to the odd apparitions of Findekano that seemed to differ from the former High King's actual behavior, according to the words of Auruiron. Ioristion poured himself another glass. The wine flowed warmly down his throat, red and velvety, as his mind tensed-up and reality became hazy in a protracted swimming sensation.

In the hallway, Cellindien slowed her step before the door to her brother's chambers. She had borne the crisis of the bile with her betrothed, but as the sickness passed and the tension within the halls grew, a new concern arose. Ioristion. It was merely logistics which had kept them apart, she had told herself. Logistics... and of course, she had new interests, new duties, as one newly betrothed. He would seek her out, if he desired her presence. He had not. It was only as word of Lerinon's... difficulties... reached her that she decided enough was enough. She would not wait any longer. Rostoriel was not with him; she had seen the elleth alone of late. Alcano was not, and his brothers were quite obviously preoccupied with other matters. She raised her hand to the door and knocked firmly. "Ioristion? It is I, Cellindien."

Ioristion was buzzed but on his way to becoming thoroughly drunk. He nearly spit his wine out when he heard the knocking and the voice. He wondered if he was dreaming again. "Enter......"

She did so, stepping fully into the room. Immediately the scene became clear and she sighed, shaking her head. "Brother...."

Ioristion raved, "That is what would typically occur when a devoted sister abandons her charge........"

Cellindien stiffened, an angry retort rising to her lips, but she restrained herself. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and began again. "This is what happens when an elf who knows far better decides to drown his pain rather than facing it in a mature way. If you had called for me, I would have come. Now put that wine aside and sit up straight."

"She speaks of maturity and has never had a son." Ioristion slowly stood, "And do not get me started on my brother.............oh what is the use! Fine. You are right. I admit it. But why should I expect you to stand me....... not even my own wife will stand me now............ and my son..... my son......... some lordly Heir I turned-out to be. I wonder if this is what spurred-on my brother's feelings........... he was born in the Age before me and yet I became the Heir to the House because he was adopted and I was natural-born and it does not matter now, he has his wish, his Throne, and what do I have? Some restitution we both received. My chair is forsaken, my father's seat, no crowds will ever cheer for him! No...... and how is Macil, pray tell? I hope he is happy, after having taken thousands of years of sanity from me, and his sisters, and his nephew.......... oh.....my son................."

Cellindien stood by, watching and holding her tongue. How foolish of her to think that he was simply suffering from the bile. Of course it was all the same, the same madness as always. She was tempted to leave just then, and return to Macil. Instead, she walked past him, setting what remained of the bottle of wine aside and draining the dregs of his glass herself. She grimaced. "Ai, brother. I misjudged you... this is a poor choice, even for you."

"I am sick........... I know it true.............. first Eldrand died then I had to explain the merits of the gift of death as not an ending but a new beginning, to the Beornings, and then my wife tried to tell me that I was mad again, until I broke-down and wept for my son, believing then that he would have to learn on his own, as he is wed and I have lost him, and you are betrothed and I have lost you, I have lost nearly everyone, and my own wife, my madness ruined much of our marriage........ I love her and I love my son, but........... the rifts are growing, and I........I..........." Ioristion stared at the empty bottle, "I suppose it was a 'poor choice'......... why do you not know? I am the Heir of poor choices................."

"My father was an oathtaker, if we must speak of being Heir to poor choices." Cellindien countered sharply. She closed her eyes briefly, then stepped over to take over his previous seat, setting the empty wine glass aside. "If you have lost me, why am I here, brother?"

Ioristion heaved a deep sigh, "My father also was an oathtaker, although he called it something different. Oh it is of no use! Yes, you are here, and I have drunk a poor choice of wine. And in truth I apologize, for I wished to both punish Macil and at the same time attempt to save my son, by tossing Macilon into your tent. We have not spoken as often as we should have........"

"No, we have not... and I apologize as well." Cellindien stood and went to his side, resting a hand gently on his shoulder. "I have excluded you, brother. It is true, things have changed, now that Macil and I have renewed our betrothal. My duty to him is above all others. But I am still a sister, and I have been a very poor one."

Ioristion sighed, "I suppose I now know what it feels like to be you, when your "duty above all others" was to protect me, at the behest of an apparition of my mind and a Feanorian Prince, the same Prince for whom all my family's lives had toiled and suffered, and is he here? No! He abandoned his brother, I have grown used to it!" He closed his eyes and slowly began to deeply inhale and exhale, and finally he said, "I understand.... I forgive you........ but no one will ever forgive me.............."

Cellindien raised an eyebrow. "That is quite the claim. Tell me, what is it that you feel must be forgiven?"

Ioristion folded his arms in his golden cloak, "Everything............. the madness, the craven cowardice, the self-pity, the drinking, the driving of my wife over the edge, and my son into the arms of...... but he tried to befriend me, Macilon, can I blame him? With his one fallen hand he betrayed my brother, and with his other, proclaimed himself a Maia's Emissary, and lured my son away from us............ and it was all my fault........... if I had been stronger, as Melimwe and Yucalwe, I could have been a better husband....... and a far better father.......... oh it is all rotten. All of it. And I am sorry that I dragged you into all of this........ fine, be with your betrothed! Together, you two might build, a far saner and stable household...... and a far better noble House........"

Cellindien interrupted him, waving a hand. "Forgiven. And the next travesty that you commit... also forgiven."

Ioristion balked, "Thank you, I suppose....." He softened his tone, "Oh Cellindien........ I miss those first days, when we were starting out....... even if I was not completely in my right frame of mind back then, I still hold the fondest of memories............"

"You suppose?!" She protested in mock offense. "This was quite the offer!" She sobered and shook her head. "How could you, brother? You were hardly yourself, and I was lost in bitterness."

Ioristion nodded sadly, "But we had each other........... no plotting, no battle-marching, no death, all we needed to worry about was the next nearest heap of ruins to explore, and that was all.............true, we had other problems, but in retrospect.............. I would have rather wandered across Eriador again than to be forced to march-off to where we are today........ at the mercy of my brother, who appears to be suffering from a madness of his own............."

"Would you truly prefer that, brother?" Cellindien chided gently. "Prefer to turn a blind eye to the trouble that was stalking us? For what purpose were we searching the ruins? For the same reason we march now... to defeat our enemy. I do not march at the mercy of Lerinon, or of Auruiron, or Yucalwe, or any other. I march against Guldrambor." She stood to face him. "We are not at the mercy of others, Ioristion... we are not at the mercy of our past mistakes, or visions of supposed futures. We have only the present, and for that we must take responsibility, come what may."

Ioristion slowly smiled, "Then I will march with you......and I am sorrowful now for my woe-filled words.... you did not deserve them....... I suppose that was my 'next travesty!'" He outspread his cape with his arms and bowed, "Come then.... let us embrace, my sister, as we did of old........"

"I am glad to hear it." She broke into a smile that danced with mischief. "It is so much easier to keep you out of trouble when you stay close by...." She laughed and opened her arms, embracing him freely and pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek. "...And enough of this vintage, brother. If you expect me to drink with you you shall have to choose more wisely."

Ioristion smirked, and deeply kissed her warm, pale cheek, his frustration dying down until it vanished. When he withdrew, he laughed, "Fine, a better vintage then. I know what I will do......... we may yet solve all of this. I am going to speak with Macil. If he makes peace with Macilon, he just might aid my son and prevent the latter's madness from growing to its fullest immaturity. It will also give us more time together. This rift has to end. Once Alcano returns to us, I will then be able to amend my bond with Rostoriel, and we might manage to have some semblance of peace before my father marches us off to war again. And I hardly know my new daughter-in-law. We shall have to amend that too........ you know, from what I have seen from afar, Celebressel much reminds me of Macil's old tales of you during your youth in Gondolin......"

Cellindien sighed. "Valar help us, then."
Edited by Ioristion, Jun 21 2016, 10:51 AM.
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Ioristion

Chapter LVXIV: A Fateful Walk

Ioristion smiled at Cellindien, "I am going to find a better vintage. Wait here. I shall return..."

Ioristion went outside the door, closed it, and turned in horror to see Macilon standing, his back against the wall, his cape flowing around him as if a wight or phantom.

Macilon spake: "Son of Auruiron.... I overheard everything from outside this door. You may well despise me for it. You may call it childish and deceitful. But I needed to be here at this moment. I can see my shortsightedness has overcome my hope, my task hangs in the balance, and all may be lost. Follow me, for the sake of your son's life..."

"For the sake of your son's life." The words fell down Ioristion's throat as if a curse. He stammered softly, "You are a traitor and a sorcerer. I never knew that Elves could become sorcerers, but you are a sorcerer, who is being unwittingly accepted by the rest of our Company, by my daft father and dafter brothers. Your fell sorceries will prove our ruination. I can fend for myself this time. I have spent too many wasted hours a craven drunken coward. No longer! I will face you, come what may, and I will return."

Ioristion tightened his grip on his steel-made sword and prepared to draw it on Macilon, who had already turned and processed silently down the hallway, his vast cape flowing on the dark marble floor behind him through the hall. And as Ioristion marched into a larger chamber with great windows overlooking the sea, he found Macilon was gone, and before he realized it, he was inundated in the folds of Macilon's cape, being cowed to the floor, trying to resist and throw-off Macilon's weight as a bull would seek to throw-off his foe and gore him with his horns, only for the sword to plunge down deep between his shoulder blades, till he would fall into a heap on the floor and die.

But no sword came. Only gentleness surrounded him. He suddenly felt as if he was in the old caress of his mother when he was a babe. Macilon's eyes gleamed, staring down at him, as Ioristion's face came upward through the folds, and Ioristion said, "You craven traitor....... give me one good reason not to draw my sword and slay you as a Feanorian would."

"Oh what is the matter with you, Golden Princeling? Or is it a Magician now, a Gold Magician?"

Ioristion's nerves were struck to the core with terror, his hairs standing on-end, itchy and rough, "If you harm -them,- you die...."

Macilon smiled, "Be at peace..... Princeling.... for your Beorning friends are not in any danger, or at the least, not yet....... thine terrors are much misplaced. Come forward, gwador."

Macil stepped forward from the shadows, "I have made peace with your son and spoken with him and your daughter-in-law. There is much that we three know now. We are forbidden to confess them, to you, or to Cellindien, or to any other within this Company. Not even if King Elu Lerinon commanded us shall we speak, but even he, too, now knows. We are the Seven Chosen. I hate being Chosen. I do not enjoy keeping secrets. But I have guessed them and guessed correctly. If we were fighting a normal foe, I could tell you everything and anything. But this foe, this Guldrambor, penetrates our minds, our hearts, our fea'r, our deepest, darkest places. Please try to understand....."

Ioristion could not think. He could not respond.

Macilon nodded, "What has happened, between us, Ioristion? When we formerly met, I explained many things to you, including the formerly mysterious appearances of Findekano. Shall he appear again? And when last we met, you fought me, most cleverly, shrouding me in my own cape, forcing me to face my deepest fears and longings."

Ioristion laughed mockingly, "Which does not make sense! You wear your own cape all the time!"

Macilon smirked, "But it never did -that- before. It never had.... these powers were dormant, and somehow, you managed to unleash them. I journeyed for centuries with only natural-born dreams, none of them augmented, though I wore the cape. Remember what I spake? Oh, that is right, you were not there. You were drinking yourself to death in your own sad misery. You did not know. But now you shall know, and know, truly. You shall understand."

Ioristion shook his head, "I should return to Cellindien, my sister, for I do not wish to understand!"

"But understand you shall!" Macilon stammered. "Each experience or vision flowing through the cape from the Spring of Nienna, the Lake of Lorien, and from the Sacred Stream connecting the two, arrives at particular moments in time, for such are their powers. When one sits upon the Seat of Seeing in Amon Hen, which I have heard tale of from Uireb, one cannot always see the far-off lands, not even the heirs of Kings. Yet even the least of folk might see farther than any King as seen anything from the Seat of Seeing. There are reasons behind everything, behind each vision, and each absence of vision, even visions that are born from our own imaginations in unison with the cloaks, for our imaginations are not our own: they, too, were born from the Great Music of the Ainur before all things, and from which, all things have come. Do you not understand?"

Ioristion's mind was reeling with confusion.

Macilon gently embraced him, "You will, in time........."
Edited by Ioristion, Jun 20 2016, 05:48 PM.
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Ioristion

Chapter LVXV: The Wrath of Feanor

Ioristion fought back. He had remembered Macilon's treachery against the city of Gondolin, as Rostor Macil had told him, and he had remembered the fact that Macilon had inadvertently aided in the deaths of the parents of Rostor, Rostoriel, and Rirossel, the demise of House Russ, by siding with the Enemy. Throughout the long leagues of the journey since Lothlorien, Alcano had turned increasingly aloof from his parents. Along the way, Ioristion and Rostoriel believed that it was merely because their son had married Celebressel, and that it was proper for a groom to remain with his bride, but then the aloofness took-on a darker form as Alcano's hero-worship turned toward Macilon, as Alcano and Celebressel held him as their highest ideal, and as they all had shared some secret knowledge that they were forbidden to tell their parents. The estrangement had grown wider. Macilon had attempted to sew closed the rift by revealing the truth of Findekano to Ioristion. He had been too blunt in the beginning and Ioristion had broken, believing Findekano's apparitions to be an utter hoax, until Macilon revealed their apparent and strange truthfulness, and Ioristion clung to that, at the least, and had attempted to end Macilon's violence by thrashing his own cape upon the latter. But inwardly, Ioristion doubted. He doubted Macilon's words. He had tossed Macilon into Cellindien and Macil's tent in the hopes that his sister might save his son, but it was not to be. And slowly, the rift had grown. Ioristion sought distraction. He found it through the younger Beornings. Rostoriel, too, had sought distraction. She turned to Rirossel and her branch of the family. Husband once again became aloof from wife, and wife from husband, and all the while, the parents became estranged from their son and daughter-in-law, and then Alcano and his wife outright avoided their parents.

It was all now poised to burst as if a battle of sudden flame. Ioristion drew his sword and kicked Macilon off of him.

"Enough of this!" Macil shouted, but it was of no use. Macil, too, drew his sword. Elf passers-by continued along on their daily business: they thought they merely were sparring and that it was all a basic sword-fighting lesson.

Ioristion moved carefully. He knew it would prove too easy for him to trip on his own cape, so he slipped his sword beneath it and flared the silk-cloth gracefully, spinning it around, exposing his chest. Macilon did not move to kill him, and before he had a chance to, Macil intervened.

Macil declared, "You are imperiling your own Quest by fighting him, Macilon."

Ioristion smirked wildly, "Ah, so there is a Quest!" He stabbed at Macilon again, but then Macil thwarted Ioristion's blow, Macilon slipped behind Macil, craven as he ever was, and Macil then spake: "Enough, my brother? How fares my betrothed."

"MY SISTER IS QUITE FINE!" Ioristion stammered. "Now stand aside while I end this, and avenge my father's faulty, paltry battles, and see the consummation of the Oath of Feanor." Ioristion's eyes were glaring wildly. He no longer felt horrified by the histories he had read. He removed Auruiron's prudent antipathy toward the Kinslaying Feanorians from his back as if a heavy yoke. He shoved Macil aside and Macilon reentered the fray, and Macil did not know what to do. If he pulled on Ioristion's cape and tripped him, he would risk Ioristion falling onto Macilon's blade. And Macilon was not the instigator this time, he was merely defending himself, and so all Macil could do was to stand back and watch. He could find Cellindien, but what good would it do, for Ioristion seldom listened to her, from what he knew of their time together. But then Ioristion, despite his care, still tripped on his cape, and fell backwards, as Macilon pointed his sword toward his throat.

And Macilon declared, "Enough. Surrender."

And Ioristion shouted, "YOU STOLE MY SON FROM ME! YOU WRETCHED HORROR! YOU CAME BACK INTO OUR LIVES TO RUIN US! ENOUGH OF YOUR VAIN TALK OF THE FUTURE, ENOUGH OF YOUR PORTENTS, ENOUGH OF YOUR MAIAR! BE GONE! AND GIVE ME BACK MY SON!"

"I am here, Adar..." Alcano walked solemnly into the room with Celebressel at his side. "What is the matter now, Adar........ when have you ever learned not to rub your inquisitive nose into matters far beyond your ken... once I was a child, a 'Sapling,' as my aunt called me, on the cusp of adulthood, with vain desires......... but now have I joined the realm of my ancestors, I am no longer yours to command to madness........ and until you accept this, no, I will not return to you..... or to my mother....... for neither of you will ever understand the truth..............."

Tears streamed down Ioristion's cheeks. Rostoriel had heard the commotion and run into the chamber, her eyes gazed on in horror, and she finally stammered, "You ungrateful........ spoiled..... sapling.......... fine, go, and never return........... I cannot believe that I even gave birth to you! And you," she turned to Macilon, "Go forth and die some horrid death, at the hands of Yrch or evil men, and met the doom that you deserve.... you who betrayed our City and left thousands, nay, tens of thousands, to die the worst of deaths, by shadow and by flame and by dragons' fire.......... by scimitar, by dart, by poisoned knife......... not even the depths of Angband were enough of a punishment for you, nay........ for you deserved to be chained, to the pinnacle of the Thangorodrim, for ten thousand years at the least, and for eternity at most................." She turned and stampeded away, she turned to conceal her tears, anger and sorrow intermingling in the raging whirlpool of her heart.

Ioristion backed away from Macilon's sword. He stood and turned to Macil, "And thine betrothed shall learn that you are complicit in all of this......... and my sister shall protect -me- again, and it shall be as it ever should be........." And he stormed away in search of the wine-cellars, cold tears streaming down his cold cheeks, still grasping his sword, coldly.

He thought of the High Feast. Then, he understood. And when he reached the cellars, and found the vintage that he sought, he felt the discord, truly, and his own shadows, clearly, and deigned not to reveal Macil's complicity to Cellindien, hoping that Macil might yet see and understand the shadows that were gnawing at them all.
Edited by Ioristion, Jun 20 2016, 09:47 PM.
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Chapter LVXVI: Storming the Caves of the East

It was now the 19th of April. Melimwe, Yucalwe, and Saelbainor had obtained permission from Auruiron, Lerinon, and Dairlingul, to lead an expedition of their own south to try to ascertain Guldrambor's location. They did not want Macilon to be involved, nor Ioristion, for they knew that Guldrambor would know either of them were coming. They even left their capes behind in the Halls so that Guldrambor would not sense the approach of opposing powers. They dressed in simple woolen traveling clothes, rough-spun.

They had followed the coast of the Sea of Rhun, remaining atop the cliffs above the shoreline, and they journeyed for three days and nights, until they came to it at last: the ominous towering cliffs dotted with cave entrances. There was an encampment of Easterlings nearby. Some of them were wearing dirty silver and black silk robes. Yucalwe whispered, "This must be the place... I recognize those sigils...... they are dressed as the spy was in Tolfalas........"

They sneaked their way past the camp and made their way down the rough dark road down into the mouth of the caverns. Beyond the mouth were shafts of natural sunlight jetting through the gaps in the cliff-walls that served as windows overlooking the sea. Yucalwe felt cold, It mirrors my old home nigh Edhellond........ They drew their swords.

The caves seemed abandoned. There were old signs that life had once thrived there. They passed through a great cavern with vast holes in its ceiling, and there beneath them they beheld the remnants of an old dirt field where wild fell plants grew. Yucalwe gripped his sword, The bile! They had looked like the old plants of Lorien he had remembered, but now they were wild, fell, and feral. Swiftly they began uprooting the plants and tossing them out the windows into the sea. They overturned clump after clump of soil, laboring throughout the day, cleansing it of corruption by finding every last seed, and tossing them into the sea. Their fingernails were filled with dirt.

"Listen," Yucalwe whispered. There was naught but silence, save the winds, blowing. "Guldrambor should have struck by now, for he would have cherished these plants so marred...."

Melimwe shook his head, "It could prove a trap."

They continued their exploration into the deepest darkest depths of the caves. They found an old weathered bed and old dusty tomes and other old furnishings. The air was suffocatingly stuffy. Yucalwe heaved a deep sigh, "He is gone. Let us try to capture one of those Easterlings at least. One of them might know where Guldrambor has gone...."

Saelbainor shook his head, "No, Yucalwe, their camp is too vast. Come, let us leave this cave before they..."

They heard the echoes of clanging metal barraging through the caverns. Saelbainor grabbed his coil of elven rope that he had obtained in Lorien from his pack, "Down we go......" They clamored down the rope that Saelbainor had tied to one of the stalagmites. They climbed their way down. They sighted the Easterlings, who moved to grab the rope, but the rope quickly uncoiled, and they were enough of a drop to the sea that would not kill them. They landed in the water. Sea monsters with cruel fins and crueler teeth were approaching. They swam for their lives as the monsters chased them. Yucalwe turned and began to fight, jabbing his sword beneath the jaws, and soon blood spurt throughout the waters, and Yucalwe desperately swam the away with the others, as the monsters turned to feed upon their own who had been slain.

The three lay in the sun to dry along the rough sandy shores of the sea, where the cliffs had slowly sloped down, until the land reached sea-level again.
Edited by Ioristion, Jun 21 2016, 10:51 AM.
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Chapter LVXVII: The Shadow of the East

On the 20th of April, Sasuko had been brought before King Elu Lerinon and Inheroth and Dairlingul. Sasuko bowed before them, clothed and bathed, and he was newly clothed in silken blue robes. He had been watched closely throughout the past four days, and his minor wounds from the brawl in Eir had healed. He knelt on the dark marble floor before them, "My lords...."

He knew and spoke in Sindarin, and this surprised them. Lerinon spake carefully, "How is it that you know our tongue?"

"Salaka savak nan." Sasuko replied, "I learned from my Master..."

Lerinon stood, walking gently toward him, "And where is your Master now?"

"Why would I tell you?"

"Because you have not served him well by attacking a base drunkard as Beornor told me yesterday, and you will not find in thine Master a friend, now that you have been captured. I have sent for another to aid in this examination. Come forward, Elder Sindri."

The old wizened man leaned on his staff as he stood-up, shocking Sasuko, who appeared to know him. Sindri approached him slowly, "From where do you hail?"

Sasuko said nothing.

Sindri spake again, "You have come from Sakuta, have you not? Those robes.... you were once of my Order, I can tell, but no longer.... whom do you serve? Speak!"

Sasuko gazed at him mockingly, "Mine Emperor. His Majesty Amanuiron the Great."

Sindri frowned, "Does Rhun not serve Sauron?"

Sasuko laughed, "Sauron is dead. He was no true Lord..."

Lerinon and Inheroth gazed at Sasuko in shock. Sasuko spake again, "Sauron is dead, my Master knows..... he fell, he and his Dark Tower! My Master knows all......... by now his armies will have taken Erebor. You do not stand a chance against him........"

Sindri turned to Lerinon, "Amanuiron has taken control of the Sakutan Empire, without a doubt. Their Capital of Sakuta is parallel to these Halls, across the Sea."

Lerinon heaved a deep sigh, "Then our allies have sought Guldrambor's caverns in vain..... they will return with nothing."

Sindri approached Sasuko again, "What is your name, young man?"

Sasuko bowed, "Sasuko.... son of Onzular..."

Lerinon came closer, "Tell me, why should I not imprison you?"

Sasuko laughed mockingly, "Because you need me.......... I suppose you are right. My Master would be most displeased with me. He would also be displeased with my dead followers, all of whom failed to protect me. Your bear-man killed them.......your pretty Sashons.. your precious Quendi... did not wish to dirty their fair hands, and so they only defended themselves... while you bear-man did the dirty work."

"We are not strangers to killing," Lerinon replied, "Nor are we to executing....."

Sasuko's eyes grew wide, "No, you will not do it."

Lerinon did not bat an eye, "You are right, the Beornings could."

Sasuko was seething, "You.... coward......."

Macilon suddenly entered the chamber, "Your Grace, if I may enter............."

Lerinon nodded, "I have heard tale of the.... mess... you created in the Halls with my brother and sister-in-law. You shall have to answer for this."

Macilon smirked wryly, waggling his eyebrows, "Perhaps........or perhaps not. Your brother and sister-in-law merely misunderstand what you yourself currently understand. Allow me to contend with this one.............. tell me, what is your name? Is it Sasuko? I overheard in the hallway........ or perhaps not. Perhaps I already knew your name, long before your birth...... perhaps this elder sage hither had known it too............. And yet perhaps I do not know you, and have merely guessed at it............. Come, pray tell, for I know thine Master's ways........... did he ever tell you that he had a brother?"

Sasuko shook his head.

Macilon strode over to Sasuko, whipping his cape over-top of him. He held the artifact aloft, for Melimwe was now gone, and the satchel was not guarded closely: Auruiron was resting when Macilon sneaked into his room and took the jewel. Sasuko did not move at first, but then, he slipped-out what remained of the bile in his phial, and drank the rest of it. Macilon came beneath his folds, pressing his and Sasuko's hands to the smooth, cold surface of the orb-shaped jewel, "Now....... shall we begin?"
Edited by Ioristion, Jun 21 2016, 11:41 AM.
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Ioristion

Chapter LVXVIII: Sakuta

Macilon and Sasuko stood in the streets of Sakuta. It all felt ethereal and surreal. The sun singed their necks, the roaring of the Sea sang throughout the City, and the Citadel towered high above them. Then they were standing in the Citadel, where several caped people sat in a circle, before a high Throne, and the floors and pillars and stairs and the Throne itself were all paved, gleaming, with bright gold, and the Emperor sat upon the Throne, and Macilon gazed at him in horror: his visage was unmistakeable.

And Guldrambor spake, "And now.... I have caught thee....... Macilon of the Mole........ do you not remember when I confronted you both, you, and my brother, in Beleriand before it sank? It was the War of Wrath I believe...... My brother is so sweet! So kindly! So generous! To think after all Melkor had taken from me, does he truly believe......... I mock at him. I spit at him. Soon, shall I rule the West, and set-up mine Throne in Tirion.......... I shall turn Manwe, Varda, Nienna, Namo, even my former master, Irmo, and all the others, into mine servants, mine slaves to do my bidding.... and if they shall fail me, I shalt thrust them into the Doors of Night, and I shall be the Master! And we will see who is the better......."

Macilon scowled, "Be gone from this young man's mind, foul and accursed."

In reality, Sindri saw the dark bundle beginning to slowly collapse to the floor. He outstretched his hand and touched the silk, pressing his hand against the artifact beneath it.

Sindri stood beside Macilon and Sasuko in the golden Throne-Room of the Citadel of Sakuta, "Be gone from their minds, wretched Shadow."

Sasuko tried to free himself from Macilon's grip, "It is my Emperor! My Master! He has come to save me!"

Sindri did not bat an eye, "Has he?" And Sindri tapped his staff upon the floor. A vibration of light emanated from it.

And then, Guldrambor stood, processing toward them, "What have you done, craven mortal!"

"It is not what I have done, Shadow, but what One higher than me hath done."

Guldrambor outstretched his arms, screaming in excruciating pain, and then did his golden folds, red sparkling lining, grow brighter and brighter, as he arose higher and higher, his folds flowing down his arms, draping high and mighty, until Guldrambor was trapped in blinding light: and then the light vanished, and a dark, smouldering Shadow, stood before Sindri, Macilon, and Sasuko.

And Sindri stood brave-hearted, "Now you see him for who he truly is."

"He was not always akin to this...." Macilon spake sadly.

Sindri nodded sorrowfully, "No...... not in the beginning...........Sasuko you now have a choice: to remain here, to be devoured by the Shadow, or to return with us to the light beyond these doors."

Sasuko nodded, crying, "I....will return........"

The halls and floor began oozing the dark bile. They ran for the doors and escaped the Citadel. They vanished within the Light and their vision came to an end. Sindri lifted the cape from Macilon and Sasuko, standing before Lerinon in the Halls, once more. And Sasuko was weeping bitterly.

Macilon looked spent, and Sindri began to collapse, and Macilon quickly held him. Lerinon motioned to his guards to aid the three, who were then carried back to the guest-chambers. Dairlingul had watched the whole mess in solemn silence, not desiring at all to interfere, for he knew full well of the present shadows.
Edited by Ioristion, Jun 21 2016, 11:42 AM.
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Ioristion

Chapter LVXIX: The Prince of Rhun

Lerinon came to Sasuko's bedside with Inheroth. They knelt before the bedside. Sasuko gently awoke, he had fallen asleep amidst his bitter weeping. The golden-wet salve was sitting beside him. The healers had extracted the last influences of the bile that Sasuko had drank on a daily basis. The bile was long since dissipated.

Sasuko turned to Lerinon, "My King...."

"Peace," Lerinon warmly replied, "Rest in peace......."

Sasuko nodded, "Am I dying?"

Lerinon gently shook his head, "Nay...... you are quite alive. Listen to me........ you must tell me -everything-..........."

And Sasuko then spoke to him of Anzulbar, his comrade, of the Gurthbain, and of Siagon and his bullfighting, and of Narushon and his rise to power, and of the coup, and of the stabbing of the old Emperor, and of Emperor Amanuiron's proclamations, and of his plan to conquer Arda and ultimately Aman. Hallothanar was also present. Hallothanar then heard Sasuko's rendition of Siagon's description of the Elf whom Siagon the Sami Knight had fought in northern Rhun, and Hallothanar recognized his precise description: "My..... gwador......." Hallothanar's face fell, and he left the room weeping bitterly for his dead brother, who had been slain in a fight between old Siagon the Sami and the bull that had rampaged along the farms and towns of northern Rhun. Hallothanar's brother had been gored to death thanks to Siagon stealing the brother's cape and using it to manipulate the bull. Hallothanar's brother's hroa was ultimately burned, which Hallothanar had then perceived as the worst of insults.

Amanuiron had indeed taken control of the Sakutan Empire, he had begun his wars against Sauron's loyalists, he had implanted officers to coup against their commanders at Erebor, and he had plotted global dominance, as Sauron and Melkor before him. Sasuko then told Lerinon all the details of the dream. Lerinon's face fell at the description of Amanuiron's dark revelation as Guldrambor. Lerinon then wondered about Sindri, for Sindri would have had to have been a Wizard or personage of power, Lerinon reasoned, in order to wield that level of strength against our foe. Yet on the other hand, Lerinon also reasoned, that Sindri could have merely been a particularly resilient mortal, and that it could have merely been his strength of will, augmented and aided by Macilon's cape, making him appear stronger than he was......... the Light could have been due to their combined imaginations........

Sasuko's mind was in a whirlpool of torment, for now everything he had thought he knew of his 'glorious Emperor,' had become unhinged in one, fell, swift motion, and then Lerinon gently kissed Sasuko on the cheek, "Prince of Rhun........ your destiny is far greater.............. thank you for telling us this." Then he removed his golden cape from his shoulders, and draped it over Sasuko, "Rest now.......... we shall speak again on the morrow.............."

Then Lerinon and Inheroth left the room, leaving Sasuko in the care of the healers. Sasuko felt a wave of peace overcome him, he wept anew, and soon thereafter, he fell asleep, dreaming far more pleasant dreams.
Edited by Ioristion, Jul 27 2016, 08:55 PM.
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Chapter LVXX: The Black and the Red and the Gold

On April 21st, Lerinon returned to Sasuko's bedside. Sasuko had awoken in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat, screaming about his Emperor and the glory of his Realm. The other healers had calmed him down with an athelas-based drink and coddled him back to sleep again as if he was a sobbing infant. Lerinon had read the report.

Lerinon helped Sasuko out of the bed to walk, and Sasuko shuddered when he saw Macilon enter the room.

"Calm yourself," Lerinon commanded, "For Macilon shall not harm you."

Sasuko was now quivering and whimpering in fear.

Lerinon smiled, "Wear my cloak a day longer, if it shall bring you comfort. I will leave you two to settle matters......" Then Lerinon left them.

"Come," Macilon spoke. "Let us walk......"

They walked through the halls and soon came into the Gardens of the Silver King, the sunlight gleaming onto the tulips and roses and blossoming cherry-trees. Macilon warmly smiled, "It was your bile that produced that vision.... combined with the powers of the artifact. Fear not! It has been returned to its resting place..."

Sasuko nodded grimly, "It drained me........"

"Breath the free air, renewed," Macilon warmly smiled. "Tell me. What position did you hold during your time in Sakuta?"

Sasuko sighed, "I was one of the Gurthbaini...... originally a servant to Lord Shikon of the Blue Caste. But then Amanuiron promoted me to be his personal retainer..... I served him in many ways, directly, and ne'r detected a fell darkness about him........oh was I deceived........ but I was a silent witness to many of his conversations........ and to several High Council meetings of the Thirteen....... my former Master's other close advisers are Narushon of the Treasury and Anzulbar of Forces....... they, too, are deceived young men, as myself........ and he has many other young people devoted to his cause."

Macilon nodded, "Youth are pliable..... they can be manipulated with ease...... it makes sense. Do not lose hope for your friends, Sasuko, for you may yet save them........."

Sasuko smiled, "I hope so......... but for now, forgive me. I do not wish to think of Sakuta."

"Of course not," Macilon nodded sorrowfully, "Forgive me.... you are still recovering......."

Sasuko looked down at the golden folds he was wearing, "This cape..... it reminds me of the Emperor's........"

Macilon frowned, "The Emperor has profaned his garb........ the cape he wears is not the true one. It was woven by your own people."

Sasuko's eyes grew wide, "How do you know this?"

Macilon slowly smiled, "Because.... we know who wears the real cape, a young man, such as yourself, who wears it and its counterparts with his brothers..... they are coming here.........."

Sasuko deeply smiled, "Where do they hail from?"

Macilon hesitated, "They...... they hail from Gondor."

Sasuko frowned, "Our enemies......."

"Nay......" Macilon placed a warm hand on Sasuko's shoulder, "You need not fear them.............. tell me, do you know what our colors symbolize?"

Sasuko laughed, "They actually have significance?"

Macilon nodded solemnly, "Gold for estel, or hope, and black and red for Exile......and you are now an Exile, you can never return to Sakuta as you once were.........."

Sasuko nodded grimly, "I have heard that true gold does not always glimmer. Even Amanuiron, my former Master and Emperor, told me thus."

Macilon slowly smiled again, "For once, he has spoken something that is true. Yes, the verse was written by a strange fellow in Imladris, 'All that is gold does not glitter.......' But know this, the golden cape you wear.. you can trust.......Come beneath mine again. No, do not fear! You shall not have another nightmare now......"

Sasuko slowly nodded, as Macilon swept his cape over them both, sunlight gleaming on black and shiny-grey folds, a flash of flaming red, then, darkness, then, deep-maroon intermingling beneath the black, sunlight streaming through a million tiny pores. Then Macilon whispered, his warm breath flowing across Sasuko's face, "Now......... press your face into the folds. Do not fear them."

And Sasuko did so, losing himself in the smooth, coolness of the cape, but then Sasuko suddenly paused and spoke, "This...... the Emperor had me do this, with his cape.........."

Macilon smiled, "Good..... now tell me everything else about your former Master's ways........."

Sasuko nodded, "He........ had me sleep beside him within his cape. He..... we deeply kissed each other on our cheeks, burying our faces in each others' hair, he danced before me and bade me dance, this was, of course, when we were not contending with the business of ruling, he...... gave me deep dreams, powerful visions, some in which we flew, our capes flapping on the winds as if great wings..... mine black and blue and silver, and his fiery red and bright molten gold..... wave upon wave of flapping silk, shimmering...... and his long silvery-blond hair, flowing, fluttering wildly upon the winds..... he seemed at times a girl and at others a man, and often somewhere in between, he......... bade me drink more and more of the bile-laced wine, he................promised me a Kingdom, a lordship, he promised me many things............... but yet it did not make sense. Why would he, the newly-crowned Emperor, wish to surrender any of his power to one such as me?"

Macilon nodded, "He did not. He was playing you... toying with you...... as he appears to be toying with the rest of us....... many of our Company have adopted his gestures, his cheek-kissing, his embraces....... his restfulness.... his dancing....... did he ever outspread his cape and bow before you?"

Sasuko nodded, "Countless times."

Macilon suddenly deeply smiled, "These gestures are not fell in and of themselves, although they are strange, some of them......... this is the key. We must turn them to -our- advantage, and avoid falling prey to his alluring behaviors......... then, and only then, can we triumph............."

When their walk was over, they returned to Sasuko's healing chamber, and Macilon took-off his cape, and said, "Wear this beneath the gold...." And Sasuko did so. And Sasuko fell asleep again, cloaked in black and red and gold, dreaming hopeful dreams.
Edited by Ioristion, Jun 21 2016, 12:01 PM.
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Ioristion

Chapter LVXXI: The Feast of Elbereth

Throughout the duration of the week, preparations were made to hold processions throughout the Realm in honor of Elbereth, Queen of the Stars. And the Elves gathered in their silver and bright green garb, shining luminously in the moonlight, and the King wore his gold and deep green, and the luminous processions journeyed from flet-town to flet-town. But the tensions ne'r decreased. Ioristion and Rostoriel avoided Macilon as if he were a plague. Alcano spoke not with his parents and avoided them. Celebressel even tried to persuade Alcano to make peace, but Alcano would not listen. Ioristion spent much time with Cellindien. And he did not tell her of Macil's complicity. Nor did Macil tell her. And Lerinon was diligent enough to avoid Agarwaenor given that there were no fit tasks for a Herald at the moment. He was welcome to come to Court, but Lerinon did not force it. Inheroth remained at Lerinon's side through much of his legal procedures. And Lord Fanon and his allies remained imprisoned. Macilon continued to instruct Sasuko without telling him the secret.

Melimwe, Yucalwe, and Saelbainor deigned to travel along the borders of Dorwinion till they reached the river. And on April 30th, they waited at Hallothanar's old flet-post, and sighted war towers rising on the horizon, as they gazed speechlessly, at the rising Mumakil before them in their magnificent strides. And Captain Ivordir let flow the banner of Gondor. And Melimwe deeply clasped Ivordir and Daerfalas on their shoulders, their Final Quest in Gondor was fulfilled, and then, with aid from Hallothanar's people, they guided the Mumakil toward the meads nigh the Halls of the Golden King nigh the Sea. They gave the weary travelers food and drink, and Lerinon deigned not to force an audience until later, and the men of Gondor and Harad were shown to their rooms.

And Ivordir fell asleep peacefully pondering the finality of his Quest and whether or not it existed, and whether or not it was his. The Final Quest had become the Final March.
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Chapter LVXXII: The Companies Unify

The entire Court gathered on the 31st of April. The Throne-Room was filled to the brim with guests. Standing at the forefront were the divided ranks of Gondorians and Haradrim. Angolhel and Lerion and Saljuk stood before the Haradrim. Ivordir and Daerfalas and Sainion stood before the folk of Gondor. Auruiron sat at Lerinon's side with Dairlingul and Melimwe. Lerinon's Mirkwood allies were also present, all of them, with Inheroth sitting properly to Lerinon's right. Macilon and his followers sat on the opposite side of the room from that of Ioristion and Cellindien. Alcano glared at his parents from across the chamber.

Malchon announced, "You stand before His Grace, King Elu Lerinon, son of Dior Eluchíl, son of Elu Thingol of Doriath, Golden King, Master of the Halls, and Servant of the Realm. Who comes before His Majesty?"

Ivordir stepped forward and bowed, with Daerfalas at his side, "Ivordir, Captain of Gondor, son of Ioristor, son of Ioron, of the House of the Sigil of Finwe, of the White Tree."

Yucalwe stepped forward, "Your Grace...... allow him and his Company to answer unto me, for it was I who gave the order for their journey er they parted from us in Eriador."

Lerinon nodded. Abrazan stepped forward, his eyes beaming brightly, gazing upon his father for the first time since he left Eriador.

Yucalwe nodded, "And have you done as I asked?"

Ivordir saluted, "I report that the one called Guldrambor had attempted to poison the Realm of Gondor. He had garnered allies, seducing them with his bile, a fell mixture, and he had schemed to wrest control over Gondor itself, even from Mordor if need be. He was not present in Gondor, not at the ruins of Emyn Arnen, nor elsewhere, but Haradric spies bore his sigil. These were slain, and many good men perished in the endeavor, to bring Guldrambor's fell schemes to an end. They are ended in Gondor, at the cost of many lives, some brave and some cold and cruel. Now it is done."

Yucalwe's gaze fell on Daerfalas, "And will you verify this report?"

Daerfalas tilted his head upwards, his face awash in the low light of the throne room. He stared long at hard at Yucalwe, his expression revealing very little, though he recognized many faces within the crowd, and felt a certain pleasure at gazing upon Yucalwe once more. "Aye," he said at last, "our Captain speaks truly. We have traveled many miles to bring word of this."

Yucalwe smiled wryly, "Good. Then let us begin............."

And they all sat down in the Throne-Room for hours upon hours, as Ivordir recounted his Company's journey, from their departure from Lindon to their arrival at Dol Amroth, through their trek across Gondor, to Pelargir and to Minas Tirith, to Ost Rimmon and to Amon Hen, and ultimately, across Rhovanion, to their present moment. Then Sasuko stood and recounted all that he currently knew of the affairs of Guldrambor in Sakuta. Then Yucalwe recounted all that had transpired with the Elves since the departure of Ivordir and his Company. And Auruiron had closed his eyes in sorrow when he learned of the deaths of the sons of the bard, Nenthor, whom he had taught the harp so long ago. Then Yucalwe, Melimwe, and Saelbainor presented their report of their findings in what formerly were Guldrambor's caverns, and Amarthandor the Mortal came forward with his brothers, and Angolhel as well, corroborating what they found in the caves. Throughout their recognition, they recalled the many lives who had been lost, the many sorrows of their long weary roads, their many triumphs, some -worthy- of song, and their many woes.

When the Court dispersed, many returned to their chambers for the evening. But Ivordir, Daerfalas, and Sainion the Mortal remained with Lerinon, Yucalwe, and Inheroth.

It was Inheroth who approached Daerfalas first. He was impressed that the young Gondorian did not startle as he slipped behind him and gently touched his shoulder. He had grown in their time apart, Inheroth noticed. The lines around his eyes, though not deep, were still less vague than he would have liked, and his eyes were darker, cheekbones more pronounced. However, Inheroth smiled at him warmly, and Daerfalas returned the gesture, if a little hesitantly.

"It is a pleasure to see you whole and hale," Inheroth said with little preamble, "and I am glad to once more have someone to give me company whilst I sketch."

Daerfalas in turn dipped his head in acknowledgement, "After the journey we've had," he admitted, and his voice was a little rougher than Inheroth remembered; no doubt due to the many toils of their journey, "I would not mind some of that wine you oft carried with you."

Inheroth laughed, a loud, pleasant sound. "The wine is much better in Dorwinion," Inheroth replied with a grin, "but I shall take up your offer, as soon as you have rested from thine labors."

Daerfalas looked much relieved as Inheroth extended an arm towards an adjacent hallway.

"If your Captain has no more requirements of you, perhaps I can show you to the guest chambers? Then we may share a glass of the finest of Dorwinion's reds, and you can rest, and perhaps rid thyself of that strange growth upon thy face," and Daerfalas mustered up another smile.

"It is a beard," the Gondorian said, and Inheroth lifted a mischievous brow, "And a noble endeavor indeed, but still, I think you may enjoy getting rid of it. Shall we?" Daerfalas excused himself politely, and approached Ivordir; he whispered a few words into his Captain's ear, and returned soon to Inheroth's side.

"Very well, though I still wonder if I should keep it," Daerfalas said, rubbing at his beard, and Inheroth laughed again, deciding he liked the mortal's subtle sense of humor. He led him away.

Lerinon had finally adjourned. They were all much too tired to speak further. And the guest-chambers were finally full to the brim. The Haradrim opted to set-up their great tent outside the Halls and tend to the Mumakil. The rangers opted to sleep beneath the stars. The Gondorian lords and ladies opted to remain within the Halls. And several of the men and ladies soon learned that they shared names with some of the Elves. And Macilon took charge of Amarthandor the Mortal and his brothers, Macil gathering his own comrades together, to stay that night in the same chamber.
Edited by Ioristion, Jun 21 2016, 11:11 PM.
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Ioristion

Chapter LVXXIII: The Return of Amarthon

They settled in the chamber. The men among them had already shaved and then oiled their faces. Amarthandor sat across from his mortal counterpart, and exclaimed, "It is a strange fate that we share a name........"

Amarthon replied, "You may call me 'Amarthon' instead.... I have fled from my own identity for far too long....."

Macilon smiled, "Let us begin. Tell us everything..........."

And Amarthon told Macilon of his experiences on the front in Harondor, of his capture by the Haradrim, of his arrival in Rhun, and of his time with Amanuiron. When the tale was over, Macilon nodded, "Let me touch the cloak......."

Amarthon flicked a fold of the golden-red cape over to Macilon. Macilon touched it gingerly, closing his eyes, "Yes...... this is the cloak that Uireb gave to Amanuiron long ago. We have much to speak of...."

And then Macilon attended the tale about his own life history. He did not reveal the secret.

Auravon gazed upon him with wonder welling in his eyes, "So.........Amanuiron has a brother...........and eight more capes will emerge from our own............ I cannot pretend to comprehend these powers."

Macilon nodded, "It is a grave pity what has become of your House........ we have that, at least, in common.......... terrible children of terrible Households............... the Golden Harp and the Mole.............. not unlike the House of the Harp of Salgon who sided with the Mole in the waning days of Gondolin............ and yours in the waning days of Gondor............ may Gondor never wane. You should, all of you who have tasted the bile, receive the treatments of our healers regardless......... you never know what may lie dormant in your own bodies........."

Amarthon buried his arms in his cloak, clutching himself, clenching his teeth.

The Arancirs sat silently.

Sasuko gazed at Amarthon intently, for their experiences were close akin. Then Macilon bade Sasuko to attend his tale. And Sasuko nodded, "I shall attend it. But first...... let me touch that blessed cloak, and see if it is the same, or different......."

Amarthon gently nodded.

Sasuko deeply smiled, "It feels............. as fair, but no foulness underneath......... it has not the same qualities as......the fake one.........I feel I can trust you, Gondorian...."

Amarthon smiled, "And I, you, Easterling......"

Macilon's eyes grew wide, "Sasuko...... pull on my fabric......."

They all sat aghast as Sasuko reached toward Macilon, and pulled-off the next cape that had revealed itself.

Amarthon's eyes were beaming, "Here, let me clasp it on your shoulders........"

Sasuko stood in wonder at the cape that now flowed down his shoulders, gathering into pools of shining black and fiery crimson down the falls formed by his folds. He outspread his arms.

Macilon smirked, "So you have been chosen, as I long suspected, ever since I first lay eyes on you.... Sasuko...............now sit down and attend thine tale."

And Sasuko obeyed and began.
Edited by Ioristion, Jul 27 2016, 09:22 PM.
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Ioristion

Chapter LVXXIV: Memories of Sakuta

Sasuko recalled his tale as if he were actively reliving it:

The golden Citadel gleamed brightly in the sunlight above the crystalline bright azure waters of the Sea, the fishermen rummaged through their nets and crates, the workmen labored to and fro on the bright stone quays, and the bazaars were bustling with trade. Narushon arrived with several of his former mentor's trade records. Lords Shikon and Anzulbar made their reports: they had made peace with the Barazonians and a trading deal with Eir, the silk trade was at its height, and many more worms were slaughtered during efforts to prevent the decomposition of their nests.

When the High Council was adjourned, Anzulbar noted to Sasuko, "He has summoned you......... your cup-bearing duties are over, for now.........."

Sasuko nodded grimly. He passed into the golden Hall of the Citadel, its shining smooth slick surfaces gleaming, glittering, gilded with sunlight. The Emperor stood facing his Throne, his golden cape draping ravishingly behind him, his bright silvery-blond hair flowing down his back as if a second cape, silky and gleaming. He turned, "Ah, Sasuko..... follow me......... for there is something I must show thee........ no, fear not to bear the cups this time, I have no need for wine at the moment............."

Sasuko bowed, saying nothing.

Emperor Amanuiron glared back at him, "Keep up with me." He turned and suddenly darted down the hallway, his vast cape and hair flowing chaotically behind him, billowing and flapping fast as he turned, flashes of molten gold and fiery red, gleaming and shining. His cape trailed behind him as if a slithering golden serpent.

When they reached Amanuiron's lower chambers, he turned, outspreading his folds, lowering his chin, "Now my dear Sasuko.............. shall we now dream together?"

Sasuko nodded reluctantly, bowed, and obeyed. He knew of the bones piled-up at the bottom of the cliffs behind the Citadel. Sasuko and Amanuiron prostrated themselves alongside each other in a grave perversion: the cape whipped across them both, their eyes shut tight, and they passed into the realm of drams.

Then all transpired in the manner of the rituals in Malnoron's manse beneath Pelargir, without the human sacrifices, and Sasuko gradually became more and more fearful. Their kisses were wet and deep, but no satisfaction came from them. Terror gripped the heart of Sasuko. He endured the dream with the flying sensations. The Emperor flapped his wings as if a phoenix souring toward the flames. The dream felt more and more surreal, unhinging Sasuko's mind, until finally he had little choice but to cry aloud to awaken, unable to handle any of it, as his cape suddenly failed, and he plunged down into the depths of the Sea of Rhun, the sea monsters soaring toward him beneath the waves, their jaws opening wide. Sasuko suddenly awoke as his face was lost between the rows of gnashing teeth while the sea ran red with blood.

Sasuko gathered his nerves together. He noticed that the Emperor's cape no longer brought him comfort. He begged his Emperor, "Send me............................... with Lord Shikon's adherents to Eir.......... there is a trade matter to facilitate..........and they will need servants....... I can learn much if I am there, and perhaps, be of aid to your Grace........."

The Emperor nodded, and shocked Sasuko, "Fine then. GO! I shall expect a fine report on their behavior when you return........and of your own........run away, child!"

And so it was that Sasuko journeyed to Eir to be captured by Beornor and brought captive to Dorwinion.

Amarthon gasped, "He did the same to me! That creature! That fell creature!"

Macilon's eyes glared brightly, "He allures and then he kills. That is his way. He draws you forth, makes you follow his false beauty. Then comes the knife. You are blessed to be alive, Sasuko....... let thy new cloak banish the fell memories of the former...... for yours is true, the other false..........be not deceived by similarities of appearance............you can feel the difference now, can you not?"

Sasuko nodded. Amarthon suddenly, deeply, embraced Sasuko, "Fear not......... I, too, as you have heard, was once caught within his clutches....... and by some strange fate I was permitted to part from his presence, a decision that we shall make him deeply regret..........."

Sasuko clung fast to Amarthon's embrace, "Yes........ he shall regret it.............."

There was a knock at the door. It was Angolhel. Lerion and Alagossel stood by her side. With them were Saelbainor the Mortal, Duvaissel, Ivordir, and Yucalwe.

Yucalwe stared at the circle as they sat, "The time has come Macilon. Tell me what you know.... or face the consequences...."
Edited by Ioristion, Jun 23 2016, 10:32 PM.
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Ioristion

Chapter LVXXV: Exiles at War

Yucalwe drew his sword, backing Macilon into a corner, "I have heard from mine former subordinates on the battlefield of the Last Alliance that you have quite frightened them in various ways.......... your behavior ill befits you, Noldo of Gondolin. But it well befits a traitor who slithered away............. King Fingon Findekano is not here to punish you, nor is King Maedhros, nor King Maglor, nor King Fingolfin, nor King Finwe, nor King Feanor, nor any of the Feanorian Princes, nor the Princes of Gondolin, Ecthelion and Glorfindel, nor King Turgon......... nor, for that matter, is Prince Maeglin here to save you, as if he ever would.........."

Macilon smirked and laughed, drawing his own blade, "Shall we play again my Lord? Why, I have been threatened countless times on this lovely journey! First in Lorien and then in the hills of Rhovanion, then hither within these Halls, then hither again. Time for another sparring match, is it? And what of these paltry guests?"

Angolhel whipped her dark purple cape around herself, fiery crimson lining flashing, as she boldly declared: "I am the High Sorceress of Harad, of the Shahadmaradi. And you shall face the undying wrath of my powers............."

Macilon smiled, "Stand aside, Yucalwe, it would appear it is time for a demonstration."

Angolhel chanted ancient Haradric incantations that her master had taught her in Saraj.

Macilon yawned, "To whom doth ye pray?"

"I pray to the Golden Serpent.... Goddess of the Golden Sands of Harad.........and to the Black Serpent, her majestic spouse................. the God of Dreams..........."

Macilon burst into laughter, "Yucalwe! You ought to teach thine underlings certain history lessons........ it may be deemed mythological to -her-, but it is not thus so......................."

Yucalwe turned toward Ivordir, "You did not tell her..........."

Ivordir shook his head, "I............did not know how to."

"Tell us what?" Alagossel was all ears.

Angolhel frowned, "Some fancy dissertation about how wrong and backward our beliefs are, I suppose............."

Macilon shook his head, "You are not far off the mark. But there is no Vala of the Sands. The Sands were made with the Earth. Aule is the Lord of the Elements. Irmo is the Lord of Dreams. While there is no Vala of the Sands, there is a Vala of the Stars, her name is Varda, known also as Elbereth Gilthoniel in our tongue."

Yucalwe nodded, "I should know....... for I have seen them from afar.............."

And Angolhel collapsed to the floor, her cape gathering in a heap, as tears streamed down her gold-toned cheeks, for she could not doubt the words of the Eldar. Alagossel and Lerion quickly joined her, pushing past the others.

Macilon scowled, "Get thine blade out of my way, Yucalwe."

Yucalwe lowered his blade as Macilon knelt down before Angolhel.

Macilon smiled sadly, "Let Varda be thine Golden Serpent....... for she is Matron of the Stars............. let Irmo be thine Black Serpent...... for he is Lord of Dreams............ but know they are neither gods nor goddesses, for in the beginning, there was ever only One, Who made them all...................."

Angolhel did not listen. She fled into the dark marrow of her near-despair, withdrawing from those around her, vanishing into the inner recesses of her soul, terrified of the implications of the Eldar. Who were Elves? Fell gods made to trick the wise, she had learned long ago. She feared and yet felt attracted to Macilon. She sought to resist. And through her resistance, her heart hardened, her darkness grew, as she declared: "I do not believe you............ You foul daemon..................."

Macilon laughed, "Daemon am I? You shall regret this folly....................." He unclasped his cape and whipped it over all their heads. Angolhel fought and bit and clawed against the folds. Her resistance gradually softened. When Macilon pulled the cape back that they might draw breath, they had fallen asleep. The rest stood vigil over them as they slept.
Edited by Ioristion, Jun 24 2016, 09:10 PM.
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Ioristion

Chapter LVXXVI: The Truth of Arda

Yucalwe drew his sword again, "What have you done with them..... you fell Sorcerer........."

But Macilon had closed his eyes and was clearly dreaming. Yucalwe pushed him and he fell to the floor, and he still did not awaken.

Yucalwe turned to Ivordir in his frustration, "This is bad................"

Ivordir shook his head, "Wait............ I have seen this before, in Pelargir, Tumladen, and other places........ even within my father's manse. It is the cape's doing, not this Macilon's......"

Yucalwe nodded, "Much you have learned...... but far more awaits......................"

Within the dream, Angolhel heard a harp playing, amidst a deep and dreary fog, a fair voice singing, and a dark shadow rising against the fog. Within the fog she beheld a raven with black wings lined with red, its feathers gleaming in the moonlight as the fog cleared. The raven landed before her, outstretching its wings, its iridescent feathers growing long, its body growing larger, until it became enshrouded completely in light, feathers replaced by bright folds of fiery red, Macilon bowing before her.

And Alagossel stood on a solemn sea, the sky lit golden by bright rays of sunlight, streaming, a moaning, terrorized voice, singing, across a crystalline sea, flowing, as the raven came, wings outstretching, enveloped in light, his fiery cape, flowing, Macilon smiling before her.

And Lerion found himself lost in lands of shadow, a great light from the West, rising, a flicker of flame in the East, glowing, and then came the raven, flying, lit bright, as a dove, sparkling, and then the bright-red lining, shining, twirling, billowing, Macilon dancing before him.

Then, in all three dreams, Macilon clasped his folds, and whipped them o'er them all. Then they all awoke in reality. Yucalwe had lowered his sword again. Macilon declared: "Come... all of you... we need a larger chamber."

They followed him into the Chamber of the Hearth, where a large hearth, roaring with flames, had been maintained for a thousand years, fed by wood consistently on a daily basis.

Macilon declared, "Now is the hour of Truth.... Lady Angolhel, unto the flames shall ye cast thine cape, for it hath touched mine own, granted unto me by the Maia, Uireb, bathed in the lands of the West, where dwell the Ainur, the Valar and the Maiar, all made, with us, by the One Who reigns forever. You have been raised in a deep tradition, not all of which was false, yet errors did it contain. You are marred with sorrow, I can tell, and do not wish to accept this."

Angolhel shook her head and said nothing, Alagossel and Lerion nodding beside her.

Macilon continued, "Then in the name of the Valar, toss thine cape into the flames. If unharmed, unburned, it remain, and its color, in some way, change, then let that be the sign, to hearken unto these words mine, that they may be thine......." He felt that the opposite would be the case, their own mythology would be restored in their minds, and it would all be for naught. He gave them the contest on the whim of his gut-instinct. He did not know why he felt that way. The entire plan seemed ludicrous.

Alagossel, Lerion, and Angolhel nodded in solemn agreement, sorrowful and fearful.

But Alagossel declared, "This, I shall not do, in the name of thy petty Valar, thy petty West. The Golden Serpent alone shall thence prevail."

Macilon nodded, "Fine, then. Let the rituals oppose each other."

And Alagossel let fall her long golden-brown tresses of silky hair that flowed down her whole body as if a cape unto itself, cloaking her atop her dark purple and fiery red silk cape. She stood in the center of the floor before the hearth, and spread her cape aloft, while Dorwinion Elves all gazed at the ritual curiously and apprehensively. Alagossel spun rapidly, her cape billowing around her with her flowing hair gleaming brightly, in her glittering splendour and magnificence. She paused and faced the hearth again, "In the name of the Golden Goddess, I yield my cape! May it return untarnished from the flames, so beautifully upon these shoulders mine, revealing thence thine Gifts Divine." She unclasped her cape and tossed it into the flames. Slowly and brilliantly it burned, till it turned dark and ash-ridden, disintegrating completely. "How can this be!" Alagossel yelled. Her warm golden-toned cheeks now streamed with tears.

Macilon folded his arms in his cape, "Now.... Lady Angolhel.... perform the same dance..... but in the name of the One Who made all things, with the intercession of the Lord of Dreams, and the Lady of Pity........."

Now Angolhel bowed soberly, "Very well...........if I must................"

And then she performed her dance, golden-brown hair billowing wildly, her cape whipping around her shimmering form, brightly, her fiery folds gleaming from the flames of the hearth. She paused and spread her cape aloft, declaring, "In the name of the One Who made all things, with the intercession of the Lord of Dreams, and the Lady of Pity.........I yield my cape................May it return untarnished from the flames, so beautifully upon these shoulders mine.............revealing thence thine Gifts Divine............." She spoke morosely. She unclasped her cape from her shoulders and tossed it in the flames, and turned around, and did not gaze back, until Macilon commanded her sternly, his eyes growing wide: "Turn...... and see.........."

The outer-folds of the cape had turned from dark purple to a bright lavender...... and her fiery lining was even brighter than before...........it appeared then to glitter in the flames. A solitary fold outstretched beyond the flames. Angolhel reached down and grasped it, pulling it forth, till the entire cape had parted from the flames. "I.......... how can this be........... is this yet another illusion?"

Macilon shook his head, his own face marked with awe and wonder, for he had not expected this conclusion, nor had the Maia told him about it: "My cloak touched thine own........ and this augmentation...................I cannot explain................ other than through the Truth that I had spoken........... and, in truth, never had I attempted to burn such a cape, so touched, before..........."

Angolhel felt a sudden wave of peace wash over her, tears streaming down her cheeks in a catharsis she herself could not explain. She could not speak. Macilon gently re-clasped her cape upon her shoulders.

Alagossel gazed at her master in a frenzy, for she had been much devoted to her tribe's religion. She grabbed at Angolhel's new folds and suddenly found a cape expanding from her grip, pulling it off, while Angolhel's own cape remained attached to her own shoulders. Now there were two.

Lerion's eyes were glistening with awe. He neither danced nor declared anything. He tossed his cape willfully into the fire. It burned deeply. He turned to Alagossel, grabbing her inner lining, and lo! A new cape was drawn forth, its outer folds a cross between lavender, red, and deep purple, as he clasped the cape around himself. The multiplicity of the flames had fanned-forth multiple capes. The miracle was consistent and repetitive, rendering it valid. His apprentice Malagi observed it all in his solemn silence. Malagi's eyes were filled to the brim with awe.

Silevren had joined them. He watched silently alongside Uialchon and Tinnuchon. He deeply embraced his wife, Alagossel, speaking nothing. She rested her weary head upon his shoulders. "Call me Alagoshel," she whispered. "For all of this has rendered me a girl again, a simpering lost child!" She wept. And she rested in the deep embrace of the arms of her husband.

The Elleth Alagossel had overheard her, standing silently in the rear of the chamber. She had been among the healers during the attack in Eregion. She approached and gently, maternally, stroked Alagoshel's hair, "Fear not............. for there are Powers greater............." Alagoshel nodded as she wept.

The Elleth Angolhel approached her mortal counterpart, who was embracing and kissing Lerion, her husband. They ceased kissing and turned to see her. "Fear not, for there are better ways than sorcery..............." The Elleth declared.

Angolhel nodded, wiping her tears from her face with her new cape, "I suppose there are............."

"Sorcery is vain and false," the Elleth declared in all her wisdom, "But there are enchantments greater... real and true......."

"May I name thee Angolýthril?"

"Magic Enchantress? It is tempting......."

Angolhel laughed.

The Elleth sighed, "Yet there is a prettier tongue that has been long forgotten......... Luhtiel...... Daughter of Enchantress....... for my Lady Mother was a great servant of Lorien........."

Angolhel nodded, "Very well. Then let me name you Angoluhtiel."

"An imperfect epossë, for it merges two tongues together....."

Macilon spoke, "Call it Exilic."

And Angoluhtiel pondered it in silence for many long moments. Finally, she declared, "It will suffice. I am honored to bear this name, Angolhel of the Desert Sands."

Lerion deeply smiled, "It is a beloved new name..........."

Angoluhtiel nodded sternly, "Do you wish to learn the Arts that I have been taught?"

Angolhel nodded deeply.

"Very well....... for I am not certain that a mortal may yet learn them........."

The rest of the chamber remained dumbstruck by the sudden bend in the laws of nature. But Ivordir, Abrazan, Amarthon, Auravon, Arancir, and Yucalwe were not surprised. They also knew the day would come when none of the capes would multiply.

Glossel had slipped into the chamber and observed it all. She marched up to Alagoshel, grabbed a fold, and pulled-off the third cape, glimmering in the hearth-light.

Macilon clasped his folds in wonder and, for the first time in ages, fear filled his heart. He tossed his cape into the flames. It did not burn. But black had lightened into maroon. And the last cape fell from Yucalwe's shoulders. Amarthon, Auravon, and Arancir gazed downward: numinous luminous golden and fiery crimson folds had gathered on the floor beneath them.

And Glossel whipped her new folds around Ivordir, wrapping him. Then came the kiss. And Ivordir lost himself in the maelstrom of his throbbing heart. She had finally gained the means to wrap him around her finger.
Edited by Ioristion, Jun 29 2016, 08:15 PM.
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Ioristion

Chapter LVXXVII: The Enchantress of Tumladen

"I love you, I love you more than anything in the world," she had said.

Ivordir shook his head, "Do you? Do you?" He had not believed her. She had ever been superficial. She had lived fantasies of her own design, pacing to and fro in the gardens of Tumladen, the sunlight slanting off the sheer-white marble walls, their lower recesses dirtied by the stains of time, and the scent of pine had arisen in the air, as it had always arisen as the sun would rise at dawn. Glossel reveled in her new cape. But Ivordir now shook his head, his eyes glaring with terror, as her shadow was transmogrified by the cloak. She seemed to him a new creature entirely.

"What is the matter now, my husband?" She gazed into his fear-filled eyes.

And Ivordir lied: "Nothing..." he shook his head again.

And Macilon raised his head, overhearing him. He stammered across the room, his cape stymieing his steps as he tread harshly upon his own folds, his light-feet preventing him from tripping-over completely. His maroon cape whisked behind him. It was fiery now on the exterior and inner lining, the exterior still darker than its inner folds, and he had begun to wonder at all that had transpired there that evening, that doom-filled evening, that loose thread in his entire narrative, when he began to realize and truly understand that he did not really know everything, that he wished he had known everything, and that he might not even know anything. The words of the Maia had been cryptic. And he wondered at the powers that now unfolded before them. Are the Valar still bestowing gifts, even now, when they had vanished beneath the tides of myths and legends, as Beleriand and Numenor beneath the Sundering Seas? Or are there darker, fell powers now at work. He turned and glared at Sasuko, who no longer appeared surprised at all that now transpired around him. Is Sasuko a traitor? The question gnawed at his mind as if the mandibles of a vast and baneful spider, the silky webs ever tightening around its prey, till at last it had them. Did Guldrambor carry a phial of the sacred spring, the stream, the lake, and did he use it on Angolhel's and Lerion's capes? The Silmarils were sacred... and they sat on Morgoth's brow for centuries, even though they burned him... And why would Guldrambor not use it on the cape of the young woman now known as Alagoshel? Her cape burned... And why, for that matter, would he give Amarthon his greatest gift, his only protection from himself? Did he have the same feelings, even despite all his crimes? Or did he have his own doubts... did he at last cast aside the last remnant of the memory of his brother, in a bid for vengeance...

Macilon opened his warm, weary lips, "Ivordir of Gondor........... oh Captain without a Title........... hear now these words. Do not seek to lie unto your wife. I can detect such lies. I only speak the truth. Therefore, take counsel with me, and know that.............." He whispered lowly, "I, too, fear at these powers..........."

And Glossel bellowed: "He fears these powers! He, who claim to know about them all!"

And the chamber was stricken to silence. And Macilon ran from the chamber. And Ivordir slapped his wife's cheek so hard, she fell onto the floor in tears, terrified of the man who loomed before her. And Ivordir stared down at his own strong hands, and fearing them, he ran from the chamber in the same direction as Macilon. And Glossel wept, she wept, for despite all of her efforts, she had remained her husband's prize, to manipulate and control, despite all the times she had attempted to flip the tables. She was soon resting in the arms of Yucalwe, who declared, "I will have words with him................... tonight you will rest with the Eldar, in peace..................." And she clung. She clung to Yucalwe's chest. And Yucalwe warmly, chastely, kissed her on her forehead, and they returned to Yucalwe's chamber, all, save for Ivordir, Macilon, and Sasuko.
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