7 Fourth Age: For a Prince & a Lady

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7 Fourth Age: For a Prince & a Lady; Invite:Erchirion Lothiriel Eomer Gamling
Topic Started: 9 Jan 2009, 11:36 PM (335 Views)
Deleted User	9 Jan 2009, 11:36 PM Post #1
Deleted User	Inside the carriage Gwenneth had shifted positions, fidgeted with her hands and hair and gone over in her head her recent conversation with Elessar. The pair had shared a short, but pleasant, conversation over a walk around the White tree and for the first time Gwenneth had confessed the change in direction her ambitions were taking. Courteously the King listened well, seemed appreciative of her eager energy and had offered her a place of apprenticeship under the Lord Ambassador, currently residing in Rohan. It had set Gwenneth's heart on fire to even have the opportunity and she had agreed, graciously, but quickly the offer with her earnest heart felt gratitude. Now as the buzz of excitement had worn off and the reality settled in that for first time in her life she was going to be living outside of Gondor, the vicious claws of her nerves had sunk in. Saying she felt sick only began to elaborate on the churning that was on going in her stomach and she had long since began to wonder when had butterflies started giving birth to mûmakil. Never the less, Gwenneth thought to herself as the stagger and sway of the carriage began to slow. You'll be strong, confident and perfectly capable. It didn't matter what her father had done, they were different people and though she was certain the rumors of her fathers treachery had spread as wild fire through the brush, she would overcome and meet her future head on. As she stepped out of the carriage, wearing a simple traveling gown of dark plums and black, she gave her hand to the driver as he offered his assistance down and Gwenneth's eyes lit up with a magical spark of energy. She had, not once in her life, laid eyes on Edoras or Meduseld and fell deeply into the sway of its charm. Needless to say it wasn't as large or as grand as Gondor had been but the slighter, more earthen toned city had an air of strength and grandeur all it's own. There was something compelling about the simple beauty of the place, the innate feeling that overcame as she stepped down onto the earth and took her time drinking in the view until it at last fell upon the 'Golden Hall' of Edoras before her. It was so much better than in the books, she thought inwardly as she smoothed down the fabric over her navel and started up the stairs that led to the doors of the Golden Hall. She reminded herself a few more times to breath but found herself caught, bewitched and breathless as the great doors of the hall began to open and she was guided in...
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Deleted User	11 Jan 2009, 05:34 PM Post #2
Deleted User	Erchirion had only lately arrived in Edoras after a bloody battle in Farrowhelm, which he had happened to chance on during his journey north. It seemed all the West was embroiled in combat these days, and the Prince of Dol Amroth could not escape it. It was good that Erchirion was a man of action, for there was plenty of turmoil to be found these days. After a bath and a change of clothes, he had been called to the Great Hall where the Lord Ambassador was to receive a new apprentice from Minas Tirith. Erchirion could think of a number of young Lords who might have earned that post. Secretly, he wished for it to be Berethon, with whom he had been friends for most of his life. Everyone in the Hall was dressed in their finest for this occasion. Erchirion was no exception, though he preferred his armor over this velvet navy tunic. He felt oddly unbalanced with no sword at his hip. As the doors of the Golden Hall began to open, Erchirion stood to attention and peered through the shadows to see the figure approaching. He felt a double punch of disappointment and dread in his gut. Berethon had not earned this posting, but Lady Gwenneth had. He felt as if the world was conspiring against him. First, he had been deprived of his ship due to lack of Corsairs to battle. Next, his father had sent him away from Dol Amorth for “loitering” to be a vassal at his younger sister’s court. And now, King Elessar had sent to Gondor a Lady who was not only unimpressed by him, but seemed to genuinely despise him. “Lady Gwenneth,” Erchirion managed to say, “the Princes of Dol Amroth congratulate you on this auspicious appointment.” He inclined his head slightly, both to offer his recognition of Gwenneth’s great achievement, and to turn his eyes away from a glance that he suspected would hold contempt.
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Deleted User	12 Jan 2009, 05:41 AM Post #3
Deleted User	She saw his shadow first, the outline of his shape, before the light inside began to dance seductively along his jaw as she approached and slowly unwrapped his presence for her eyes and bathed him in a soft apricot glow. Immediately she noticed his attire. The finest brand of work of course, what else would be afforded to a Prince? The lush navvy blue spoke of both royalty and of flattery to his eyes. The colour more than complimenting and enhancing the deep brown of his stare. Feeling suddenly under dressed, Gwenneth ran a hand through her hair to try to smooth out the edge of traveling and casually brushed down the front of her gown to rid it off what subtle wrinkles may have appeared. There were others in the room, equally garbed in sophistication and elegance that made Gwenneth reluctant to go on very further. When she turned her focus back to the Prince to respond, she paused only for a moment to collect her nerves and tamp down the frustration the male seemed to naturally bring out of her. "Thank you," she spoke as she curtsied and then rose languidly back up. "The Princes of Dol Amroth honor me with their felicitations." The choice words she uses pointing out that he'd not given his personal congratulations but the grouping of them, which begrudgingly knotted her stomach with annoyance and in turn made her irritable with herself. She'd met and greeted many royals in her time. Even as a child of the Chamberlain she had been taken into high courts and never handled herself so poorly as she did with Erchirion. "You look," Gwenneth paused, obviously struggling with her wording and gave a meek smile of what seemed pure etiquette and nothing more. "well." She announces decidedly. "After the trouble in South Ithilien, I hadn't expected," she starts to confess her surprise of his presence and cuts herself off sharply. "Your sister must be delighted you're visiting." For a moment she let her eyes stray away from the Prince, refusing to make a display of her fluster or indicate she felt unhinged in his presence. Her stare draws back to the small private crowd and decides to herself that it would have been better to stand in the mess of her simple traveling gown in front of them then it was with Erchirion. He clearly wasn't impressed or partial to her company and she blamed it mostly on her informal wear.
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Deleted User	16 Jan 2009, 04:16 PM Post #4
Deleted User	Automatically, Erchirion’s finger rose to the angry red scar running diagonally across his face. The swelling had gone down and the color was not as livid as it had been. From a Healer’s perspective, perhaps he looked well. Erchirion did not see this battle scar as “well” nor would he in the future when the wound turned into an unsightly pale line, a permanent reminder that he had fought an Elf and lost. “Thank you, Lady Gwenneth. You are kind to say so. Yes, and I am very pleased to have time with my sister. We have been separated by distance and duty for too long.” Erchirion was not sure he had ever been party to a colder or more formal reception. These platitudes were very uncharacteristic, and the prolonged presence of a woman who did not like him was uncomfortable. “I have something for you,” Erchirion said, leaning towards Gwenneth and speaking in a fast whisper. He could practically feel the straining ears of the others and their insatiable curiosity springing to life. “I commissioned it before I knew you would be here and was waiting until I saw you next, but … since we are both here …” Erchirion’s servant arrived back at his side, gasping for breath and holding a box, which he handed over at once. The Prince offered it to Gwenneth. The blue velvet felt soft on his rough hands, and the silver G rune glittered in the half-light. Yet Erchirion knew its glow would pale in comparison to the shine of dwarven-made pearl and mithril choker inside. “As an apology, my Lady, for my lead tongue when we last met in Ithilien.” And Erchirion forced himself to believe the gift was an apology; an apology and nothing more.
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Deleted User	20 Jan 2009, 02:53 AM Post #5
Deleted User	The placid set of Gwenneth's blue eyes watched as Erchirion ran his finger down his scar. She couldn't imagine what he felt about it but looking at it, more closely now than she had before, she realized that it somehow made him more attractive. It might've been simply knowing he had served others in getting it or maybe it was because Gwenneth didn't think she'd ever tire of his face - scars or not. Whatever the reason, part of her that she kept festered away deep inside wanted to shadow his finger with her own. Instead she sheepishly lowered her eyes and did her best not to blush. A feat that was flawlessly destroyed when the Prince leaned in a little closer and whispered that he'd had something for her. Her eyes raised with surprise back towards the Prince and she cursed the sun when she felt the familiar burn of red flare beneath her cheeks. "For me?" Gwenneth stared at the blue little box and then his hands that cradled it. He had gentleness for a man who knew his way around a sword so well. At least she'd been thinking so before he swiftly managed to have it exchange hands with her own, giving her no honest chance to argue. "Oh well, I..." She tripped foolishly over her tongue. "Your apology wasn't necessary then and it isn't necessary now, my lord. You spoke nothing that wasn't truth." Awkwardly Gwenneth shifted her eyes towards the crowds. How they gathered and whispered, pretended to talk but she could already feel her ears buzzing from being talked about. She had only just arrived and here was the Prince, the Queens brother offering a gift? But it wasn't until Gwenneth turned her attention to the box that she slowly opened it. At first she just revealed a crack before she lifted the lid completely and feltl all the air from her lungs whoosh out of her chest without warning. It was beautiful, no, beautiful understated what the choker inside was and the large expressions of her eyes immediately suggested she was taken by it. Gwenneth had to shake herself out of the state of disbelief and shut the box to find some measure of sanity. "It's divine....really, Thank you." She bowed her head and looked at him with softly apologetic eyes. "I'm not certain it would be right for me to accept such a gesture, truly you did nothing wrong."
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Deleted User	21 Jan 2009, 02:27 PM Post #6
Deleted User	Gwenneth’s words caused Erchirion some confusion. He had been certain she’d found his remarks inappropriate and irritating, yet now she was saying he had done no wrong. He marked it up to the strange workings of a woman’s mind. They were incomprehensible creatures in general. “Yes, my Lady, for you.” He watched with some trepidation as Gwenneth lifted the lid of the box. Truth could be seen in the face, so he kept a vigil of her features. When she said it was a divine gift, he believed her completely and felt a sense of relief. Then she refused the gift. Panic welled up in him at the thought of being spurned in front of the entire court. “You must keep it, Lady Gwenneth!” Erchirion exclaimed. “It was made for you and no other. To refuse it would be a terrible insult to m—the jeweler.” Erchirion saw, from the corner of his eye, an old Lord of the Mark shaking his head in disapproval. The Prince was irritated to learn that even the less formal Rohirrim found his courtly manners sorely lacking. He turned and glared at the Lord, which earned him a tsk. All soldiers know when a strategic retreat is called for, and Erchirion found this one of those times. He would not stand around and earn himself more admonition. It would be best to move on from this lengthy greeting. “I believe there is a feast planned in our honor,” Erchirion stated. “May I accompany you to the Hall?”
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Deleted User	21 Jan 2009, 09:15 PM Post #7
Deleted User	His reaction was sharp and somehow, Gwenneth felt, honest. Something that confused the already pungent baffled state of mind even more. Why should he care so much? And then it dawned on her as she looked once more around the room. Everyone had seen, openly, the refusal and surely that must have wounded his pride. Assuming that it was his pride and not his caring that had been the issue, Gwenneth paused as Erchirion suggested they made their way into the hall. Taking a brief moment to remove her mothers amulet and store it safely in the interior pocket of her gown. It hurt a little, to feel the absence of its weight but knew for a couple hours it would do no harm, especially if it meant repairing a man - no, a princes pride. "Before we proceed, Would you honor me further by helping me put it on?" She requested with a demure tone. Re-opening the box to unfasten the trinket and handed its now empty contents to the servant. She kept the pearl in the scoop of her palm as she offered it to him. An action she hoped he would see as both an apology and a means of amendment. With her free hand Gwenneth swept under the thick tendrils of her hair and pulled them to one shoulder and over. Exposing the smooth, lean column of her throat and the skin beneath it that shimmered as peaches and gold.
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Deleted User	22 Jan 2009, 02:35 PM Post #8
Deleted User	Erchirion thought he read in Gwenneth’s hesitation a renewed dislike of him, or at the least some disapproval of his intentions or behavior. Chagrined, though not wishing any amount of courtly propriety upon himself, he stared resolutely ahead. He would not look to any of the Lords or Ladies in this Hall and be cowed by their expressions. Neither would he give in to Gwenneth’s perceived dislike of him. It provided him with a perfect battle of wills. Striving to become more proper would make it appear that he had bowed to the manners of others, something he would never do. But to not work for more politeness would only lower Gwenneth’s opinion of him more. “Yes, of course,” the Prince agreed, taking the pearl necklace from her palm. Jewelry was, to him, items wholly foreign, except circlets, signets, and crowns. Even so, he handled the choker as if he might have been familiar with it once long ago. His fingers showed the same gentle dexterity and caution as when he lifted an arrow from another’s quiver or grasped a repaired sword—somehow loving and reluctant. “The colors of the sea flatter you, my Lady. You look as one of the Ladies of Dol Amroth. They favor the pearl above all other jewels, though they do not wear them as well as you.” In the twilight, the pearls danced blue, green, and bright white, like the sun reflecting on a choppy winter wave. Though it was out of place in Rohan, where the only seas were made of grass, the white and blue of Dol Amroth would never look amiss on any Gondorian, at least to Erchirion’s eyes. “Will you accept my arm so I might lead you to dinner?”
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Deleted User	22 Jan 2009, 08:42 PM Post #9
Deleted User	The Prince managed in a show of sincere appreciation towards the pearl. His hands, a swordsman's hands, using not the power that would grip their weapon but a foreign sort of caution and carefulness that didn't come from any sort of sword play. The pearl fell easily around her throat and Gwenneth watched as it slid along the skin between her collar bones and rested there between them. A single light touch, an languid swipe of her pointer finger drew out its shape as she admired it and gracefully let her hand fall away. When Erchirion stepped back and commented on its appearance, Gwenneth found herself able to do little more than bow her head and offer a small, fleeting smile. Very few men had complimented her in such ways through her experience and it made her shift with modest insecurity as she slipped her hand through his arm and the pair began to walk. The silence seemed to stretch on and on for Gwenneth, even though it had only been seconds to pass and she blurted out randomly just to chase away the awkwardness a small piece of conversation. "I've never been." She said in a low, partially curious and partially shamed confession. "To Dol Amroth, or the sea."
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Deleted User	27 Jan 2009, 02:38 PM Post #10
Deleted User	Erchirion’s breath caught in his throat. To have never seen Dol Amroth or the sea would have made his life incomplete. He could not imagine an existence without the shining city or its gray waves. He grasped at words, attempting to find some adequate response. He could find none, so he retreated to his usual method: bold honesty. “I confess myself astounded, my Lady,” Erchirion stated. It was often a topic of discussion, particularly among diplomats, how anyone, especially a Prince, could enjoy the cramped and minimal lifestyle of a Captain. The ships were packed from hull to deck with unwashed men and victuals that drew rats and vermin. Disease ran rampant through the fleet and death was as likely to come from ill fortune as battle. Still, Erchirion loved that life like no other. As he led Gwenneth to the feast, he attempted to explain it. “The wave cannot be tamed, and it takes no sides. Yet there is a friendship in its wildness for the few who are able to see beauty amid deadly peril. The freshening breeze and swift currents will never lead astray the Captains who respect them and care for them enough to devote their lives to studying them. It becomes painful to leave the sea, worse so to be banished from it. There are few Corsairs to fight now, but the sea has me in her grip, and she calls to me each second I am awake and enters my dreams when I am not. My life is Dol Amroth and my ship, Lanthir, which defends her as part of the fleet. I am, before anything else, a Prince of Dol Amroth and a Captain. My life is twined with my city and ship. If they should cease to exist, then so would I.” Erchirion sensed he might be rambling on too long about the sea, which Gwenneth could not understand without seeing it. Once he began thinking about his ship and the freedom he had there, it was nigh impossible to send his attention someplace else. “I found this pearl,” he said, motioning to Gwenneth’s choker, “in a tidal pool on a small sandy island in the Bay of Belfalas. It is three leagues from shore, and still within the territory of Gondor. I would have you see it someday so that you might know the beauty of the sea like I do.” They entered the hall where the table was placed for the great feast. The Prince pulled out a chair at the High Table for Gwenneth, then took his own seat at her right side.
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