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NPC Aria
The Queen's Quest

It was a beautiful day for a walk. Aria was a bit of a homebody, so having a task assigned which forced her to leave her comfort of the city was a bit intimidating, but she was confident she could complete the task. It was, after all, for Queen Arwen herself.

Aria made her way down to the first level, swinging the basket she had brought, and hesitated before walking out the gate. There was plenty of traffic, with traders, soldiers, and various other people going about their daily business and tasks. Aria took a deep breath and joined the flow of traffic, glad it was early in the day and she would be home much before dark. She decided to walk toward the Pelennor Farmsteads, although she would likely complete her mission prior to having to go terribly far.

Her task was to provide a bouquet of freshly picked flowers from Pelennor Fields for Queen Arwen’s dinner table. Her ladyship had long been fond of these flowers, apparently, since Lady Eowyn of Rohan had commented favorably on them. It seemed an easy task, but Aria was still nervous. She had never interacted with the Queen before, and was unsure what flowers the Queen would find favorable. She would have thought an intricate arrangement from the marketplace would have been appropriate, but the Queen had specifically requested the wildly growing flowers from the field. Perhaps a simple arrangement, then, would be best and what the Queen preferred.

Aria wandered as far from the gates as she felt comfortable, which, when she looked up, felt quite far away indeed, although in reality were still fairly close, as there were families with children out enjoying the fine day with picnics as well. This time of year there were plenty of blooming wildflowers, and Aria was mildly worried it would be harder to narrow down the selection than she had originally anticipated.

The first flower which drew Aria’s eye was the cornflower. It was her favorite shade of blue. While she had never met the Queen, she had seen her before, and she had been clad in this particular shade. It seemed a good choice, and would go with whatever décor the dining room happened to be. Aria gathered a dozen or so, and then immediately had a thought. Did she need a vase? Lothwen had not mentioned it. Most likely not, as the Queen’s household likely had plenty, and more elaborate than any she would be able to find, but she would want to stop at home and put them in at least a jar. as she did not actually own a vase.

Once she had selected the cornflowers, she found bluebells growing very close to where she had been. She groaned. She already had blue flowers, but bluebells were her personal favorite. They were not going to clash, so she decided to go ahead. She wandered a bit further afield, looking for something with a contrasting color. A handful of buttercups easily met that qualification.

Just one more thing to make the bouquet really pop, she thought to herself, wandering throughout the fields as she tried to decide. Fortunately it was summer, and there were plenty of options, as many flowers were still in full bloom. Aria smiled as a purple flower caught her eye. Shooting Stars! Perfect! They were just what she needed. She picked a few, humming under her breath as she enjoyed the warm weather. Straightening, she evaluated the flowers in her basket. Blues, yellow, and a few purple blossoms were the perfect combination.

Aria took her time walking back toward the city, but soon returned. She made a brief stop at her small house, and, after a minute or two of digging around in the pantry, found an empty canning jar that would do for a vase. She wished she had something finer to offer, but unfortunately she did not. This would still work, however, and it was likely the royal staff would transfer the flowers to a more appropriate vessel prior to the dinner. Aria took a few minutes to put water in the jar, and arrange the flowers, mostly according to type. She had eschewed the idea of adding greenery, and she preferred the simplicity of just the flowers. Making a last adjustment or two, she smiled, satisfied with her work. Picking up the jar, she set out to return to the Seventh Circle and deliver the arrangement to Lothwen.

Pelennor Fields - Shortly before dawn, the day after the battle

The icy fingers of cold ran across the dead bodies that lay scattered haphazardly around covering the ground, mists swirling in the predawn light, emphasised by the few torches that were carried by the scavengers or the torches attached to the wagons that were getting loaded up with the dead bodies. Mere moments before the world woke, the field was eerily still, as if you would be tempting fate or interupting the dead in their sleep if you made a noise. For the poor souls that had moved on to Mandos' Hall knew not of the discomfort of those unfortunate enough to be working through the night, stacking body after body onto the wagons and driving them over to the huge pyres that would burn for many days to come. Only those who were most foolhardy or desperate enough ventured down to the fields after the sun had set, to either seek for their beloved losts ones, or to scavenge what little they could to help feed their families in the coming months, that all knew would be hard. Those that did it for self profit were few and far between as even they did not like the eeriness of the field at this hour, many later telling the tales of how the dead would move or how they had felt the mist crawling up around them and almost swallowing them within.

"Oi, Halbarad, give us a hand will ya?"

The voice was no more than a whisper that barely penetrated the thick mist that swirled around their wagon. Barely able to see his partner, Adrahil called out again, though kept it to a whisper still.

"Halbarad! A hand!?"

Adrahil almost screamed as he suddenly felt a slap on his back, making the other man chuckle.

"You nervous or something?"

Halbarad gave his partner a more comforting squeeze to his shoulder as he too was left feeling uneasy with the unsettling mists and the eerie silence.

"Yeah, don't do that again, ok?" Adrahil admonished in a hissed whisper, turning to the issue he needed help with. "Help us out here?"

Gesturing over to the side, Halbarad looked for what was needed, squinting his eyes in the near darkness. "Seriously? You want to move a flipping oliphaunt??"

That neither of them had ever seen one before yesterday, was beside the point now as they both stood beside the mountain of dead flesh that had once been a majestic fabled oliphaunt that had been decked out with it's own wicker tower that had likely carried several men.

"No, stupid! Here!" Adrahil hissed with annoyance.

Adrahil led his partner over to where there was a horse that had most certainly been trampled by the mountain of flesh. "I think I saw a sword, a real beauty.." Halbarad rolled his eyes, but instead of telling him off, he instead pulled a plank free that they could use for leverage to lift the horse.

"By the Valar Adrahil, how did you even see this horse? The horse is pitch black!" Slowly the two lifted a few of the orcs aside, tossed unceremoniously up into the back of the wagon, before they headed back to attempt to move the horse from the potential treasure. Just then a low groan had them both squealing with fright, staggering back and away from the horse as if it had come alive.

"What was that!?" Halbarad hissed into Adrahil's ear. For long moments neither of them moved, both listening for what they had heard, but the dawn broke without another sound. Feeling slightly more emboldened now that the sun's faint light spread it's pale fingers across the field and pushed away the darkness, the two men once more ventured forward carefully. Halbarad had drawn his sword as it had not been a once off that one of the orcs were still alive and needed finishing.

"Ok, let's try this again.." Adrahil ventured, ignoring the questioning look Halbarad was giving him. As soon as the men began to move the horse, another low moan erupted and the two almost dropped the horse back down again. "Hold it!" Adrahil cried, "There is someone trapped under it!"

Grunting and sweating the two men worked away at moving the unusually large carcass of the horse enough to reveal a form lying beneath it. True enough there was a beautiful sword sticking out from beneath it, but it was held firmly in a slender pale hand. Working a moment longer and enduring several more unnatural groans they managed to move the carcass enough to reveal a slender form, covered in a black hooded cloak. For a long while the pair just stared at the form, both thinking that there was no way anyone could have survived being crushed by the size of the horse they had just moved.

"Surely he is dead.. he must be.." Halbarad whispered, though made no move to go any nearer.

"Yeah.. must be.." Adrahil mumbled back, his eyes on the sword. Swallowing hard, he stepped forward and slowly knelt down to take the sword from the man. However before he could pry it lose, another low groan disturbed the silence, making Adrahil stumble back onto his ass and shuffle a few strides away.

"Geez, don't be such a baby.." Halbarad hissed, though his face had gone paler than usual. "Obviously he is just wounded, we should call the healers" though he made no move to do so, instead slowly leaning down to use the point of his sword to move the hood away from the wounded man. Inch by inch Halbarad shifted the thick hood away from the man's face, gasping and pulling his sword away as if his hand had been bitten.

"It's a woman!" he cried out loud. "Healer! Healer over here, quick!"

Dropping his sword, Halbarad quickly knelt by the wounded woman, pushing the hood the rest of the way. "Adrahil! Eru save us, it's an elf, look!" His partner had already scrambled over, both their eyes wide as they looked down at the female elf before them. Neither of them had ever laid eyes on an elf before, but it was more than clear enough to them both that this was what they were looking at, the pointy ears pale against the black hair.

"Oh wow.. she is beautiful.." Halbarad gasped under his breath as he carefully swiped her hair away from her pale face. Adrahil was nodding when her blood red lips parted once more in a pained groan, both men immediately jumping to their feet calling out desperately for the healers.

Nessa with Turin at the study

(OOC: the author crawls out of her cave and offers the reader a humble apology in the form of 5.200 words of text in which she tries to fix the terrible, terrible month she's having by writing about food)

Nessa had no idea how much time had passed since she allowed herself to fall apart in her husband’s embrace. She sobbed into his chest, her tears soaking his dark blue shirt. Although she was ruining his shirt with her tears (for she was not one of those fair ladies from songs of old who looked beautiful as she cried; poets, bards and minstrels were such absurd creatures sometimes) she didn’t feel any embarrassment or awkwardness by breaking down and crying in front of Turin, despite the fact that they had not seen each other for three years. Perhaps when she was younger she might have felt that breaking down and crying in front of her husband was some sort of fault, or weakness she needed to overcome; but she was old enough and hoped that she was wise enough now to know that there was no shame in admitting that you were feeling weak.

Crying in Turin’s arms felt oddly liberating to her; she loved and trusted her husband, he had never lost her love and the trust she placed in him, regardless of life’s whims. As the tempest within her was subsiding, her thinking became clearer and calmer. With the calm after the storm came the awareness of what she always knew deep inside – that he loved her and trusted her too; for neither of them would allow themselves to be vulnerable in front of somebody they didn’t trust and love. It felt good for a moment, not having to always be the strong one, to have Turin be there for her and hold her while she allowed herself to be overwhelmed by emotions…

She felt completely safe and protected in her husband’s embrace, his hands gently going through her hair in soothing motions. She always thought there was something incredibly calming when a person was playing with her hair. When she was a child her mother would brush her hair before she went to sleep, and the motions of the brush through her hair would feel incredibly relaxing. She did the same to her daughter and found that Ellin also felt calm and relaxed when she did her hair. She didn’t know if Turin specifically knew that running his fingers through her hair would calm her, or he was doing it unconsciously, just because he liked playing with her hair when it was down…

Regardless of the reason his tender and loving gesture showed how much he worried about her. As if to prove it to her he placed his strong hands on each side of her face and with a gentle movement made her look at him. She saw love and worry in his eyes and his earnest desire to take care of her, to make everything right. He kissed her then, tenderly and gently… A kiss different that the first they shared today in this room, but still healing in its own way.

He made her lie down on the couch while he mentioned that he was going to get her something to drink and asking her about something to eat. Before she could process what he was talking about, and even think to tell him he should tell Edyth to have Daisy prepare a light meal before dinner (which felt absolutely silly in a way, because this was his home too, he knew perfectly well where the kitchen was, and although the staff might not be the same he would surely recognise who the housekeeper was) he placed another gentle kiss on her forehead and not even noticing, or caring that his shirt was damp from her sobbing he moved towards the door. She watched him from the couch with half closed lids; her husband all action, all movement. He could rarely be still, and even when he was sitting down he was practically humming with energy and movement ready to be unleashed into the world. She smiled when she remembered the rare times that he and Ellin (who was so like him in that regard) would be perfectly still were when she was telling a story. Any kind of story would do really: a funny scene from the market, describing a ship that arrived at the harbour filled with various goods, stories heard in snatches from merchant caravans, folk tales or songs of old, passages from a book she was reading… Once they got hooked on whatever story she was telling them they would listen, entrapped until she finished.

Recently Laila had given her and Ellin a large and lavishly illustrated book of folk tales from her homeland, and she had taken to reading or those stories to Ellin before bed. Both mother and daughter found the stories interesting, however many a time Nessa would have to stop reading with the phrase “Tomorrow night” because her daughter couldn’t keep her eyes open, but wanted to hear what happens next. She toyed with the idea of asking Turin to read some stories to Ellin, but perhaps that was presuming too much for the time being. Still the idea caught root and she knew that she would ask him, or that the question might already be out of her hands…

While she was lost in thought her husband returned holding a tray with china and small bowls filled with nuts, dried cranberries, raisins and apricots. There was a variety of cheeses, salty crescent rolls sprinkled with sesame and even honeyfingers! She sat up in mild astonishment wondering how on earth Daisy managed to prepare all this in such a short time! Roderic had surely given instructions in her name to Edyth and she relayed that to Daisy, but Nessa felt slightly uneasy for not having the time to properly familiarise herself with the new cook and the stock in the pantry. But her thoughts about the cook and the state of the pantry were pushed aside as she observed her husband preparing tea for her. She smiled as she watched him looking at the saucers, she could practically see him debating whether to use one or ignore the thing, and then sighing and deciding that perhaps he really ought to impress his wife with proper manners… Her honestly earnest husband did pick up the (in his mind) completely unnecessary saucer and placed the delicate cup with tea on it and handed it to her.

She took the offered china from his hands, their fingers brushing. Taking the cup in her right hand and holding the saucer in her left she carefully sipped her tea. Mint, an excellent choice with the benefit of freshening one’s breath, which could imply many things, or nothing at all, so she let that thought go… Meanwhile, Turin placed some crescent rolls and honeyfingers on another plate and was about to hand it to her and froze midway realising his miscalculation. They looked at each other, and she laughed at the silliness of it all and he joined her. Still smiling she lowered the cup on the saucer and took the offered plate with snacks and placed it on her lap. Perhaps it was not the best placement, but Turin’s mishap with the china reminded her of a moonlit spring night during their courtship when things between them changed.

They have been seeing each other for a few months, secretly exchanging letters and messages through her cousin Arthur and his fiancé Gilwen. Their courtship was discrete not because she was ashamed of him, or frightened of her father’s reaction. It wasn’t a properly thought out decision on either side, they just wanted to enjoy their budding relationship without scrutiny of their elders. She vividly remembered that spring day when she got Turin’s short note where he fervently asked her to meet him at the nearby park that night because he planned a surprise for her. She was aflutter and out of sorts the entire day, thinking about how to do this, wondering if tante Aliane noticed (she did, but chose to remain quiet) even going to her young cousin Rihannon and asking for help with sneaking out of the house. By that point she was half in love with Turin, the handsome, earnest and honest young officer, who treated her as an equal and always spoke to her directly, respectfully and honestly, never misleading or playing games with her. Sometimes she could not believe her luck, thought that meeting Turin was a very vivid and lucid dream and that she would wake up soon with the realisation that it was all in her mind… Despite his honesty and earnestness she still dared not hope that he cared for her as much as she cared for him. And even if he did, perhaps he could not make any promises to her. He was an officer in the army of Gondor, the situation at the borders was getting worse and maybe he didn’t want to give promises he could not fulfil. He didn’t strike her as that type of man.

That evening she chose a simple midnight blue dress, knowing that dark blue was his favourite colour, wrapped a dark cloak around her and tucked her unbound hair under the hood and with Rihannon’s help managed to successfully (or so she thought) sneak out of the family house. She ran to their prearranged meeting spot in the park, running late and arriving flushed and slightly out of breath to find him pacing nervously. She removed her hood and her hair fell down her shoulders. Before she could offer an apology he placed his hand on her face and kissed her. It was a welcoming kiss, filled with relief, hope and promise. When they broke apart he smiled nervously and took her hand and explained that he, with a little help of his friends, had arranged for a picnic under the full moon. He offered her his arm and walked her over to a large blanket that had a picnic basket on top. He bid her to sit and didn’t allow her to help him, despite her protests, because he wanted to do everything right and impress her. He was adorably endearing and she realised then that this night was important to him, that she had become important to him.

Instead Nessa made sure she frequently and purposefully touched his hand, or that their fingers brushed when he passed the plates filled with tiny sandwiches and honey biscuits. In the end he brought out a bottle of cold lemonsweet and glassed that were safely tucked at the bottom of the basket, and poured the cold drink in the glasses with a flourish. They enjoyed their meal, talking and smiling between bites, taking small sips of lemonsweet. However, she noticed that Turin was not as calm as he should be and soon enough he put his plate down and took her hand. Looking her in the eyes this serious young man confessed that he was in love with her, and that he had every intention of marrying her if she would have him.

She was stunned, heart beating wildly like a drum; she knew that he liked her and cared about her, his actions clearly showed that… Nonetheless she dared not presume that he had grown to love her like that, that his intentions were so serious... He still chose this, to make a promise like this to her, despite the awareness that he might head out to more missions with the army, he chose to be with her. Nessa never considered herself a great beauty, she knew that most men would choose to court her because of her social status. However, she also knew that Turin was not that kind of man, he approached her because she caught his eye when they first met in front of the army headquarter (when she and Gilwen were waiting on Arthur), he started seeing her and courted her because he was interested and grew to love her and she him… He proposed because he wanted to be with her, forever… He was her first kiss, the first man she kissed, the first man she fell in love with passionately, wildly, and the man she wanted to be with…

She had no idea how she managed to breathe with all those emotions swirling inside her, let alone say yes through the lump in her throat… She remembered moving, reaching for him and kissing him passionately, madly, wildly… He responded with equal enthusiasm, his fingers tangling in her hair… For a while everything else was forgotten, all that mattered was them, their happiness and the bright future that awaited them.

It was hardly surprising that the next day tante Aliane came into her room finding her niece sitting in front of the dressing table, she raised her eyebrows in amusement when she noticed the reason why: Nessa’s hair was arranged in such a way to cover a love bite on the right side of her neck. Aliane sat down on the neatly made bed across her niece and told her point blank that she knew she was sneaking out and seeing a young officer. She remembered blushing furiously, her face going through an entire spectrum of red, feeling embarrassed by being caught. But tante Aliane was calm and patient, explaining that she had known about her seeing someone even before Nessa needed to hide the mark her lover left on her neck. When she finally managed to calm down enough to form coherent sentences, she told her tante everything about Turin and how last night he had asked her hand in marriage and she accepted. She knew she was rambling, but she was afraid that her tante and especially her father would be furious for not telling them of this sooner, that they would forbid her to see Turin, but her tante surprised her again. Aliane smiled gently and took her hands in hers, assuring her that although they were not pleased that she was keeping this from them, her father was not against her seeing someone, or marrying whomever she wished, as long as he wasn’t “a total clusterfrak”. However, Nessa had to be sure of her choice and her tante wanted to meet the man who affected her niece so.

Seeing that her niece had already made her choice and was determined to marry the young officer, Aliane smiled slightly and made herself comfortable, after all she was about to have a very long conversation with Nessa about the things a young woman should know before she marries; which included a very frank talk about what goes on in the marriage bed. Likewise, as her tante fixed her hair she explained to her in detail how a woman could, if she chose to do so, hide the love marks left by her lover or her husband. Nessa felt uncomfortable at first, but she was more than grateful for her aunt’s approach.

Her pleasant reminiscing about the past was interrupted when she felt the couch dip under Turin’s weight and saw him sit down next to her. She turned her attention to the Turin of here and now, instead of the young man from her memory and listen as he carefully, almost hesitatingly, started to speak about retrieving some personal effects from his house in the Brown Lands. Again she felt him meander, like the Anduin, like he was afraid if he didn’t say everything he needed to say right now, at this moment his world would collapse. He spoke of presents for her and Ellin, getting up in the process and refiling his own and her drink, because the man could not sit still for the life of him! He mentioned some sort of surprise and her interest was piqued. She bit her lower lip to stop herself from teasing the information out of him, surely she could wait a bit more for whatever surprise he planned. She watched him eat some cheese from his plate, and remembering that she had a plate with snacks on her lap, she carefully placed the cup of tea and saucer on the arm of the couch and reached for her own food.

After they both finished eating their snacks, and moved the dishes out of the way he looked at her and finally it was his turn to ask about the life she lead without him. – How has the last few years for you been, other than the obvious lack of, well yeah… – He awkwardly gestured encompassing the entire situation. – I can see you’ve grown quite strong in our time apart. You hold yourself very well. – He complimented her and she saw pride and admiration in his eyes. – I imagine your cousin… Roderic, was it, is proud of the woman you’ve become. I know I am. I have doubts I could run all of this. – He said looking around the large study. – I’m more of a ‘go there and kill that’ kind of guy.

She looked closely at him, saw the admiration and love for her clearly on his face, in addition to his attempt to lighten the mood with a joke so typically Turin like.
- Well… – She started teasingly as he focused on her. – There’s more to you than that. You’re also a really good shoulder for ladies to cry on. – And although her voice was light and teasing, she hoped that no other woman cried in her husband’s arms. That she would not allow. – Your shirt definitively helps with that – she said drawing his attention to the mess she made of it. – I do apologise for ruining it husband.
She noticed his eyes shining with mischief and she was simultaneously surprised and not surprised when the next words came out of his mouth. – You did this on purpose wife – he replied stressing the last word. – If you wanted my shirt you know that you need only ask…
- If I wanted you shirtless you would have been by now!

She saw his eyes widening in surprise at her comment and felt herself blushing slightly. They haven’t bantered like this in a long time; she was aware that both of them changed and grew in the three years they haven’t seen each other. However, she refused to lower her eyes, or feel uncomfortable that she still found Turin desirable. She was not a maiden anymore, they were married and if she wanted to flirt with her husband she would!

- I see your boldness fits your dress. – He said with genuine pleasure and approval in his voice. She shifted closer to him and noticed that his eyes followed the movements of her dress. – It’s very erm… Different from what you used to wear. Not that there’s anything wrong with what you’re wearing now! – He stammered quickly thinking he offended, but Nessa smiled radiantly at him, enjoying the effect she still had on him. – It’s very lovely, and distracting… Yes definitely distracting…

She felt a rush of pleasure coursing through her at his words, as she took in the fact that Turin still found her desirable. She knew he loved her and that he wanted to be with her, even a fool could see that today by his every action he practically shouted his feelings about her. But the raw desire she saw now in his eyes, and the way he reacted to her was another matter. The spark between them still existed, and that encouraged her to take another small calculated risk, which she was apparently prone to. She shifted even closer to Turin, noticing that he stilled completely like a prey who just noticed it was hunted, leaned towards him and kissed him again. Quickly, teasingly and then she pulled back.

- Have I told you that you’re adorable when you’re nervous? – She said watching him as he regained his balance. He shook his head speechless for a moment, so she continued. – The dress was a gift from Laila, Roderic’s wife. Mind you, she did say that the dress was a gift for us, rather than a gift for me… – She paused musing how to explain the thought process behind her choice to wear this today, when she didn’t even know he was coming, and he probably didn’t know they were here… She was overcomplicating things again.

- Roderic got married? – Turin asked uncertainly. He never met him, or Bran or her uncle Baran, and although, her extended family seemed small to her (there were larger families with numerous children, siblings, cousins, aunts and uncles) it might seem large to him and keeping track of who married whom in her extended family might not be at the top of his priority list right now.

- Yes, Roderic got married to Laila the year after the war. – She said, shifting again to make herself more comfortable. – It’s actually a very interesting story to tell! So I’ll start with that, since it’s a happy memory…

He listened to her with rapt attention as she, like a storyteller at the market, introduced the dramatis personae; starting with Rashid ibn Fadl a wealthy merchant from Harad and his daughter Laila. She explained that Rashid was a long time business partner of the de Argosy family, and was also a personal friend of her uncle and her late father. Although, this friendship between a merchant from Harad and two merchants from Pelargir, seemed strange to many, it was not so strange in the merchant world both families operated. After all one needed partners to trade. However, the sudden arrival of Rashid ibn Fadl and his daughter Laila to Pelargir was surprising. She told Turin how her uncle extended a dinner invitation to his friend and business partner, and how Roderic’s behaviour seemed strange to her at the time. She described the dinner, the food and their guests, adding her own thoughts and comments about the participants in the process. And like a storyteller at the market she noticed that her rapt audience consisting of her husband nodded, hmmed and laughed at all the right places. She continued her story explaining the real reason for Rashid’s arrival: he wanted his daughter to marry one of Baran’s son; the girl could choose which one she liked better. The reasons behind this move were complex and related to the sensitive family and tribe relations, so she refrained from explaining them to Turin. Instead she focused on describing the reactions of her family members. How Bran was exchanging looks with Roderic, who didn’t seem surprised by this turn of events. Her uncle’s thoughtful face and tante’s concerned look toward her oldest son. Rihannon’s and her own concern for Laila, although they just met her, and also concern for Roderic and Bran.

- In retrospective, it was clear why Rashid brought Laila to Pelargir. And why Roderic was not surprised by the announcement. – She continued after taking a sip of tea. – Although her father told her she could choose between my cousins, it was clearly expected that Roderic, as the older son and heir, would consent to this arranged marriage if my uncle approved. – She paused taking another sip of tea. – Not that uncle would force him to this marriage, despite knowing how good of a business opportunity this was… But Roderic just calmly asked permission to speak with Laila privately in the garden, with Bran and I acting as chaperones!

She paused and laughed as she remembered the scene, Bran’s arched eyebrow, her looking at Roderic like he lost his marbles, Laila’s surprised face and their parents all nodding their heads and giving permission like this was all entirely sensible and proper.

- I don’t know what went on through Roderic’s mind at that time! Imagine my cousin Bran and I as chaperones! – She said gesticulating wildly forgetting for a moment that Turin never met her cousin. – We are the world worst people to chaperone anyone! Bran being well Bran, and I… Just because I was married and had a child, didn’t mean I was a right choice for chaperoning anyone!
- I’m sure you were a perfectly wonderful chaperone. – He teased with laughter in his eyes and she let out a very unladylike snort.

She proceeded to tell him how Roderic got up and offered Laila his hand which she took, and then the four of them went out to the garden; she and Bran keeping well out of hearing range of the two. She noticed that Bran was unusually worried and was watching his brother with concern, but he refused to answer and of her questions.

- He can be annoyingly frustrating sometimes. – She said referring to Bran. – You can’t get any information out of him no matter what you do! Although, Roderic can weasel out anything from him, a skill I greatly admire. – She said laughingly. – As we had already established that Bran and I were the worst, and I cannot stress this part enough, the worst chaperones in the world! – She saw that Turin was bent over from silently laughing at her antics. – And we kept well out of hearing range, and if we could out of seeing range too, so that we could at least give them some illusion of privacy. They really didn’t need the two of breathing down their necks like a bunch of complete and utter twats! So I found out what happened between them later, from Laila herself.

Nessa recounted what Lalila told her about that evening, and the consequences that followed from that conversation. At first they simply walked around the fish pond for a while, speaking of trivial things, switching from Westron to one of the many variations of Haradrim so Laila could speak freely. After a while they sat on one of the nearby benches and Roderic had asked her if she really wanted to marry anyone, or if she was forced into this for whatever reason. Although surprised by his question Lalila assured him that she was not being forced into marriage, and although she didn’t want to marry anyone at the moment, she knew that someday she would have to marry. She told him that she would like to marry a good and kind man, and that her father thinks that Roderic, the serious older brother, is such a man.

- She told me that he knelt before her then and took her hand and vowed that he would be a good and faithful husband if she consented to his proposal. I know that this sounds like cliché from a romance novel or a fairy tale, but Roderic is an honourable man. – She defended her cousin with a passion. – He gave her his word of honour, and he never does that lightly. My cousin is a skilled businessman and a ruthless negotiator who sometimes keeps many things to himself, but he is honourable and would never, ever hurt a woman, especially a young woman who was going to be his wife!

She was quiet for a while aware that she was talking for a long time. Turin took her hand letting her know that he didn’t mind her speaking for so long, and she felt a wave of love and affection towards him. She realised she missed this, talking to him about everyday life, little things that happened in the life of a family. She wanted him in her life, wanted many more times when they sat next to each other sharing a meal or a drink and talking about their day and silly things that happened. Normal things, boring things, things that put together made a life. Nessa was painfully aware that things between them were not as they should be, nor that all matters were resolved, but she wanted him here with her, to stay. Not because he was the father of her child and because that was the right and proper thing to do, but because she wanted him to stay and be with her.

- Really, the most interesting part of this story is the marriage negotiations. – She said breaking the silence. – Since Laila’s brother Khadir died in the War, her father has no male heirs… Which makes Roderic’s choice… Well, unusual would be a good word for it, I guess. When my uncle and Roderic went to the house Rashid and Laila were staying at, for the marriage negotiations, Roderic not only insisted that Laila’s dowry remained her property, making sure that he cannot dispose of it without her written consent! – Her voice rose slightly with excitement. – He made very clear that he wanted this in the marriage contract, and that any inheritance or property that Laila gets after her father’s death is hers to dispose of, he gets no say in it! According to Laila it took a while for all parties to get to where Roderic wanted, but in the end they did… She also said that her father later told her that he was proud of his son-in-law’s actions.

Nessa grew silent again, letting her husband absorb everything she told him. She was aware that she had talked for a long time, and that she talked mostly about a significant event in her cousin’s life. Granted the event affected her and Ellin’s lives too, but she talked about people he didn’t know and couldn’t attach the same significance as she did. She wanted to tell him about her life and how she survived and dealt with the deaths in her family: her father’s, aunt Aelia’s, cousin Arthur’s and Gilwen’s death… She wanted to share how she managed to find a place in the family business and share her accomplishments. To speak about Ellin and how her daughter adjusted to life in Pelargir, a life without a father. She knew she needed to speak about Hannah, and the staff here and all the people who worked for her family, and depended on them for their livelihood. But most of all she wanted to tell him that she loved him, make sure that he knew that, that he never doubts her love. They had a long way to go before they could repair their relationship; nonetheless, they loved and trusted each other and the spark between them still existed and it could be nurtured into a bright warmth. Their relationship could be repaired and she was willing to do whatever it takes to make things right.

- I love you. – She simply stated and noticed that he was startled by this change of subject. – I want, no I need to tell you that I love you. I always have and I always will. You were my first everything… – She took a deep breath and continued. – I know we still have things to resolve, and I have to apologise for the way I reacted. I’m not ashamed for breaking down… It was too many things for me to handle, and you know that I like to think things through before I make a decision… But I want you to know that I love you and I want you in my life. – She said stressing every word in that sentence. – I want you to stay here tonight, with us. I want you to stay not because you’re Ellin’s father, or because it’s the right and proper thing to do… I want you to stay here tonight because I want it. I want you to stay Turin. Will you stay?

Kaylin - Sixth Circle - Home

It was a beautiful day and Kaylin had taken to sitting outside in their little garden. She'd spread out a blanket on the grass next to Thûllir's wildflowers, and was finally using a free afternoon to take it easy and read something for a change. Thûllir's homecoming had really settled something inside of her, and even though she still loved to be out and about in the City, at least she could take being home by herself now and simply relaxing without that annoying gnawing feelihg whelling up and ruining it all for her.

Thoroughly engrossed in the story, she was lying belly-down, propped up on her elbows and supporting her chin with the heel of one hand while she was holding the book open on the right page with the other. From time to time her bare feet moved up into the air when she bended her legs at the knees. The quiet setting combined with the warmth of the sun was making her feel wonderfully drowsy, and even as she considered just lying down and taking a nap, she pushed the book away and put one of her cheeks down on the blanket, her arms spread on either side.

A sigh of pure contentment left her lungs. Ahhh...

- Messenger/ Adleg - Sixth Circle


He had put the incident simply out of his mind. It had been strange and uncomfortable, but it was not the strangest thing that ever had happened. He'd once delivered a bag full of cats. A literal bag full of cats. But he'd not have ever seen anyone accused of .. that. It wasn't his business he'd told himself. Nothing he knew anything about or should do anything about. Or should he? What if it was true? If it was true should he do anything? But if it wasn't he'd be spreading rumors. In the end, he had decided it was a prank. Must have been a prank, even a highly distasteful one. And he'd let it be. And that had been the end.
Until he'd received another letter. No sender, but that was not unusual. And the same name. He'd gone back to the barracks to ask for her whereabouts and then found the address of the home. He'd considered actually leaving the letter at the barracks for the commander to distribute and avoid a second meeting but.. it was his job to deliver packages and letters to the people intended. The whole way from the barracks here he'd kept the letter in his hands, turning it over and over but there was nothing to tell him what it was. Was it the same handwriting? He hadn't paid too much attention to it the first time. That had just been a letter. Until it wasn't.

What if it was another accusation? Would he learn more? Would he have to step forward? Maybe it was the sun but he was feeling uneasy, somewhat irrationally displeased at having to step in and do this, as if all of a sudden his job was distasteful. Perhaps the annoyance he couldn't seem to shake was not visible on his face, but it may have rankled through in the very loud knock he gave on the door.

Kaylin - Sixth Circle - Home

A knock on what seemed like their front door pulled her out of her moment of languid perfection. Was it on their door? The sound had carried to the garden from the outside, and Kaylin considered just hailing whoever it was over. It was probably Nesta on one of her walks, deciding to come see if her son was home. Thûllir's mother was greatly enjoying having him based in the City. Kaylin didn't mind - she liked Nesta a great deal.

The redhead lifted her head from the blanket. "You can follow the path to the garden," she called out loudly. "I'm right here." Reluctantly - slowly - she left her prone position to sit on the blanket with her legs crossed. It took a moment for her full alertness to return, and as her brain re-engaged she figured she'd need to get some drinks from the kitchen for her guest. With a faint smile, she made ready to get to her feet. But maybe she should find out for sure who had knocked on her door, first.

- Messenger/ Adleg - Sixth Circle


Follow the path to the garden. An easy enough instruction. He followed it with some reluctance however. Uneasy about being here. Nonsense. It was probably a perfectly normal letter. She could receive letters, right? Other letters? Only he'd never delivered to her before, except for that.. incident. It wasn't an incident, he scolded himself as he followed the path along the house with a firm thread. He'd been given the letter, he delivered the letter. It was an odd letter. End of the matter. Nothing more to it.

Having walked along the path, for some reason he still decided to stay firmly on the outside of the garden as he scraped his throat and then called out.

Kaylin?

*He winced the moment the sound came out, just a hair too loud, and realized it was the exact way they'd met that first time, with him uncertain if he had the right person in sight.*

Delivery! *He added quickly, as if to make sure not just who it was, but why he was here. As if to put himself once more outside the scope of these events. If it were events. He didn't KNOW there was anything aside from a misguided prank, or whatever.*

I have a letter.

*the third time he added something, mostly because he wasn't sure what to do with himself. Nonsense. He was a man grown, an experienced man who had delivered everything from cats, to rotten food, to love letters, to letters of condolences. He wasn't about to let one weird letter spook him.*

Kaylin - Sixth Circle - Home

The timbre of the voice made her frown. It sounded familiar, but where had she-- Her eyes grew apprehensive as looked to see who it was. Oh no. When she saw the messenger, a sense of foreboding krept into the recesses of her mind.

He halted at the end of the path. Her first instinct was to tell the man to turn around. He should just leave - she didn't want any letters from him. Regular letters had always reached her in other ways, and the only letter he'd ever delivered had been one she would have rather not received. Still, something made her get up from her blanket to her bare feet and approach the edge of the garden - albeit with a definite lack of enthusiasm. Kaylin tucked the book she'd been reading under her left arm. Either her mother's drilling to be polite had really paid off, or her curiosity still got the best of her. Could be both things at once, she supposed.

"Adleg." She remembered the name well, and gave him a wry smile. "I hope you don't take this the wrong way, but I'm not sure I want another letter from you. The last one wasn't exactly pleasant correspondence."

(Eldrith, their mid-sized gate is more in front of the house (and usually unlocked unless they leave), so there would be no gate on the path leading back to the garden anymore.^^)

- Messenger/ Adleg - Sixth Circle


*And, perhaps to his own surprise, he laughed at that poor substitute of a greeting, not a hearty amused laugh, but a sort of rueful chuckle, but it was there somewhat louder than expected in the silence. It seemed Kaylin was as unhappy to receive the letter as he had been to deliver it. And to find a second with her name in his bag this morning. He'd left it till the end and after his last but one delivery and then picked it up, turning it round and round in his hands as if it could tell him if it was bad news or something different It had not told him anything of course, just the recipient and he would never consider opening it.*

I can not say I blame you. I can assure you of the same. I was not pleased to find your name on this.

*That came out suddenly after a long, almost thoughtful pause. He lifted the letter that he'd been carrying in his hand ever since he'd made his last delivery to her.*

I had hoped not to deliver anything to you for a good long time and then I'd hoped it was something I would recognize.

*He was good at recognizing letters, even if he would never open them. It was a game. A slight whiff of perfume? A use of violet ink? An elegant handwriting or a scribes, or a busy merchants. He wasn't always correct of course. But well.. sometimes he knew what he delivered without opening it. For all he'd dreaded this delivery because of the person it was addressed to, it was very.. neutral.*

Here..

*He flapped it at her, somewhat urgently, clearly eager to be done with it and go on his way.*

Kaylin - Sixth Circle - Home

With a grunt of understanding at his first reply, she warily eyed the letter in his hands. Kaylin didn't blame him for not wanting to make the delivery, either. Perhaps just a little bit for actually making it, but she knew blaming the messenger was wrong, so she tried not to.

A sigh escaped her, and she reached out for the letter as he waved it at her. "This curiosity of mine is going to get me in trouble someday," she told Adleg ruefully, as she ripped the envelope open at once with her thumb. Pausing, she raised an eyebrow at Adleg, who was still standing there. "Well, I hope you understand if I won't thank you... for now. On the off chance this is a normal letter, I'll thank you for its delivery when I next see you." Despite her words, she had to fight the urge to thank him as a way to say goodbye. "Take care," she mumbled audibly as she turned to walk back to her blanket.

After opening the letter and taking one glance, she sighed again. Her pleasantly relaxing afternoon had suddenly gotten very unpleasant, and she couldn't deny that she got tense reading the words.

"We have not forgotten. Nor have you. And soon others will start to find out what you are."

It's not that she inherently believed she was a bad person, or that she'd lost her honor... per se. Thûllir had helped her work through most of her doubt and guilt. It's just... she'd thought it was behind her. Not that it would come back to haunt her. The arrival of these letters and the presence of the threats they held, made Kaylin entirely uncomfortable.

Frustrated, she cast the letter away from herself. It didn't travel far, because the wind wasn't at play and it was a mere piece of paper, but it served to vent her feelings at least a little. Stubbornly, she marched her bare feet back to her blanket, sat down, took the book back out from under her arm and tried to find the page she'd been on. "This is my time," she muttered. "Ridiculous accusations shouldn't infringe on it!"

It look a lot to hold back his initial thoughts at Nessa’s comment about his shirt. She’d apologized for ‘ruining’ it with her tears, but it getting wet from her tears, to his thinking, was actually not that different from it getting wet from sweating from hard work. But the fact she had been comfortable enough to cry into his chest spoke volumes. He knew many women who hated even the thought of crying in front of other people. He instead jokingly said she’d done it on purpose. If she wanted him to go shirtless, all she needed to do was ask.

“If I wanted you shirtless, you would have been by now.” She immediately shot back. He was stunned. And apparently she was a bit shocked at her own words due to the novel shade of crimson her cheeks began to turn. Well, the flirting between them was still present. That was good. He decided, other than his gaping at her he’d done previously, he actually should compliment her dress. He stumbled through it, but he did manage to get it out. She was just absolutely stunning in that dress. He’d always thought she was beautiful, but that dress showed off her curves in all the right places. “It’s very lovely, and distracting … Yes definitely distracting.” he was able to finish. He could definitely spend time ogling her, but part of him thought that would be frowned upon, at least, at this point in time.

So, Nessa apparently decided to tease him so more. She scooted closer to him on the couch and gave him a quick kiss, and removed herself back to the other side of the couch. “Have I told you that you’re adorable when you’re nervous?” she asked.

“Not that I recall.” He was about to say, but she but she continued.

“The dress was a gift from Laila, Roderic’s wife. Mind you, she did say that the dress was a gift for us, rather than a gift for me.”

“Well, it is a great choice of a dress. I’ll have to thank Laila later.” he thought to himself. “Roderic got married?” he asked. Before he’d left on his last mission, Roderic was still as single man, based on what Nessa had told him of her family.

So Nessa spent several minutes telling the tale of her cousin Roderic’s relationship and marriage to his wife Laila. From the story, he could tell that Roderic had been a good choice for the merging of the families. And based on how he was described, Turin should give him a good thanks for watching over his girls while he’d been away. He could imagine some of the stern words he’d get in return, but then again, there could be a chance that the guy could think he’d have got enough of that from Nessa. After all, Nessa wouldn’t hold back in any punishing words if she felt they were warranted. And they definitely were in this situation.

Having this conversation awakened the realization of just how much he missed talking to his wife and daughter. Yes, he could talk to friends, but there was just something about having deep long conversations with your spouse. This was what was needed to repair their relationship. He wanted more of this. How much would he have to beg, and in how many languages would he have to speak?

There was a span of silence. Nessa grew silent again. Possibly so he could absorb everything she’d told him about Roderic, and the state of the family at the time. He didn’t mind whatsoever that she had talked for a long time, or that she talked mostly about a significant event in her cousin’s life. He’d asked what all had happened in her life since he’d gone away. From the letters he’d received through the years, he’d learned of his father-in law’s death, and the move back to Pelargir to take care of things there, but the letters didn’t really touch on much more than that. Secrecy had been a priority for both of them. A good merchant family knew the power of secrecy because didn’t want to reveal what they were doing to avoid having price fraud, or someone jump in and take their part of the market. And being in the military, secrecy saves lives. So neither had told much.

But this silence, what was Nessa thinking? He’d enjoyed the story. Was there something wrong? Finally, she spoke again. “I love you.” He was startled by this change of subject. Before he could respond, she continued. “I want, no I need to tell you that I love you. I always have and I always will. You were my first everything.” Nessa took a deep breath and continued. It appeared she wanted to get something off her chest. “I know we still have things to resolve, and I have to apologize for the way I reacted. I’m not ashamed for breaking down. … It was too many things for me to handle, and you know that I like to think things through before I make a decision. … But I want you to know that I love you and I want you in my life.” She was stressing every word in the sentence. “I want you to stay here tonight, with us. I want you to stay not because you’re Ellin’s father, or because it’s the right and proper thing to do. … I want you to stay here tonight because I want it. I want you to stay Turin. Will you stay?”

Turin’s heart was pounding in his chest. He fought tears trying to form in his eyes. It wasn’t actually a forgiveness, but it sure felt like it. He practically lunged across the couch and wrapped his arms around her. “Of course I’ll stay. I’m not going anywhere ever again. Well, you understand my meaning.” He pulled back and looked deep into her brown eyes. “I love you too. And I will always love you. You were my first love as well. I agree. There is still healing to be done, but I think we’ve at least made a start on that road.” He leaned into a soft kiss.

There was a soft knock on the door. Part of Turin felt as though he should jump away, but he stayed put. This was his wife, and this was their home. Why would he have to jump away from her? He looked at the door and called, “You can enter.”

The person who came in brought back a few memories. “Oh boy am I terrible with names. … What was her name?” he thought.

“Sorry for intruding sir and ma’am. I was just coming to inform you dinner will be ready in just a couple minutes. Oh, and master Turin, your personal effects have been brought into the master bedroom. And a change of clothes have been placed in the downstairs bathroom if you wish to freshen up as well.”

“Thank you.” Turin said.

“Yes, thank you Edyth.” Nessa said.
“Edyth. That’s right.” Turin thought. “She has been the housekeeper since we got the house.” “I think I’ll take up that offer of the refreshing.” He said standing up. He then caught faint voices coming through the door. “Is someone else out there?”

Edyth nodded. “Master Roderic is entertaining a tall young man with dark hair and a carmine shirt. They’re in the dining room.”

At the description, Turin and Nessa looked at each other. They both had a good idea as to who it could be. “Sounds like Red.” He said, to which Nessa nodded. He grinned at the thought his best friend followed him to make sure things went well. “Well, I guess I should go get myself cleaned up.” he said. He gave Nessa another kiss, and was about to turn to leave when he stopped for a second. She’d done some pretty good crying herself. She would likely want to freshen up herself.

He was about to voice it, but Nessa apparently caught on to the dilemma and chuckled. “Just go.” she said. He kissed her forehead again and went across the hall to the mentioned bathroom, Nessa following him in. He then saw why, even though there was all the prim and proper, high society, lifestyle in the household, this wouldn’t be completely shunned. There were dividing curtain wall things between the basins and tubs. He went to the far side, and he could hear the divider being setup, followed by Nessa going straight to work freshening up. She left moments later.

Turin quickly stripped, while the bath finished filling. He swiftly bathed and dried himself. As he dried and started to dress, he noticed a razor in the bundle. He chuckled. Looking into the mirror, he nodded. He was due for a shave. So, he lathered up and shaved his beard down to a goatee. There was also a pair of scissors, with which he trimmed his mustache and now goatee. He finished dressing. He was now wearing a light blue shirt and brown trousers.


All that taken care of, he gathered up his dirty clothes and exited. He saw Edyth waiting outside who then took his clothes and cloak saying she’d take care of them. He saw Nessa in the study, and went to her, giving her another kiss. “Love you.” he said. “I guess it’s time to show Red I’m still on this side of the dirt.” he chuckled.

They then made their way to the dining room. There was Roderic talking to his best friend, just as Edyth had said.

“Hûl Hyandaner.” He said as he and Nessa approached, his arm around her waist. “Checking up on me I see.” He nodded to Roderic and leaned in close. “I assume the razor was one of yours. Thanks.” he whispered. He turned back to Red. “Well, I still live. Nessa and I still have some things to discuss, but we’ve recovered from the point of my being killed.” he said in Sindarin. He felt that being in front of Roderic, talking openly about the relationship status would be frowned upon. He hugged Nessa. “Thank you again, for everything. I don’t know what I would do without you Red.”

Just then, he heard footsteps coming down the stairs. Turning to looked to see who it was he saw two girls were coming down. One in a in a pale sandy colored tunic and a long skirt the color of black coffee, the other, though she was older now, he recognized immediately. She had dirty blonde hair, brown eyes and was wearing a burnt sienna colored dress. It was his daughter Ellin.

His initial impulse was to run over and pick her up wrapping her in a big hug. He saw in her eyes, a similar impulse. Instead, she hesitated for a moment. Remembering her instructions, she did a bowing curtsy. Turin grinned and lightly chuckled, but he bowed back, and his heart did flips when she smiled. They then returned to their initial desires. She ran towards him, and he rushed over and picked her up. "Hello there sweetie bug." He gave her a kiss on the forehead. "Missed you."

"Missed you too daddy." His heart just wanted to melt.

"I love you Ellin."

"Love you too daddy." She had her arms wrapped around his neck, so that even if he let his hug go, she'd still hang there. He didn't relinquish his hold. He was soaking up the love. Oh how he missed this.

- Messenger/ Adleg - Sixth Circle


It was a rather terse release of duty in a way, but he was grateful for it none the less. He'd never had any hesitation about delivering the first letter. But having read it, he wanted nothing more to do with it. Whether the accusation was true or not, it was a strange and uneasy thing. And he did not want to be involved one way or the other. But he was glad to have that letter delivered, out of his hands, and hopefully that was the end of it. Perhaps next time they saw one another in the street, there would be a chuckle and a wave and it all would have turned out to be a stupid prank that she'd yelled at someone for. The mystery would be solved and they'd have a chuckle as friendly strangers instead of people caught up in whatever strange.. thing this was. And if not.. well, he had delivered the letter. And he could hope it was the last one ever.

He gladly turned around, leaving her to read the missive and considered an ale might be the right ending of the day. Yes, perhaps he'd just have a drink in the pub to relax and then go home. His rounds today had been short enough for that.

Ivor, a metalsmith of Gondor

Aerden's Smithy, the First Circle

Ivor made his way into his family's forge with a shouted greeting and a smile. Aerden, who rarely saw his adopted son in the forge any more, since he worked elsewhere, was on the verge of giving him some work to do when Ivor slipped through the door, out of sight. Not out of mind, though, for Aerden looked puzzled, and wondered what the great hurry his son was in was all about.

In fact, Ivor had gone straight through to his old bedroom, where he kept many of his treasures, and found a tiny little silvery-metal playing piece. It was clearly carved in the Dwarven style, and his Father had given it to him as a child, when he'd found it washed up on the shores of the Anduin one morning after a night's fishing. It was mithril.

With gusto, Ivor began packing his toolbags and boxes into the family's delivery wagon, and before the lunch bells were heard, he was hitching the draft pony to the cart and taking it all up to the marketplace in the second circle, with a broom stolen from his Mama's kitchen too. He was going to need it!

NPC Galenas
Queen's Quest, 2nd Task

Flowers. If there was any subject Galenas knew nothing about, it was flowers. He knew there was a flower called a rose, and that it was red. What else? Um, poppies? He didn't know what those looked like. Uhh, daffodils? Were those the same as dandelions? He thought he remembered one of them was not a flower at all, but a weed. Maybe don't pick either of them, just to be safe. Those were both yellow, maybe? Or maybe not. What else, he thought. Let's catalog here. Sunflowers, those were recognizable. Tulips. He didn't know what those looked like, but he knew the name. And violets? Those were in a nursery rhyme. He presumed they were purple, but who knew?

That was about all his brain had. He trudged through the field. There were shrubberies, branches, and plenty of grass. There were surprisingly few flowers. He had been here before and thought there were plenty of flowers then. What had happened? Why, now that he was looking actively for them, were they all gone?

Galenas was too absent-minded to do any sort of systematic search of the Pelennor. He wandered aimlessly, pausing at irregular intervals. Here and there he saw things that looked flowery. He stuffed them in his pack rather carelessly. He cared more for quantity than quality, since he couldn't distinguish the latter in any meaningful way.

Was it lunchtime yet?

Shamara
At the Great Gate

She had gone about daily life rather calmly for quite a few years and had laid low to wait for the results of the War. The outcome had not been good, but then again it would not affect her area of activity too much, would it? If anything Gondorians would become less cautious and more confident, and why not use it; though perhaps she had stuck her nose out of Umbar too soon...

Shamara approached the Great Gate, looking pretty much like a common farmer - she had taken great care to choose a simple and rather worn out set of leggings and tunic, complemented by a pair of boots caked in mud and smelling of dung. The unlucky person she had entertained and made drunk last night would probably miss these, but it was no longer her problem how the poor guy would cover his nakedness. The Umbarian had taken even more care to dye her hair which had now turned a rather weird greyish-brown hue; besides she had gone to great lengths to smudge dirt all over her face, neck and even ears. Still, she wondered whether she would be admitted into the City; she had not had much trouble getting into the Pelennor Fields at least.

"Hi, I'm just takin' a bit of day off. Heading to Guesthouse is all," she claimed, when the guard turned his attention to her. She could see some doubt in his eyes, perhaps because of the accent she had and the slightly large clothes she was wearing? Shamara tilted her head and looked back at the guard. "I have the right to spend my few coins and the free day until evening as I want!" she then placed her hands on her hips and narrowed her dark eyes at him.

"You have stated your business, but not your name," the guard responded.

"I am called Lyra - and if ye don't like the name, tell it to my parents," Shamara grumbled. "And now, can I finally get in? Didn't come here just to stand outside the gate instead of getting some well earned fun and good food."

Having taken note of the scant information she provided, the guard waved her on, wrinkling his nose at her somewhat smelly appearance. "I suggest you visit the bathhouse first, though," he remarked after her.

"Oh, shut up, you ain't getting paid for insulting strangers," Shamara refused to hold back a retort, and then hurried on before the guard could decide to inspect and question her closer.

NPC Galenas
Queen's Quest, 2nd Task

After a short break for lunch, Galenas was getting nervous. The day was dragging on, and he really needed to get back ASAP for the Queen's quest. Who knew whether there were other tasks? He wasn't even sure if these flowers were for today's dinner or not, so he didn't want to return to Minas Tirith at a late hour, long after dinner was over. That would mean he had wasted all his time. And this task was truly tedious. He had found some patches further afield, and had spared no flower. He had amassed quite a collection. Nobody had told him exactly how many flowers he should bring back, so he was gathering more than he thought he needed. Then they could dispose of the ones that did not meet their standards. Galenas had no standards, only a massive bag now nearly full of flowers.

He peeked back in to see. He could no longer count the tangled pile, but he would guess he had picked at least 60. Surely that was enough, even if the table they were adorning was really long, right? If not, they should have sent more than one absent-minded fellow out to collect the flowers. Galenas tossed the sack back over his shoulder, and turned back homewards. Minas Tirith towered in front of him, looking deceptively close. He knew it would be more than an hour's walk back. He sighed. All this work had better be worth it. Maybe they would have some special "flowers" of their own for him as a reward?

Cheered by this thought, Galenas walked off with a slight spring back in his step.

Unalmis Raxëlilta with Iole Ishen
On the Queen’s quest – Post 2
In the Fields of the Pelennor


“Do you know what you’re doing ?”

The question came upon him from behind but he had no need to turn, to identify the speaker.

“Not especially,” Unalmis allowed a grin to keep his shrug company. “But when has that ever stopped me before ?” He had ambled, falling to the habit almost as soon as his feet fell from set stone to rugged ground. Perhaps it was the deviance from the city’s black and white, but the Pelennor always conjured a sense of otherworldly, of adventure. Of course, for some years his very managing to sneak out into their liberation was an adventure in itself. And the foreknowledge that there would be lectures upon reaching home, only inspired the want to make it worthwhile. Often he had not known when he set out what he meant to happen, only that it always was enough to draw him back again a short time after.

“You make a fair point,” As though she could see his expression through his skull, the young woman sighed. “Just tell me please that this isn’t another ‘I want to be a Ranger’ episode ... Those aren’t edible !” This last was raised in volume and also some great notion of alarm as the young man ventured low enough to draw forth flowers from the living carpet. The young woman peered over his shoulder, and then stepped back as he carried about his business regardless.

“I’m not scavenging for supper,” he promised. Not this time. He had learnt a few things since being so desperate. “Apparently .. er, girls like flowers.” the young man presented his theory with another shrug. “What do you think so far ?” The offering was not exactly on level with the roses of Imloch melui. Because there were no roses involved whatsoever. Still, the asphodel was mildly intriguing, pink veins splaying across muted white petals. They drooped from the centre, heads careering down toward the grass in a fine exhibition of projectile vomiting. Without the vomit. An ant or twenty bravely ascended from the flowers into the chasm of the young man’s sleeve, as though to compensate.

“Me ?” Iole found her hand had risen up to guard her chest, perhaps her heart, at the insensitive question. Was he serious ? He couldn’t be serious. He had said, before, that she had scared him. ‘Leapt out of the box he’d thought she fit inside’ was the actual and unsettling phrase, as she recalled. Her best friend. They had been best friends for some great count of ever. And he had not wanted more. But now …

“You are a girl aren’t you ?” Unalmis pressed, showcasing variety by thrusting a handful of anemone too close to his long-suffering ally’s nose, that she near learned if they were edible. “Will they do, would you say ?” He was of an enquiring mind.
She interpreted the gesture as the worst excuse for an apology she’d ever had the misfortune to be underwhelmed by. Which was not to say that the apology was not owed. It certainly was. She’d been humiliated.

“Well,” the undertaker's daughter let a charcoal curtain of hair fall across her face, jarring her bone-white skin into sharp contrast as she schooled him. It was not going to be that easy. “Not all girls are the same,” she threw large sapphire eyes skyward, at having even indulged him. In a way which she hoped seemed seductive. “Different girls like different … flowers. Maybe if you told me more about .. who are they meant for ?” A nervous shake of her head meant to dispel some further wonder, but instead led him to be on guard, for wasps ! “Do I know this .. girl ?” she asked, in the same moment that he smacked her ear with the petalled-harvest, and then recognised a distinct lack of wasps.

“Err .. well, I should say so,” Unalmis feigned innocence, turning to pluck primroses at their base, in a try to have them meet the other blooms in height. Resuming his own, height, he found his friend now close to inhabiting the same small patch of grass.

“Well they’re fair pretty. At least, I should say so,,” she allowed, as he stepped back. “But has .. this girl .. given you any reason to believe that she would like .. any particular sort of .. flowers ?” Iole put a tentative toe forward. He had remembered, she dared to hope. The primroses proved it. They were her favourite.

“Lets just say I have it on a reliable source,” the laughter startled her, and confused. When there had been only expectancy for confirmation. “They have to be perfect though. She’s like .. a queen so …”

“A Queen ?” the word fell from the young woman’s lips. Her best friend leaned in and swiped at her nose, inflicting more damage on the gathered posies while Iole panicked; was there dirt upon her nose ? Why had he .. ? What ?

“Well yes,” Unalmis worked the meagre effort into one hand, meshing the more delicate stems far too much like pulp than he should like. “I mean,” he glanced up, from a lost cause of concentrating, and found her pale blue eyes drawing from his dark brown, as the tranquil lake summons from the moon above. “Her handmaiden came all out from the Palace itself and said, the Queen wants flowers.”

He had started from her now, as though to head back to the front gate. After a moment, he noted that she was not with him. Not in any sense of the word.

“The Queen ..” Iole said again, as though she’d never heard the word before.

Nal lowered his bouquet to hang upside down from one hand, proving he knew as little about flowers as he knew about girls. “You’re doing that thing where you just repeat exactly what I say, but it doesn’t seem as though you’ve heard a word of it.” he frowned, confused.

A clod of earth was not the answer he sought, nor did it inspire anything but more misunderstanding. Well, at least it was his turn.

“You’re an idiot !” the scream pursued the urgent missile, and one foot stamped, crushing an undiscovered oasis of wild roses..

“You say this like it is not known,” the young man rolled his eyes. “Come on, don’t you want to see the ..?”

“The Queen ??!!!!”


It was enough to make the Gate Guard’s day. The young man chased first left to right, then right to left, and all the while being pelted by the very pointless effort of thrown grass blades, by some scarecrow of a young woman.

“That's your grandmother is it ?” the amused sentry chortled, as he waved the wilting form of young man, with wilted somehow even to worse flowers, back inside the city. “The one with the gammy knee ?”

“I honestly don’t know who that is,” Unalmis crushed the bouquet between his palms and his knees, as he recovered from the unexpected sprint. With a dejected glance down toward the pummelled posies, dark eyes rolled in despair. Apparently some girls really don’t like flowers .. hopefully the Queen and her guest would be more appreciative. Or maybe it would be wise to forget to return to the Handmaiden, just in case.

Thea

At first she had been walking at a brisk pace as soon as she stepped out of the Houses of Healing, though it was quite a walk all the way down to the second circle and her gait slowed significantly as she went. She managed enough presence not to walk into anyone or step out in front of any horses, though she was lost in thought as she made the journey down through the circles. She could not believe all that had happened and that the day wasn't even over yet. Her mind kept returning to the fateful moment when she snuck into Ms Irma's office and found the bag of coins. Oh what she would give to be able to go back and change her decision. While she still fully believed that the money she had taken from Ms Irma was rightfully hers, it could and likely would still be considered stealing.

As she dodged a young couple walking arm in arm, she gave them a mournful look and sighed, her mind then bringing up the image of the mysterious woman that had joined her at lunch. As she recalled their talk, her stomach started growling noisily, reminding her that she had thrown her lunch up and that she had not eaten the day before as well. Though as hungry as she was, she had no appetite whatsoever, the mere thought of going anywhere to eat right now making her wince.

Cheeks rosy and slightly out of breath, she finally reached the market place and headed straight for the grocer. Only then did she realise the grocer had two neighbours. Luckily for her one of Miss Liriel's boys was still out front, sweeping the front of the shop now that everything had been brought in for the evening.

"Excuse me, do you know where Tom lives?" she asked as she made her way to the young boy, who looked about ten.

"Tom? Yeah, the kid with the red wagon, right? Yeah he lives right there" he said as he pointed to the door with the fading green paint. "But he ain't home right now, he went out several hours ago, ain't seen him come back yet."

"Oh, thank you." She answered, not offering any information. Stepping away she let the boy get back to his sweeping and headed over to the door. The shutters on the front windows were closed and weeds were poking out from the cracks around the doorway, the paint of the door peeling away, everything looking old and dilapidated. Pausing for a long moment, she practised what she was going to say, each time shaking her head and trying to find a different way of conveying that his son was in the Houses of Healing. Finally, feeling the young boy watching her quizzically, she gathered enough courage to reach out and knock on the door.

Stepping into Thûllir’s small workshop at the back of the house was to step into a world imbued with the scent of wood - both freshly cut and well aged, leather, glue, oil, and the faint tang of metal from his tools. He had always loved the space, but had begun to spend many hours here repairing gear and making new creations when he had the free time. There was something pleasing in being able to create things that were both useful and simply beautiful. He enjoyed making small gifts as well as replacing items of gear or making things for use in their home.
There was a set of finely turned arrows sitting on the drying rack off to one side that had just had the fletching added and were waiting for the glues to set before the points were added. He had begun to do most of his own arrows here in the shop so that he could control their quality. The armorer had been more than happy to provide him with the supplies for that once he realized that it was one less archer to supply, and that Thûllir had the experience from Ithilien to be able to make something consistently usable. A new quiver that was in the works had been cut out and tooled with an elegantly simple design, to now wait for dyeing whatever color he chose.


As the sun passing behind the mountain cast shadow across the shop, Thûllir had paused his current project of chiseling out the design on a box lid. Setting down the sharp chisel and mallet, he uncovered the lamp on a side stand and worked to light it for a minute before sitting back with a sigh when the warm glow lit the room. He rubbed out a light cramp in his hand as his eyes drifted to the small wooden box on his shelf that contained the two small pieces of paper that still plagued his peace with intruding reminders that not all was well in his corner of the world afterall. He didn’t need to look at them to know each word, so did not bother to open the box, but his brow furrowed in thought.

The first slip of paper was the same that Kaylin had given him in Harlond, carefully tucked away even though he had wanted to burn it. Evidence and a reminder to not relax his vigilance. Someone out there was targeting his wife, and he could not afford to let the matter go until they were found, however long or short that search might be.

The second slip he had found blown among the wildflowers after hearing her recount the tale of her latest encounter with Adleg and how he had found her in the garden after knocking. She had injected humor into her telling of how she had thought it was his mother come to visit and instead been interrupted by the messenger with his sealed message. Heat flicked in his veins as he remembered the shadow in her eyes even as she laughed. That shadow of memory had sent him following the man Adleg a few times on his rounds when he could spare the time, so as to see if there had been anything untoward about him despite his earlier professions of innocence to Kaylin. It had indeed appeared as if the man spoke truth. He was a simple messenger by all accounts, and Thûllir had not yet seen evidence to the contrary. Lightly scarred fingers reached up to tug at his beard in thought as he contemplated next steps. He couldn’t let the issue rest no matter how lightly she treated the matter. Threatening the honor of his wife was a serious matter to him, as they had also threatened her life previously. How might he ferret out the Black Hand and the sender of these letters while not further disturbing life in their home? The answer was not quick in coming.

Kaylin - Sixth Circle - Home

She'd returned home after an afternoon at the Training Grounds. Despite now no longer being a soldier but a ranger, Kaylin didn't want to lose the skills she'd picked up with the spear just because she might need them less. In any case, versatility on the battlefield was a good thing. If she ever lost her own weapon, she'd need to be able to replace it. She was a master of the sword, but swords might not happen to be lying around when she needed one. Her friend Lexine, a former Master Spear of Gondor and now a member of the City Guard, had agreed to keep up their training and sparring. In return, the woman had asked to maintain her rights to visit and use the training grounds, even if she was not a Ranger. Kaylin wasn't sure if it had been her place to agree and had told Lexine as much, but her friend had just smiled and waved her words away. "If I can mention your name at the gates," she'd said, "I imagine it would be fine." And who was Kaylin to argue with that? She wasn't about to make it harder on herself to safeguard training with the woman who'd been teaching her the spear for years now.

Washing up was her first order of business. So when she entered the kitchen, her long red hair was wet and combed, and her training gear had been replaced by more comfortable clothes in blue and grey. She quenched her thirst first. Thûllir wasn't in the front of the house, upstairs or the kitchen - she'd ascertained that much by where she'd been. There were no sounds coming from his workshop at present, but it didn't hurt to have a look. He'd told her he had no specific plans, but he might be out visiting his parents or picking some food up from the Marketplace.

When Kaylin popped her head in and inevitably inhaled the scent of wood, leather and oil, she found Thûllir sitting back at his work table. "Hey, Ranger," she greeted him, a smile forming on her face as she properly stepped in, although she lingered by the door. "Creating beauty again?" She loved him for his artistic nature, despite her own utter lack of such talents or skills. "Lexine says hi." Kaylin tilted her head. "So umm... I was wondering if you felt like going out for dinner?"

Eril

Whatever alcohol induced slumber he had been in moments before, Eril came shooting up off the overstuffed chair, the only piece of furniture on the main room of the house. He glanced around, his head pounding from dehydration. The room was blurry and unfocused. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes. It did not help. He still felt like the room was spinning. Perhaps he ought to go to bed. He had fallen asleep last night, as he did so many nights now. He hated the bedroom. It was full of happy memories. Full of light and life. He had built that room with three windows just so she could be happy with all the sunshine it would bring her. Now it was just an overly bright room with a bed that had not seen anything but tears and heartache. He cast his gaze to other room at the opposite end. Maybe he should sleep there? It was darker and had no memories. He had built that room for a son but…

Why had he woken up? For a moment, Eril forgot he was awake, and tried to settle back into his chair. His throat was dry. Clumsy fingers searched the ground for a bottle, a jar, something. They closed around something smooth, he smiled languidly, stupidly. He brought the bottle to his lips and let that sweet, biting liquid into his mouth. It set his throat on fire but with that fire came the numbness and that was what he craved most of all. Every day was a chore, having to simply exist in this word without her was so, so painful. Anger began to rise in him, despite the numbing power of the alcohol. He could feel it in his chest, a knot of confusion, pain, and resentment. She left him. She died but she left him. Left him alone to wallow and pass out every night alone.

When she was alive, his wife, he had never had a drink. Not once. There was no need. But when she died everything fell apart. The life they planned, the family they’d started, it all fell apart and the only thing that helped him cope was the bottle. It didn’t matter what it was either. He’d drunk himself into many a stupor with ale, lager, mead, whisky or any other variety of spirit he could get his hands on. He was so alone.

Why was he awake? It was bright outside. The windows in the bedroom let in far too much light.

There was a sound. Eril could barely hear it through the haze of exhaustion and booze. A knocking? He squinted at the door. The sound was grating, an out of tune bell the would not stop ringing. His head pounded.

Slowly, like honey left in the cupboard too long, Eril began to rise. His bulk shifting as he slid off the chair. He felt suddenly exposed and vulnerable walking (stumbling) around. It felt wrong. He just want to drink and forget.

He opened the door. It creaked in protest.

“What do you want?”

Thea

"Hi, my name is Thea, I am here to let you know your son is hurt." No, that was way too blunt. "Hi, my name is Thea. I do you have a moment? I have just come from the House of Healing.." Nonono.. sounds like I am selling something, she thought as she knocked yet again. Thea scraped the tip of her boot against the pavement, poking at a weed that was growing up between the stones. Her stomach was roiling loudly, making her uncomfortable and worrying that she would need to find an outhouse. "Drat.. he isn't even home." Thea started turning, already thinking about which pub was closest to here when the door was suddenly pulled open with a loud squeak.

“What do you want?”

"Oh! Um, sorry you startled me..." Her voice trailed away as she took in the sight of the man who must be Tom's father, instantly taking a dislike to the man. Even from here she could smell the alcohol and she reflexively took a step back, one hand subconciously moving to the hilt of the new dagger at her belt. Had she given more thought to it, she would never have done it as she had never used a dagger on anyone, let alone to defend herself and it was not like she would be doing so any time soon as if she did she would likely end up stabbing herself.

"Uh, it's about your son.." she quickly added as she realised she had not said anything yet. "Tom?" When she mentioned his name, her eyes moved passed the man, looking into the hall behind him and seeing the red wagon. A small relieved smile crawled to her lips as at least she would be able to tell the boy it was safe and not lost.

"He uh, got a nasty bump on his head. He is alright though!" She quickly added, nervously playing with the hilt. "He is at the House of Healing and um.. the nurse there would like you to uhh come by as he will likely need to stay the night and um to talk about how to care for him after that.." Worriedly she looked at the man as she waited for his response, trying not to breathe through her nose.

Thûllir shifted around on his high-back stool when he heard the light tread of Kaylin’s footsteps at the door, turning to see her step through. The furrow between his brows eased away, along with the tight line of his mouth, to be replaced by an easy smile in response to the sight of her standing there and smiling at him. He could easily tuck the cares away when she was near, even when she was the focus of his concerns, and the sight of her was a balm.

His dark eyebrow tilted up at her question, and he shrugged a partial affirmation. Creating beauty. There were many different things of simple beauty that had been created in this workshop, and he appreciated that she considered them beautiful even when they weren’t complex. Not everything created here required standard tools, but all required patience and persistent application of skills. Thûllir was about to reply when she continued to share greetings from Lexine and ask about dinner. He glanced out the door and then mentally shook himself. Yes, of course it was late enough to be thinking about dinner. He’d had to light the lamp already to see well enough. It was a rare moment when he was caught up in solitary tasks to the extent that he wasn’t aware of the passage of time.

Rising from his stool with a rueful grin, he looked at her and nodded before turning back to start cleaning up his workspace as he spoke. “I lost track of time, so yes dinner out sounds good. I didn’t quite get this project done, but am glad you had a good session with Lexine. Give her my greetings next time.” The chisels were placed in their loops of leather, the mallet hung in place, and the unfinished box tucked into a cubbyhole as he efficiently put things away. The dark wave of his hair fell over his eyes as he bent to brush the tightly curled shavings into a bin off to the side, and he looked over at Kaylin inquisitively before collecting a rag to wipe down the sturdy workbench and rid it of any remaining bits. “Did you have a place in mind melethril nín?”

Eril

He blinked as the light came in through the open door. It was pure golden light that blasted his alcohol soaked eyes. He squinted. The outside world was as unpleasantly cheerful as it had always been. He grumbled wordlessly under his breath. How dare the world keep turning as if he had never experienced the greatest tragedy a man could face. It galled him. The sounds of life and happiness greeted him. He wanted to spit and throw something, not his bottle though, his grip tightened reflexively on the handle. For a moment, he forgot why he had opened the door. He was about to close it again when he saw a woman standing there. He jumped back, startled. Had she been there the whole time? Just staring at him? His sudden shock turned to immediate annoyance. Who did she think she was, this woman, just standing on door step.

He watched her take a step back and put a hand by her hip, he glared. Was she about to try and rob him? Here in broad daylight? What was this world coming to? His missed his wife so dearly. He took a drink from the bottle.

“I startled you?” he said with a hint of a slur, suspicious thick enough to cover it. He narrowed his eyes.

What she said next floored him. His… son? He didn’t have a son. His wife and he had thought for years about having one, they even made that room for him when he arrived. But… no. No, they had had a son before she died. What was his name?

Tom. Tom? Tom. It was Tom. What did this woman want with him? The Houses of Healing? He guffawed at that and took another swig from the bottle. What good did they ever him and his wife?

“You want me to come by and see…” he searched his lubricated memory for the boy’s name “Tom,” he said at last, “at the Houses of Healing? Because he got a bump on the head?” The light was starting to give him a headache. Slowly he turned his neck to look in the direction of the Houses and sighed heavily. He lost most of what she said next, her words garbled by his utter indifference to the situation.

“Fine, fine. I’m coming. Lead the way.”

OOC (The author must confess she forgot about this chapter after she toiled on it for an undefined amount of time and made herself hungry by numerous food descriptions (it's a comfort thing, OK, don't judge). So here it is after everyone (probably) forgot what's going on in this story. It's like an episode of a TV show months after the midseason finale )

Nessa with Turin

One could say that a person’s life was a series of choices big and small; decisions made in the odd hours of one’s life. Of the paths taken, and the roads not taken. Nessa made her choice and finally told her husband what she yearned to say to him for so long. She was perfectly calm, at peace with herself and she observed Turin’s reaction to her words. If she had any lingering doubts about his feelings and wishes they were dispersed the moment when he suddenly moved forward and reached for her. He wrapped his arms around her waist and drew her close; she had to place her hands on his chest to balance herself, her legs behind her in a rather awkward angle, but she paid no mind to it.

- Of course I’ll stay. – Turin spoke the words like a sacred vow. – I’m not going anywhere ever again. Well, you understand my meaning. – He said in that awkwardly endearing way of his, pulling back so he could look her in the eyes, at the same time allowing her to adjust her posture. – I love you too. And I will always love you. You were my first love as well. – He spoke so passionately that her heart soared with happiness. – I agree. There is still healing to be done, but I think we’ve at least made a start on that road.

Happiness overflowed her; a feeling so intense that she thought her heart would burst from joy. He loved her, he had always loved her… Despite the hardship they went through, despite their unresolved issues there was always the love between them. He leaned into a soft kiss, but before their lips could touch they were interrupted by a gentle knock on the door. She felt him tense up and had to bite her lower lip to stop herself from making a sound. At that moment Turin looked so much like the young man who courted her, afraid that her father was going to walk through that door and catch him kissing his daughter. In less than a heartbeat, she felt him regaining his balance and relaxing as the initial reaction faded. He remembered that he was in his home, holding his wife in his arms and there was nothing wrong with that.

- You can enter. – He spoke with authority turning to the door. She smiled slightly, glad to see her husband regaining his confidence and accepting that this house was his home too.

Edyth’s entrance reminded Nessa of the time and the plans they made before Turin’s sudden arrival effectively threw the entire household in a disarray. She glanced at her husband and her lips quirked slightly. Sometimes he was like a whirlwind, disrupting her life, everyone’s lives… Nevertheless, she could not and would not deny to herself that she was drawn to this excitement that swirled around her husband like wisps of smoke

- Sorry for intruding sir and ma’am. I was just coming to inform you dinner will be ready in a couple of minutes. – Edyth told them with a warm smile, and Nessa noted that the housekeeper looked pleased seeing them together like this. – Oh, and master Turin, your personal effects have been brought into the master bedroom. And a change of clothes have been placed in the downstairs bathroom if you wish to freshen up as well.

Nessa looked at the housekeeper frowning slightly at what she heard. She knew Roderic gave this instruction to Edyth; the two cousins were very close (more like siblings than cousins) and sometimes when one was absent, the other would make decisions or give instructions in the other’s name. Her cousin made the right choice, but still, she turned to her husband to see if he was perturbed by what he heard. Perhaps, for him, it was presuming much. However, he simply thanked the housekeeper.

- Yes, thank you, Edyth. – She replied automatically, reflecting on her reunion with her husband and a myriad of emotions that had swirled inside her. Happiness, because they still loved each other and wanted to save their relationship, had entwined with anxiety over things both of them left unsaid. Issues that were left unresolved because they were both too emotionally overwhelmed and exhausted to deal with. A slight hint of insecurity that that threatened to rise with the realisation that after 3 long years she was going to share the same bedchamber and bed with her husband. The knowledge that their reunion was still a delicate dance, one that required them to carefully balance their desires and emotions; to tread carefully lest they accidentally cause needles hurt and pain. Her thoughts were interrupted by faint voices coming from the other side of the house.

- Is someone else out there? – Turin asked with a hint of uncertainty and worry in his voice. She frowned again looking from her husband to the housekeeper who simply nodded.
- Master Roderic is entertaining a tall young man with dark hair and a carmine shirt. – Edyth replied and Nessa thought she detected amusement and a hint of exasperation with her cousin in the housekeeper’s voice. – They’re in the dining room.

Based on the description of the person given, it could only be their friend Red, although the colour of his shirt was rather precise… Carmine… She had no recollection of Red ever wearing that colour, but a lot could change in the years they haven’t seen each other. “But still… Carmine? Really?” she thought amused and intrigued by this information. She could hypothesise about the reasons why Red decided to follow her husband here; most likely it was to make sure Turin arrived where he was supposed to arrive… Even so, in the back of her mind, a lingering feeling of worry remained. Her husband was followed and, preoccupied as he was, he didn’t even notice he was being followed. However, Roderic noticed this, and although her cousin didn’t know who Red was, he managed to deduce that the man was not a threat, but a friend and extend a dinner invitation.

- Sound’s like Red. – Turin said with a grin interrupting her musings. She nodded, smiling slightly, trying not to let her worry show. In a way, the whole situation was as hilarious as it was worrisome. She had a feeling that Roderic would find some dark humour in it, and that at some point this evening he would be chortling at the whole thing. She shook her head slightly, looked at Turin who simply shrugged and said he was going to freshen up. He leaned down and kissed her, and her lips quirked upwards, she was beginning to enjoy this new normal. As he was about to turn and leave he suddenly stopped and looked at her uncertainly. She realised that she must look like a mess, her eyes red from crying and her face puffy. She laughed, telling him to go ahead and he kissed her forehead before heading out the study.

- Edyth, would you please wait for me here until I freshen up? – She asked the housekeeper who smiled and nodded. She returned the smile and followed her husband to the downstairs bathroom, whose clever design was one of the reasons her late mother insisted they buy the house. Turin was already the far side of the bathroom, behind the partitions, when she went to the basin where an ewer filled with water stood. She filled the basin with cold water from the ewer, splashed her face a few times and dried it with a towel. The cold water helped her somewhat, but it couldn’t erase all traces of her crying; her cousin would surely notice that. But it was the best she could do in a hurry since she wanted to give Turin privacy to bathe and change his clothes. She left the bathroom, quietly closing the door behind her.

She hurried to the study and when she entered she noticed that Edyth had just finished clearing up the dishes from their impromptu meal. Nessa thanked the housekeeper for the tea and snacks, complimenting her niece’s cooking skills.

- Thank you, ma’am, I’ll be sure to tell Daisy that. – Edyth replied glad to hear that the family enjoyed Daisy’s food and recognised her skills. Pausing for a moment the elder woman looked at Nessa and hesitatingly started. – I’m sorry if I’m overstepping… I know it might not be my place to ask, but is everything alright between you and master Turin? – The housekeeper asked worriedly. – I noticed how you reacted when I mentioned that I put his clothes and personal items in the master bedroom…

Nessa thought about Edyth’s question and how to answer it. Was everything alright between them? It was and it wasn’t. Everything kept returning to the things they left unsaid.

- For now, yes. – She replied thoughtfully in the end. – It’s complicated, but be that as it may, Roderic made the right choice when he told you to bring Turin’s personal items to our bedchamber. – She added reassuringly, noticing that Edyth looked relieved. The housekeeper must have worried if by obeying Roderic’s instructions would accidentally offend Nessa; not realising the level of trust that existed between the two cousins. – However, that’s not why I asked you to wait for me here. Where is Ellin? Does she know her father is here?
- Yes, master Roderic told her and Hannah that your husband is here. – Edyth replied and once again Nessa was glad that her elder cousin chose to accompany her to Minas Tirith. – He sent Ellin and Oswald to play hide and seek upstairs, and Hannah will be joining them soon. He thought it was best that the children were occupied, instead of them trying to eavesdrop… – The housekeeper said choosing her words with care.
- I see… – She replied, her lips quirking slightly. However, she didn’t truly believe that Roderic sent the children upstairs to play hide and seek. More likely he told them to hide and observe what was going on… And this told her that he too was worried over the fact that Turin was being followed. In the end, the real reason might turn out to be perfectly harmless and silly; however, both of them had the same thought and she couldn’t dismiss that easily. – Thank you for informing me. May I ask if my cousin said something, or did something that made you worry?

Edyth paused for a moment unsure how to phrase what she wanted to say. Nessa patiently waited for the woman to gather her thoughts; she did notice that the housekeeper was slightly vexed by something Roderic said or did and wanted to find out what was going on and why.

- Honestly ma’am… – Edyth started giving her an embarrassed smile and shrugging her shoulders slightly. – Master Roderic surprised me a bit, this all. I first met him after the War and he struck me as extremely serious and dutiful man… I guess I never really thought that he might have a, well, rather peculiar sense of humour… – The housekeeper finished apologetically and Nessa snorted in amusement.
- That he does. – She agreed with Edyth, at the same time wondering what exactly happened in her absence. – Although he doesn’t show it often, Roderic can be rather mischievous at times. I know it can be hard to reconcile that side of him with his serious demeanour.
- So it would seem ma’am.
- I have to thank you Edyth, and Daisy and Oswald too. – She said after a slight pause. – For everything that you did for us today. This afternoon turned out to be unexpectedly chaotic and you all made it seem like things like these are everyday occurrences.
- Thank you, ma’am, and it’s alright mistress no harm done. – Edyth quickly reassured her. – Before I go, ma’am may I ask you something?
- Of course, you may. – She replied wondering what kind of question would make the older woman hesitate.
- I’m sorry ma’am… But do you need someone to go to the apothecary tomorrow to fetch Moon tea for you?

Nessa was quiet for a long time. She was, once again, contemplating the question that weighed heavily on her mind ever since they sailed from Pelargir. She understood the reasons behind Edyth’s questions and appreciated that the woman worried about her so. However, she hadn’t made a decision yet. She had planned to go to the Houses of Healing to talk to the Warden about resuming her healer’s apprenticeship, and while she was there she wanted to see and talk to a healer. Ideally, she would go to see Decius and Iris, her old friends and colleagues from the Houses of Healing, but the twins moved to Ithilien after the War. She hadn’t and couldn’t think beyond that, not without talking and discussing things with Turin.

- That won’t be necessary. – She finally replied. – Thank you for thinking about it Edyth, and worrying about me… But this is something Turin and I need to decide together.
- Yes ma’am. – The housekeeper said and nodded understandingly. She gave her a soft smile, took the dishes and walked out of the study.

Left alone in the study she decided to sit down on the couch and wait for her husband, but she noticed that Turin left his longsword on the floor next to the couch. She reached out for it and saw that the two-handed longsword was her husband’s second sword; the one he had commissioned from the dwarves after their marriage. Méla Malcanë, Loving Torture, Turin named it. Taking the sword in both hands she sat on the couch and placed the longsword in her lap. For a few moments she just sat there unmoving, sword in her lap, and then an unknown impulse made her draw the sword from the scabbard. She placed the scabbard next to her and held the sword in both hands. The blade was dark blue and as she slowly turned the sword around she saw Ringhûn and Saelind, cold heart and wise heart, engraved on each side of the blade. Carefully she placed the sword back on her lap, her fingers hovering over Turin’s name.

A memory of her father, standing in this room facing her husband, caught her off guard. Her father, a man who was so rarely frightened, looked truly afraid in her memory, his face pale as a sheet.

- You are tempting Fate with that sword, son, and Fate is a cruel mistress. – Leo had said to his son-in-law, his voice barely above a whisper. – And you dared to put my daughter’s name on this dark sword! If you loved her, like you claimed you did, you would not do this! You would not risk her to Fate… – Although Leo’s words were harsh he looked at Turin pleadingly, with the eyes of a father who loved his only surviving child so much that he was willing to do anything to spare her from pain and suffering.

She tried to shake herself from the memory while she carefully returned the sword to the scabbard. However, like echoes from a painful past, other memories resurfaced.

She was lying on a bed covered in crisp, fresh white linen in one of the recovery rooms in the Houses of Healing. Until this day she still remembered the scent of that room: a combination of various flowers whose scent emanated through an open window, the smell of soap the washerwomen from the Houses used to clean the linen and everything overlaid with the scent of disinfectant. Roderic was outside talking to Decius and the nurses; she knew Iris was there too, and that soon she would bring her something for the pain. Bran was sitting on the bed, listening to her as she struggled to speak through the pain. He wiped the tears from her face with his right hand while he held her hand with the other one.

- A sword is just a sword. – Bran told her, his voice firm, but his eyes were soft, filled with so much love and kindness. – A weapon that a person wields to attack or protect themselves or those they love… Weapons are not good or evil, their names don’t have power… The sword’s name did not cause this! It’s just a sword, a simple tool…

Even then, despite the pain, on an intellectual level, she knew she was being absurd. Turin’s sword was just an object, not a harbinger of evil. Still, she could not help but wonder what if her father was right in a way? Names had power. What if by commissioning the sword from the dwarves, giving them the design that he did and finally naming the sword Méla Malcanë Turin did tempt Fate?

She stood up, sword in hand, trying to shake herself from these memories. "A sword is just a sword." Now was not the time for these thoughts. She walked over to the fireplace and placed Turin’s sword on the mantelpiece. He could retrieve it from there anytime he wished. Hearing footsteps behind her she turned to see Turin arriving; he changed his clothes and his hair was still damp from the bath. She noticed with pleasure that he had shaved; and although a beard looked good on him, she never really explained why she preferred when he shaved. As he got closer she felt the scent of the soap that he used, a mix cedar and pine, a woodsy smell that always reminded her of him. He leaned in and kissed her tenderly and she felt herself relaxing, pushing all her sadness and worry away, locking them in the back of her mind for the moment.

- Love you. – He said and she beamed at him. She was never going to get tired of hearing him say that. – I guess it’s time to show Red I’m still on this side of the dirt. – He chuckled and she joined him. It was good to laugh with him again, to touch him and be touched, and to share the joy with the people they cared about. Placing his arm around her waist he pulled her close to him and they walked out from the study, smiling at each other as they went to the dining room.

NPC Roderic de Argosy

There were a lot of words one could use to describe Roderic de Argosy, Baran’s and Aliane’s firstborn child: dutiful, loyal, quiet, careful, shrewd businessman… On the other hand, the words eccentric, reckless and mischievous were more often associated with his brother Bran. Nonetheless, as he stood in the kitchen and explained his plans to the household staff he had a feeling that Edyth, and perhaps Daisy as well, were currently more inclined to think about him in the terms of reckless and eccentric… Although Roderic thought in wry amusement, the two women were more likely to use the word crazy than eccentric. But apparently (when you’re a man of means and status) your behaviour is more often going to be characterized as eccentric than crazy, and you were less likely to see the insides of an asylum. Instead of dwelling on that Roderic decided to focus on practical matters. The savoury and delicious aromas emanating from the stove at the far end of the kitchen made him focus on tonight’s meal and the need to give clear and precise instructions to the entire household.

- Mrs Daisy, could you please tell me what you’ll be serving for dinner tonight? – Roderic asked the cook who started to prepare the spiced wine. – I’m certain you already informed my cousin about the state of the pantry, but I’d like to know about the state of the wine storage. What wines do we have in the household? Any ale or other spirits?
- Begging your pardon master Roderic, I was supposed to talk to the mistress about the state of the pantry before dinner, but her husband’s arrived and well… – Daisy looked apologetically at him, but he gave her a kind smile and nodded his head in understanding. – I prepared flatbread and salt. – The cook said referring to the welcoming ceremony and Roderic nodded approvingly. – Regarding dinner, for the appetiser, there’s chickpea paste and I added a sauce with a mix of herbs and spices to the chicken leftovers from lunch. – The cook continued to speak, simultaneously working on preparing the spiced wine. The love Daisy had for food and cooking, along with the pride in her skills as a cook clearly showed in her voice. – There’s also a cheese platter with walnuts and olives, and if necessary I can add fried sausages if you’d like sir?
- I don’t believe it would be necessary, but thank you. – Roderic replied admiring the cook’s thoughtfulness and clear enjoyment she found in her work. – Please, continue.
- For the main course, I made rack of lamb baked in a crust of garlic and herbs. I was planning to prepare that for tomorrow’s lunch, but seeing as we have unexpected guests… – Again the cook paused, uncertain how her actions were going to be interpreted.
- Mrs Daisy, please. There’s no need to apologise. – Roderic was quick to reassure his cousin’s cook. – No one expected that my cousin’s husband would arrive today. I certainly hadn’t planned on inviting anyone for dinner. – He chuckled, aware of the irony, for he was doing exactly that in the most outlandish way he could think of in such a short time. – I’m aware that you didn’t manage to talk with Nessa about the state of the pantry, but I assure you she will not mind and will approve your decisions. The two of you will discuss any corrections and adjustments that need to be made regarding the food stores, household budget and expenses. For now, please don’t worry about it.
- Thank you, master Roderic. – The cook replied slightly relieved that her mistress wouldn’t be scolding her. – Oswald helped prepare the salad to go with the rack of lamb, and for dessert, there are pancakes with honey and sesame seeds and peaches in honey.

Roderic was silent for a few moments after the cook finished speaking; he was thinking about the food Daisy prepared and was quite impressed whit what she, with her son’s help, managed to do in such a short time. His cousin and her husband were extremely lucky to have such a talented person in their household and he was sure that Nessa would appreciate the woman’s skill and talent.

- You have my compliments and my gratitude Mrs Daisy – He said after a while bowing to the cook who was surprised by the gesture. – And you as well Oswald, for helping your mother. The dinner you prepared sounds marvellous and I’m confident that it will be every bit as delicious as you described it! So, I suppose we’ll go with red wine, although white wine would be better with peaches in honey…
- Speaking of wine master Roderic… – Edyth interrupted his musings. – We only managed to procure local, Gondorian wine. I’m afraid we don’t have any from Dorwinion…
- As long as they don’t taste like horse piss, I’m quite untroubled by their origins. – He replied with a chuckle noticing that the cook was shaking with suppressed laughter. Edyth, on the other hand, just looked exasperated by his antics. – I usually water my wine, heavily – He explained, the need to keep a clear head always outweighed everything else, even enjoyment of fine wine. – And I don’t believe tonight’s dinner guests are wine snobs... So, as I said, as long as the wine doesn’t taste like horse piss we’ll be fine. Unless the gentlemen prefer ale, in which case our discussion is rather moot.

He spread his hands and shrugged his shoulders rather theatrically while he, and everyone else, waited for Daisy to add the finishing touches to the spiced wine. He knew that he was being observed and assessed by the rest of the household, just as he was observing and assessing them. He was aware that his current behaviour most likely seemed out of character to these people who didn’t know him well. They saw him as a serious and dutiful man without a mischievous bone in his body. But his siblings and cousin knew him better, and they knew that even his rare shenanigans had some sort of lesson hidden behind them.

- Hannah. – He called the young girl when he noticed that the spiced wine was ready. – You will take the goblet to the man outside. You are to greet him and tell him that “Master Roderic sends his regards and he would like to cordially invite you, in his own and his cousin Nessa’s name, to join the family for an unplanned dinner party.” – He saw Hannah nodding and he asked the girl to repeat what he said word by word until she remembered it. – Good. As you do that make sure to take note of the man’s speech and the way he moves.
- Begging your pardon master Roderic… – Oswald interrupted, noticing that Hannah looked confused by these instructions. – Why is that important? How the man walks and speaks I mean, sir?

Roderic smiled slightly at the boy and nodded his head at him; Oswald was paying attention, and most importantly thinking and asking the right questions.

- You can find out a lot about a person just by looking at them. – He started to explain. – The clothes they chose to wear, their quality and cut can tell you where they’re from, what class they belong to or aspire to belong to, do they feel comfortable wearing those clothes or not... – He looked at Oswald and saw that, in addition to everyone else in the kitchen, the boy was listening intently to what he was saying. – If you know what to look for, the way a person walks can tell you what they do. For example, soldiers have a certain way of walking that differs from the way a farmer might walk… And how a person speaks can tell you where they’re from. You’ve probably noticed that when I speak I don’t sound like I’m from Minas Tirith?
- Erm… Begging your pardon sir… – Oswald started reluctantly, clearly fearing that he would offend. Roderic merely gestured for him to continue. – You do speak differently. Not that I don’t understand you, but some words… You say them differently than the people from the City.
- My accent is different because I’m from Pelargir. – He confirmed the boy’s statement. – Also, if I was at home and speaking to my parents or my siblings I would not be using standard Westron. I would be speaking in the Pelargir dialect of Westron, for that is how we speak back home.
- Pelargir dialect? But I understand you just fine sir!
- Because I’m speaking standard like I was taught by my tutors. – Roderic said his lips quirking into a smile. Without warning, he repeated the sentence he had Hannah memorise in the Pelargir dialect. He spoke the way he would normally speak to his brother or father and saw the confusion on the boy’s face. On the other hand, Hannah and Ellin had no problem with understanding him. – Hear the difference? If I spoke to you as I speak to my brother Bran, for example, you would understand only half the things I was saying. So even if a person is speaking Westron you can still distinguish where they’re from if you listen to how they speak.
- So you can figure out where someone’s from without even asking them! – Oswald exclaimed, exited by the concept. Roderic smiled and nodded, the boy was smart a quick learner; his observations and opinions on what he saw tonight would be interesting to hear.
- Yes, or you can approximate depending on your knowledge. – He took the goblet of spiced wine and turned to Hannah. – Now, my dear, it’s your turn. Go and extend our invitation to Turin’s friend.

He watched Hannah take the goblet and with a serious face walk out the kitchen, through the hallway towards the door. He then turned to Ellin and Oswald who were looking after the girl.

- Ellin, you are to go with Oswald upstairs. Out of sight. – He stressed, his face serious as he watched both of the children. – I mean it. You are to watch and observe, but you must remain hidden until you see your mother and father coming to the dining room. Only then can you come down. Do you understand me starling?
- Yes, uncle Roderic. – The girl replied, but he could see she was not satisfied with his instructions.
- This is important, starling. – He said softening his voice. – Please go with Oswald and stay together. Remember, stay out of sight, but observe and think about what you’re seeing. I’ll want a report from both of you later. Off you go now.

Ellin nodded and, to Oswald’s surprise, went to the boy and took his hand. His lips quirked slightly as he saw the expression on the boy’s face before both children exited the kitchen holding hands. “Tight shipwreck indeed…” he thought as he turned to Edyth and Daisy who were watching him.

- I can’t explain the handholding. – He told them with a shrug. – As for the rest… It is better they are out of sight but occupied with a task until I know what’s going on here. – He knew that if he left the children to their own devices they would still find a way to eavesdrop on the situation. And get into some sort of trouble, no doubt about it. At least this way their actions were preapproved and he would be getting a report of sorts.
- Do you think that man is dangerous? – Daisy asked worriedly, after all, he practically sent her son to watch over Ellin.
- No, I don’t. – He said firmly. – I believe he is Turin’s friend from the army; Edyth might remember him… However, I don’t know why he followed Turin here. It could be completely harmless… Maybe the man was making sure his friend went to his wife’s house … – He paused for a moment debating whether to tell them the rest; and then deciding there was no point in omitting the rest of his thoughts. – Or perhaps, he was following him to make sure no harm came to Turin on his way here. Either way, I want them out of sight for now.
- Should I go and tell mistress Nessa about this? – Edyth asked with a frown.
- Just inform her we have another guest for dinner. – He replied after thinking about the housekeeper’s question. – Wait until we are seated in the dining room and then go to the study. I’ll discuss the rest with her later tonight, or tomorrow… Besides… – He continued with a wry smile. – In the end, this might turn out to be something rather silly and completely harmless.
- Of course master Roderic. – The housekeeper calmly replied.
- Edyth… – He said the housekeeper’s name quietly and looked her in the eyes. – I would never do anything to endanger my cousin or anyone in this household.
Edyth looked thoughtfully at him and after a while acknowledged his statement by a slight nod. He did the same and walked out of the kitchen to the hallway to greet his guest.


Roderic’s and Red’s first meeting could be described as amusingly awkward. Hannah was blushing and looked awkward as she and Red (goblet of spiced wine in hand) walked into the hallway. Roderic was observing all of this with wry amusement and he thought his guest also found the same kind of humour in this situation as he did. The oddness of their introduction disappeared as soon as the two men entered the dining room. At the centre of the dining table, surrounded by the cold appetisers, a decorative salt-box was placed and the bread was placed next to it. Red took a piece of bread and dipped it into the salt and ate it, while Roderic followed.

- There are bread and salt between us. – Roderic spoke the ritual words ending the hospitium ceremony.

With formalities over, both men sat down and helped themselves to the food on the table while they talked. By an unspoken agreement, they both chose not to speak about the two people whose estrangement and subsequent reunion brought them to this dining room. Instead, their conversation revolved around food (Daisy’s cooking was truly marvellous and deserved to be praised many times) and drink preferences, and they slowly moved on to the state of the roads and inns in the Reunited Kingdom and the lands surrounding them. They exchanged travel advice and information about the inns, pubs and various other establishments; Roderic mostly offering advice about the southern part of the Kingdom, while Red returned the favour by giving information about the northern part of the Kingdom. As they shared the food and talked Roderic realised that Red, Turin’s Dúnadan friend, was an easy-going, and interesting man to talk to. However, despite his easy-going nature, the Northerner was observant and careful, traits that Roderic appreciated.

- Hûl Hyandaner. – Turin’s greeting interrupted their conversation and both Red and Roderic stood up to greet the two people who entered the dining room. Turin managed to freshen up and change his clothes and find his way to that pleasant appointment with a razor. Roderic smirked as he noticed that Turin's arm was around his cousin’s waist and that Nessa looked relaxed and happy. Nevertheless, as he looked at her closely Roderic noticed that she cried recently, but managed to freshen up somewhat. To his great sadness, he saw her cry plenty of times after the War and knew how to recognise the signs. He wondered what was said during their conversation, but most of all he worried about the things that were left unsaid. Watching his cousin and her husband he had a feeling Nessa left some things unsaid out of fear of hurting the man she loved more than she loved herself.

He refrained from commenting when Turin thanked him for lending him a spare razor, but he lifted his eyebrow in surprise when the man started to speak in Sindarin to Red. The fact that Nessa’s husband could speak Sindarin didn’t surprise him; what did was the man’s decision to switch from Westron to Sindarin to make a rather vague comment about the state of his marriage to his friend. Turin didn’t strike him like a man who thought that speaking of marriage troubles in front those close to him was shameful or improper. Red knew that the couple had issues they needed to resolve. After all, that’s why he followed Turin to the de Argosy house today. In a way, they were all here in this room because of the couple’s problems. He glanced at Nessa who could only shrug and roll her eyes at her husband’s behaviour.

His wry amusement about the whole situation was interrupted by Ellin’s and Hannah’s arrival. Ellin was vibrating with excitement over seeing her father, and clearly, she wanted nothing more than to run to her father’s arms and hug him tightly. Instead, the girl looked at her mother and then at Roderic who merely gestured at her. Remembering the instructions about proper greetings and the half of the afternoon of practice Ellin performed a flawless greeting. Turin responded in kind, and in less than a heartbeat after he finished she ran to her father who picked her up, and the girl hugged him tightly. Roderic turned to look at Nessa again and saw that she was smiling brightly, tears of joy running down her face. He glanced to Red and noticed that the man was smiling as well. Sensing movement on his left he turned to see Hannah coming over to him, a small nervous smile on her lips, her right fist clenched.

- Sir. – She spoke the word barely above a whisper, standing opposite him, her back turned to everyone else to block their view. She opened her fist and showed him a small, hastily folded piece of parchment. He took the parchment from her, and still using her as a shield quickly unfolded it.

Ranger, accent? – not MT, simple, blood-red

His face remained neutral as he read Oswald’s short report in the form of a simple, but legibly written message. He’d have to give the boy credit for doing this; he mentioned he expected a report from him and Ellin, but he did not anticipate that Oswald would write clear and concise observations and send his report through Hannah.

- This was his idea? – He quietly asked Hannah in the Pelargir dialect as he folded the note and placed it in his pocket.
- Yes, sir. – She replied quietly in the same dialect. – He asked me to fetch something to write as soon as I got upstairs.
- Did you read it? – He asked and the girl nodded quickly. – Do you agree with his assessment?
- Yes. – She said glancing at Red, blushing slightly. – Except for the last part.

He arched an eyebrow and looked at the girl. Although she was still blushing, she didn’t appear nervous or uncomfortable, like she was before.

- Should I make enquiries regarding the last part? – He asked teasingly.
- Master Roderic! – Hannah hissed and he chuckled.
- Peace my lady, I jest. – He spoke calmly and looked around the room noticing that Red and Nessa were watching them; his cousin with amusement and their guest with slight curiosity. – Hannah, I need you to do something for me. – He said quickly, his tone serious, aware that time was running out for this conversation. – Before you have dinner in the kitchen, go to my room and open the upmost drawer of the writing desk. You’ll find a couple of white envelopes sealed with my signet. Take one of them with you and bring it to me before dessert. When you see Oswald tell him I want to speak to him after.
- Yes, sir. – Hannah acknowledged, turned and quickly exited the dining room.
- Is everything alright? – Nessa inquired after she saw Hannah leaving the room.
- Yes, of course. – He replied in standard Westron. – I just sent Hannah to get something to eat. – His cousin raised an eyebrow at him but gave her approval with a slight move of her head.

The main course arrived and she turned from him and asked everyone to take their seat at the table. Soon the conversation turned to the safe topic of food and everyone was complimenting Daisy’s cooking.

Just as she was instructed, Hannah returned to the dining room before dessert was served. She was holding the sealed envelope in her right hand. As she handed him the envelope he thanked her, and almost absentmindedly gestured for her to take a seat next to him. He looked up at his cousin who was observing him, and when she noticed what Hannah brought down she smiled gratefully. He broke the seal and took out a round iron tessera about the size of a standard gold coin. An argosy ship was on the obverse of the token, while the reverse held a model of the city of Pelargir.

- According to tradition… – Roderic started with a wry smile and everyone looked at him. – The host should give his guest the tessera, the token of hospitality before they part. My personal preference has always been to give my tessera before desert. – He got up and walked to Red who also stood up. Roderic placed his right hand over his heart and bowed slightly, then he gave the Dúnadan the token of hospitality and the man accepted it.

- I am grateful for the help you gave my cousin and her husband. – He said to Red his voice formal, but sincere. – If you or your descendants are ever in need… – He said emphasising the hereditary nature of the tessera. – And if de Argosy family can aid you in any way, you only need to show this token to one of my family members or our agents and aid and assistance will be provided.

NPF edit: Daaamn woman! Given you some points for the longest post outside of AoA!

Kaylin - SIxth Circle - Home

Tilting her head as she watched Thûllir put his little workshop in order, she leaned against the doorframe and hooked a foot behind her other ankle. A grin flashed across her face at the way he addressed her. "No, no place in mind. Just of a thought to go somewhere where neither of us needs to do any work to get the food on and off the table." She spread her arms a little as she explained. "Relaxation, and all that. Unless you'd rather not bother with walking all of those circles, or getting fancy. Regardless of location, I'm really just looking forward to a nice evening with you."

She patted a finger to her chin. "Okay, a nice evening with you, and a hot meal. And maybe a drink. Or two." Kaylin moved to stand behind him and wrap her arms around his waist for a hug. "It's been a long day."

Thea

The young woman had definitely not lived long enough to be able to hide her true feelings from the expression on her face. She stood there shocked to the core as she listened to Tom's father trying to recollect his own son's name. She knew well that there were many many tragic stories in Minas Tirith since the war. Everyone knew someone who had lost someone, or even lost a loved one of their own. So why was this so painful? Why did this man elicit so much disgust and ill feelings, so much pity towards the little boy back at the House of Healing?

She wanted to cry, she wanted to rage against this man for destroying not only his own life, but also the life of an innocent boy. An innocent smart boy. But with a hard swallow to get rid of the massive lump in her throat she steeled herself. "Very well." Was all she said as she turned on her heels and started the walk back towards the boy. She did not care if he did not follow her immediately, or if he lagged behind as everyone knew where the building was. Nor was she interested in conversing with him on the way up, unable to put her ill feelings towards him aside. She only saw a drunk, a loathsome one that was not taking care of his beautiful smart boy and for that she hated him like only the young and ignorant can.

Eril

She was walking fast, whoever this woman was. He tried to keep up but every step away from his house felt like a burden. Eril wanted to bolt back to his home, close the door, and lock away the cold light of reality. He’d forgotten about his son. He’d forgotten about his son! That was shameful. His wife would be so angry at him for such a thing. The thought of her anger, a radiating heat from the center of his chest, spurred him on. The walk should not have been difficult, but it was. He had more than let himself go in the intervening time between now and his wife’s unfair demise. He had no energy though. Eril barely had enough to feed himself and… the boy. The drink provided an escape. He never meant it to be a permanent escape but, it had become that, that and more.

Why did he even need to climb all the way up to the Houses? What good could he do there? The boy wouldn’t need him there. This woman, had he even gotten her name, seemed to have everything well in hand. He stopped. His face red with exertion. As he leaned against the wall, he found that the bottle was still in his hand. He took a drink. The fire burned all the way down to his belly, but the burning left a numbness that he so desperately needed.

Eril sighed and looked back down the street to his house. He felt to bottle pulling him back there, but the ghostly spiritual essence of his wife also pulled at him, pulling up towards to upper parts of the city. Toward their son. Tom. What had that boy done to get himself taken there anyway? Hadn’t he taught him to stay out of that part of Minas Tirith? Hadn’t he told him to be careful? How much was this little adventure going to cost him? Suddenly something more real and immediate punched him in the stomach. This boy, his son, was he going to die? The woman hadn’t made it sound serious but doctors and healers shouldn’t be trusted to tell the truth about how serious something was. His wife, stars bless her, hadn’t been sick long and the Houses made him think she was recovering right up until the day she didn’t. Was the same thing about to happen to his son? The fog of alcohol cleared for him somewhat. He could walk with greater vigor, the vigor of a man that was about to lose everything.

The girl was gone. Eril had expected as much. She was young and there had been an anger in her eyes, unfairly directed at him. She didn’t know anything about him or the boy, his son, Tom, yet she presumed to know how they ought to live? Oh to be young and naïve. He knew the way to the Houses though. He remembered the cold, heartless white stone pathways the led to that house of sorrow and anguish. He took a final swig from his bottle and dropped it, letting it shatter with a high pitched ring, and walked on.

Beren's only daughter smiled softly, enjoying the homey feeling she experienced hearing "Miss Aileen" when she walked amongst the older gardeners her grandfather sent. They were all kind, trusted men she felt comfortable giving commands to and being alone with. They were enchanted by the young statuesque woman's sweet, reserved nature and her effective management of the lebethron grove. The black hardwood trees grew tall and fair, smooth and glossy in the sprawling woods of Beren Camlost even before he bought Vorngaearon Farm. The gentleman who previously owned the scenic place where lebethron from Ithilien was harvested in Gondor wanted to retire.

Beren bought the the business and the airy homestead from him with some of the profits he and Aileen earned from their mines on Mel Lóna in the Wethrin Isles. She expected to have lived on the verdant, mountainous island for the rest of her life but when Beren heard news from his visiting Belfalas cousin, Lady Arin Montagna, that he had a son in Gondor then he decided to move to the mainland with Aileen. Beren had suffered the betrayal of Aileen's mother and had been missing Nelladel Alarion - the mother of Mourgan - for many years. He felt it was time to heal the wounds of the past and hopefully rekindle his romance with her which once flamed in their youth.

She emerged from the lebethron woods of this misty Lossarnach morning, having just left the office building in the forest. She approached the homestead along the gravel pathway bordered by ornamental bushes of Caranclaur, a red and gold cultivar of rose which one of Sir Halion's younger sisters - Lissëvendë, an esteemed horticulturist - produced in Gondor; it was called Sunset's Splendor in the Bree-land. The immaculate green lawn was richly banketed by colorful wildflowers and Ilwelenta, Heavensent - a blue and white poppy with a yellow stamen, one of the fiefdom's most beloved plants...

The homestead, built of lebethron and Nimrais white marble, had a close-to-ground profile and arched curtained windows. Aileen walked along the wooden ramp of the farmhouse and caressed the large furry ears of Huan. The great wolfhound, a gift from Airien Mereniel, rested on the porch between the lebethron chairs Addhor carved for Beren and Aileen. The big mountain dog was bi-colored white and grey. His breed had a fluffy-coated appearance - especially the pups - and a joyful "smiling" face. Despite its huge size, Wethrin Hounds were quite friendly and had soft expressive eyes, Roy's were light blue.

She entered the living room and beamed, a rare smile widening her lips, looking at her strong broad-shouldered father standing in the golden sunshine. Beren had his back turned to her, gazing upon the sparkling waters of Erui, the swift river flowing south through this valley of Imloth Melui.

"You look handsomer shaved and dressed in white, Pa," Aileen assured him when she drew close to embrace him and kiss his beardless face. He wore dark leather tooled boots (which she finally got her father to polish) and the trousers, coat, and brocade vest she had bought for him to wear when he saw Nelladel this afternoon in Minas Tirith.

"White isn't my color, lass," Beren replied, grimacing.

"Nonesense!" Aileen protested. "You look dashing, not dastardly for once."

"It won't fool her, girl," Beren insisted, giving his daughter a roguish lopsided grin. "I hope she enjoys the fragrance oil Airien Mereniel sent me from Rivendell." The cologne - Vornírë , contained in a black gryphon bottle - embodied the scent of lemon and bergamot of Forlindon at the open with middle-notes of spice and frankincense before drying down to a intricate layer of Rhûnish incense and Lórien mosses.

"It's masculine, she'll love it!" Aileen remarked with effusive heartfelt confidence. "When you return," she said, straightening her father's ruffled neckcloth, "you need to write letters to the myriad of carpenters and shipwrights who've sent messages regarding contracts."

"And if I can't focus?" he asked casually with the slightest hint of an impish smirk.

"Then I will handle it as I handled our business on the island while you gallivanted with the Mordagnirs and Uncle Garavan," Aileen, laughing, promised, and rolled her brown eyes. "Don't forget the hat, Pa," she suggested, taking the white brimmed hat off a rack of pegs to put on her father's pomaded raven hair.

"Might be too much, honey, but at least it looks better than Astaro's," he wagered and shared a merry chuckle with his daughter before he kissed her goodbye. "Your Aunt Veowyn or brother Mourgan might turn up, kid, maybe even Isys , Nal, or Kamion," Beren reminded Aileen. He opened the door, again pausing to stand in the warm sunbeams breaking free of the cottony summer clouds to burnish the Camlost porch. "Don't tell anyone about your mother," Beren pleaded with her, looking stern and rather anxious. "Especially Veowyn, Mourgan, or Nal."

"I still agree and understand, Pa," assented Aileen gravely and with no animosity.

Beren gave her a somber nod then departed. Aileen smiled, coming to the railing of the homestead. She waved one slender limb, still bound in its long lace glove, in farewell when he rode out of the lebethron woods. With one hand gripping the reins of his black mare, Brenna, he saluted her with the white hat he momentarily doffed and vanished, crowing with delight to rouse a cheerful laugh from Aileen and a loud joyful bark from ol' Roy.





Beren maintained a tranquil facade as he idly paced the lush grash of one deserted lawn in The Sundial Court. He requested Nelladel to meet him here in the bittersweet, intimate letter he wrote to her. Beren wanted to choose a pleasant public place not too far from her home and bakery so she could be comfortable. Beren being the clever gambler that he was, selected one certain pasture in particular. Blue roses, those which only grew in Imloth Melui, festooned wrought iron trellises amid a ring of olive trees encircling a gilded gazebo where stood a solitary lebethron bench. It was near a pavilion of skillful Belfalas harpers playing a melodious oceanic symphony - Birds of the Storm - with violinists of Lamedon, trumpeters of Pinnath Gelion, and singers from the vales of Lebennin. Strategic indeed, the setting; it made his intent rather clear, didn't it?

When Beren beheld the shadow of the Sundial's gnomon crossing the line of the afternoon's fourth hour, the time of Nelladel's arrival, Beren clung tenaciously to his calm mien. The swell of the Gondorian voices singing the Sindarin words of Elendil's hymn reached its epic zenith in wondrous tandem with the ardent zeal of the horn and viol concerto. As the majesty of the song intensified, conveying images in the mind's eye of the King's vessels borne aloft on hills of water to descend on Middle-earth in the land of Lindon, a wave of grief cut right through Beren.

He couldn't help but to reflect on the tribulations which had afflicted both him and, he was sure, Nelladel in the time they spent estranged from each other by his own foolishness. Beren felt a lifting of spirits as the Belfalas harpers and the White City percussionists - musicians striking bells, triangles, and the chimes - majestically paired with the Anfalas trumpeters to conjure images to the listener of Elendil establishing his realm. "The King rebuilt, so shall we," Beren, enboldened, thought to himself as she appeared. She was older now but still the same shapely doe-eyed woman he remembered. Sylph-like, an angel of Yavanna in green raiment with eyes like living jewels. Tilting his white hat at a jaunty angle to make her laugh, less nervous, he afterwards beckoned her to him with an upraised palm and kissed the hand she interlaced with his in reverent tenderness.

Approaching the Sundial Court she caught the wisp of music as it seemed to ride the small breeze that played at a tendril of her dark hair. It was lovely and if she'd merely come to enjoy the music alone she would have already counted the evening a success. She took in a deep controlled breath and let it out slowly as she walked, her green eyes taking in the beauty of the blue roses, the trellis and the olive trees. He couldn't have chosen a lovelier place.

She turned the small corner and he came into view. He tilted his hat to such an angle she couldn't stop herself from chuckling and a small smile lifted the corners of her lips. The smile remained as she answered his silent request and she slipped her fingers lightly into the upturned palm he offered, such a small contact yet she noted to herself how strong his hand felt. Green eyes watched as he placed a kiss on her hand.

She could feel her cheeks flush slightly at the gesture. "It's lovely to see you again." Raising on her toes she came to press a light welcoming kiss on his newly shaven cheek, a small pause to enjoy the aroma of his cologne before she stepped back. It was delightful and fit him well. She lightly took back her hand, absently cupping the favored hand within the other. "I was pleased to get your letter." That was an understatement. She took in his features, the dark hair and grey eyes. The same wide shoulders his son bore. Such similarities. Time had matured him, herself as well she thought. She only hoped it looked as good on her as it did him.
She cast a glance to the bench and motioned toward it. “Shall we sit? I’m sure you have many questions.” She tried not to let the nervousness she was feeling come out in her voice as she moved toward the bench, tightening the wrap around her shoulders before gathering her dress to sit lightly upon the polished wood, leaving ample room for him to join her. “Speaking of questions. “She smiled. “How is your daughter? Aileen? Mourgan speaks so fondly of her. I think he takes his role as older brother very seriously. “She chuckled at her son’s determination to be the best big brother ever.

Thûllir Bregedyr - Sixth Circle - Home workshop

He had glanced back again in time to catch the grin and her explanation as he finished dusting the surface of the wooden table, and his own smile deepened for a moment as he nodded an acknowledgement of her words. It was nice to occasionally take a break from cooking, and he knew how much Kaylin liked being more social. “It would be good to spend the evening out relaxing together, and I won’t say no to the rest.” He pondered where to go as she stepped up and slid her arms around him. That caused him to pause and sigh with contentment as one hand went to cover her fingers that linked around his waist. Since it had been a long day for the both of them he was less inclined to walk far.

Thûllir‘s smile warmed his voice as he tossed the rag into a bin for cleaning and replied. “I heard about a new little place in the fourth circle called the Ranger’s Rest, which is run by some retired veterans with a knack for cooking. Might be a good place for that meal while having a quieter evening.” Not to mention a safer venue so they could more properly relax.

Relic
Somewhere near and dear to Pele

The blue of the sky reflected in the pair of crystalline eyes that now searched the landscape. A thin wisp of fiery red hair peeked out from under the dark velvet of her hood. Although the day was fine and many would call it perfect she really didn’t care for it.
She waited impatiently for his arrival as her mount moved beneath her, impatient himself with waiting. Smooth, strong fingers gripped the reins, wringing them slightly. He was late! The only excuse she would accept was his blood and confirmation.
Her keen hearing picked up the sound of a horse, riding hard for her position. A single rider. She waited in the trees, her cloak hiding her features as it draped around her and her mount. He came to a hurried halt not far from her.
He tried to catch his breath as his mount danced beneath him, it’s mouth foaming and drenched with sweat.
“You’re late. Were you followed?” She asked.
“No...” he breathed heavy.
“Did you deliver the letter?” She got right to the point, not caring to let him catch his breath.
He nodded firstly. “Yes. It was delivered, I could only take it as far as the grounds. I watched it disappear into the barracks from the gate but the guards warned me off. “
She said nothing at first as she looked beyond him, her thoughts on the arrival of the letter and imaging the Alarions reaction. Satisfied she turned back to him, reaching beneath her cloak. A moment of alarm on his part but with the clinking of coin he let out the breath he’d sucked in momentarily.

The gleam in his eyes only matched the look of greed on his scruffy, dirty face. In that moment she watched his eyes dilate with anticipation. A moment later his breath came out as a gasping moan and those same eyes were wide with shock and disbelief as he first looked at her cold expressionless face then down to the hilt of the blade that she had her hand wrapped around. Blood, his blood, ran freely over her fingers as the dagger rest in his gut.
“You made me wait. Were the ales worth your life?” She surprised him with the knowledge of him stopping for a couple drinks before he was to meet her. How did she know?! He’d ridden straight there.
He looked into her eyes. Unnatural, the crystalline circles seemed to move. Churning, rolling. He was lost momentarily until they darkened like thunder clouds about to break loose. He didn’t know how but he could see she knew the truth. “Sorceress.” His last word was meant to insult but she only shrugged.
“Guilty.” She quickly jerked the blade from his gut and he slumped forward, dead. She wiped her blade over the back of his tunic to clean it. Her thoughts back to the Alarion as she did so. She would give her a couple days to soak up her message then she would implement the next step in her plan.

@Pele AlarionBwaaahaahaa!!

As Taethowen traveled from the Mark's border into Anorien, a dark gloom settled over her. With each of Gefyrst's hoofbeats, she drew closer and closer to her family's final resting place.

She didn't have nearly enough memories to fill the hours of travel. Let alone for nearly two days.

It was a relief on that second day when, just after midday, she finally reached the site where the Cornerstone Inn had stood. Further west along the road, against the horizon, Taeth could see the small town that had sprung up around the new inn when it was built. She had no desire to go that far, though. Truly, she did not even want to be here, but felt that she should, at least once.

Her gaze returned to the Cornerstone Inn. All that remained of it was a burned-out shell of stone.

I stayed in touch with your sister, Eldreda had said. She'd asked me to meet them at the Cornerstone Inn before they got too far into Gondor, to try and convince your mother to return. But I arrived after the fire. Nearly half of the guests at the inn perished. Most of them were too far from home for the bodies to transported back for burial. There's a mass grave behind the inn, with a memorial stone erected. When I spoke with survivors, there were several who recalled seeing your family in the inn just before the fire started.

Taeth barely felt herself move, but somehow she was off Gefyrst, heading around the back of the inn.

The memorial stone wasn't large, though it wasn't as small as a stone that would be laid over an individual grave. There were no names etched on it--presumably because no one knew the names of all who had perished--simply an epitaph.


Taethowen stood in silence for a very long time, her eyes traveling over the graven stone and the mound of earth. Over and over again, as if by mere observance she could discern where exactly her family lay buried within it.

"Modor," she eventually whispered. "I have no idea what to say. I feel like I should apologize... but I don't regret walking away. Not after you married Grimbur. I know that, in some way, you cared for him. That you couldn't believe that it was possible for him to despise me so. I don't blame you for that.

"But I am sorry that I let him separate us. I should have tried a little harder."

She tipped her head back, letting the breeze caress her face as tears began to escape her again. She was so tired of crying.

"Cary, Cadman," she addressed her sister and brother next. "I'm sorry. So, so sorry that I didn't take the time to get to know you as you grew up. I'm sorry if you ever felt that I never cared about you."

Taeth stood at the gravesite in silence for a little while longer, trying to think of anything else she needed to say. If there was anything she should say. Even if she'd been closer with them, she wasn't sure if she would tell them anything of what had conspired lately. Her mother had never understood the first time she joined the Cavalry, so she would not have celebrated her return now, nor that she was a marshal again. Perhaps she would have been sympathetic about the disappearance of Taeth's husband... but she definitely would not have had kind words to say about the more recent love affair. So Taeth felt no need to tell a spirit long gone about any of it, as if spilling a shameful secret, for she felt no shame.

And for Grimbur, her stepfather... Taeth had no words. She'd cut her ties with him long ago.

"Rest peacefully now," she whispered, running a hand over the top of the memorial stone, and then turned back to Gefyrst.

"Shall we go?" she said to the mare as she wiped away her tears. "We won't make it back to the Mark tonight, but maybe we can make Ærn Anhyrne by midday tomorrow."

It felt odd to ride away, back west, without having spent more than an hour there. A week of travel from Edoras just to... stand by a grave for an hour. And she wasn't even sure that she felt like she was going home after this.

Honestly, she wasn't sure where home was anymore. But for now she was tied to the Mark, and until she could loose those ties, she would stay.

(continues in Life in the Mark)

It was easy to lose herself on such a day. The sun was scarcely woken but already the sounds and scent of a fair enticed folk from their beds and all the way to explore the excitement. It was soon the harvest festival and as firm as city officials were about sweeping up streamers and litter in the seven circles, all could flock to the Pelennor fields with reckless abandon. Children of all ages would follow their noses and their curiosity toward the tents, some drawn to even spectate on the setting up of stalls and catch a matinee of some unrehearsed marvel this early. Iole preferred to linger in the throes of expectation, pregnant with the hope and quite determined to spoil no fun by sneaking a glimpse behind the curtain.

Dropping in a rather undignified fashion to her derriere, she found the grass sward of her choosing soft and springy, sheltered by a tree, and perfectly located to catch the flavour of the revelry unfolding. A drab and rather old fashioned grey dress pooled around her in repose, and she had only just begun to wish she had brought a picnic, or someone to share it with, when an apple dropped out of the tree above, and bounced against her covered shin. Grasping, instinctive, to harvest the gift, her pale blue eyes caught the movement of something else in the branches of her canopy.


Brown eyes gave away the otherwise tangle of limbs, even before Unalmis dropped, not unlike the apple, but fortunately landed not on her, but some safe distance away. He did not immediately rush to greet her, and the young woman could not help recall the last time they had seen one another. Tempted to hurl the apple back at his head, she relented, not wishing to waste the fruit.

“I did not know you were here,” she got up though, more apologetically than she had meant to, as though her mere presence was some offence to the world. The dark veil of hair swung heavily behind her, masking some of the clumsy rise back to her feet. As if he even cared. As if he even noticed.

“Sometimes I think, if they ever might show up, of all places, they might show up here,” the young man ran his tongue along the inside of one cheek, unbothered as it seemed as usual by any sense of propriety which might have unsettled his friend. “We always used to meet here.” He remembered. He hoped that Cadil remembered. But then he was not even sure that the letter had reached the other youth. He sincerely hoped Cadil remembered. They had had such times ...


“Those days are gone,” the phrase was one of Cali’s favourites, but Cali was not here to speak it, so her friend stood substitute and sad. Turning quite belated to find and trace the childish mess of letters initialled into the tree bark, Iole walked the memory in her mind. Of her friend’s voice. Of how it had sounded. But she had not seen Cali now since before the war. Nor Trevadir. They had all been evacuated away from the city, and not all had returned. But here, here was where they had met, where they had come to play, where they came to remember … Ryndir. The only one of them who could not return, whether he wished it or not. And might be that was the problem. Because Ryndir had been the leader, he had been the glue that held them fast together. That glue was gone and mere memory did not serve in it’s place.

She had not even realised, until Unalmis had pointed it out, which tree her feet had taken her to. “Past and present can not co-exist,” she remembered her mother saying so. Yet she stood here, where they had stood. When they were all of them still. Before all changed.

“They can here,” her old friend protested, casting a stray catch of his long hair aside so he might see, rather than ever committing to the sense of just cutting it short. “Here we were, and here we are.”

“I have no wish to suffer another argument with you,” she could not have expressed the sentiment more wholly, it was evident about her tone, her face, her stance. Iole fell back as though invisible arms had shoved her.

“So do not start another argument,” he suggested, with a shrug. “It is a fair day. Sit. Share an apple. That does not break any law now does it ?”


“I can not,” She glanced away, found the recently alluring scent of the fayre sickening her senses now with overload. The memory of all they had lost, all that had changed. Part of her wished to reach out and seize the young man, clinging so they could not also be so changed. The other part of her gnawed at her lower lip, and the recognition that it was too late. “I’ll go, she supposed.

“Why ? Wait ! Hey !” he called out after her determined march almost turned one of the girl’s pale ankles in the hidden pitfalls of the long grass. “It isn’t fair, Iole,” This time he named her, and breathed deep, encouraged by the fact that she had slowed, embarrassed she must be at having her name yelled out so brazen. “You can not simply change the rules to suit you when you do not like the way the game turns out,” Nal persisted, seeming almost serious for once. “I haven’t changed. Was a time you could stand to spend more than five minutes in my company. So sit, if it is not too great a trial. Come on, you know I have abandonment issues ..”


Those big brown eyes ... Iole swore under her breath, at both his employing such tools, and the fact that she fell for it. Every time. Well not this time !

“It is too great a trial,” she emitted, softly, flicking her head with an unconvincing display of disdain. .

“We are friends,” he countered.

“I don’t want to be your friend !” she hurled back. “And I can not keep having this same conversation. When are you going to grow up ?!" And in a very ungrown manner, the young women fled down the hill, not in tears, not in pieces, catching with one hand at her skirt and denouncing the entire day now ruined. All because ..

She did not see the man until she had ploughed into him. Snagged in a whirl of recoiling from their collision, whilst glancing back to see If .. Unalmis was not even coming after her. Fine ! she thought, and glared more furiously than she knew that she was capable of, and surely more than the man she’d already assaulted could deserve.

Thea just outside the House of Healing

The door to the House of Healing burst open and crashed back against the wall as Thea ran through and down the steps. Reaching the bottom step she leaned over the walled railing and threw up. There was not much left in her stomach as it had already been purged once today, the small cup of tea she had since the only thing left to be vacated. Struggling through the dry heaves she coughed and swallowed hard, still intermittenly sobbing. She was an absolute mess, tears streaming down her pale face, nose running from the sobbing and the throwing up. Pulling out a hankerchief from her pocket, she wiped her face as well as she could, though the sobbing was harder to stop than the dry heaves.

The whole time Tom's father's words played in her mind, over and over. Her own imagination started twisting the words into harsher ones than he had spoken, though she could not help herself. She had never felt worse in her entire life. She was a horrible horrible person, she knew it. For the umpteenth time today she wished she had not gotten out of bed this morning, regretting absolutely everything she had done since, from "re-appropriating" her wages from Ms. Irma, to spending it on lunch which meant she met the strange woman who had her sign some scroll in her own blood.

She had to get that scroll back. It was a curse! All the truly horrible things started happening after she had signed that. Tom had gotten hurt, oh Eru, poor little Tom. Her gut wrenched painfully again and another dry heave shook her body. Drying her face once more, she sobbed into the damp hankerchief and did not immediately hear the piercing screech that came from the end of the road.

"That's her!! THEIF!! THEIF!! Stop her! Gaurds! Guards!!"

The urgency of the words finally penetrated her upset mind and she slid the hankerchief away, dull guiltridden eyes looking around to see what the fuss was about. The moment her green eyes fell on Ms. Irma who was hastily making her way towards her, she let out a small whimper. Tears still flooded down her face, though now it was not just from the guilt and the admonishment from Tom's father, but from realising that her life was now over. There was a guard on the street and Ms. Irma switched her course from her to the guard, still yelling "Thief! Guard stop her!"

She wanted to run, to turn on her heels and bolt down the road. To keep on running until she was out of this cursed city. But her feet were stuck in place and she was forced to watch as Ms. Irma made it to the guard and started yelling at him while pointing at Thea.

Hathaldir, just outside Houses of Healing, approaching Thea and Ms Irma
If anyone he’d seen his first night in town at the Old Guesthouse ran into him now, they would likely not recognise the man who now walked the city streets. Gone were the mud-caked boots, the wrinkled attire, the unkempt hair. Even the shadows under his eyes had faded. After a couple day’s rest, he hadn’t wasted time in signing up to the Tower Guard.

Now his dark hair was swept back from his face and he was clad in the black garb of the Tower Guard with the White Tree emblazoned upon his chest with pride. Hathaldir wore a stern expression as he patrolled the streets, sword at his side ready to draw if need be.

The day’s patrol so far had been dull and he had not even encountered so much as a suspicious pebble in the road waiting to twist the unsuspecting ankle of a passerby. The most shocking thing he’d seen had been the price of sweet galenas in the market and he hadn’t even been on duty then. How many hours until he could shed his uniform and head to the pub?

He was about to write the day off as wholly uneventful when he heard a woman screech. The tall man stopped in his tracks at the sound, his senses immediately springing to life. The source of the shrieking soon found him and he was forced to look face to face with an angry, demanding woman. A thief, she said and he looked in the direction she pointed.

The young woman being accused looked horrified. He quickly surmised she was definitely guilty of something. His dark eyes narrowed and darted between the accuser and the accused, weighing the situation.

“A thief, you say?” he asked Ms Irma. “If that girl is a thief, you will come with me, stop your babbling and yelling and tell me what happened,” he demanded, his tone rising with a hint of impatience. While he spoke to this woman, he kept his eyes locked on Thea with an intimidating glower. He would not let this thief out of his sight.

Without waiting to see if the shrieking woman would follow or elaborate on her accusations, he advanced toward the girl and loomed over her. His hand itched to reach for his sword hilt just to assert his authority, not to draw the blade, but she seemed frightened enough already. Her wide eyes glistened with tears. He stayed his hand though not out of pity.

“You have two choices. You can run but I’ll catch you,” he threatened, his low voice rough as gravel. “Or you can make this easy for both of us and come along quietly. Either way, you can save your sob stories for someone who cares. What’s it going to be, girl?” he asked sharply.

Ms Irma

"Thief! Guard stop her!"

Huffing and puffing from the brisk pace to catch up to where the guard was, Irma grabbed dramatically at her chest as the other hand pointed an accusing finger towards Thea. She could not believe her luck that she had found her, sure the girl must have left the city after stealing from her. Obviously the girl was not that bright as first of all she would not have stolen from her own employer, but also to stay around after the fact? Stupid.

"Guard! You have to arrest her! She stole two whole weeks of wages! Arrest her immediately! I demand that you arrest her immediately!"

"Yes! A thief, like I sa-" Her words were cut short by the guard, his words putting a whole new colour on her already flushed cheeks. "How dare you talk to me like that! I work for the Garrison, you do not get to ta-"

Her jaw dropped when the guard paid her no attention but instead walked over to where Thea was. How rude! She would have a word or two with this man's superior that was for sure! Huffing indignantly she gathered the mass of skirts and followed after him as quick as her ample body allowed, standing behind him and glaring at Thea while she hissed out with vemon. "Arrest her! She is a thief!"

***

Thea felt the bile rise at the back of her throat again and for a split second she thought she was going to throw up again as the saliva rushed to her mouth. Placing the hankerchief over her mouth she drew in a ragged breath through her nose and swallowed hard, only just managing to stop from gagging. As the guard and Ms Irma walked over to her it looked as if they were walking in slow motion, her gut clenching so tight it hurt. Her life was over. She was going to get chucked in the dungeon and they would throw away the key, just like the strange woman had threatened.

New tears fell unnoticed down her sickly pale face, still clasping the hankerchief to her mouth as the guard loomed threatningly over her. Cringing back she looked up at him, desperation glistening in her wet eyes.

"Arrest her! She is a thief!"

Ms Irma's venemous words stung and she cringed again, though her gut almost liquified when the guard threatned her. All thought of running instantly disappeared and she cringed back towards the wall in fear as her legs started shaking. "I.. I wo-won't run.." she stammered out, luckily not seeing the satisfied look on Ms Irma's face. It took her a few seconds to get her legs to obey her, finally stepping forward and allowing the guard to escort her to the prison, sure he was just going to chuck her in there immediately.

Hathaldir, just outside Houses of Healing
Ah, luckily the girl was willing to come easily. He was unmoved by her tears and grabbed her by the arm none too gently as he shuffled her along. “Your cooperation might do you some good,” he granted, “but you can be sure you’ll be made to pay for your light fingers and greed if you are found guilty.”

His lip curled with instant distaste at this angry, red-faced woman who now seemed to be directing some of her wrath at him in a most indignant fashion. Hathaldir praised himself for curbing the curt response on the tip of his tongue and forcing an impassive expression when he spoke to Ms Irma again.

“You’’ll forgive me for not recognising every employee of the Garrison, ma’am,” he said more evenly now as he wondered in what capacity she worked there. Her temper seemed ill-suited to such a place. “I am new to the ranks of the Tower Guard,” he admitted with some reluctance. “Believe me when I say I want nothing more than to see those guilty of crimes brought to justice.” That much, at least, was true and his words were laced with spite.

“Now let us be off. You may wish to save your breath for airing your grievances when we arrive,” he advised Ms Irma with another slip of decorum. “The sooner we get this dealt with, the sooner we can all be on our way.” He grumbled before tightening his grip on Thea. Her hands seemed to tremble as he slid cold, metal cuffs over her wrists and secured them. “Except for you,” he directed at Thea and he began to march off with her.

"You might be on your way to a long, cold night in the cells. That's where breaking the law gets you." Though it was possible, he supposed, that Ms Irma was a spiteful woman making false accusations.

Cadil
Pelennor Fields, looking for Unalmis

Some meager belongings gathered in his pack that was slung over one of his shoulder, Cadil trudged along the streets lackadaisically, whistling a merry tune. People were everywhere, bustling about busily like an army of ants in a disturbed anthill. Festivities could be felt in the air.

His heart felt festive as well, and free as a bird in the sky, as he strode out the gates. While he had told his father he would be away for a while, he had done all he could to avoid giving away too many particulars. Well, as if there were that many anyway.

Still whistling, Cadil barely avoided a couple of children running around and chasing each other. "Watch where you're running," he grumbled, though rather good-naturedly, but there was no one to hear it as the kids had all but disappeared behind a merchant's tent that was being constructed nearby.

First he came upon the sight of disgruntled looking Iole and a man. He frowned, wondering if the guy had done anything to cause the upset that was visible on Iole's face. Approaching Unalmis who was stood by the tree, Cadil gave a hand wave of greeting and then asked: "What's happened to her?" a nod of his head indicated Iole. "Doesn't look good. She coming along?"

@Someone else

Thea

"You will be made to pay.." His words and Ms Irma's satisfied smirk played on her mind over and over until the guard grabbed her by the arm. She winced at the grip, knowing it was likely going to leave a bruise and a small sob escaped as she thought it was likely just the first of many to come. She winced again as his grip tightened, though her whole world came crashing down when he slipped the cuffs on to her slender wrists and snapped them shut. There was a finality to that sound, one that almost made her legs buckle under her. Tears streamed freely from her eyes though she kept them lowered to the ground before her, unable to meet the guard's or Ms Irma's accusing self righteous stare, stumbling forward as the guard started leading her towards the prison.

"You might be on your way to a long, cold night in the cells. That's where breaking the law gets you."

His word had been night, but Thea heard "life" and sobbed again, body shaking despite the rapid pace he kept them going at. He still held the painful firm grip on her upper arm to ensure that she would still not decide to make a run for it, half the time actually ensuring she did not fall as her weak legs and the fast pace made for difficult walking on the slippery cobblestones. Lost in her own world of misery she did not hear Ms Irma's huffing and puffing as she held her skirts high and half ran to keep up with the guard and Thea.

Ann Kalagon
returning to the City

After exchanging some words of greeting, a lone woman passed in through the gates of the White City on her horse. Once within the first level courts, she reined in and took a moment to just look up and around and take in the sights. She breathed deeply, exhaled, breathed in—there it was, a hint of the sea, along with all the various smells of human life. Minas Tirith was different from when she had lived here before the war. It looked the same, albeit all the damages repaired to polish the old city more beautiful than ever. But that old catch in the heart of impending doom was gone.

Her filly snorted loudly and shook her head up and down. “Yes, I know. You want a decent stable and a feedbag and a good rest. And you deserve it, my Girl,” she said to her horse Feather. And as they traveled up through the circles of the city, Ann Kalagon was gripped at each level with memories of years gone by, her years with the Hyandaner. Memories of some battles. Memories of friends too. She felt alternately thrilled and subdued, but just too tired from traveling to be altogether excited. A few people stopped to look at the horsewoman—mostly this was because she looked like she had just arrived from elsewhere. Her clothing seemed to have unusual colors, from dyes not available locally. One man stopped and stared; she looked familiar, but he was not sure why. She did not notice these curious people.

Ann Kalagon had been away for a few years. After the fall of Sauron, she had journeyed home to the Greenwood to see her parents, family and old friends in the woodsmen’s villages in the eaves of the forest. And, quite a lot had happened there and afterward. Good visits, new things, and a few adventures! Her travels had taken her from the western side of the forest across its width and past, all the way to Dale; she had made that trip with her favorite Beorning cousins. And after some time spent there, they traveled back to her parents’ village and then on to the Beorning holdings. And from there, her cousins had seen her across the Misty Mountains—where they had then turned back toward home, and Ann had journeyed on westward.

She had spent these last several months based out of Bree, occasionally on tour with the Rangers of the Northern Kingdom. There had been some rough patches of thieves to clean out after the war. She had made some few friends there, too. And she had found an ancient sword during one of the missions against the thieves, in an ancient and crumbling hold. Vardalimë—ancient treasure—in her newly made sheath, covered in runes of protection.

Yet, as she had journeyed from Minas Tirith to the Greenwood, and Dale, and across the lands, she had made a point of collecting supplies of medicinals and herbs and such, carefully stowed, to bring back south to the Houses of Healing—to deliver to Pele Alarion as she had once promised. Her first stop would be to stable Feather, hopefully near to the Houses of Healing in the Sixth Circle. Her first stop—before she could find lodgings—would be to find Pele Alarion. Ann thought, “Pele has the heart of a healer. My guess is 4-to-1 odds she will be back in Minas Tirith and based here.”

The last time Ann Kalagon had seen Pele, they had been in the ranks of the Hyandaner. Ann had been a Sergeant and Barracks Master under Acting Captain Pele Alarion, Major and SinC of the ERC. Yes, much had changed since the last days of the Third Age. She wanted nothing more than to have a chance to sit with another Hyandaner or former Hyandaner and hear all the news—old and new.

Relic,
Somewhere and near and dear to Pele..

The brunette smiled her brightest and most endearing smile towards the young man. They'd been entertaining each other for the better part of the evening with whispered words of innunendo and small promises. He thought it was his luck day! This woman he didn't need to empty his coin purse to get her to spend time with him, she seemed to only wish to spend time with him. How lucky could he get?!

It was with a final whisper he was convienced and encouraged and so he gently guided her from his lap and paid their bill. "After you my dear." The young man motioned for her to proceed him up the stairs, her smile and the fluttering of lashes caused his heart to flutter. He caught the attention of the nearest barmaiden. "Quickly, draw a bath and bring the finest wine you have. Room 7." He flipped her a couple silvers and she hurried to see it done.

He returned his attention to the lovely Nara who waited patiently for him. "Now, where were we?" Her question caused him to hurry back to her side and he took up her fine, porcelain hand and kissed it lightly. " Just making things comfortable for you." He smiled and once more her dark lashes fluttered as she smiled sweetly. "Your such a gentleman." she spoke gently and pressed a feather light kiss on his cheek.

Room 7

Not long after locking the door behind them the wine was flowing and the young couple were fully engaged in a few of those promises they'd whispered to one another down stairs. Her long brunette hair flowed down her back and she had the stain of wine on her lips. "You're beautiful." He gazed up at as he lay benieth her with the taste of her sun kissed skin on his lips as it mingled with the taste of the wine. "I'd give you everything, you'd want for nothing if you were mine." Words spoken through a wine and love hazed mind.

He watched her as she leaned over the bedside table and filled his cup once more like she'd done to the two previous. "You say that now but I understand if you don't mean it. I won't hold you to it. Besides.." she handed him the cup and litely motioned for him to drink as she did. " i don't believe you'll be able to fulfill these promises." He looked at her through the haze that was starting to cloud the edges of his vision, he tried to shake it off but also found he really had no control over his arms either as he tried to lift his arm to rub his eyes. They were so heavy and uncooperative.

"Wha-what's happening?" He asked but she simply took a lingering sip of her wine. "Too much wine?" She asked as she lowered her glass. He shook his head, confused and feeling more out of control. "Fear not, I'll take care of everything." She finished off her wine and leaned to put the glass on the table, her long brunette hair falling over shoulders. He watched her, unable to do much else.

His eyes widened with disbelief though when she leaned back over from the table but now the long brunette tendrils were changed.. long yes but no longer dark! Now her hair was a fiery red and her eyes!! No longer amber he had to stare into them to believe what he was looking at...clear...crystal like and...and swirling?! Her features had changed. Beautiful yes but there was a cruelness to her. She looked down at him while holding her empty glass.

"You said if I were yours you'd give me anything and I'd want for nothing. " The corners of her lips turned upwards into a cold, cruel smile. "You're what I want. " He wasn't comforted by those words. "..and you will give me everything." Just then she raised her left hand, in the candle light he could see the gleam of a razors edge, a small dagger.

Panic was rising within him and she seemed to enjoy it as she watched his eyes widen while the hand with the blade moved to his neck. Surprisingly he didn't feel it like he thought he would but he could feel his heart hammering in his chest as she sliced his jugular. Not a large nasty cut but enough to make the blood flow with every beat of his heart. She took her glass and pressed to the clean opening, gathering within his lifesblood till her cup full and she was satisfied.

As his world was closing around him she moved to stand beside the bed, looking down at him with no more concern then watching an animal die. Silently she sipped from the glass. The contents would envigorate her and strengthen her. She would have to continue this ritual a couple more times to have the stamina and strength to carry her illusuion long enough to get to the Alarion.

In the morning she slipped her door open, once more the brunette with the amber eyes. Before she could leave a barmaiden approach her. She motioned for her to come closer. "Excuse me..I'm leaving but he .." she motioned to the door where the "sleeping" man lay in the bed."doesn't wish to be disturbed till at least noon.." she smiled her best sheepish smile. "He was up very late." She pressed a couple silvers into hand then walked away after the barmaid gave her a knowing smile.

Once outside she raised the hood of her cloak, amber eyes faded into crystaline clear and brunette hair gave way to fiery tendrils that kissed her cheeks. It felt good to be back to herself. "I supposed you did keep your promise after all. " A darkly amused chuckle slipped from her lips...

After the meal, Turin was looking forward to spending some time with Ellin before bed. But first he had to thank Red again.

“Hey man. Thanks again. I’m surprised you followed me. But then again, had it been the other way around, I probably would have done the same.” He wrapped his Bash Brother in a hug. “Hanarnín, uireb eliaech a nos.” (my brother, eternal blessings on you and family) he whispered into Red’s ear.

After his friend left, Ellin came by. “Daddy, can I show you my room before bedtime?”

“There’s my sweetie bug.” Turin said wrapping her in his arms and picking her up. “Sure. I’d love to see your room.” He turned to look at Nessa, who nodded, mentioning she wanted to talk to Roderic before heading upstairs herself. He set Ellin down. “Lead the way.”

Ellin gave Nessa a hug and said, “Good night.” Kisses were exchanged and Ellin grabbed Turin’s hand and began to pull him away. Turin just barely held back a snort and followed his daughter to her room. The two of them played for a good half hour where she had essentially been an accessory of Turin’s, hanging around his neck, hanging on his side, hanging on his back, arms and legs wrapped tightly around him. He was loving every second of it. She talked about the de Argosy family members and described their family home in Pelargir. He didn’t ask many questions, he just enjoyed listening to Ellin tell her stories. Eventually she got to the trip to the White City, and of playing with Hannah. She also brought up of all the manners and proper etiquette she’d been learning, along with math, and needlework. She showed him a couple projects she’d finished.

“These are beautiful.” He said looking at the stitching.

“You really think so? These first few I made so many mistakes.”

“That is quite alright. No one is perfect when they start.”

“Mom says that too.”

Turin chuckled. “Well, it’s true. Even I wasn’t an expert fighter when I started. I had to learn and practice a whole lot.”

Ellin grinned. “Daddy?” She asked as she walked over to sit next to him after she put the projects away.

“What is it?”

“I’m surprised you didn’t get upset with me clinging to you like I was.”

Turin nodded. “Want to know a secret?”

“What?”

Turin looked around as though he was making sure no one was listening in. “Daddy doesn’t really care about all those proper etiquette rules.”

“Really?!” Ellin exclaimed.

“Yep. But that doesn’t mean they are not a good thing to know. Your mother wants you to learn these things so you know how to behave in various situations. I want that too. Knowing all the proper manners and ways of handling almost any situation you find yourself in is a great thing to know. In this area, you probably know more than me.” He thought back to a line he heard from a great army leader. “Be polite, be professional, but have a plan to kill everyone you meet.” He grinned as the line ran through his mind.

“I don’t believe that.” Her voice brought him back to the present.

Turin chuckled. “I wasn’t much older than you are now when I lost my mom and dad, and I was on my own. I lived with some elves in Mirkwood for a little while.”

“Really!? I love elves.”

“So do I. I can teach you some Sindarin. I also know Quenyan, but not many elves today speak it.”

“I’ve been learning Harad. Uncle Roderic and Aunt Laila like to speak it to each other because she’s from Harad you know. I also know a little Sindarin, just some basics right now. Why don’t the elves speak Quenyan anymore?”

Turin sighed, deciding how to explain the event. “It goes way back to the first age. A group of elves did a very bad thing. And Thingol, an Elven King, when he learned of what the group did, he essentially banned the language from being spoken. Now, from what I’ve heard, it is really only used in very special, or formal, occasions.”

“Do you know any other languages?”

“I know a little Khazad.” He was about to admit to being able to understand a couple other languages, but refrained.

“I thought I heard dwarves don’t teach men their language.”

“Very good. That is true. I have an adopted brother who is a dwarf. He taught me some. My dad, before he died, knew Sindarin, Quenyan, Khazad, Black, Rohiric, and maybe more.”

“Wow. Uncle Roderic has been teaching me to distinguish between various dialects. It’s hard.”

Turin chuckled. “Yep.”

“So what did you want to be when you grew up when you were a kid daddy?”

“You know, I don’t think I really thought about it much. My dad was a trader. Kind of like what mommy’s family does. He helped people sell things in Dale way to the north, and in Rohan, and here in Gondor. My mom was a farmer. But one thing I really loved, was listening to the Lays of Beleriand as a boy. Especially about Túrin Turambar.”

“That name sounds familiar. Are you named after him?”

“I like think I’m named after him. But I more likely was named after one of the Turins who were Stewards of Gondor. But Túrin Turambar was a tragic hero back during the first age of Middle Earth. He is famous for killing an evil dragon who had caused a lot of problems during the war with the Dark Lord at the time.”

Ellin bowed her head and was quiet for a while. Turin, tilted his head and looked at her. He heard a distant chime signifying the time. It was her bed time.

“What’s the matter sweetie?”

“Are … are …”

“Yes, I’m staying.”

Ellin jumped in excitement. “Yay! Can we play some more tomorrow? Oh, and I can show you some of the stuff I’ve been learning, oh and this, and that. Oh and most definitely that. We can do so much.” She said as she pointed at various objects around the room, including toys and books. She even went as far as saying he could help decorate her room.

Turin couldn’t help but laugh. “Hold on. There is one thing I must point out. How you were hanging on me tonight. Your mom most likely would not approve of it.”

“The manners stuff.”

“Exactly. But if it’s just me, I don’t mind. But, it’s time for bed.” He got up, and Ellin groaned, but followed suit.

Turin could tell Ellin had something else on her mind. He was about to ask when she looked up at him. “Daddy.”

“What’s the matter sweetie?”

“Oh. I, … Mommy was really happy tonight. When you didn’t come home, she was really sad. Mommy doesn’t know I saw her, but she cried a lot. I think she tried to hide it.” Ellin ducked her head, then looked him into his eyes. “Oh, please don’t tell her I said that. I don’t want her to be sad again.”

Turin hugged her. “Don’t worry sweetie. I won’t say anything.”

“Thanks. But mommy did get better when we moved back to Pelargir. Hanna helped too.” She sat still for a bit. “Daddy, now that you’re back, will I get a baby brother or sister?”
Turin was surprised by the question and did not know how to answer it. “Um. That is a good question. I don’t know sweetie. Will just have to wait and see about any siblings. As for mommy being sad, sometimes, when people are away from the people they love, it can make them really sad.”

She nodded, he thought he saw a bit of disappointment in her eyes about any siblings, but didn’t say anything. She got changed into her pajamas and he tucked her into bed. She then asked him to read the next bit from the book Nessa had been reading to her each night. He did so and remained by Ellin’s bed for easily half an hour, running his fingers through her hair as she went to sleep. “Love you sweetie bug. Daddy is never leaving again.” He whispered as he planted another kiss to her forehead.
Turin rose and left the room, closing the door behind him. He took a deep breath, trying in vain to calm his fluttering heart. He’d said he was staying, but what would that entail? Going to the master bedroom and re consummating the marriage was something that he greatly desired to do, but he doubted that would, or could happen with how their relationship still stood. But then again, they had made some headway on repairing the relationship, and clearly there were still sparks between them, and … his mind trailed off thinking about that dress Nessa had been wearing when he arrived. Then there was the question Ellin just threw at him. After he and Nessa had got engaged, and early in their marriage they had discussed it. He’d wanted two children. He wouldn’t mind another child, but would Nessa? He shook his head and sighed.

He took a few more breaths and nodded. He made his way to the bedroom and lightly knocked. “Dummy. This is your room too. You don’t need to knock.” He berated himself internally. But then he remembered about Hannah. Then he furrowed his brow trying to remember if he’d seen her when putting to Ellin to bed. He turned the handle and peeked his head in. “Meldanya?” (My dear/beloved) Turin said barely above a whisper.

“You can come in silly.” Came a soft voice in return.

Turin did so. As he closed the door, he spoke softly. “She’s asleep. It actually didn’t take long after all the playing.” He turned back to face the dim candle lit room. “But I had to watch her for a while.” He bowed his head. “You are an amazing mother. She is so strong, and confident. And so much smarter than I ever was at her age.” He looked up to see his wife walking over. She was stunning. “Nessa Vanimelda.” (Nessa beautiful and beloved) He gasped. He then remembered a similar moment.
It was a day or two after Turin had proposed to Nessa. He was still stunned she’d said yes. He’d got up and there was a knock at his barracks door. “Enter.” He said after he rinsed his face at the basin by the window in his room. It was looking to be a beautiful day.

A boy, likely about fifteen years old entered. “Morning sir. I have summons for you.”
Turin furrowed his brow. He wasn’t due for a mission for at least a week. And there was no one for him to supervise at the training grounds. So what could this be about? The only recent event that could possibly warrant a summons was the proposal. Then he remembered Nessa’s cousin a clerk for the army. “Who is it from?” Turin asked.

The boy looked at the slip in his hand. “That would be Grisogono. Arthur Grisogono.”

Turin nodded as he took the notice. It had a time and place to meet. His heart began to race, but his face kept that secret. “Let him know I’ll be there.” The boy nodded and left the room. As soon as the door shut behind him, Turin sat back down on his bed. He was a dead man.

Well, that was an exaggeration. He may not have gone around Arthur to see Nessa as he was the one who helped facilitate the two love birds conversing. But, Arthur was a family member, and he had gone behind Nessa’s Aunt to pursue the relationship, ignoring the fact he never ‘gained permission’ to ask for Nessa’s hand in marriage. Could Arthur be upset about that? Aside from the family being some well-known merchants in Pelargir, he had to admit, he didn’t know much about them beyond what Nessa had told him. He really only knew Arthur was a cousin on Nessa’s mother’s side, and from the few times he saw him due to his work with the army. He seemed like a decent enough guy, but that didn’t really mean the rest of the family would be the same.

Time passed, and Turin talked himself into and out of panic many times before the designated time of the meeting. He was in a courtyard in one of the circles of the city. He was off to the side watching kids playing, and couples walking hand in hand. A deep voice came from behind, “So, I hear you proposed to my cousin.”
Turin spun around, his left hand instinctively drawing a dagger from his hip and slashing. The other hand pulling on his sword. It took a further split second to catch himself from harming the very person who he was meeting. “Sorry about that.” He said as he put the weapons away. “I’d heard someone walking behind me, but didn’t expect you to start talking behind me.”

Arthur chuckled. “Just testing you.” He too had a dagger in his hand. And based on its positioning, he could have easily stabbed Turin before he spoke.

“Must do better than that.” Turin thought to himself.

“Yes, you must.” Arthur said, as though he could read Turin’s thoughts. “But don’t fret too much. This is a blunted training blade I use to make a point with foolish young people. But I do have a regular one I keep on hand when the point needs to be driven deeper.” A shadow crossed his eyes. “Pun intended.”

The shadow left. “I can see on your face you’re wondering why I asked you to meet with me. I’m certain you’ve worked yourself into and out of frenzies imagining all sorts of scenarios on how all if this could pan out. Maybe even come up with a few stratagems for yourself.” He smiled as he looked at Turin, seeing what he just described written on Turin’s face. “That is good. It means you’re thinking. But you needn’t worry yourself too much. I’m here to make sure you understand some things, as well as to give you this.” Arthur reached into a breast pocket of his overcoat and pulled out an elegant envelope. Turin recognized the seal to be the de Argosy signet.

“A letter from the family?”

“It’s Lady Aliane’s lunch invitation. You are aware Nessa is the daughter of a wealthy merchant. However, you may not have grasped is how influential the de Argosy family is in Pelargir.” Arthur was silent for a few moments to let that information sink in. “Nessa is an heiress, and with her hand in marriage comes a substantial dowry. Remember that, and remember that she is my late aunt’s only surviving child. She is also her father’s world. If you were to do anything to hurt her, they would have no problem whatsoever making it impossible for you to show your face in any civilized place in Middle Earth.”

Turin almost let loose a chuckle. He so desperately wanted to retort he had no qualms with remaining in the wilderness until the day he died. “I understand.” He said after another moment of quiet.

“Do you really?”

“What do you mean?”

“You may be good with a blade. You’re an officer in the Hyandaner. You’ve had a stellar service thus far. But –”

“What? I’m just a soldier? I couldn’t provide for her? I completely agree I wouldn’t be able to provide the same lifestyle as she is accustomed to. But that does not mean I cannot love, care, protect, or provide for her. And I really do not appreciate that I am being looked down at for not coming from a supposed equal standing. My father was a trader, and was a good one. He helped put together trade from Dale to Rohan and Minas Tirith. It was his connections from that, that he was sought out to help a former King of Rohan. Not just anyone gets that kind of recognition. Just because I don’t have the same amount of money as her family does not mean a damn thing.” Turin felt himself getting quite heated. He also found himself pointing at Arthur in a manner, some people would likely find threatening. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Arthur said with a smile. “I just wanted to see how you would defend yourself. And I think you pass. Lady Aliane will most likely bring up the same thing, or something similar, so you may wish to work on a cleaner response. Just a bit of advice.” Arthur lightly nodded his head and began to walk away. “I would say, good luck, but you don’t need it if you’ll just be yourself. You’re a good guy. Know that I’m rooting for you. I’ve thought for a while they could use a bit of a country boy in the family. I think there is too much sea in their blood.”

Turin was about to call Arthur back, but the man disappeared around a corner. “What the heck did he mean by that?” he thought to himself. Through the rest of the day, he thought about what Arthur had said. It was actually something he’d worried about whenever he’d met with Nessa. She was clearly way out of his league. He was an orphaned soldier from the middle of nowhere, and she was a wealthy princess. Or that was how he liked to describe her. Did he deserve her?

That night, he snuck over to her house. He just had to ask her about the one concern he had, and Arthur had brought up. He waited a good hour and a half after all the lights went out. Standing in the atrium, he tossed some pebbles at the window of her room. It only took a couple times before Nessa answered, opening her window. Even just awakened, and in her night clothes, he found her to be beautiful.
“Turin!?” she hissed, her eyes wide seeing him standing there. “What are you doing here? Has something happened?”

“Had a meeting with Arthur today.” Turin whispered back.

“Wait a moment. I’m coming down.” She pulled her head back in and closed her window. Turin wanted to protest, but she was too quick. He hoped her coming down to meet him wouldn’t wake anyone in the house. Moments later, she quietly opened the door and stepped outside.

Turin was surprised she was dressed only in her nightclothes. “She didn’t put anything over her night clothes?” he thought. Her hair was down, and a bit tousled from sleep. As she walked over to him, he tried to keep his gaze on her face, but he couldn’t help but notice the fading mark on the right side of her neck. Cursing internally, he wondered if that very mark was what led to that day’s adventure. “I’m sorry.” He said when she stood next to him. “Did you get in trouble for this?” he said motioning towards the love bite.

“Oh!” she gasped and blushed when she realized what he was referring to. “No, I’m not in trouble. Tante Aliane already knew about us. Even before she saw this.” Her blush deepened and she started biting her lip. Even though he could tell she was nervous, she still looked beautiful. “Is that why Arthur wanted to see you?” she asked after another moment.

“Actually, he never mentioned the mark. He gave me a letter, or rather a lunch invitation from your aunt, letting me know she wants to meet with me. He also said he wanted to make sure I knew what I was doing.” Though he didn’t mention it, Turin’s mind raced about the comment about Aliane knew about them already. “Must be connected to that ‘threat’ Arthur mentioned about if I were to hurt her. They really are connected. Then again, no matter how careful you may try to be, it’s likely they noticed a change in behavior. That is the simplest starting point. Heck, even Red noticed a change in me when all this started. Yeah, that is likely it. I’d bet on it.” He thought to himself. His mind then turned once more to the concern on his mind.

“What do you mean?” Nessa asked, bringing him back to the present. Turin bowed his head. “What Turin?”

“Would you still love me even if all I ever was was a soldier? I mean, I could never provide a life like this.” He motioned to the grand house he was standing by.

The look that came over Nessa’s face drew a bit of fear over Turin’s heart. “Really?! Seriously?! You’re asking that now?” she cried out. It scared Turin for a couple reasons. One, because of the chance it could wake the family or even a neighbor, and two, he’d never made her this mad before. “You really are an idiot. I was worried something had happened to you, that you were injured, or you were being sent away, or, … or.” He had a feeling he knew what that last ‘or’ she couldn’t speak. And that was something that had never even crossed his mind. She huffed in frustration, clearly exacerbated with Turin. He was sure she was about to storm back inside, but instead, she took a fistful of his shirt and pulled him down for a kiss. It was an angry and frustrated kiss; a first, but certainly not their last. She poured everything she had into that kiss, her love, frustration, anger, and all the passion she felt for him.

Turin could tell she wanted him to understand how she felt about him with that kiss.
They stood there in the atrium in each other’s arms for several minutes. Each time their lips met, Turin not only felt the love she had for him, but he felt more and more foolish for worrying. He had no comeback. He was an idiot. Deep down he knew the answer to that question. And that was ‘of course’. But he just couldn’t bring himself to believe it until now. How could he be so lucky?

Nessa then whispered her answer in his ear, as if it wasn’t clear enough. She then quickly slipped back into the house.
“What is it love?” Nessa asked.

“Oh, just remembering the first time I was an idiot in our relationship.”

“The first time? Or one of the first times?” Nessa asked with a smirk.

He wrapped his arms around her and looked deep into her hazel eyes. “First. It was a couple days after you said yes. I asked if you’d still love me even if all I ever was was a soldier, because doing that, I’d never be able to provide a life like this. You said something, after you called me an idiot. I don’t know why, but seeing you like this now, I just remembered it. You said, even if we were living in a straw hut in the wastelands of the Brown Lands, as long as we had each other, you’d be happy.”

Relic
Somewhere causing hate and discontent...

She watched with intense crystaline eyes the woman who it seemed had far to many offspring to handle on her own. She really couldn't fathom the need to have the horrible little things. Noisy, clammoring, clawing for attention. A small snort of disgust blew from her nose. Oh the smell!
The only reason she watched them now was she could use one. Not that she wanted one for her own, oh no. You misunderstand. She could use one. Literally.

The woman was busy with the shopkeeper while her brood ran amock, Relic could clearly see the shopkeepers dismay at having so many little sticky fingers touching her wares. She'd be doing them a favor!! She would do it, but which one? They varied in age from the one on her hip to the one now staring at her with her dirty face and it's tangle of dirty brown hair. She was five perhaps. Perfect age.

Any Sorceress worth her magic knew the young held their own brand of magic. Pure, strong, it would give her what she needed strength wise to bring her plans to fruition.
She pulled her hood lower, closing her eyes she whispered the incantation. She could feel it moving through her, raising the hairs on her arms like the passing of a ill breeze. When she opened her eyes they were sky blue, her features soft and welcoming with dark hair.

The little being watching her slowly opened her mouth in suprise but before she could turn to catch her mothers attention Relic put a finger to her lips then offered a kind motherly smile. Her mothers smile to be exact. The little girl smiled with amazement. A carnival trick? She giggled as her "other" mother motioned her over with the crook of her finger.

Hesitant at first she quickly over came it when Relic produced a stick of candy from her pocket and showed it to her. She skipped over and looked at the candy. "Is that mine?!" she asked with inncocent excitement. The voice that answered held the same softness to it as the womans own. "Yes..and more if you like." She baited the small child.

Relic smiled at seeing the bobbing of the tangled head of hair. She handed the girl the candy stick which she eagerly took and started to wallow around in her mouth. She offered the girl her hand and the corners of her lips rose at the feel of the small hand in her own. "Can you show me another trick?" She asked around a mouth full of saliva.

"I know a couple. " With that Relic lead her around the corner and away from the market...

Ronil, Horse-master of Tathrenor Farm
Pelennor Farmsteads: Recruiting A Stablehand

For nearly twenty years Ronil had worked for Caniel and Echereg Tathrenor, the masters of Tathrenor Farm. He had first come there with his father, who had taken an offer to become the righthand man of the former horse-master, moving their family from another farmstead across the fields. It had created some bad blood for a time, especially considering his mother continued to work for that very farm. There hadn't been a place for at the new farm, and when finally one became available their family was already comfortable with the current situation and she chose not to take it.

So it was that each day Ronil would ride out from their home and meet his father at the stables. They would begin each day by checking all of the horses, looking them over for illness, ailment, and injuries. Amarher would then lead them out into the yard for some exercise before their day began, and Ronil would begin to clean the stables, sweeping the stalls and replenishing the hay and bedding. When his father would return, they would outfit each horse with their needed equipment and then ride them out to the fields and hand them over to the workers who would be using them that day. They would come back and begin to look over the stables, checking for any damage that might need repaired and more often than not finding some small thing to occupy their time fixing. He became quite handy over the years, learning little bits of carpentry and masonry here and there.

During these times he and his father would talk at length, discussing numerous topics that interested them over the years. As he got older their conversations matured, and their topics became those of a deeper sort. Gone were the days of arguing about which apple made the best pie and in its place came the days of: do you think Gondor will last; should I even bother marrying and having children; if Gondor falls, where then will we go; should we move away now to the far west of Gondor to escape Mordor's reach? Sometimes his father would have an answer for him, other times he would not. Sometimes silence would be all that would follow a question escaping Ronil's lips, and Amarher would have no answer until many days later. Over time some of the questions Ronil himself answered, like when he wed Aeniel, or when they had Ronil II and Carriel. But as the end of the Third Age unbeknownst to them drew near, some questions still had no answer.

The Battle of the Pelennor Fields decimated the two farms that his family worked on. Two years beforehand he had taken over the role of horse-master from his father, who had taken the job a decade beforehand and allowed his father to retire to a simpler life. Yet when they began to rebuild Tathrenor Farm,Amarher did not hesitate to return to his son's side and aid in the effort. Three years went by and slowly, but surely, the farm was rebuilt and crops began to grow and bloom beautifully again. The trees in many orchards would not return for some time, so many of the horses who had been used to working amidst the trees found themselves in fields of tall grass and wheat, accompanied by new stablehands and farmers who they were unfamiliar with. But under the steady and watchful eyes of Ronil and his father, they remained in good health and high spirits, despite the changes to their lives.

Today, Ronil would be sitting with Master Echereg to interview for a new stablehand. It was perhaps three hours past dawn, and when Ronil stepped out of the horse-masters house, he saw nine men and women of varying ages milling about the main courtyard, waiting for their time to speak to him.

"Alright, listen up, the lot of you!" He shouted, getting the attention of the entire small crowd. "My name is Ronil, and I am the Horse-master of Tathrenor Farm. Today you will have a chance to prove to me, and to Master Echereg that you are the right man or woman for this job. Now, do me a favor and form a line next to that building there and wait your turn," he said, pointing to a small building in the corner of the courtyard that Master Echereg and his wife often took brunch in. Master Echereg was already seated there, sipping on a glass of juice and cutting apart sausages fresh from the kitchen. Ronil took his seat next to him and said, "Good morning Master Echereg, sleep well?"

"Better than you by the looks of it boy. Do you ever sleep, or do you just like looking like a ghost each day?"

"A little bit of both, sir. Strangely, the horses like ghosts quite a bit, so they find my face comforting."

"Ha!" Laughed Master Echereg, "Is that right? My horses like ghosts do they? News to me."

"Well I'm not entirely sure they know that they're your horses, sir. I think if you asked them they might think that the ghost who takes care of them each day owns them if anyone owns them at all."

"You know, I don't remember your father ever giving me near as much lip as you do boy. Nor his predecessor, or his predecessor either. I'd have fired any of them for speaking to me the way you do, you know that right?" Replied Master Echereg.

"Well, I figure that's because you've known me since I was fourteen years old. You've got a soft spot for me and you've only grown softer in your old age, haven't you?" Ronil said, smiling and resting his hand on the man's shoulder.

"Hmph, soft eh? Well, don't go telling the new hire this, whoever they end up being. They need to think someone has a sense of discipline and authority on this farm. So, shall we get to it?"

"Gladly, I'd like to be out riding in the fields within the hour," he said before beckoning the first person in line towards them. A young man, likely in his early twenties had been standing awkwardly a few feet away as they spoke, and stepped forward at Ronil's command.

The exchange was most agreeable. Cadil had arrived ! And with a smile and what looked like a pack full of who knew what clever supplies as well ! Iole, in contrast, only offered a glance over one shoulder, and not for long, and it did not look at all happy.

“Too ‘grown up’ to spend time with me any more, apparently,” the young man shook his head in reply to the other youth and also in what might have been taken for sorrow, if he had not turned back to his friend with a wide grin. At least he could count on Cadil to be keen enough for an adventure. Honestly what could be more grown up than getting out upon the open road and setting off to explore a strange city, without anybody to say ‘no’ or ‘wait’ or ‘this is not a good idea’. This was exactly the sort of thing he’d always been told he was ‘too immature’ to do, so why not ? It might yet mature him, by that logic.

“She is of a mood. We’re better off not dragging her along,” he shrugged, willing to put the bad feeling behind him at least. Was a time that Iole had wanted to go everywhere that he went. Honestly he could not pin point when exactly that had stopped. Sometime around when he’d wanted to go back to Umbar and rescue that girl he’d met there … For some reason Iole had been dead set against that. And everything he’d seemed to suggest since then. Admittedly, it had been a dangerous ambition, but it had been important to him and his friend didn’t even want to discuss it. Fortunately, the girl had been rescued by persons far more qualified, and had married his cousin in fact, .. so all had ended well.

And now the sun was shining ! The war was won. They were young and with their whole lives ahead of them. It would be a travesty to sit around in fields they had always sat around in, seeing a newly unfolded version of the same old circus that came every single year.

“You have been to Pelargir before ?” Nal was sure that he had heard so, somehow, somewhere. Perhaps something his cousin had alluded to .. “Or we could go anywhere else, if you don’t think there is much to see there. Honestly, I just want to be anywhere else than here today.”

He had not even brought along a bag or any manner of supplies with him, to ensure that things would be ‘interesting’. It was a marvel he had decided in the end to put on shoes. Life in the city when he had lived his whole life in that city did seem to awaken the want to do things differently. After all, nothing very exciting looked like it would happen around here, any time soon ..




If he was waiting for an apology, she was in no mood to offer one. But the man did not demand an explanation and the young woman could not imagine he would care to hear the whole tiresome story. Instead she studied the stranger. Dark hair, dark eyes, his shoulders rounded somewhat, and he leant forward in stature; a telltale signature of a man who had laboured long and hard. No doubt in one of the farms nearby. But his clothes … were the most outlandish she had seen for a long time. And the circus was in town for harvest festival ! She answered her own questions without ever asking them, and he was thus appraised and assigned a role to satisfy her. Convinced by evidence all circumstantial, she decided he was not a danger and so, finally, apologised.

“I did not mean to cause a collision,”

His smile was slow, and silent, and the longer it went on, the more she wished that he would speak. When he finally did, it was not what she had supposed. Not a local, or a traveller either. A man of noble standing, he sounded. Which was not all that surprising, since he had perfected such an accent many years before, and known much practice.

“Are you hurt ?” he wanted to know, and for a moment, tears threatened; embarrassed that she had not asked that of him, but more .. for the sake of the recent argument than of any true injury done to either of them. Her heart hurt. Her head ached. And if she did not stop herself, the floodgates would open, and she would bawl all over the courteous man lord she’d maybe maimed but .. the stature, with the accent .. she frowned, and beheld him once again, seeking to marry the two conflicting clues together. It took a full two minutes before her wide eyes blinked, before there should come need for her to apologise again.

“I will live,” she decided, which saw him smile again.

“I am glad to hear it. I don’t have a spade at hand to bury your body so .. that is very convenient.” he assured her, then laughed. “A joke,” and a further assurance. “I am not very good at humour,” he sighed, showcasing embarrassment. Experience had taught him that making oneself appear vulnerable was more like to see others, even strangers, trust him.

“Well I was of a foul humour before I ever fell into you, so do not blame yourself on that count,” the young woman bade him. “My father is the undertaker .. was .. the Undertaker, I mean, he still is, but not here. He retired out in Lebennin.” Iole was not sure if she were explaining her solemnity or else, responding to the joke of bodies. Either way she was saying far too much than she needed to, and so stopped. The awkward silence in response led her though, soon, to ask. “I have not seen you around here before.”


“Is that a question ?” the man wondered aloud, and seemed that he ought ask as if it were, by this point. He held out a hand, and turned hers palm down, with a bow of his dark head. He was exceedingly tanned, Iole observed, as he returned his eyes to catch her staring. Clearly he spent a lot of time outside under the sun. A sailor perhaps ? Noble-sounding men could sail .. He watched her silently brainstorm and smiled as though he could see the secret process itself. “I am called Lowendir” he gave up, just as she seemed to do so.

A lie, well, of a sort. The actor who had asked him to run lines for practice last night had called him ’Lowendir’. Arkadhur had not disappointed him. He was a very obliging man, really, to go along with whatever folks assumed of him. This young woman though, the Undertaker’s daughter. She was curious, he could not help but recognise.

“I am keeping you from your friends,” he asked, and she did not realise the question, until she had cast a weary glance back to Unalmis, who had been joined by Cadil while she was engaged with her new acquaintance. “Is there a funeral you have to plan ?”

“Only his,” the anger seeped out, surprising even it’s keeper, it’s speaker. Iole tucked a fall of dark hair behind one ear, and wished to drag the words back. But at least Nal had not heard her. He wasn’t even looking ..

Arkadhur was staring now, at the two young men beneath that tree. He tore his gaze from the pair, troubled and troubled over being so troubled. “May I ask if you would like to see a grand performance ?” he prevailed of her, turning abruptly toward the recent-risen tent, the readying circus. “Your father would not think it unseemly ? After all, I do not even know your name ..”


“Iole,” she heard the word, and found her feet moving without her say so. Away from the silly boys, and in the company of a very courteous and handsome man. Was that an extra sashay in her walk ? Was she in fact yearning for her friends, her young an very immature friends, to catch sight of her in the company of a tall, dark handsome stranger. Who clearly knew how to talk to women. “I am named Iole.” she reminded herself, for this sort of thing did not tend to occur to her, usually. None who did not know ever wanted to know her name, her anything.

“Well, Iole,” ‘Lowendir’ glanced down at the hand she had not retrieved from him, raised up a winsome glance to consider the glossy hair, the fair complexion. “I hope you will let me try to improve on your day. I can guarantee that it will improve on my own, to spend it in your company.”


Was this really happening ? Was she honestly experiencing a man who wished to escort her somewhere ? Iole felt for the first time as though she were one of the girls she had schooled with. The ones who had such tales of being took to dances, and having young men carry their books. Unalmis had only ever shown notice in her books when he could exchange them for his own to find excuse for not doing his homework ! But then he had always been her friend, more like a brother than a boy. Not the sort of boy she should be having those sort of feelings about anyway. It would probably be the smart thing to do, therefore, to seek a suitor beyond their friendship, with somebody else .. perhaps somebody else who was apparently quite keen already .. That would show him.

Drawn from where she might call for her friends, or hear them, Iole supposed she was in for who knew what more surprises to come. She was not wrong.