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 (334 Views)
Deleted User	30 Jan 2009, 08:08 PM Post #11
Deleted User	She found, for the first time, that she had struck a topic with Erchirion that not only warmed him but seemed to light him up with a charming, boyish excitement. What she had so readily assumed about the prince, a snobby, overly proud male, may have or may not have been so simply the end of who he was as she had once predicted. Was it wrong to have judged him so harshly? Or was this small piece, just that, a small insignificant moment that would pass as quickly as the wind? Gwenneth offered only a smile and an attentiveness to his words as they walked. Listening to his descriptions of the sea, the waves and how beautiful it all had sounded. Deeply the female desired to see things like this. To know what a crashing wave breaking upon the shore sounded like and how the sea would smell. To feel it beneath herself as she sailed away on a boat, The Lanthir maybe, Gwenneth let herself imagine it all. She touched the pearl as he motioned to it. Petting it softly beneath her fingertips as if suddenly understanding more than its aesthetic value to him than before. It was such a gift for him to give and she couldn't help but wonder why he hadn't kept something so precious for himself. For someone else that might capture and posses him so passionately as the sea seemed to. "I would only be so fortunate, my lord" was her airy and whispered reply as she sunk into the chair. The sea was so far away in her mind, such an impossibility that she didn't believe she'd see it and this bittersweet notion was carried inside her tone. She had more freedom now but she also had a heavier load of responsibility to Gondor. To herself. As Erchirion sat beside her, another surprise, Gwenneth felt herself straighten her posture as she unfolded a napkin onto her lap. She hadn't thought to sit next to him. His sister and her husband would have made better company for him but suggesting that he move would have come off as cruel as it was rude. "I..." she said turning her face down towards her right shoulder while keeping her eyes on the fine place setting in front of the Prince. "you honor me more than I deserve with such a gift." Gwenneth very pointedly keeps her voice low and between them. "should you ever, change your mind...I won't be offended...." the sentence trails off as she turns her features back to her own place setting and listens as the swell of music picks up. Fine men and woman alike, surrounding them, eating and getting up to dance. "When will you be returning to your lady, my lord?" Gwenneth speaks referring to Erchirion's earlier description of the sea and the wild untameable woman it seemed to him. "Your passionate words make even me miss her."
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Deleted User	4 Feb 2009, 02:54 PM Post #12
Deleted User	Erchirion heard a wistful catch in Gwenneth’s voice. He did not think she believed he would show her the sea. She voiced the sentiment only a moment later, giving him permission to renege. It had been a mistake to be so informal with her. Clearly, she had made an opinion of him and would not be dissuaded. He looked forward and adopted a rigid posture. “We are truth-speakers in Dol Amroth, Lady Gwenneth,” he said coldly. “I have promised to show you the sea aboard Lanthir. This I will do, if you wish it.” The feast was presented then. The cooks and butlers had gone beyond what Erchirion had expected. Loyal friends the Rohirrim were, but he did not count them as very sophisticated. Yet the meal laid out for himself and Gwenneth was equal to any banquet in Merethrond. It was to his sister’s credit, he thought. Gwenneth’s tones confused him. Was she assuming he was a feckless cad or dashing hero? One moment he was certain of her opinion, and the next he was cast into doubt again. “No, I will not return to the sea for a long while,” Erchirion answered Gwenneth. “While our enemy moves through Rohan and Eregion, I am confined to the land. No army can stay landlocked forever. There will be need of Gondor’s fleet eventually. I look forward to that day. And until then, I will hope for some happy accident that requires my presence at sea.”
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Deleted User	4 Feb 2009, 06:31 PM Post #13
Deleted User	Gwenneth wondered if the Prince had taken his tone from the sea. Was it as cold and icy as the Prince himself seemed to be? Was a man so consumed by something only doomed to become it? It seemed at times the notion might be true. One minute Erchirion blew cold and the next he would be warm, bright even as she imagined the sea was when the sun shined down on it. He was pliable and encouraging but then so very rough and rigid. She suspected all of these were a likeness to the sea he had described earlier and to a point it worried her. People drowned in the sea if they were not careful. Would she fall victim to him in such a way? Politely she smiled, stared down at her food and chose silence as her response. Keeping her posture lean and tall but relaxed at the shoulders and in the face. If there was one thing, perhaps the only thing, her father had done right it was teaching her the lessons of humiliation. Over and over she had felt this humility of not being 'enough' from Sadorannant and the cool, easy rejection from the Prince now seemed to sting with its pungent familiarity. From across the way a stout, white haired little man divided the sea of dancers and made his approach. The Ambassador of Gondor was a chubby faced and friendly looking fellow who wore a smile so warm it could have melted the Icebay of Forochel. He was garbed in fine layers of rich fabrics that were embroidered with a humbling design. Simplicity at its finest. Gwenneths smile lit up, she knew this man well and had many times in her youth - as well as his younger years - been tossed up into the sky by him and caught. Never once had she feared being dropped. He had strong hands, endlessly reaching arms and a large heart. It was more than an honor to serve as his apprentice now, it almost felt like coming home. "Ah, good Prince." The Ambassador bowed deep and low without hesitation to show his respect. "It is a distinguished pleasure to have you here, I am the Ambassador of Gondor." He rose, waiting for the Princes response before he glimpsed towards Gwenneth. His eyes seemed to warm, in an obvious way, as he looked upon her with a sunny type of pride addressed through his stare that the formality of his words did not match. "Lady Gwenneth, may I welcome you as well. I have been expecting your arrival with great anticipation. My congratulations on your appointment as apprentice."
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Deleted User	11 Feb 2009, 03:04 PM Post #14
Deleted User	The sudden frigidness between Erchirion and Gwenneth was melted away by the sunny appearance of Gondor’s Ambassador to Rohan. He was not a man Erchirion was intimate with, but had heard spoken about often enough. He had been informed of the man, his reputation, and his service to Gondor before arriving in this country through routine reports coming from Edoras. “Well met, Gelir,” Erchirion said, as warmly as he could manage after Gwenneth’s cold rejection. “It is a pleasure and an honor to finally meet your Lordship.” He glanced sidelong at Gwenneth, then back to Gelir. He was imagining how the apprenticeship might work for them both. The Ambassador being an unending well of warmth and gaiety; his apprentice neither. Erchirion’s grey eyes flitted around the hall. Was it only he who felt Gwenneth’s cold water current bruising his skin? “Will you do us the honor of joining us for a glass of wine?” Erchirion was motivated to make this offer not out of politeness or any real desire to speak more with the Ambassador, but to have some human buffer between himself and Gwenneth. And yet, the moment he extended the invitation, he wished he had not. He wanted to speak to her alone again. He wondered, like a Captain turning leeward to catch the wind in his sails, if he might recapture the moment of warmth between them.
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Deleted User	17 Feb 2009, 09:08 PM Post #15
Deleted User	Gwenneth had sat a complete vision of a lady during the entire glass of wine and extended conversation with Gelir. She had encouraged the conversation by asking well thought out questions and managed to distract herself by voicing her opinions with a subtly and grace that any worth while Ambassador would want to master. The Ambassador stayed for his wine and she extended the invitation to join them for dinner he had heartily accepted. Thank the gods for it too, Gwenneth wasn't sure if she had the strength or courage to face down with the Prince alone again. Not that part of her hadn't been nagging throughout the meal in the back of her mind to invent another opportunity for it, she just honestly believed the urge was completely one-sided. Now as the sun had long since sunk back below the horizon and the torches had been lit to offer a moody, somewhat romantic ambiance throughout Meduseld, Gwenneth had excused herself after dancing with a second noble and drifted out to the platform of the great stairs. There she stood, her hands rubbing down her arms for warmth and watched as Edoras put itself to bed. Even with the music in the hall behind her she could still hear the quiet plea's of children to their mothers, the warm snap and crackle of fire places and the comforting sound of nothing but calm the night washed over the city. It truly was beautiful. Lost to these thoughts and more, Gwenneth was unwisely unaware of her watcher. The Crebain sat eerily still and silent. His slick oil black eyes watching the woman with a great attention and care. His long sharp beak glinting below the glow of the moon. It had come alone in the darkness by its masters bidding. To find the magic gem that had slipped through the Hand of Saurons fingers the day Leoynna was slain. When the sounds of footsteps approaching started to grow near, Gwenneth turned but was struck frozen with fear. The wretched creature stared into her eyes for but a moment, gave one foul cry and swooped off its perch. Diving down straight towards where the apprentice stood, rooted and unable to move.
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Deleted User	20 Feb 2009, 09:13 PM Post #16
Deleted User	Laughter rang across the table as Gelir told one animated tale after another about life in the Riddermark. Glancing sidelong at his sister, Erchirion wondered if the transition from mariner culture in Dol Amroth to horse culture in landlocked Rohan had been as frustrating and amusing as Gelir made it seem. He had never thought to ask her. It was a woman’s lot in life; to be the delight of her father and love of her husband, but only at great cost to her own wishes. Thinking of those women, the Prince took notice of how long Gwenneth had been missing. She was one woman, perhaps the only one he had ever known, who had not followed the path predetermined for women of high birth. She had not betrayed Gondor along with her father, but neither did she hastily find a husband to protect her. It was a novel notion to Erchirion that a woman would want to prove her fealty by her own merit, though he’d never had any doubts women could do so. He felt an unexpected respect, and yet, also deprived of something distinctly masculine. “If you’ll excuse me, my Lord.” The air was freshening with a southerly breeze. Somewhere on the sea, Captains were dropping canvas and racing across the waves away from their countries and the shackles that bound them. They were free of their burdens tonight; he was not. Erchirion was not alone. Gwenneth had come to this spot as well. He saw her standing not too far away. Like a ship to a maelstrom, he could not ignore her, and he found that he did not want to. It was the eerily familiar caw of a crebain that startled Erchirion’s attention away from Gwenneth. The scar on his face ignited in phantom pain at the sound, and the memory of the day he should have died rushed back to him. Like on that day, his muscles sprang to action before his mind had ordered them to. Strong arms wrapped around Gwenneth, Erchirion crushed her to his chest and stepped into one of the niches along the side of Meduseld. He thought, for a moment, the bird would follow into the Golden Hall, but it wheeled away and disappeared into the clouds. Only after it was gone did Erchirion release Gwenneth. “Only one?” he mused. “That is strange behavior for any bird, but especially a crebain.”
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Deleted User	21 Feb 2009, 05:34 PM Post #17
Deleted User	The rush of a body was the first thing Gwenneth felt, the hard press of a male whose arms held her tightly to him and quickly out of danger. They were weathered hands but still soft and surprisingly capable of tenderness. The young apprentice hadn't dared look up or away at first, so frightened that she was unable to do very little except suppress the scream that had started in her throat but choked on itself when the Prince had pulled her out of harms way. No, she hadn't screamed but for all her strength she couldn't stop her hands from shaking. Those wretched violent birds, creatures that did no good but terrorize the innocent. Gwenneth looked up for the first time when she felt Erchirion slip back to give her space and immediately her body missed the warmth. She shivered as she rubbed her hands together and tried to calm her breathing. Starring for a moment almost through Erchirion into some distant strand of thought before her eyes finally seemed to focus more intimately on his own. Her blue eyes, blue eyes of the sea. Blue eyes of kindness and of strength. Blue eyes that had many times turned as formidable as the tides clashing inside a storm and at others were soft like the calm, peaceful surface of a pond. Now, unlike ever before, her blue eyes were of secrets. Buried treasure at the bottom of an ocean, sitting waiting surrounded by many marvels and dangers. "My Prince," Still trembling a little she spoke finding it difficult to offer words that justified her gratitude. "...Hannon-le." was what it would come down to. Bowing her head in a reserved show of homage with her eyes closed. She didn't know much of the Sindarin language but she knew this and saying her thanks was the least she would do. *Translation: "Hannon-le" - "Thank you"
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Deleted User	23 Feb 2009, 02:08 PM Post #18
Deleted User	Erchirion realized, as Gwenneth thanked him, that he should have inquired if she was all right rather than observe the behavior of the bird. He cursed himself silently. Such a question had never occurred to him, except where Lothiriel was concerned. “I wish only to see you safe, Gwenneth,” he said, with an uncharacteristic flush of emotion in his voice. “And, please, call me Erchirion. I hope we are friends enough for that.” Friends might not have been the right word. He was still unsure of where he stood with Gwenneth. But that he had intervened before the crebain could harm her, and that she was grateful he had, gave him some small amount of hope. Erchirion might have said more, but a messenger dressed in the livery of King Elessar appeared at the foot of Meduseld, his chest rising and falling with the exertion of racing to Edoras. The Prince felt a mixture of dread and anticipation. Was it possible, so soon after arriving, that he would be called home again? Or was it a letter to Eomer with more ill tidings? When the messenger spotted Erchirion, he bowed low. “My Prince, I bring tidings from King Elessar to you and King Eomer. With your leave, here is your letter, and I must see the King of the Mark as soon as he is free.” Erchirion broke the seal on the letter while the door wardens spoke with the messenger. It was in the King’s script, telling of many recent tidings. At the end of the letter, Elessar requested and required Erchirion’s presence in Ithilien by month’s end. The King was in need of a ship and a Captain. There was a rushing of elation like the roar of waves breaking on the beach in Erchirion’s ears. He was going to sea again. With the light renewed in his eyes, he turned to Gwenneth to tell her the news. But he felt some conflicting feeling creeping over him, like a rip tide dragging him beneath the water. “It seems you will not be inflicted with my presence much longer. I am recalled to Gondor by the King. There is a mission I am to lead into Harad. Uraes, found on the banks of River Harnen, is in short supply.” Erchirion refolded the letter and tucked it safely away. He kept all his orders bound together in his chest like some kind of secondhand diary of events. His Captain’s log detailed facts and figures, but lacked the context. The missives often reminded him of the importance of his missions and what he was fighting for. “Before I speak with Eomer and my sister, I will take you to the Healer.”
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Deleted User	26 Feb 2009, 04:36 PM Post #19
Deleted User	Whatever she had to say, whatever it was she might have told him was silenced by the arrival of the messenger. Her heart sank when the opportunity was swept away, disheartened by how easily a moment could pass by too quickly and be regrettably missed. Due to her own reluctance, that moment would never be had. Quietly she watched as the two men greeted and quickly let the missive exchange hands. Her bright blue eyes darkening over with an unexplained sort of dread as Erchirion unfolded the paper and started to read. Most times it would have helped that the news had come from Elessar, the King of Gondor, for all that he was had become also a dear friend and to be honest a piece of her family. One of the few pieces she had left. Gwenneth watched and searched for some answer in his face but by the light of his eyes she suspected the inevitable. His words stung as little bee's at her heart. Pricking over and over until inside felt more than just a little numb. He was leaving before he'd really even arrived and worst of all, suggesting it was what she wanted? "Inflicted?" Her temper and frustration bound by a single thread that was fraying from both ends. Had he not just called them friends? Spared her from the likes of Crebain but still he was an infliction? Taking a single step back Gwenneth turned her eyes away and stared at a loss into the night. "No it is me and the land who inflict upon you. I suppose I'll offer my congratulations. You return to your lady, Prince. What better news for you than that?" Clearly recalling his words of the sea, his love for them and the comparison of it to a lover or mistress. The sea was all consuming, so massive and filled with awe it shouldn't have surprised her there was no room left in his heart for others. What was a woman, after all, against the sea? "I'll thank you but will see myself to the healer. You have packing and loved ones to bid your goodbyes to and I won't keep you from them." Curtsying low, she bowed gracefully as a blossomed but drooping flower and tilted her head down in a formal farewell. It was all she could give to a man who belonged to the sea.
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