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@Rillewen , @Ercassie
Hadassa
Pelennor Fields, Dec 30th

"I think winter is quite nice for a change," Hadassa flashed a smile towards the two young men. "Though I suspect my dear Sugar here would disagree and prefer grass... or an apple." Her hand almost instinctively left the reins to catch the abovementioned fruit. She let the horse trot one more lap before she dismounted and led her trusty mount to join the other two horses, treating her to an apple on the way.

Once she joined her friends, she concluded: "Right. So it is winter chasing, a stew, a cider, a secret, and a quest. That makes quite a list!" She paused and then offered with a laugh: "I can contribute carrots to any stew though they were rather meant for my horse. And a few salted crackers to share."

She pulled the hood of her green cloak up over her head now that her ears began to feel slightly cold. "It is a bit chilly today, yeah..." she acknowledged, and then responded to what she deemed to be a bit more serious question: "You know, I'm still trying to find my feet and figure out what new skills I could master and how I could maintain the ones I already have so that the cavalry back home would not get at me for becoming lazy and forgetting what I already know."

@Arnyn, @Rillewen
Ziran smiled to see that Halberion was already seated at the table by the window when they arrived, and she nodded greetings to him as Macardil paused briefly before proceeding to the table. “Good evening, Lord Veranis.” There was warmth in her tone, and she didn’t bat an eye when Macardil drew out a chair for her, allowing him to assist her in being seated. That had taken some getting used to, but she did find that it was useful on the occasions she wore a gown, and she knew it pleased him to do so.

She surveyed the man briefly as her husband took the seat next to her, noting the pallor and thinness that remained behind the now clean and well dressed appearance, before turning her gaze to the spread that the Innkeeper had provided for their meal with approval. It would be strengthening and filling, without being overly rich, and the aroma of the stew and the crusty loaf of bread was enough to whet her appetite as well. It was a luxury to be provided stew plates and a whole loaf rather than having stale bread trenchers as was often the case in a common room. Ziran reached for the knife as she grinned at the friendly quips being exchanged, and proceeded to cut the loaf into generous but even slices while Macardil poured water for them all.

Taking a slice for herself, she passed them each a slice with the point of her knife, with a nod to Aderic as he joined them and took his seat. Sending the butter dish on its way around the table, she noted Macardil’s pause, and gave him a twinkling glance before taking up her first spoonful and lifting it in salute. “To your health, gentlemen.” It amused her to toast with food rather than drink, but it seemed fitting, and the first taste of the meltingly fine meat and gravy mixed with carrots, onions, peas, and potatoes gave it credence. It would be no difficulty devoting her attention to the food and listening for now.

@Arnyn @Karis Ziranphel
As the other members of their group entered the room, Hal turned his gaze from the window with a little smile to see Macardil entering with his wife. That was definitely going to take some getting used to. Regardless, Hal stood up, as was proper of a gentleman whenever a lady entered a room. Standing, he could do. Walking was more challenging. But he was glad to at least be able to observe this custom of manners. "Lady Himhathol," He greeted her in return with a polite incline of his head.

Macardil's comment brought a little grin to his face as the two men claimed their seats after the lady had been seated. "Well, I figured you'd rather not have your clothes smelling like.. that." He explained, as if that were the only reason he'd cleaned up. It was good to joke with a friend again. After all this time, it still felt a bit unreal. He ran a hand over his beard, then. "Now, if I could just get rid of this." He muttered. At least it was only about half a year's worth, and not... was it five, or six years he had been held in that place? He wasn't very keen on revisiting the memories to try and establish the length of time. His gaze flicked over to the doorway as Aderic entered, although for a brief moment, Hal tensed. His eyes automatically saw the other brother, but he swiftly reminded himself that Aderic had been quite instrumental in his release, for without him, no one would have been able to let Macardil know that Hal was there. He managed a small smile and nod of greeting to the young man. That was.. also going to be an adjustment. Probably a more difficult one.

When Macardil suggested the bit about shaving, Hal was pleased to hear him offer, as well as for a distraction from the other member of their dinner group. He grinned at Macardil. "What a coincidence, I was going to ask if you still remembered how," He answered with a little smile. That was a relief. He would not have to ask for his help, now. Besides, he still would like to have a chance to talk to his friend about certain things in a more private setting, although if his wife chose to join them, he would not object to her being part of that conversation. Macardil trusted her, so Hal would, as well. But, while he didn't think Aderic was against them, he just didn't feel comfortable with mentioning a few things in his presence.

Ric was somewhat surprised to see Lord Himhathol pour a glass of water for him. "Thank you, sir." He said softly, although whether he meant the water, or something more, he did not specify. Since everyone else was already seated, Ric slid into the last available chair and took a look around. The food all looked and smelled wonderful. It had been a long while now since they'd eaten the small snack of trail rations, earlier, and he was quite hungry. Yet he observed that the others were waiting, and so he did as well. Soon, however, the lady made a toast, and then it seemed alright for them all to eat.

Hal found himself confronted with a bit of a challenge that he had not anticipated, then. He couldn't even remember the last time he had used utensils to feed himself, for all of his meals in the dungeon for the past few years had been fed to him by the jailor, because his captor did not want him to be able to use his hands. He had declined to try trimming his beard earlier because he'd been unable to use scissors properly, and now he wasn't sure whether he would be able to use the silverware to feed himself. The liberated prisoner took a moment to consider his predicament. He figured it was going to take a lot of practice to get himself back to where he could manage such simple tasks as effortlessly as he once did, and that was frustrating. And, while it was embarrassing to not be able to manage a ridiculously simple thing like holding a spoon, he also knew that his best friend would never criticize or laugh at him for that.

While he was contemplating how to begin, he was offered a slice of bread. Smiling, he accepted it gladly with a thank you. Whether her timing was merely coincidental, or if she had known or guessed his hesitation, he didn't know. But he was grateful for the bread, since now he could dip it into the stew and put off using the spoon for a little while longer. The food was just as delicious as it had looked and smelled. Hal was quite sure it was the best-tasting food he'd had in years. Yet he would still be careful not to eat too much, nor too quickly.

After a few bites, he took a moment to ask a question that had been in his head for a while now. "So, if it's alright to ask this, what exactly was it that brought you there?" He wondered. He had aimed the question mostly at Macardil, but his wife was welcome to answer instead, if she wished. "If you came looking for me, you sure took your time getting around to it." He added teasingly, addressing that solely to Macardil.

---

@Ercassie @Pele Alarion
Before Xyler could comment to Nal's words, the sound of hoofbeats interrupted. Xyler looked up and grinned as he first recognized Sugar, Hadassa's mount from the cavalry, and as she got nearer, he could see Hadassa herself upon the horse. He put up a hand and waved, smiling as she drew nearer, and before long she was riding circles around them. Literally. He smirked. "Show off," he called, with a little laugh. She of course knew of his lack of riding skills, although he had improved somewhat during the journey here.

Whatever Nal's reason for calling them out here might be, Xyler took note of the fact that he had said he didn't want to be overheard. Interesting. And he'd mentioned something about that Hadassa was welcome, but no one else. He wasn't sure what to think about that. It would almost have seemed like a reunion of the group who had met in Rohan, during the Spring Festival, but that one member was absent. Curiously enough, Xyler also recalled that Eryn had been quite busy dining and dancing with another fellow, just a few days ago. And now, Nal did not want her to join their group? Curious...

"Stew?" Xyler tilted his head, glancing around. "Have you brought cooking gear and food out here, as well?" he asked in surprise. Being rather good at cooking, himself, he was curious to know what sort of meal his ranger friend might be able to manage with whatever supplies he had. Therefore, he was further amazed to learn that the guy had also brought cider! He grinned and shook his head slightly in amusement. "You really did come prepared, didn't you?" He marveled.

But what was this about a secret? He was intrigued by that. "Oh, for me, it's going well." He answered, when asked how they were settling in. "I've been giving quarters to live in at the houses of healing, and all the healers have been very nice. And I've been able to work with Eryn a bit, and she gave me a tour of the houses of healing, and the sixth level." He mentioned. Surprising that he hadn't seen Nal around, but he supposed they had each been busy with their own training routines and whatnot. "But what's this about a secret and a quest?" he wondered, too intrigued by that to be bothered with trivial things like living arrangements and such.

There were two breeds of inn to be found in Harlond; the seedy, raucous haunt of sailors all too eager to enjoy all of the comforts to be found at last, at port, and the more upscale establishment, where those passengers who could afford to, might rest up for the night, ready and at hand for an early set off by some ship come dawn. The Heron Inn fell into the latter category and the difference was evident, even in the high backed leather chairs they sat in. There were no rough-hewn wooden props, which could double as a weapon in a bar brawl here. Unalmis doubted that this Inn had ever even seen a 'brawl'.

Instead of men crowded around scarred wooden tables, engaged in arm wrestling or card games, there were children sitting with their families, politely consuming a fair evening meal. Instead of the drunken offset crooning of tavern ballads, and unrestrained laughter, there was calm conversation, and ordered arrangements, both business and personal, being conducted in dulcet tones. The large stone fireplace was forced to compete as a source of light, with numerous polished candelabras. Rather than to dwarf the dingy glow cast by squat wads of wax weeping over grimy glass jars on the tabletops. The bar itself looked more like a judge’s rule here, than a rest for drunks to leer over in efforts to obtain alcohol. Yet for all the comfortable, unfamiliar features of the Heron common room, the young man was restless as he found his gaze fall every few minutes toward the window.


"You are quiet," Ilisys observed, glancing over from the newspaper she was pretending to read.

"Said nobody to me, ever," Nal countered.

"Said I, here and now," the lady pointed out. The gentle click of the large clock on the mantel carried a few strikes of time before she gained an explanation.

"They are late," he could not help but realise.

"A ship must counter many factors, all which may affect her keeping schedule." No sooner had she spoke the words, Isys recognised they would prove little reassurance. Given what they both knew of what ship delays could mean .. "The run-through went well," she changed the subject, with thoughts to distract her young charge. "Do you not think ?"


The noblewoman's turn of phrase caused the young man to glance up, ready to retaliate at such an accusation. Did he not think ? Was he witless then ? Countless teachers had hurled such a question his way over the years. But catching the look in his company's charcoal gaze, he reigned in the expectant instincts. She was merely asking if he agreed with her, he understood. But an offhanded shrug was one instinct that he could not subdue. "We have both been aboard ships before," he reminded the Ehtyar, although evading eye contact as he made little of the triumph she awarded them.

"That was rather the point," Isys ventured calmly.

"Not just .. then .." Nal scooched in his seat, both hands tightly grasping at a leathered arm as he battled restlessness. "We sailed down to Pelargir, last year," he would have her recall. "As did everybody else, and back again.” He managed just barely to halt before claiming that ‘nobody died’ … because of course, the Commander had in fact. Although technically not on the ship .. “Anyway, you must have been on countless .."

"You were late arriving at Pelargir, by means of a private vessel manned by Beren Camlost" Isys voiced her own interpretation of the same event. "The way back, .. I can now not recollect," she was forced to concede. Having been injured at Poros and somewhat after then influenced by the anaesthetic agents that Beren himself had administered, the voyage home was hazy for her to remember, annoyingly. And Beren was no longer accessible to ask .. "I imagine there was much preoccupation for the most, upon that homeward journey."

The Ehtyar was no more willing than her charge, to refer outright to the Rangers' collective shock and efforts to conduct themselves, in the wake of their commander's murder and with his killer, one of their own, escorted home to meet the King's judgement. But the fact was that she had not seen for herself how the young Ranger was, aboard a ship. Not since the one which had brought them both back from Umbar. And after what Iole had told her since, about the ‘argument’ between Nal and Trevadir … That had been shockingly out of character for the youth. And it had been the last time he had been aboard a ship ... "It went well, I think," she concluded of their experiment. Better to have any upset dealt with now, in private, than in front of all their comrades. But it had, gone better than she had expected. And that was what was worrying her. She would rather have seen the damage fixed, than wonder what might yet be lurking underneath the surface.


"Thank you," the young man conceded thus, after a moment, causing her to turn.

"You did enjoy it ..?" the lady dared to hope.

"I mean, thanks for ... the other time .." Nal acknowledged, quietly himself. As out of character in the volume as the admission itself. But having someone save his life was far from usual. "I don't think that I said so .. then."

'Well, you were ..' Isys opened her mouth to begin but couldn't quite, not aloud. The young man had been still soaked in the blood of those he'd witnessed being sawn in half, pained from the neglected injury that might have cost him his arm, his anticipated career, or worse .. She swallowed subtly. That crossing .. the whole there and back again ... they had all been ... fortunate ?


"You're sure they know to come here ?" the young man returned to their current concern, as though the lady’s quiet had conjured up a whole new wave of worry. "Maybe we should go and wait where the ship will come in ?”

Isys did not answer, or in any way respond beyond a knowing smile. The young man was keen to spy out if the 'Bregolalph' were docked yet in the harbour. Not admitting so aloud did nothing to conceal Nal's excitement. For as apprehensive as the notion of sailing, out on the true sea, might be, the expectation of seeing the legendary Swan Knight again ... was at least probably half the reason he had come on this 'practice run-through' in the first place. But as the lady reclined leisurely in patience, Unalmis slouched back in his seat. For the few seconds that passed until the door next opened. And, not Abrazimir but still the arrival of much anticipated guests found the two Rangers take their way over to make with fond greetings.


"Unalmis ! Come, let me look at you ! So grown !" Bronela Ishen marvelled. Even as her husband fussed to gather up her shawl better around her shoulders.

"I hope you had a decent passage," the young man met the twinned hands of the undertaker's wife as both clasped his, with a familial affection. "You look .. well .." he struggled to accept just how well, or in fact to accept that his friend's mother was standing ... STANDING !! Clearly the sea air of Pelargir had done all that the healers had promised it might. Her health was much improved indeed !

"We were so sorry, to hear of the passing of your grandmother," Mort put in, for his own sake, earning him a flutter of dismay in his wife's paling eyelashes. One of the woman's hands flattened softly against her husband's chest as she just as gently tutted, with a smile.

"Perhaps not here and now, dear," Bronela suggested and the Undertaker bowed his solemn apologies.


"Iole is going to be so surprised to see you !" Nal celebrated, happy to avoid any sobering subjects. He had thought and then had second thoughts about sending for the Ishens to come visit Minas Tirith for their daughter’s birthday. The voyage upriver … it was not yet safe. But on the other hand, it was a lot safer right now than it had been for a long time. It would be worth it, for Iole. Although in an ideal world, the two Rangers would have had time to go down to Pelargir and escort the couple here personally. But there seemed to be never enough time these days .. as though it was all running toward a stop which nobody wished to acknowledge. "This is Isys .." A glance to find their daughter's new employer was forced to admit the lady had stepped aside from the glad little reunion. To attend to another .. "Elbereth .." the young man proclaimed, caught up in new throes of wonder.

To behold the veiled figure who the Ehtyar had gravitated toward, one who had arrived with the couple and their cases. Though in the self same moment that the Ranger moved to greet what he thought was another dear acquaintance, the veiled figure's slight stiffen drew his eyes to note her height, her form .. her atypical stance. One hand found the knife at his haunch even as the Ehtyar met it there and paused him.


"That is not Gael ..." he confided between closed teeth, close as the two now stood.

"It is another acquaintance" Isys quietly agreed, although without the same degree of shock or alarm. "Come in disguise,” she stepped back and away from Unalmis so that they could recover their behaviour, in such a public setting. “I am very glad that you are arrived,” she then assured the Ishens and the not-Gael. “Rooms have been readied for the night, and a carriage has been arranged for the morning,” she explained, even as the inn’s very proficient staff took the guest’s luggage up to their assigned room.


The veiled woman dropped her chin slowly, but did not loose grip on her one small bag. And the young staff member who reached for it, soon thought better of the kindness, as he faced the tall, concealed silhouette, and scampered off to fight with his peers over the more easily attained luggage. Leaving the now completed party more awkward than ever as the three descended into those grand, leather, high-backed chairs around their table.

“Maybe we should go up and settle in,” Mort Ishen proposed, his wife nodding even as she took his hand to slowly rise. And since at least half of the group had now risen, without any further deliberation, they all ended up heading up the stairs, in silence. There were some greetings and meetings which were not wise for even the well-mannered common room of the 'Heron' to witness.

@Arnyn, @Rillewen It was good that she had committed to listening instead of speaking initially, as Halberion’s comments had a way of striking her wrong. They had an edge to them despite his jocular tone that had a furrow appearing between Ziran’s brows as she listened, and she cast a glance at him askance before returning her gaze to her food. He and her husband traded barbs as good friends were often wont to do, but she was struggling to find the humor in his comments, and wondered if it was just her weariness speaking or his lack of human connection beyond the guards that he was always needling. It would have made sense to her to tease a bearded man about shaving, but not one such as Macardil, who was particular about shaving daily, unless it was a comment about servants doing the task instead of carrying it out personally. Likely it was just that he had meant to ask if Macardil would help him, but then why not say that? Furthermore, knowing Macardil’s grief and guilt over not being able to save Halberion’s family and not knowing even Alyssa was alive, the man’s last question had a sting to it, even though she could partly understand his likely desire to question why he hadn’t been found before now. To blame Macardil in any part, even as a joke, had her protective instinct flaring, but she knew from past experience that he wouldn’t want her saying anything in response, and her fingers flexed on the handle of the spoon before she set it down for a calming drink of water. It felt like it was going to be a long meal. Perhaps that was the intent. She would let Macardil field those comments, but decided to share a brief response to his question after all. Her tone was quiet and deceptively bland. “We came under the guise of sharing our joy over our wedding and the news that Alyssa might be with child as soon as we heard that she was alive and living here as Lady Ansellidus.”

@Karis Ziranphel @Rillewen
Macardil had been quietly pleased, and even slightly proud of his friend, at seeing Hal rising from his seat. He knew it was for Ziran's sake. That Hal still thought to honor courtesy, despite everything that he had suffered through for the past five years...

"And to yours, lady," Macardil returned Ziran's words with a smile to her. Then he shrugged at Hal's first joke, about his clothes and the smell. "Clothes can be washed, just like men," he offered in a light tone of voice, wanting his friend to know he would truly not have cared. What did clothes even matter? Macardil could always buy others. There was only one Halberion Veranis, however. His friend could ruin everything in his closet, as far as Macardil was concerned. He was here. Beyond all hopes.

He caught Hal's brief stillness at Aderic's entrance, but mentioned nothing, not wishing to draw attention to it at the table.

Amusement tugged at his lips when Halberion continued to joke around. Just as they had always done. "You'll still be the same troublemaker once it's gone," Macardil said, meanwhile knowing all too well why Hal would want the beard gone, and how good it would feel afterwards. He had experienced that himself. Once more, Macardil could not help but marvel at Hal's ability to simply be... so much like himself. After five years of... Then Macardil realized he wasn't sure if Hal had really been in that cell the entire time.

The lord of House Himhathol soon found himself admiring his lady's tact in offering bread when Halberion hesitated before starting on the meal. Did he not trust himself with even something as simple as a spoon? Sadness at that rippled through Macardil, anger lurking at its edges for the way that his best friend had been treated. At the orders of 'Amardir Ansellidus'. Who had married Alyssa. By the Valar, Alyssa... Macardil's heart clenched. Not now, he firmly told himself.

The question - what had brought them here - gave Macardil pause as he tried to think of how best to answer that without getting them into territory that Hal might not want Aderic to be privy to. His lips tilted upward when Halberion teased him about taking his sweet time, but then Ziran answered the former question - in such a bland tone that a quit warning bell went off in his head. Macardil glanced at her. She had managed to imbue her single sentence with a great deal of information. "Well, if I had come any sooner, you would have nothing to lord over me. We both know you wouldn't have liked that," Macardil drawled thoughtfully, his eyes on the food.

When he lifted them to meet Halberion's, the amusement had quite left them. Replaced with something much, much rawer. "After the fire at your estate, everyone in your family was presumed dead," Macardil said quietly. "Personally, I did not even know Alyssa had lived, until two days ago."

@Arnyn @Karis Ziranphel
Hal turned his gaze toward the lady as she gave a swifter answer than Macardil. And what she said took away and trace of the teasing smile that had been on his face... because while her sentence had been brief, she had said a great deal in it. And it gave him much to think about and sift through. First, the easiest; that apparently, she and Macardil were still newlyweds. That, he had not realized, but he had too much else on his mind now to think of congratulations. Because, the rest of what she said implied that they had thought Alyssa was not alive. And if they had not realized she was alive... that meant so much more than they probably realized.

Hal let his bread rest on the edge of his dish as he let the full weight of that statement sink in. The possibility that his daughter might be with child didn't even make him blink, but it was the thought that Macardil had not known she was even alive. All this time. So, if he had not known that, then he had also not known that Hal was alive, nor any of the others... and suddenly, he recalled what Aderic had said, that day in the dungeon almost a month ago. How surprised he had been to find out that Alyssa's father was there in the dungeon. His gaze flicked to the young man at the end of the table, remembering that he had said something to the nature of that people had thought he was dead.

Ric had looked up from his own food and was listening with interest, although he kept quiet for now, content to listen and not ask any questions, yet.

Before Hal could ponder any further on that whole matter, Macardil spoke up, giving his own answer. Hal gave a faint little scoff at the jest that he made about Hal not having anything to 'lord over him'. The joke didn't quite hold as much humor as it might have, any other time, for he also caught the way his friend spoke more slowly as he said it, with his eyes fixed on his food. Hal's heart sank a bit further to hear Macardil speak about how he had believed them all to be dead. That he had only learned that Alyssa was alive, two days ago.

He swallowed, trying to push down the lump in his throat. "Then.. Moira never reached you," Hal realized, suddenly extremely worried by that. "I thought.. I just assumed that she must have... I thought you were delayed in finding me because I had been moved, and you had to find where he'd taken me..." He shook his head slightly and stared down at the table with a frown. "I'm sorry," He added softly. "I suppose that joke was... lacking in humor." It also struck him that Macardil had said he had believed them all to be dead. Everyone in his family. Hal stared at a piece of vegetable that was in his stew, inwardly coming to terms with that while struggling not to show the emotional turmoil going on within.

If Macardil had believed they were all dead, then where were Mae Wen, and Blaise? What had happened to them, after the rest of them were taken captive? He was reluctant to make any mention of them though, in the presence of Aderic, because he still felt hesitant to fully trust the young man. But this new information certainly canceled out one of the things Hal had been dying to ask Macardil about. But now, he had so many more questions, which apparently, Macardil could not even answer.

@Arnyn, @Rillewen
Ziran glanced at Macardil with sympathy at the note in his voice as he shared how recently they had found out that Alyssa was alive beyond everyone’s hope, and then dipped her gaze back to the bread she had buttered before dunking it in the stew, needing to navigate the bite carefully. Thus it was that she heard the worry in Halberion’s voice as he reached the conclusion that individuals had not reached Macardil as he had assumed. She looked up at him thoughtfully as she chewed, and felt the tug of compassion. If she remembered rightly, the names mentioned were members of his family, and he had not considered them lost.

Swallowing as he trailed off into silence to stare at his food, Ziran took a sip of water and paused a moment to let him reflect, before asking the question on her mind. “Please, Halberion. Before we get lost in figuring out what could have happened to miss-communicate, would you be willing to share your story with us? What occurred to bring you and your daughter to this castle?” It was an open ended question, but she hoped he would have the fortitude to face the memories and shed light on their darkened understanding of those days that led to Macardil receiving news of the supposed deaths.

@Rillewen @Pele Alarion


“Well I would not draw you all the way out here for nothing,” Unalmis laughed, as Hadassa marvelled over the ‘list’ of activities he’d alluded to. As the third of their trio settled in for a seat, the Ranger rose and found a battered bucket tin with a lid, and a rather large flask from his saddle bag. Lifting the cover off the former, he revealed a small selection of vegetables, peeping out from under a garnish or herbs. There was room to add in the young woman’s carrots, if she did wish to contribute them, rather than use them to keep the horses from growing envious of their feast. “Are the two of you riding out here frequent, for practice together ?” he wondered, hiding his amused intrigue as he idly rolled over not one, but three small sections of deadwood log which were no longer than shoes themselves. They had clearly once been a single piece of pine, since then cut into three; and clearly the Ranger had decided not to use them for firewood, though they had been drying out nearby the blaze.


“Oh, I brought next to nothing,” Nal refuted to Xyler though, with an unashamed shrug. “The stew and cider are gifts from a farmer and his wife, who live out that way,” An arm extended out yonder, in a vague direction. “Way back when, he refused to leave his place, even with the war marching upon his doorstop. Wouldn’t evacuate until I vowed to personally help him rebuild anything which got ruined while we were away." A slow shake of the young man's head did not dispel the smile which such memory evoked. "I swear, it’s been years now and still whenever he finds anything that needs fixing, he sends for me to ‘fulfil my vow’" he explained. "Hosta's wife made the stew, and he brewed up the cider. They always do. I mean, I’d come out anyway, they’re good people, and the old man is a little too worn to be climbing up ladders and things, though he won’t be told of course.” A roll of brown eyes betrayed no real disdain about the couple being referenced, as he set down the supplies and picked up a stick to poke at the fire.

“It’s all decent practice at putting things that need fixing back together. Though not as intricate as how you do it, with fixing people back together, of course,” he awarded the apprentice healer a well-earned compliment. “And I usually bring Baran here out for the run. So I thought .. horse company, almost certainly too much food and cider for one person to manage. Besides, I’ve not had nearly enough chance to catch up with you two. Between all the dancing and dining you have apparently been up to. I have something I need to ask you, and I’m sorry to drag you from the warmth of the circles to do it. But .. have either of you ever made a burn bowl before ?”


The question did not sound quite as though it was what he had meant to ask them, although a meaningful glance toward the three pieces of deadwood made clear now that it was premeditated. And the mention of dancing and dining betrayed some sign of his having noted rather than overlooked them each, of late. “Thank you for coming out to the Guesthouse this week, by the way,” an offhand reminder of the most recent occasion they had responded to one of his letters .. seemed like it might invite them to believe this excursion might yet prove as pleasant.

@Rillewen


The comfrey and white willow leaf puree had surprised a gasp out of her patient, enough to see Cali’s eyes fly open. But the initial contact of the cold paste seemed to grow more acceptable with time until only an idle intrigue was evident in those brown eyes. It felt something of a relief to be able to do something, .. anything really, for her sister. Although the more time that Iole dedicated to the gentle application, the more time she had to eye the two small jars of bark, and wonder if Trev had some way at all of heating water, so that she could rightly make use of them for a proper poultice. The cold water he had left them in his canteen would not steep the extract rightly out of the resource, not like a decoction would. And the former apprentice nurse let her own blue eyes find the already severed strip of her skirt hem. If they used that to make up the bandage and support sling, then the Captain would never believe that his men had torn her dress in a more unwelcome motive. So there went that idea to turn the crew against one another ..

A not altogether sorry sigh took her gaze toward the other; discarded bonnets and apron pieces .. they might serve instead of or as well as her torn hem, she decided. Because plots aside, they would aide her sister’s comfort at the very least. And there her choices lay between Cali’s bloodied bonnet, stained stark red from her alarming facial injury, or her own bonnet which had been soaked by salt water when she was pushed toward the shore in that cave .. The two aprons were larger of course, and would better serve for the sling than the small handkerchief which Trev had been able to obtain. But Cali’s apron had also been ripped, she noted belatedly. And the gaping tear matched with the small scrap of rag which had been balled into her friend’s mouth …

Swallowing hard, Iole felt how dry her own mouth was, and paused in soothing the mushed salve against her friend’s arm, so that she could take a sip of the water they had been left. She had lowered the refreshing drink with time enough to note the dimpled trace which tight ropes had left against her wrists, when their saviour returned from checking on the sleeping guards.


When Trev asked how Cali was, she did not feel qualified to answer. So “The comfrey paste is helping to reduce the inflammation and the pain around her arm,” she explained, her actions thus far. “If you have means to heat water, we could work the bark, and the willow too, into a decoction or better poultice, to bring out the bruising. But she is still very drowsy. Can you help me to sit her up ?”

Easing herself into a slightly altered position, Iole reached for the tiny bottles she had stood along a row. “All three tinctures will serve as a tonic, in their turn against neuralgia, anxiety, and nervous exhaustion. I do not want to use too much and render her any more drowsy, but sedation is clearly going to help her. Though they should not knock her out of consciousness like what you gave those men.” A further justification was offered, as to why she had elected not to use the anaesthetic on their friend, for fear of overdosing her into a comatose state.


“Cali, you need to take a taste of these, under your tongue, then swallow, and we’ll wash them down with water. It will help your head feel better,” she did her best to prepare her sister for what would come next. “The feverfew is umm .. fragrant,” she encouraged Cali to open her mouth, and tilt her head backwards, to raise her tongue. A frightened guess at the dosage was served in small drops, and then the canteen applied, to wash the perfume- taste away. “Now vervain I’m afraid will be a little more bitter,” she warned, and strengthened her hold at her patient’s head, to ensure the tincture was consumed, before she offered up the second snatch of water. The ‘fragrant’ feverfew had not likely been ‘un-bitter’ either. But the Vervain would have been worse. “Finally the chamomile should be sweeter,” she coaxed the final portion of her prescription unto the other young woman. Still bitter, but less so than the previous two flavours, anyway .. The third and final drink of water concluded the labours, and Iole allowed for Cali to lean back against her again.


“You said that we have a few hours before they wake, and you do not think anyone else shall come aboard before then,” the makeshift healer recalled, to her brother’s attention, while she cradled her sister and waited for the potent herbs to begin their work. “It was the larger man who locked the door,” she remembered. “Though I do not remember seeing what he did with the key afterwards.” She had been more focused on the other man, who had been forced to be called away from loitering …

What she wanted to ask was what their hopes were, of getting out of the brig before the rest of the crew returned, and they presumably sailed out to .. who knew where. But given that the answer to that was not something she was keen to hear, nor likely to be spared if her brother’s face were more honest than his answer … “I will cut up those aprons to make up the material we need for a sling and to hold the splint at her arm,” she asked instead, in rather a wilting and unconvinced expectation. “Thankyou for sharpening the little bamboo piece,” she added quietly. That would make it easier. “Thankyou for .. all of it,” she put in then, more quietly. As though upon some level she now recognised, that it might all be in vain regardless.


“Will they realise ?” Blue eyes fell upon the vial of strong anaesthetic, she had kept aside from all the milder medicaments. “That you drugged them ..” Would they be so angry at him, that he might consent to leave the ship with his friends ? Assuming that he could. Assuming that any of them could ..

@Karis Ziranphel @Rillewen
Then, Moira never reached you.

Macardil was still looking at his friend as he spoke about his youngest daughter. Not that Halberion would be able to see his eyes widening, for now the other man was looking at the table. Moira... that rebellious delight of a girl... she had lived as well? His hart sank when he realized the complications of the situation. If the plan had been for Moira to reach him, and given that she never had... Macardil swallowed, trying to ease his throat, which had gone dry as dust. He could not bring himself to eat, and his utensils were uselessly held by unmoving hands resting upon the table. Hope was being granted and then being ripped away, within the space of hartbeats. Alyssa. Moira.

But - part of Macardil insisted - Hal was still here. Macardil was staring right at him. And if he could have lived, if Alyssa could have lived - then why not the others?

He swallowed again, even as Ziran asked Halberion for the full story. Yes. That would be the first thing they needed. One hand twitched, releasing his knife. So he could down some of the water he'd poured earlier. "That she did not reach me, does not necessarily mean--" he began to offer his friend. However, the following words weere too unwanted to pronounce. "What did happen?" he reiterated his wife's question, not wanting to draw Hal away from that. "As far as the outside world knows... there was a terrible fire. No one knows how. It looked like an awful accident." Wiping out his best friend as well as his whole family.

@Arnyn @Karis Ziranphel
There was a heavy silence that seemed to have fallen over the table. Hal's hopes had sunk further than he'd allowed them to in all the time he had been held captive. To realize that not only did his daughter never manage to go to her Valar-father for help, but that he now had no idea where his adopted sister, nor his youngest child, could be... that realization was difficult to have to accept.

The first one to break the silence was the lady, asking him to share what had happened. Hal's gaze lifted from his plate, to find hers, and he hesitated. Macardil backed her in expressing his desire to know what had happened, also. Hal had, for a long time, been anxious for a chance to tell someone what he knew, about the atrocities performed by that terrible twin of the young man seated at the far end of the table. He had been eager to share what he knew with Macardil, ever since he'd brought him out of that cell. But, now that it came to it, he also felt reluctant to speak about his own horrible experiences. It struck him that it would be the very first time he had spoken of it, to anyone. There had been no need to speak of it to anyone, before now. The jailor would not have listened, being convinced that his 'lord' was indeed who he claimed to be.

Hal swallowed, finding his mouth dry. Then he tentatively reached for his glass of water, and managed a sip before sitting back, looking thoughtful. "It is.. a long story," He warned, then took a moment, inwardly debating whether he wanted to speak about any of it just yet. "I don't know how much I.. can speak of, yet." He added softly, his face showing sorrow and pain for a moment before he made an effort to conceal that. He stared at his food a moment longer. He had only just begun eating, and the food was excellent. But he was also still getting used to having a meal a day, and he'd already eaten once. He wasn't sure how much of this meal he'd be able to eat, anyway. Maybe another bite or two? He didn't mind if it got cold though, while he was speaking.

"I'll try to tell as much as I can, but some parts... will be difficult." Hal decided, then let out a little sigh as he thought back to where to even start. "Well. I suppose, you could say, it began with Reilly going missing." He decided, frowning in sadness. "You know, I continued searching for him, every spare moment I could get, long after you had to return to duty," He told Macardil. He had never blamed him for that, of course. Hal understood having to report for duty, and he knew Macardil had not liked having to leave it to Hal to search on his own.

At the name of his friend, Ric straightened up in his seat and listened a bit more intently.

"Well," Hal went on, "I, too, had some duties which I could not neglect. Much to my regret, I was forced to attend to some things at home. It was during one of these necessary 'breaks' that Amelina informed me that we'd received a letter from a fellow lord. One with higher standing than myself. He was asking to meet with us, because he had a nephew who was seeking to marry, and he was interested in forming a betrothal pact. And he had heard that we had a daughter nearing marriageable age," He frowned at the recollection. "I wasn't interested in even talking about it," Hal shook his head and stared into his stew for a moment before he went on. "Amelina.. pointed out that he was only asking to discuss the possibility. I-I still thought it was ridiculous. Alyssa was only barely old enough to think about marriage, in my opinion, and I had no intention of pushing her into a marriage, just because it might have some benefits for me. The Ansellidus family was known to be rich, of course, and I will admit we were struggling, because the orchards were doing poorly. But I still didn't like the idea of my little girl having a suitor... and I hate the idea of arranged marriages, anyway. But, I don't know. Amelina.." He paused as he glanced at Karis, "my wife," He clarified, in case she didn't know who Amelina was, "she convinced me that it wouldn't hurt to simply have dinner with them, and to let Alyssa and this young fellow meet. See if they might like each other. She said that just having dinner with them wouldn't obligate us to anything. That it would be better than flat-out refusing to even consider it, which might offend them. So, we arranged to have dinner to meet with them, nothing more." How he regretted agreeing to that, but of course, he couldn't have known, then, what a bad idea it was.

Hal cleared his throat. "Well, what we did not know, of course, was that Moira had taken a notion to sneak off and search for her brother on her own," He added, sighing. "Because obviously, a young girl with no experience is far more likely to succeed than her father, a former ranger with years of experience at that sort of thing." He explained, shaking his head slightly.

"Moira.. is Reilly and Alyssa's sister..?" Ric spoke up tentatively.

Hal paused and nodded. "Yes, my younger daughter. She's... always been quite a handful. A little mischievous, rather headstrong, and.. um, impulsive, I suppose you might say. As well as willful and, at times, rebellious. Not to mention stubborn..." He sighed. "Always going where she was told not to go, doing what she was told not to do... that sort of thing." He shook his head in mild amusement. "Can't imagine where she could've got that from..." He muttered, casting a side glance with a wry smile toward Macardil, with a look in his eyes that suggested he knew exactly where such traits had come from, since Hal had been almost the exact same way, in his own youth.

@Karis Ziranphel @Rillewen
While Halberion looked at Ziran, and did not reply immediately, Macardil's gaze flicked to Aderic. It occurred to him that Hal might not be the most eager to share his story with Aderic, who looked so much like the man who seemed to be responsible for a whole lot of what had transpired. If not for all of it. And even Ziranphel... Macardil's attention shifted to his lady, his expression softening ever so slightly. His friend had never met her. Had never even heard of her, before today. Even though she was now Macardil's wife, and one of the most important people in his life... she was still a stranger to his friend. Macardil heard what Halberion was skirting. Rebellious as though his friend had been to so many aspects that came with a lordship - he definitely adhered to the principles of tact and polite manners. At least, when there were others present than his most inner of circles...

The mention of Reilly's name snapped his attention back to Halberion. Macardil's utensils remained unmoving as he listened. He acknowledged that Hal had never stopped looking for his eldest son, with a small nod. The news about Hal receiving a request from the Ansellidus family, expressing interest in a match between a nephew of the Lord and Alyssa, made Macardil utter a low grunt, indicating his own feelings toward such a subject. Which were obviously negative. Neither Halberion nor Macardil had agreed to an arranged marriage, and they had spoken of the topic between them often, especially around the time where Macardil had fallen for Mellaurel, who had not been a noble lady, but a commoner.

One side of his mouth lifted, though, when Hal said Moria had taken it upon herself to search for Reilly. "Apple, tree," he confided to Ziran, leaning slightly closer to her as he murmured the words. "I also remember her as resilient and resourceful," he added, now speaking to Halberion. "Also very much like her father, in that regard." Which should have bode well... for her chances. He hoped.

@Arnyn @Karis Ziranphel
Macardil's comments about Moira made Hal smile faintly. "Indeed, resilient, and resourceful." He agreed, grateful to Macardil for those words. "She knows how to take care of herself, as well." He was sure of that, having taught her many of the same skills he had learned with the rangers. How to survive in the wild, how to find food, how to find her way, how to follow tracks and hide her own, if needed. Not to mention fighting skills, at which she'd excelled. But then, he had also taught the same things to Reilly... but that was a different situation, he recalled. Deception and betrayal had been his downfall, not lack of skills.

But that reminded him that he still had more to tell. He had dunked his bread into the stew, scooping up a bit of the meat with it, and took a pause to eat that bite before he went on.

While Lord Veranis was chewing his bite of food, Ric ventured to add something. "On the way from the castle, I was actually thinking of something I wanted to mention, sir." He addressed this to Macardil, mostly. "I was going to tell you that, Alyssa had once asked me to see if I could find her sister, and protect her." He explained.

At that, Hal's gaze fastened onto him, listening intently, and gave a small nod as if to encourage him to go on.

"She.. didn't explain much about it," He went on, feeling a little awkward. "In fact, she never even told me her sister's name, nor why she needed protecting. She only asked that I find her, and protect her. She said that she would explain it all, but that Alyssa could not." He dropped his gaze. "But, alas, I am no good at finding people, it would seem."

Hal considered this as he finished chewing. Not fully trusting himself to lift his glass with one hand alone, he used both to lifted it carefully to his mouth and took a small drink. These things would take some getting used to, again. As for what Aderic had said, he took note of it with interest. That Alyssa had trusted him with such a request, was notable to him. Especially, since the young man looked exactly like the one Moira would be hiding from, so he had to wonder what had made Alyssa think Moira would ever trust Aderic if he did find her.

He cleared his throat softly. "I daresay that if Moira did not want you to find her, you would have a very hard time doing so." He offered a small bit of comfort to him. "But I thank you for your efforts," He added, before returning to his own tale. "Where was I..?" He paused. "Right. The dinner." The catastrophic dinner meeting with the Anselliduses. He drew a slow breath. "We didn't know Lord Ansellidus very well. The old lord mostly kept to himself, although he would go to functions as necessary." He paused, noticing Aderic listening closely with a look like he was trying to follow along.

Hal decided to add a little background in case he, or the lady, were unfamiliar with this information, "Alagion was known among the noble families, of course, and I'm sure some polite greetings had been exchanged at some point, but I don't recall if I'd ever had a full conversation with him. So," He sighed. "I was really not sure what to expect from them. When they did come, I was surprised that Lord Alagion was not there. But the young man who introduced himself as Amardir Ansellidus.." His gaze drifted to Ric at that point, "apologized for the absence of his great-uncle, and explained that he had taken ill. He was growing old, so it didn't seem too strange, at the time. Now, though, I wouldn't be at all surprised to learn that the man had been poisoned."

Ric had, by now, let his silverware rest on the table, listening very intently to all that Lord Veranis was saying. He actually wished that he had brought a notebook along, so he could take notes. It was beginning to seem like it would be a very valuable testimony, which he would very much like to get in writing.

Hal turned his gaze back to Macardil and his lady. "At first, all seemed fine. The young man was polite, charming, very well-mannered. Alyssa seemed, at the time, to like him very much. I was... skeptical," He smiled wryly. "I suppose any father would be, though." He shrugged. It had been the first time a suitor had ever come to call on his eldest daughter.

He was having to think back to some very unpleasant memories, so he was taking his time to sift through and find what was relevant at the moment, and what he could bear to speak of. "My.. sister was not at home," He added. "And neither was Moira. We thought that she had gone with her aunt. It seemed prudent to keep the youngest child out of the way... so not to cause any mischief or get underfoot." He looked at Macardil in a way that he hoped he would understand. Because of course, Macardil would know that Moira was not the youngest. Hal sighed and went on. "In fact, Moira led us to believe that she was going with Mae Wen." He frowned. "Instead, that was when she chose to set off on her... adventure. She was gone several hours before our guests were due to arrive, and she left at the same time as Mae Wen, after asking her mother for permission to go with her, so..." He shook his head and left the rest unspoken.

"Well." He frowned as he stared at the table without seeing it. "We had barely begun eating dinner, when Moira came bursting in, hollering for me frantically. As if she were terrified, or panicked." He paused and looked at his friend's wife. "You don't know my daughter, but she is not easily frightened. And she'd never admit to it, if she was." He explained. "So, the sound of her voice as she called for me was.. quite alarming." He paused with a troubled look on his face. "I hurried to see what was wrong, but before she could explain anything about what had frightened her so badly... she caught sight of our visitor. The look of alarm on her face was the last thing I saw before I was knocked out." He stared hard at the table with a frown, finding it difficult to go back to these memories. "I was distracted.. I had turned my back to him... I had no idea who and what he really was.. I didn't know, then, what I know, now."

@Pele Alarion @Rillewen


Unalmis had never doubted that his friend would manage what he had been set to, and sure enough Cadil confirmed he had removed a line of chain up from the wagon floor, before that makeshift weapon was stowed carefully away in the now infamous bag. “Land well !” Nal quietly bid the first of them to jump and then, still holding the door wide, watched as the other young man first found hands and knees quick to the cobbles. Only to right himself, moments later, to his full height with even the heft of his bag on his back.

The sight raised a grin out of Nal who counted enough time for there to be adequate space. He then closed brown eyes briefly and leapt out too, rolling onto the road which rushed up to greet him in his turn. It took moments for him also to resume full height, and then followed his friend’s example and dusted himself off. “Nicely done,” he agreed with Cadil, although extending a hand to halt his friend’s trot after the wagon.


A glance about them showcased how the eve was closing in, and a few staggered groups of folk in ones or twos were close enough to have observed the pair leap from the guard wagon. “As soon as that false guard realises we are away, he may come back in search of us,” Nal contemplated aloud, though in a quiet confidence to his companion so that the words did not carry. “It will do us no good to walk right up to where he can find us.”

The thought bred others, which assailed the young man’s mind even as their spectators whispered behind their hands and in at least one case, drew back noticeably, as though the two strangers might be dangerous. If the harbour guard had even been a real harbour guard, which was not for certain, he had already taken ‘Rip’s side at least once, in their dispute. They could not count on him to not do so again. And even if the wagon-driver was not rushing now toward that rogue Umbarian, then he might be heading just as well for the harbour guard Headquarters, to feed them his side of the story. For that matter, ‘Rip’ himself might be his very moment, hastening behind them to catch up.


The only lead Unalmis had was that Arkadhur might take Cali to the same place that Pharak had visited in Harlond, several years before. To the chandlery. Since the young man had later relayed his accounting of things to Nardy, Nal’s cousin had soon assured the family that he checked out the chandlery, for any sign it was still being used as a front, every single time that he or his associates chanced through the small harbour town. For all that though, the Belfalasian had never found any sign that it was still being made use of. Ilisys had similarly assured Unalmis of no evidence discovered. But even if they’d never seen it, he had. He knew for certain what had happened there before. And maybe Arkadhur had simply not come there again until now. Maybe this was the first time that the business was being deployed yet again for dubious purposes. And as much as it was most likely place where Cali and her antagonist had gone, it was still the last place in the world where Nal wanted to underestimate.


“Excuse me,” he smiled disarmingly, and approached the nearest folks who had not yet walked away. Though the couple did speed up, he caught up easily, and sought to appear as helpless as possible. “My friend and I are lost, we’ve never been to Harlond before. Would you be able to tell me which way is the Harbour Guards Headquarters ?”

A shaky arm pointed out the direction, earning the local a grateful nod. But even as those first witnesses went about their way, Unalmis turned, and approached another. This time a young man carrying what looked like a bucket of fish in either hand. “Sorry to trouble you,” he began over. As though he’d never spoken to the previous pair, or perhaps not gained what he wished from them. “My brother and I are trying to find somewhere to sleep tonight. Do you know of a reasonable inn nearby ? Something that is not too expensive ?” He dug one hand into his pocket, and toyed with the hinge bolts which were posing as what little ‘coin’ he might have. When no bribe was forthcoming, and the fisherman grew impatient with waiting, he pointed toward a different direction than the last couple of helpful strangers. And then went on his way, glancing back over his shoulder once.


Apparently equally as unaffected by this offering, Unalmis waited one moment more, until there was only a duo of old men left, blowing smoke at one another through a duel of pipes in a doorway. Unlike the other, rather more wary locals, the two old men paid little heed to the young man, or his friend, and continued their conversation.

“Well that’s something to write home about, isn’t it ?” one laughed, striking a flat palm against his thigh as he mocked his companion. “A gull crying out .. ?” The aging head shook in yet more mirth, even as Nal stood at hand. “What a thing to hear out in a harbour !?” the disbelief went on yet longer, and the young Ranger had time to glance back and gesture for Cadil to be patient, before he returned to exchange a glance with the bemused old man’s company.

“I said a GIRL,” that second fellow corrected, in a needlessly loud response. “Not a gull A girl. I heard a girl cry out.”

“Of course you did,” his friend rolled eyes and waved one hand between them. “It probably was a gull, you fool. There’s no girls crying around here. Any more than that swanship you said you spied docked out downriver. Why’d a swan ship dock downriver ? When there is a proper right harbour exactly here ? Answer me that ! You’re drunk. Or soft in the head. Maybe both ..”


“Hello,” Unalmis put in at that point. “My cousin and I are trying to find the harbour master’s office. Do you know which way it is from here ?”

Without even looking at him, both of the old men pointed in the same direction, a third alternating one from the other two directions which the young visitor had obtained. Still, with a slow nod of his head, Nal left them to it. For that was everybody at hand, and there was now nobody left to see, save the old men who were, clearly, preoccupied. Idling in a casual fashion back over to Cadil, he led the way in a direction which none of his directions gained resembled. The telltale sound of water was emanating from the lesser identified path. But Nal crooked his finger to invite his friend to come that way with him. While the two old men weren’t looking. Once out of immediate sight of the road, he rolled up his trousers to the knees, pulled a loose thread from a hem about his shirt and proceeded to tie his shoulder length hair back out of his face.


“Apparently there’s a swan ship docked down river,” he let Cadil know what he’d chanced upon. And the good fortune was difficult to dispel from his expression, even in the dwindling light where they now stood in growing shadow. “I can’t think why a swan ship would dock down there, instead of up here, except that it might be my cousin, who does not want to let anybody in Harlond know he’s here to spy out rogue Umbarians. It might even be Lord Abrazimir,” he supposed. “Last time I saw an Umbarian in Harlond, it was in the chandlery. But if that’s where they are already, they’re either expecting us, or they’re ahead of us. Seems to me, the best thing is to head where they’re heading and cut them off, before any ship can steal Cali or her belongings away downriver. If there are swan knights hid someways down out of sight already, we’ll have the best sort of reinforcements. They’ll definitely help us. What do you think ?” he laid eyes down the path that would take them that way, and waited on Cadil’s opinion, while he changed his appearance as little as he could manage. The thread in his hair broke of course, soon after, and the tell tale mane fell back loose again. So Nal broke a snatch off the end of his bootlace and tried that instead.

“They think they know what we look like,” he pointed out his reasoning. Anyone who came looking would soon also think that they knew where the two friends were heading as well. But they would find themselves to be mistaken in that assumption. False paths did not always require the laying of twigs and other signs. Particularly in a cobbled town, even so small as was Harlond. Misleading memories from witnesses worked best in such climes.

@Ercassie
Watching as Iole utilized the herbs he had brought, Trev was impressed. It seemed to him that her training at the houses of healing, which he did not know had been brief, must be paying off now in this emergency situation. He certainly couldn't have done better, himself. As Iole replied about the purpose of each herb and how it seemed to be working on their sister, Trev nodded, hoping that meant Cali would recover swiftly. As Iole said, she would need to be able to walk, for them to be able to escape. Unless Trev was to carry her, anyway. But that would make it difficult for him to do the other things that would be necessary, like getting a boat lowered into the water, and rowing it to shore.

But as for the question of what had become of the key to the cell, Iole's words threatened to cast him into despair as she explained that she had not seen where Grisly put the key. Trev held back a sigh and made an effort not to appear disappointed. Or worried. But really, if he couldn't find the key to this place, then how was he going to get them out of here? He'd hoped he would find it on one of his crewmates. And, as far as he was aware, those two were the only ones left on board. The rest of the crew had gone to get the supplies, because apparently it involved a lot of manpower to load boxes and barrels and crates and things. And others to row the boats that conveyed these goods from the warehouse to the ship. Trev had no idea how Dev could get to a warehouse from here, but he thought it would've been a lot easier to just pull right into the harbor and use the docks and dockworkers for those tasks. But whatever. Dev did things his own way.

Trev drew out of his own thoughts when Iole made a request for hot water. He paused, thinking swiftly. Could he? He bit his lip as he considered that. The galley wasn't far, but he'd have to go past the sleeping pair of pirates, to get there. And again, to get back. "I can try," He answered hesitantly, before responding to her other request, by moving to crouch as close to the bars as he could, one arm reached through to help her with moving Cali as requested. She seemed only half-aware of anything going on, which worried him.

Once his aid was no longer needed, Trev sat back and put his mind toward figuring out where else the key might be. He took some time to search around the room, hoping perhaps the men might have hung it on a hook or something, where he could simply grab it and open the door. But, no such luck. While Cali, grimacing and coughing with distaste, endured the bitter medicine that Iole fed her, Trev paced back and forth, wracking his brain to think of anywhere else that key might be kept. The only place that made sense, would be Dev's cabin. But could he get in there? The captain usually kept his quarters locked, and Trev was not very good at picking locks. He knew the basics, thanks to Renia, but this cell door had proven far too difficult for him in the past, and he had never attempted to pick the lock on Dev's door. He'd never had cause to, before now.

Iole's voice, again, drew him from his thoughts. Trev paused in his pacing, and turned to her. She was asking about the crew being away for several more hours, which made him keenly aware of the amount of time he had in which to come up with a way to get them out of here. "That's right," He answered, trying to sound like that was plenty of time, rather than how he felt; that he was racing against the clock. "They've gone to get some supplies or something at the harbor, and I heard someone say that if they hadn't made it back by high tide, that they wouldn't be returning until it went down again." He looked slightly puzzled by that, for he wasn't sure why the tide had anything to do with their return. But whatever. So long as it meant they had a good number of hours in which to reach a solution that would enable their escape.

"If you need fabric, I could get you a lot of it," Trev offered, suddenly inspired with another idea than those aprons they wore. He happened to know where several yards of canvas was, after all... and that would certainly make it more difficult for them to sail off to Umbar immediately upon Dev's return. Even though he knew, now, that there was a backup supply of sails, it would take some time to change them, right? He was pondering how much he could get by with, when Iole thanked him. Trev gave a tiny nod with the smallest of smiles, in response. But he couldn't quite come up with any words to say in response.

Before he could think of anything suitable, Iole caught him off guard with a... somewhat uncomfortable question. Would they realize? Trev hesitated at that, thinking back to many other occasions over the years when he had rebelled against his father and the crew. This certainly wasn't the first time he had tried to free captives. Some, a very small number, had been successful. Others had not. It suddenly struck him how coincidental it was, that the last time he'd drugged his crewmates, he had also encountered Iole. That occasion had not ended well for him at all, and they had indeed been furious with him. But did he want to tell her that? Trev took a long moment to consider how to answer her question, without worrying her, and also without lying.

After taking a pause, he gave a little shrug with an unconcerned smile. "Those two? Together, they've got as much brains as a barnacle. Don't worry about that." He assured her with a little smile. But inwardly, he was beginning to wonder the same thing. Would they notice? Perhaps, it would be best to simply tie them up now, so that if they did awaken, they wouldn't be able to interfere with him getting his sisters to safety. If there was a chance of them realizing that they'd been drugged, then it wouldn't do any further damage to also bind them, right?

"I'm going to go get you some hot water," Trev decided, having reached another decision as well. "I'll be back as soon as I can," He added, giving a small nod to Iole before slipping through the door quietly. He had to find some sort of cord, before he did anything. Then, he'd be freer to move around the ship to do what he needed to do. Look for the key, heat water, get the hot water to the girls, take down some sails, and so on. And, if it worked out that they got off the ship before the men awakened, he could always untie them before they woke, and they'd never know the difference. Right? Hopefully. It was a risk he was going to take, anyway. Hopefully, one that wouldn't come back to bite him later.

@Ercassie , @Rillewen
Carpe Diem

Cadil
Arrival in Harlond. Last day of the Harvest festival, last year

The right knee felt somewhat painful and looking down at his trousers Cadil could see a few drops of blood soaking through in the form of dark dots. But bruises were nothing new to him and he did not pay it much more attention, instead he watched Unalmis leave the transport that had taken them to Harlond.

"Yeah, he might be coming back..." he agreed with Nal's assessment and was about to add some more thoughts to it but ended up not finishing it as his friend was already off talking to people, and then again to others. Wondering what that was all about Cadil moved slowly towards Nal's general direction, unsure if he could follow these changes of direction that swiftly. Eventually there seemed to be a stop to talking to locals, and the chubby young man followed the beckoning as quickly as he could.

"A swan ship, not in the harbour?" he asked after hearing the news. "It would be superb if those were knights and we could get some help," Cadil mused, and after observing Nal's make-over, he set his back down for a moment to fish out a baggy hat to set on his head and change the shirt - though he did not like the thought of putting on fresh shirt on his sweaty torso. "You know... he, the guard or false guard, might recognise my bag, but I still don't wanna give up the contents that might come in handy."

And then he frowned as he dug back into memories and mentioned: "It could be swan knights, and then again it might be the exact opposite. So let's tread carefully there."

@Pele Alarion

As Cadil rustled through his luggage, Unalmis could not help but observe yet again, how useful the loaded bag had turned out to be. Raised in very much an understanding that ‘the world provides, if you only look hard enough’, he could nonetheless appreciate that his friend was proving the benefits of being prepared by means of planning and premeditation. They came from rather different worlds, different circles of the same city … but it would be folly to disregard any approach just because it was unfamiliar. “Now that is a hat,” he approved, with a grin as another easy disguise was managed. Yet observing without further words, how his friend’s landing upon his knees had left the other young man some worse for wear, Nal glanced about them and frowned to find no sturdy wood which would serve his friend for a walking stick. Oh to be in a forest right about now …


“Would you risk letting me carry the bag a while, for you, if I promise not to eat any of your sandwiches ?” he proposed. “It will still change up our look and you need leave nothing behind. In honesty I feel rather guilty asking you to bring that chain that we might make use of, and then expect you to bear it’s weight.” He explained. Walking unburdened might also lend some advantage to the young man with his bloodied knee, but Nal wasn’t about to embarrass Cadil by making a fuss over that. One hand extended toward his friend in this offer, even as the other youth debated on the chances they would find exactly what they needed with such ease.

“You were the one who found aid and means to assist you, against Umbarians, the last time you were out this way,” Unalmis acknowledged, as they readied to set off down the path, on their more hidden path. He had hastened without ever conferring about his thinking with his friend, but moments ago. The thought, the concern that he was struggling to subdue, for Cali … it reared as wild as a want for revenge .. against ‘Rip’, against the Umbarian … Ryn would have told him to still, he would have counselled him to calm .. down … Unalmis had scarcely even noticed how fast the adrenaline had possessed him. To have reacted on instinct, to have not given a single moment toward what his comrade might think or do that might prove a better plan. Cadil's unflappable manner reminded him to take the time to breathe. Just as when they had been locked in the gatehouse. He flung that memory away as fast as ever it found him however.


“I shall continue to hope that there are swan knights, if this supposed swan ship is not only a rumour or a wish itself,” he conceded instead. “But you lead, Cadil. Your eyes are better than mine,” he decided. Mostly so that he would not be able to rush heedlessly forward without first thinking. If the world provided all things which could be of use, it would be unwise to overlook his friend. And what should they do to arrive downriver, if there were not even any swan ship at all ? Swim after the first ship which sailed toward the sea ? There was no means of sending word ahead to Pelargir to make obstacles for any who might be seeking to steal his old friend or an escaping enemy out of Gondor. There was only .. them. The two of them.

And as much as the stoic companion he had to hand might slow him from rushing into some reckless risk of regret, time proved that their progress down that hidden waterside path was not unpleasant. The cool sigh of dusk, of freedom, Nal found himself quietly able to contemplate all of the things he knew they two had at their disposal. Not just in the bag, but upon their persons. And if there might chance anything observed along the way which might be of some future use in their endeavour .. he kept eyes toward that, ears to harken for any fear of them being followed. And a smile on his face regardless of their emergency. At recall of his grandmother, chiding him for all the things she ever found in his pockets, over the years. They had all proven worth picking up, even if it were to gain amusement at the weary matriach’s reaction.


But the broach made by Ryn's hand, which was undeniable now amongst what else Nal's pocket held this day, that spurred him on, even in silent resolve. There would be no merry whistling upon their path, no mindless chatter. The equation of ‘Rip’, and something which Cali would never .. never .. have misplaced … it was motive enough to assure the young man he was not simply over reacting, for the sake of an ‘adventure’.

@Karis Ziranphel @Rillewen
Macardil could imagine some of Halberion's skepticism. It was only the gravity of the fact that they did not know where Alyssa, Moira, Blaise or Mae Wen were, which kept him from grinning at the idea of Halberion sitting through a dinner with a young man coming to woo his eldest daughter. It must have been torture, in a way, to see Alyssa being charmed.

Not that Halberion had needed to sit through a very long dinner, apparently. Moira had cut it short. Frowning, Macardil listened to his friend's retelling of the situation. It was out of character for the girl to be frantic or panicked, let alone show she was afraid of anything.

Macardil wanted to ask what happened next. To Halberion. To Moira. To Amelina. The lord could not bring himself to do so, however. He merely waited, not realizing how shallow his breathing was at present. Something in his chest seemed to stir - more than discomfort. Sapphire eyes rested on his friend, silently imploring him to continue.

@Arnyn @Karis Ziranphel
Hal had to take a moment to gather his thoughts, as well as to get a handle on his emotions. But he continued after a moment's pause. "When I awakened, we were all bound." His jaw tightened at the memory. "The.. estate was burning. The orchards... also burning." He swallowed with difficulty. It had been a terrible sight to wake up to. He cleared his throat. "He'd brought some men along, which didn't seem odd at the time. They merely seemed like the sort of escort that any lord would have brought along, when traveling. Especially one who had, supposedly, been the sole survivor of an orc ambush, so recently." He frowned as he picked a small morsel apart from his bread. "At this point, however, it became evident that they were a more... shady sort of escort. More like hired ruffians, perhaps."

Drawing a slow breath, he moved on to the more pertinent details. "Later, I learned more about this whole thing. But at the time, we were all very confused, and had no idea what was happening. Except for Moira," He added. "It was a while before I had a chance to find out what had happened." He sat back, his gaze focusing on some point on the table. "He had his men drag us all into his carriage, and I remember watching as they went around the place, hacking and slashing at everything in sight, for seemingly no reason. But thinking back, I realized they were trying to make it appear like orcs' work." He glanced then at Macardil with a look somewhere between understanding and sympathy. "I believe he even trapped some of the orchard workers inside, though I don't know if they were alive or already dead. I suppose.. that would have made it seem like it was us. That was probably his plan." He frowned deeply as he imagined his friend's grief.

After a brief pause to consider that, Hal continued. "From the carriage, we were put on a ship. It was anchored in a nearby spot, not in the harbor. So, there was no one around to see, nor to offer help. I was, all the while, trying to get free. And also trying to make sense of what was happening, and why. But it wasn't until the ship that we had any chance to talk." He drew a breath. "Apparently, this young man is involved with some worshipper of the Enemy, in Umbar." He cast a brief glance at Ric, who was listening intently. His eyes widened slightly at that information, but he didn't interrupt.

"It seems," Hal went on with a disgusted look on his face, "that at some point while he was out there, learning how to slaughter people for sacrifices, he also learned about some sort of... crystal thing, which, according to their legends, or beliefs, or something.. it can be used as some source of power. If I understand it right, it goes something like, if you use this thing to kill a person, it stores the energy from their life, or some such thing. And that energy can be drawn upon to increase one's own power. That's how I understand it, anyway." Hal paused. "He began to search for this thing, out of intrigue, and as it happens, he apparently found something, which he believed to be it. And, he planned to take it to Umbar, with the intention of giving it to the priest. The plan, I believe, was to use it in committing further sacrificial murders, so that the power stored up in it would help the Enemy become stronger, so that he could more successfully defeat.. us." He tried not to stare at Ric, but he did try to more subtly observe his reaction to this information. He seemed stunned, as far as Hal could tell.

Hal took a slow breath before going on. "I guess, he was planning to meet with us and secure himself a betrothal, then he would leave from our house to go by ship to Umbar, and deliver this item to his priest. But he decided to make one stop, first, before coming to dinner at our house." He explained. "He found a little cave on one of the small islets of Ethir Anduin, which is.. very near to where we lived. Apparently, he wanted to test the crystal and be sure if it was the one he believed it to be, before giving it to the priest."

"Unfortunately," Hal sighed. "As coincidence would have it, Moira had ventured into that same area, searching for Reilly." He stared down at the table in front of him, with a heavy heart. "She told me that she saw three men going into a cave. One of them... was light-haired. And she thought it could have been her brother, as he seemed about the right size. It was not, but she couldn't tell that from afar. So, she followed them, trying to get a better look. And, while in the cave, she overheard all of this about the crystal, and his plans to deliver it to Umbar. And she heard them talking about how it would boost Sauron's power, and how with it, he would be able to defeat his enemies without any resistence, and so on. And then she saw him murder the fair-haired man and begin some ritual of sorts.. a very gruesome one, I might add." He cleared his throat, once again feeling sorrow that she'd had to witness something like that.

Hal paused to take a small drink, for his mouth was feeling a little dry after so much speaking. Far more than he was used to doing, all at once. "I.. don't know very much about magical items," Hal admitted as he resumed his tale. "I know that there are some which exist, however, so while I have never heard of this crystal before then, I know there are things in this world which are best not to disregard. And if half of what I have been told about this thing is true, then... it needs to be kept out of the hands of people like that. At all costs." He added softly, still staring down at the edge of the table. "Moira... had the same thought." He added. "She waited until the men were focused on.. what they were doing. And then, she stole it while their backs were turned, and they had laid it on their.. makeshift altar. Doing some sort of chants or whatever."

Sitting back, he kept his gaze on the table. "It was.. so risky. And she almost managed to get away, but alas, he saw her as she was retreating with it, and he chased her. She got away... but she had no idea who he was. Or that he had an appointment for dinner.. at our house." He sighed. "Anyway, after searching for her for as long as he could, he realized that he had to give up, or be late for the dinner. And I guess he figured he could come back later and scour the area until he found her. He probably figured she must live locally, which was correct." He frowned. "She.. meanwhile, stayed hidden somewhere until she felt that it was safe to come out, and then she hastened home to find me and let me know what had happened. Ironically, she was trying to avoid leading him to her family. But when she got home.. he was already there. And the moment they saw each other..." He closed his eyes and took a slow breath.

"After he knocked me out, he grabbed Alyssa and held her at knife point, and tried to force Moira to tell him where she had hidden the crystal. When she wouldn't tell him.. well. She wanted to fight him, but with a knife to her sister's throat.. she couldn't do anything of the sort without risking Alyssa. And she wouldn't run away and leave her mother and sister in danger. So.. we all ended up his prisoners. He tried... everything, to make her tell him where she'd hidden that crystal." He frowned sorrowfully.

"When I finally heard all of that, we were on the ship. I told her I thought she'd done the right thing, even if it was a very dangerous thing to have done. And I also instructed her to maintain her silence about where she'd hidden it, no matter what." He added quietly. "As hard as it was to ask that of her, by the time I learned all of this, I.. I felt sure that once he got what he wanted, he'd kill us all anyway. So, I thought, as long as she kept the information from him..." His voice broke slightly as he struggled to find the words. "I.. thought if any of us had a chance at surviving, it would be her. Because, he couldn't kill her, or he'd never find the crystal. And he wants it back, very badly."

He cleared his throat. "Alyssa has kept me informed about whatever news she can get. She told me that the dark lord had been defeated," He mentioned. "Which would seem like the end of it, right? But alas... the lunatic believes that if he can get that crystal back, he can use it to bring Sauron back, somehow. And I have no idea if such a thing is possible or not, but.. it seems best not to risk it." He explained. "So, I still maintain that the crystal must remain hidden from him." He sighed, then glanced at his friend with sadness in his eyes. "That is.. the why and how we were captured." He paused there for the moment, taking a small sip of water, and to give them a chance to ask any questions they might wish to ask, or to simply absorb what he had told them.

@Ercassie @Pele Alarion
"I wouldn't say often," Xyler answered thoughtfully, as he watched Nal reveal a bucket filled with their meal. "Probably should, though," He added with a glance toward their horses. "I'm still pretty new to this riding thing. But I'm also still pretty new to this area, and I'm not sure where I'm allowed to go, and where is off-limits, and all that." He explained. "And I'd rather not go riding by myself." He was still a bit unsure whether he could handle it if his horse took a notion to run off with him or something.

He leaned forward to investigate the stew with curiosity, while Nal explained where it had come from. He smiled at the story. "That's very nice of them," He mentioned. "And it smells wonderful!" He sat back, grinning slightly with curiosity. "So, did you?" He wondered. "Have to help them rebuild anything?" He made his question a bit clearer. He definitely understood assisting the elderly, as he wouldn't like to have his grandma doing any such things herself.

Xyler smiled at the comparison between fixing buildings, and fixing people. He hadn't ever thought of it that way, but he supposed it could be sort of related? Maybe. Anyway, he was intrigued to hear that there was something Nal needed to ask. But the question that immediately followed, was... probably not it. "A burn bowl?" He repeated, trying to think of what that would be. "I don't think so? Unless we have a different name for it?" He frowned, trying to think of what this could be. "What is it?"

At the next words, Xyler shrugged and smiled. "Sure. That was fun, thank you for inviting us." He glanced at Hadassa with a smile, recalling how nice it had been to dance with her. And, how lovely she'd looked in that dress. He was a little amazed at how resourceful she was, to have come up with such a lovely dress, on such a small budget. And he was also hoping it hadn't put her too deeply in debt or anything. But he didn't want to ask her about that, especially not now, in front of their friend. He turned back to Nal. "What it is you wanted to ask, though?"

@Karis Ziranphel @Rillewen
Macardil swallowed when Halberion continued telling them about what had transpired. His right hand tightened around his knife without he even realized it. He did realize he was pressing his teeth together too hard, when those started to hurt. Slowly, Macardil let out a controlled breath, forcing himself to release the pressure in his jaw.

Something so cold that it burned settled around his heart, however, when Halberion told them that Ansellidus.. Androllius... was involved with a Sauron worshipper, and human sacrifices. Reilly... Had Reilly...? Macardil looked away from his long-time friend, then, not wanting to ponder on that. And knowing he would have to tell his friend about that, soon. No matter how much he wanted to spare Halberion from such a thing. For if Androllius was responsible for Reilly's disappearance, and he had not been in the castle dungeon, and since the body had never been found, and since Androllius was involved in human sacrifice... By the Valar. No. Macardil did not wish his thoughts to venture down that avenue at all.

Seeking distraction - any distraction - Macardil poured himself some wine. Habit had him taking controlled mouthfuls, but the glass' contents still disappeared quickly as Macardil sought to busy himself during Halberion's recollection of past events. And where the mentioning of some sort of crystal with strange properties many would dub 'magical' and therefore dismiss the notion rather quickly, Macardil had been the victim himself of a power which many would place in exactly such a category. A chill crawled its way up his spine. He recalled all too well how the lock upon his lips, his tongue, his throat, had felt. The invisible lock. The impossible lock. The all too real lock. How he had moved the knife against his own will, how the despair had gripped his mind - his heart --..

Macardil's grip around the wine glass tightened upon learning what Moira had seen. Murder. Ritual. A knife at her sister's throat. Who knew what else - who knew what Halberion was not telling him. Macardil's jaw ticked. To think he had spoken to Amardir Ansellidus mere months ago. That this stain upon Gondor had been at arm's length. That Macardil could have crushed the brute's skull - if he had only wished it, then. If only he had known.

That chance was now forfeit.

Alas.

"I spoke with him," he admitted, his voice sounding strained. "If I had known even half of what I know now, he would not have left the Dimaethor grounds alive." His blue eyes were icy cold when they glanced at Aderic. "Your brother is living proof that the body may mimic humanity long after the mind and the heart have forfeited it.”

@Arnyn , @Rillewen
Ziran had quietly gone back to her meal while Halberion paused to consider after Macardil’s prompting, in case the silent scrutiny of all of them contributed to his reluctance. Yet her attention was only partly occupied with the excellent stew and bread, making slow movements to lift each small bite, with the most part being occupied with the story that began to flow out of the man in fits and starts. Her body language was one of attentive listening, with her gaze lifting occasionally to her husband beside her when he shifted or commented, but mostly taking in all the details of the situation from years ago that Halberion was now imparting. The difficult crops, grief over Reilly’s death, and the difficult situation of Ansellidus’ proposed meeting. The humor and pride apparent in the man’s voice as he attempted to joke about his daughter’s stubbornness and curiosity. A smile creased the corners of her eyes when Macardil quipped about the apple and the tree, and she returned a nod of thanks when Hal provided relationships to go with the names he mentioned.

It sounded like there might be some hope of Moira’s survival, and Alyssa’s expectant hope of the same if she asked Aderic to search for her, but Ziran was still unsure how the rest of the disaster had befallen the family…She listened quietly as the details slowly emerged to fill in some of the gaps in their knowledge. Despite the horror of the situation, it sounded like the family had at least initially survived the treachery. What had happened next?
Ziran stayed silent despite her questions, sure that Halberion would share what he could, and aware of the hidden turmoil that Macardil seemed to be experiencing. She couldn’t imagine what it was like for him to hear of the destruction, treachery, and loss, reawakening the old griefs, but she had a feeling it was a deeper horror than that which troubled her. These were all people that he had been close to and knew intimately.

But then Halberion continued, sharing about rituals and a magic crystal, and worship of the Dark Lord in far off Umbar. The words sent a cold spiral through her despite the delicious warmth of the soup and the heat of the fire that had only now started to decline. Memories nudged the edge of her thoughts as she brushed them away to concentrate on listening, taking it all in. Ziran noted the tension radiating off of Macardil despite his control, and the increased pace of his wine consumption, and her gaze rested on him with frequency. At the strain in his voice when he spoke, regretting his lack of knowledge at the joust those months ago, Ziran reached out in a move of solidarity to rest her hand on his forearm. “That is without question. If not by your blow, then by mine.” Although not normally something she would say, this was dark worship, a family upended, a young woman tortured, One thing was still niggling at her though. “Thank you for sharing that horrendous experience of your capture.” She addressed Halberion, but then paused briefly. “If I may impose on you again, what happened to the others in the ship, if you know it? You have only mentioned Alyssa and more recently Moira as likely surviving.”

@Arnyn @Karis Ziranphel
Hal turned his head to look at Macardil when he said that he had spoken with him. He gave a weak smile at his words, as well as those that followed, from Lady Himhathol. "I've no doubt about that," He assured Macardil with an appreciative nod. "Nor am I surprised that you would have encountered him, as he posed as a nobleman." He scoffed, then went quiet in favor of taking another bite or two of his food while Macardil addressed the twin of the despicable fraud.

Ric noted the coldness in Lord Himhathol's eyes, and could hear the icy anger present in his tone as he spoke to him. He wasn't entirely sure if the man was casting. blame onto him, as he spoke of his brother. And, while he wanted to point out that Ric had had no idea about these atrocities occuring, he felt that it might be best to refrain. And while he agreed that everything he was hearing about his brother was terrible and shocking, there was still a part of him that instinctively wanted to defend his brother. Even though he knew there was no defense for these things, and he had no intention of doing so, it made him feel guilty for not defending his brother. Which led him to feeling a little conflicted inside. Therefore, he found that he had no words to reply to the lord's comment. Instead, he merely gave a small nod to show his agreement with the statement. It sounded as if Mar had long ago abandoned any sort of morality, and had turned to evilness and treachery. How long ago, though? Ric couldn't even be sure of that.

As the next question came, which Hal had suspected would come, he still had to take a moment to gather up his inner strength to venture down that road of memories. He had been dipping the last of his bread into the stew to scoop up bits of the vegetables and meat, so after just a small hesitation at her words, he finished the bite he had readied. And that, he deemed, was about all he was going to be able to eat for now. He sat back, thinking as he chewed, of how he could summarize this part of the tale without going into too great detail.

After swallowing, he was glad to find a napkin there, which now seemed a luxury he had nearly forgotten existed. He lifted it to ensure his mouth and beard were clean, and that no food had clung to it. And he took a sip of his drink while taking another moment to consider asking whether they would rather wait to hear anymore, until they were no longer at a meal. But did it really make much difference, he thought? They could probably already guess that it wasn't a pleasant story, and it was probably best that they know all that he could bear to tell them.

Hal nodded slightly after making that decision. "The ship stopped at Tolfalas, which has long been used by pirates and smugglers, and other sorts of shady folk." He answered quietly, staring at the glass between both his hands. "And we learned that there are caves there. One, at least, was quite deep. We were taken down there, to the deepest part of the cave, I guess." He swallowed and closed his eyes brieftly. "We were not the first, however. Reilly.." He paused as his voice broke slightly. He took a couple of slow breaths before continuing, "and another young man, were already there."

"Reilly?" Ric couldn't help but repeat, sitting forward a little, eyes widening. "Then.. is he also locked up somewhere?" He asked, feeling a glimmer of hope stir, that they could also rescue him.

Hal's eyes opened and looked at Ric, filled with sadness as he shook his head. "He's dead." He informed him softly. "So is my wife."

Ric sank back against his chair back almost as if he'd been struck, his hopes crushed as quickly as they'd begun to form.

"Your brother killed them," Hal added with a little edge to his voice, not directed at Ric, but at the brother. "In a most horrendous manner." His jaw tightened, fighting to keep back the flood of emotion threatening to sweep him away. He'd had years to come to terms with this, to deal with the grief of their loss, but speaking of their murders reawakened it, somewhat. He dropped his head down into his hands, not caring about if it was proper to put his elbows on the table or not.

Ric, meanwhile, looked stunned by this news. He knew that his friend was assumed dead by most, but neither he, nor Amy, had ever given up hope of finding him. Now, that hope was dashed without any hope of return. He stared at the grieved father of his friend, while feeling somehow as if it couldn't be true. But it was. He knew it was. There was absolutely no denying it, now. And Mar... Mar was behind it? He felt too dazed to even try to think of a reason for that. And then his throat began to ache with a lump of emotion, and he swallowed as he felt the threat of tears gathering. The only friend he'd ever had, dead. And all the while... Mar knew it. Mar had done it. And he... he'd told Ric he would look for him? Thinking about all the times he had asked Mar about how the search was going, and how his brother had lied to his face... after..?

Ric suddenly felt as if he might be overwhelmed by the tide of multiple emotions that rushed into his mind and heart, and right now, he wanted nothing more than to get away to somewhere private. Another useless attempt at swallowing down the lump, and then he mumbled, "E-excuse me," before leaving his chair abruptly. He half expected himself to be unsteady on his feet, but to his relief, he managed to hasten down the hallway without any sort of stumbling or staggering.

@Rillewen

The wagon encroached upon Harlond some time before dusk had utterly diminished all the local landmarks into oblivion. For all this, it was still long after such tells were easily distinctive any more. Dark eyes were forced to narrow, to recognise how close he might be to his destination. And turned out, he did not know it by the street, nor by the hour. No, the Umbarian acknowledged it in the first passing pedestrian who turned his way .. and in the way that his own hand stalled in the very motion before waving. A belated reminder striking somewhere in his head that he ought not be seen driving an official Harbour Guard transport. The uniform he’d commandeered from under the front seat had proved enough to fool those who knew him not, back at the South Gate. But here, .. he had lived and walked and drank about Harlond now for several years. He would be recognised. And what was he intending to do .. march two protesting young men into the Chandlery ? Even if the night cloaked the act, it would not still their sounds. And from what he’d witnessed so far, the pair were not lacking in the will to cause a scene. The fact that Netor had perhaps meant for Dolûzor to face this little dilemma raised a frown. As if it were not bad enough that he had not found more pretty young women to bring in ! And this time there were no barrels. The rattling clang of the steadfast wagon he had hauled here might even be so loud that it drown out all noise. But once the transport was stalled …


The best course he could conjure was to turn down a small alley, before holding breath and calling the horses to halt. By the time he’d reached beneath the seat for the crossbow, the man had registered no complaint or any else noise emanating from the wagon. They could not have fallen to sleep in such a racket .. they could not have failed to notice that the noise and wagon had both come to a sudden stop .. and yet .. nothing. Suspicion coated the Umbarian with a new sheen of sweat as he readied a new bolt to his plaything, and started edging around to where he could spy out the state of things.

The countenance which met the haphazardly hung door at the back, was a combination of alarm and annoyance. The notion of how to manage the two rambunctious young men had been utterly robbed of his concern. They were gone ! A wary peep around the now-useless barred door convinced Dolûzor of what he had already supposed. They had not ignored their means of escape, simply to wait and grab him when he investigated. No, they were simply .. gone.


There was not time to properly explore all options, nor to sit and conceive of some clever plan. The longer he remained wearing a stolen uniform of a Harbour guardsman, beside a stolen Harbour Guard transport wagon .. the more likely it was that somebody would see him. As far as the Umbarian could figure, there was only one immediate response. Destroy the evidence.

He’d left his own clothes folded underneath the seat at the front, and hastily sought them out now, along with what he knew he’d find in one of the pockets. The means to make fire ! It was not so much a tool of an Occultist who revered the Great Fire of the One. It was the go to easiest cause of chaos that any young man raised up in the streets of Umbar would quickly adopt. Changing back into his clothes, in no time at all, was another habit he had grown accustomed to over the years. Many an oblivious father or husband had come close to finding this Umbarian locked in a heated embrace with a woman they counted their own. Close but never caught … And he did not intend to be now either.


The guard’s uniform was the fuel to the small blaze he lit and then flung into the back of the else emptied wagon. It took little time for the wooden frame which hid the strong iron cage to peel back in the hands of the heat and flames. The crossbow was the only thing Dolûzor kept, setting it back over his shoulder, as he watched the horses grow wide eyed and panic at the blaze they could not escape. There were no reins required now to encourage the unfortunate steeds to rampage out of the alley and down the main road toward the harbour, dragging their doomed inferno behind them.

Where and how the anarchic deed ended up, the Umbarian did not discover. For all those he overheard on his way then into Harlond proper was that they had seen the horse-pulled bonfire dragged through the street. Everyone who obliviously warned it’s creator, of what he had just ‘missed’ was too stunned by the sight itself to look close enough for a hint of satisfaction on the familiar man’s face.


Idling up the street toward the Chandlery, Dolûzor only then recalled that he might now be in a lot of trouble, with the men expecting a significant haul to load. Let alone the Gondorian who might even now be hastening out here from his station at the South Gate to reap the rewards of all he had set up. Quite aware that there would have been a lookout left, he hastened his pace at the last minute, storming against the door of the building with a slam of one fist and looking as unhappy as one might expect. He was not to blame for this. He would not be held accountable. He had been let down and misled just the same as the men who were within.

Mostly he just wanted off the street as soon as could possibly be managed. And thankfully for him that was a goal which his associates inside would likely share.

@Karis Ziranphel @Rillewen
Macardil did not realize just how difficult it was for Aderic to hear about his brother's vile actions. Truly - the lord was otherwise occupied. By the most difficult task of not crushing the wine glass in his hand, for example.

His grip on the glass slackened, however, in utter surprise, when Halberion mentioned having seen Reilly. Reilly - alive - at Tolfalas. Macardil did not speak, for Aderic was already asking questions. About the friend he had served with, and had gone looking for. As Halberion spoke the words; that Reilly was dead, as was Amelina; the movement of Macardil's arm and hand was glacially slow as he returned the wine glass to the table. So slowly, so carefully, that the red liquid within hardly budged.

Aderic all but fled from the room.

Macardil's eyes rested upon the table, somewhere between his plate and his friend's. "You saw?" he asked, quietly. "Their deaths?"

@Arnyn @Karis Ziranphel
Hal lifted his gaze slightly and watched as Aderic hastened out of the room, after taking a long, stunned pause. Hal mentally noted this, as well as the way his friend had been clenching his glass as if he wanted to strangle it. Or, more likely, he was imagining the neck of the culprit, instead. He couldn't blame him if that were the case, for he had the same feeling, himself.

At Macardil's question, Hal gave a small, solemn nod. "He.. killed them.." He had to pause and take a slow breath. "trying to make Moira talk." He swallowed and cleared his throat quietly. "As far as I know, they are still there." He added quietly. Perhaps, now, their remains could be retrieved and given a proper burial. For now, he was slightly more worried about the still living members of his family, particularly one that he had been keeping a secret for the past several years.

After another slow breath, he turned to Macardil and his wife. "I can't think of what may have happened to Mae Wen, but she had Blaise with her." He explained quietly, looking worried. "This despicable traitor didn't seem to be aware that either she, nor Blaise, existed. And we all agreed that it best to keep it that way." He explained, so that they would understand why he had been avoiding mentioning his youngest child. "I thought she would have brought him to you, but it seems she didn't, and if you believed they were both killed along with us... I don't know what's become of them." He found that troubling.

"As for him.." Hal gestured toward where the young man had gone down the hall. "I.. believe that he is alright, and I know he was a friend of Reilly's, and Alyssa told me that he's nothing like his brother.. but another part of me still feels hesitant to entrust this information to him. If there is any chance that he might go and mention to his brother that there is another member of my family, somewhere out there..." He sighed. "I just don't want to take that chance. So, until I feel more certain of him.." He realized he might be being paranoid, but after years of dealing with the twin brother, Hal was unwilling to trust him too fully, too soon.

@Karis Ziranphel @Rillewen
Macardil's eyes closed even as he swallowed roughly. Amelina and Reilly... killed... because Moira had kept refusing to talk. That...

He could not think about that. He should not think about that. Already, he wished to throw a chair through the window.

His blue eyes opened again, and Macardil struggled not to let them flood with emotion as he had to shake his head in denial. "I have not seen or heard from either Mae Wen or Blaise," he whispered, the words still more than loud enough in the near dead silence the room was bathed in. "We won't breathe a word of them, to him," Macardil agreed without hesitation, when Hal's words shaped his unasked request. It was Halberion's family. Everything about them was Halberion's call.

Macardil's heart thumped erratically in his chest. Amelina. Confirmed dead. Reilly. Confirmed dead. By the hands of the other Androllius brother. Alyssa - last seen months ago. Moira - missing. Blaise - missing. Mae Wen - missing. Halberion...

Halberion.

Alive.

Macardil focused on that.

"You are alive," he managed, his eyes finding his long-time friend's. "Against all expectations. You are alive. I am unwilling to assume different for the others."

@Arnyn @Rillewen
The tale that came forth from Halberion in response to Ziran’s question was one of deep horror and sorrow. His wife and son killed before him to torture his daughter into speaking. That was horrible enough. But then, after Aderic left in obvious distress at the news, he revealed that the others were missing, including his youngest. Ziran had watched him throughout, listening attentively, with only a brief glance or two at the others, bearing witness silently.

She would not know those named missing by sight, but nodded her affirmation when Macardil stated that no one would learn of their survival from them.
Ziran pondered on that after the initial deeply sympathetic sorrow waned, and she inclined her head again in agreement when Macardil chose to believe the others alive. She was practical enough to know that there was a likelihood that they too had died, but believed strongly in hoping for the best. It would be difficult to trace what happened to Mai Wen, Blaise, and Moira so many years after their disappearance. How could they have escaped from the Veranis estates, or Tolfalas? Wait…she circled back to that in her mind. Halberion thought that Moira had gotten to Macardil and told him what happened.

Her brow creased in thought as she pushed away her dishes and lifted the full glass of wine to her lips for a sip. She eyed the deep blush of the beverage a moment before replacing it on the table and turning her attention back to the men. She found it always helped her to deal with things by thinking through concrete and tangible steps. Ziran cleared her throat lightly before speaking quietly and solemnly. “I believe the place to start is bringing you back into society at Minas Tirith and making your survival well-known. Of course we will need to level formal charges against Amardir for the rest of it as well. If you are willing, we can also enter your testimony against Amardir for not only your captivity, but the means of your abduction and the deaths and torture of your family members.” Ziran paused as she judged Halberion’s reaction, and then glanced at Macardil. “While I generally hate gossip, it can have its uses at times. The sensation of your story may, in time, reach the ears of your loved ones and help them seek you out if they are able to do so. That is, if you wish to share it.” She knew that not everyone wanted their stories to be made large.

@Arnyn @Karis Ziranphel
By this point, it was no surprise to hear Macardil confirm that he had not heard from Mae Wen, nor Blaise. He nodded slowly, though, in satisfaction to hear that he would keep silent, not that he found that very surprising. He had figured, if there was anyone he could rely on in such a matter, it would be his closest friend.

Macardil's words brought a tiny smile back to his face. "Yes," He answered softly. "I am alive." He shifted his gaze then to the lady, nodding at her suggestion. He would be glad to rejoin society, and no longer be isolated from others. He would need time to recover from his weakness, and to restore his strength. He also thought her plan seemed like a good one, which might work.

"That might work," He agreed. "Wherever Moira and the others are, they might hear... but Alyssa," He frowned. "I don't know if she will be able to hear any such news, wherever she is." It would be smart of him to put her somewhere she couldn't get news, anyway.

Sitting back in his seat, Hal continued, "And believe me, I intend to share all that I can about his crimes," He assured her. "But don't call him Amardir," He added. "For that name belongs to another. I don't know what his rightful name is, but it is not Amardir."

"It's Ademar," Ric supplied quietly, returning just in time to catch that last bit. His eyes looked a bit red as if he might have done some crying, but there was also a determined look in them, as if he had resolved something. He carried a notepad and a quill. "Do you mind if I record your statement, sir?" He asked Hal, his voice quiet as usual.

Hal glanced up and looked thoughtfully at him, then shook his head. "By all means." He agreed. "I apologize if I was.. abrupt with giving the information." He glanced at Macardil, to include him in that apology as well. "To me, their deaths were years ago, and while I am still deeply grieved, I have had time to process and.. accept it. While to you, I realize, it is fresh news."

Ric nodded slightly as he took his seat again, and opened his notebook to a blank page. "His name is Ademar," He repeated. "Although he apparently goes by a great many names, I am learning." Ric kept his gaze down to his page as he began to write swiftly in shorthand. Focusing on that task, rather than sadness of the tale he was recording.

"I had a chance to speak with him, before.." Hal mentioned quietly. "In fact, we had.. weeks together. He told me what happened." He pulled his glass toward him and held it in both hands, carefully raising it up to his mouth to take a sip, before lowering it to the table. Because he needed something to try and wash down the lump trying to form in his throat. He cleared his throat quietly. "He told me that he got off the ferry in Linhir, which we knew. And he was going to stop at a tavern for a quick meal before riding up the road to the beacon. And that was when he ran into.. a friend. Or, so he thought." Hal's expression darkened slightly as he stared at his drink. "He told us that Mar, which until now I did not know was short for Ademar," He offered a brief nod of thanks to Ric for supplying that, "convinced him to come aside and share a meal with him, instead."

"Mar..?" Ric looked up slightly, finding this puzzling. "He doesn't cook.." He mentioned, surprised by this. In fact, neither of them had ever had much opportunity to learn to cook. But Mar had shown no interest in learning at all, while Ric had been interested.

"I suspect your brother was not the one who prepared the meal," Hal sighed. "Anyway. Reilly.." He rubbed a hand over his face as his voice threatened to break at the memory of hearing his son's tale. He took a moment before going on. "he had no reason to suspect anything was amiss. The liar had a convincing answer for everything; why he was there, why he was cooking on a campfire, and so on. And, this was a friend, as far as Reilly knew at the time." He brought his hands down together in his lap, where he could clench them together under the table, out of sight. He stared at the glass without properly seeing it. "Next thing he knew, he.. couldn't keep his eyes open." Hal explained softly. "And, only then did his so-called friend begin to seem strange to him, as Reilly struggled to keep awake. He tried to get up, and found that he couldn't. And then he realized, too late, that he had trusted someone he shouldn't have." He took a slow breath in before continuing. "But, I can hardly fault him for believing that he could trust someone he thought was a friend." He sighed. "He.. awakened, much later, in that cave, chained up, so he couldn't escape. Just as the rest of us ended up, later."

@Karis Ziranphel @Rillewen
It was an effort not to strangle anything on the table. Only the awareness it would avail to nothing, and that Halberion had no need for his anger, for it changed nothing, was what kept Macardil unnaturally still instead. As Halberion shared more and more of what had occurred, and as Macardil's chest seemed to constrict. This was all... new. Shocking. Terrible.

All these years, Macardil had known nothing. Had done nothing. He should have... looked into the fire, more. If he had - if he had - perhaps he would have seen enough inconsistencies to know something was amiss with it all. He should have thought - after the mystery of Reilly's disappearance - that more could be at play.

At the very least, maybe Moira, or Mae Wen, or Blaise - could have found their way to him, then. Or he to them. Or he would have found Hal sooner. Or...

The sound of Ziranphel's voice reminded him to breathe. Macardil's blue eyes turned to her, filled with turmoil. His hand , the one closest to her, slowly reached for her fingers. He appreciated her thinking, and if he were less emotionally taxed, he would appreciate it even more - recognizing it was thinking like that which made her suitable to move amidst the Belfalasian circles of nobility.

They would not know if any of Hal's children, or Mae Wen, would hear about his return to society. But it was a chance - and whatever chances they were given, they would need to grasp. With two hands. For other than some wild attempt at hunting down Ademar Androllius, Macardil was not sure whether they truly had any leads.

"If we take that route," Macardil put in, "news of your family will reach many ears," he reminded Halberion, and the arrival of Aderic almost could not have been timed any better. He was coming with them to Minas Tirith, after all. It would not take long before the existence of Blaise would reach the young man's ears, Macardil supposed. Unless the Guard were to lock the poor man up shortly upon his arrival. Which, Macardil hoped, would not be the case. For it seemed as if Aderic was innocent - by what proof they could manage. And even in the face of... everything... Macardil's own experience in Minas Tirith's dungeons had only strengthened his belief in the idea that a Man was innocent until proven guilty.

The Lord of House Himhathol forced himself to lean back in his chair as he listened to Halberion laying out what had happened to Reilly, for Aderic to note down. However, Macardil's fingers still clasped his Ziran's. An anchor, in a most unruly sea.

@Arnyn @Karis Ziranphel
As Lord Veranis spoke, Ric swiftly jotted down his notes, keeping up surprisingly well. But as the man paused in recounting the tale which was as difficult to hear as it must be to tell, Ric frowned and looked up. "Chained..?" He couldn't help but ask, as he pondered this part of the story, which did not seem to fit into a cave setting. He had never been inside a cave, himself, but he had read about those, and he wondered where the chairs had come from.

Hal cleared his throat. "Yes. I believe he.. stole some items from the guards in Minas Tirith, or perhaps from the jail there," He explained. "Though, I'm not sure how, for Reilly said that he had dropped out and shouldn't have had any access to such things."

The explanation was easy for Ric to see, and it hit him hard, like a punch in the gut. He stared at him for a moment before dropping his gaze down to his paper. "I see." He mumbled, feeling a little sick in his stomach. Even then, Mar had used Ric to get things he shouldn't have had access to. And he had done... horrible things, as a result.

"Moira.. tried to pick the locks," Hal gave up on trying to keep his hands together in his lap, and rested his forehead in one of them, supporting it with an elbow on the table. "Now, I know how she used to get past locked doors all the time," He mumbled with a faint smile, albeit a wry one, as he cast a side glance toward Macardil, who would have heard all about such antics, if not in person during his visits, then in letters.

He drew a shaky breath as he resumed the thread of his tale. "She tried.. and she nearly had herself free, but he.. returned, and caught her, and.." He closed his eyes as his empty hand closed into a tight fist, down in his lap. "He hurt her arm, and her hands. To keep her from being able to do anything like that." He managed to conclude as vaguely as possible. "In the end, actually, it was Alyssa who was something of a hero," Hal added with a tiny smile of pride for his shier, older daughter, who had never been as brazen and daring as her little sister.

Ric glanced up with intrigue at that, since he had not heard anything about this before, but he quickly went back to writing as Hal continued.

"She.. managed to get the key away from him, at one point." Hal explained, keeping his focus on the table below his head. "And, after he had gone, she freed.. well, it was only the three of us left, by then." He added sadly. "And.. my legs were.. broken," He struggled a little as these awful memories were resurfaced. He took a shaky breath. "I.. I don't think he realized that Moira could fight as well as she could, or he might have done the same to her," He added softly. "Fortunately, he did not, and she was able to run. She and Alyssa.. they wanted to bring me too, but I told them to just go, and to get help. They.." He sighed. "They nearly made it. Alyssa... didn't run swift enough, and she stumbled, and she told Moira to keep going. She was captured again, but she said that the last she saw her sister, she was running as fast as she could down a tunnel, with some of his hired men after her." Hal drew a shaky breath, and did not yet look at this audience. "We weren't sure if Moira survived, at first... we heard some saying she had leaped into the sea.." He frowned. "Tolfalas is known for all the sharp rocks around the coast.. and they searched for her, for a long while. I feared.. that she.."

He swallowed before lifting his head slightly. "But then, apparently, she has been seen since, on more than one occasion. Or at least, Ademar, is convinced she survived. And last I heard, he continues to seek for her. And that makes me believe that she is alive, somewhere. Hiding from him. But why she never sought you," He looked at Macardil, troubled. "I couldn't say. That was the plan; that she get help. I told her to go to you, for I knew that if everyone else thought her story was absurd, that you would believe her. At least enough to check it out."

@Arnyn @Rillewen
She felt Macardil shift his arm to slowly take her fingers into his palm and then clasp them. Curving her fingers to fit the shape of his hand, she returned the clasp as first Halberion and then a recently returned Aderic corrected her use of Amardir to Ademar. She fell silent as she listened and watched the men as they spoke on the subject of the deaths of Veranis’ wife and son, partly focused on the firm hold Macardil had on her hand as well. Glancing up at her husband, she noted his troubled expression, and felt sympathy. She was distant from the situation and the people involved, but he had known them well. To have hope renewed and snatched away, hearing of their deaths, had to be wrenching. Halberion had the distance of time that now buffered that supreme sorrow of having to watch their untimely deaths, as he pointed out. Stroking her thumb over the back of Macardil’s hand, she refocused on the conversation.

The dinner hadn’t been meant to be an interrogation, just a time of catching up over a shared meal, but the questions being posed as Aderic asked for Halberion’s testimony had her mentally reviewing what she had learned. The man had been sparse on some details, and oddly given to commenting on others such as the chains used to imprison, or an unexpected meal for a man who was not known to cook. It sounded like Reilly had been able to have long and uninterrupted conversations with his father before his death. A respite of hope before his death. He had ended up chained…her mind paused on that detail. Hadn’t Halberion said there was also another young man chained there with him? But then they’d had weeks there together and he hadn’t mentioned him further. She nibbled the inside of her lip as Moira’s bravery and escape was recounted, and gave a brief nod. The girl had acted commendably, and she hoped for the opportunity to meet her one day, and that she had truly escaped.

When Halberion paused after asking about the unknown why of Moira not finding Macardil, Ziran interrupted to return the conversation to things they might be able to answer. His broken legs had obviously healed well enough to stand and walk again eventually. “Pardon, but you said you had weeks together before the deaths and escape, but I believe you mentioned another young man already imprisoned alongside your son. What happened to him? Do you know who he was and why he was there?” She didn’t feel she needed to point out that he was another potential witness to Ademar’s activities if he had survived.

@Arnyn @Karis Ziranphel
Hal turned his attention to the lady as she asked another question. "Yes, I intended to come back to that," He assured her, because he hadn't wanted to get sidetracked from telling the story. He sat back in his chair with a sigh. "That young man was Amardir Ansellidus." He informed them. "The real one." He frowned as his memories went back to those terrible weeks, and he had to close his eyes for a moment to focus on the one young man whose story he was now telling. The only one, perhaps, who could tell it.

"He did not live long after we arrived," He said regretfully. "He had been there for some time already. He'd been tortured.. for information. About himself, his family... all so that," Hal paused to make sure he got the proper name correct, "Ademar, could impersonate him well enough to fool Lord Ansellidus." He noticed Aderic glance up then. "But I intend to make sure that his story is not buried, nor forgotten."

Ric swallowed and flipped to a fresh page, already dreading what else he was going to hear about his brother's deeds, but ready to write it down. So that, as the lord said, the story would not be forgotten.

"It's no secret among the nobility," Hal began, "that Lord Ansellidus had no heir, for he had never had any children. So, it was no surprise to anyone when, as his health began to fail in his old age, he called upon his nephew to come and live with him at his castle, to be established as his heir, being his closest kin." Hal paused, searching his memory briefly. "Amarthir, was his name. Anyway. It was, however, a shock to most people when Amarthir and his wife and son were waylaid by a party of orcs, while traveling to their new home. I remember hearing that their son was the sole survivor, and barely at that. The story goes that the horses bolted, and he was thrown from the carriage when it crashed. And that he was hidden, barely conscious, while the orcs slew everyone else." He explained.

"I remember hearing about that news, while I was off searching for my own son," Hal added softly, his gaze lingering on his cup for the moment. He figured most of those in the nobility would've heard at least something about that, even if the average folk hadn't heard about it. "People warned me to be careful, traveling around by myself. Others, hearing about my search, suggested that may have been his fate." He shook his head. "I didn't believe that, however. There was no evidence of orcs anywhere around where Reilly was last seen, nor had there been any sightings in the area." He paused and thought for a moment. "Everyone seemed to buy the story, far as I could tell. Yet, something about it felt... off. It was strange, for one thing, that orcs would have made it so far inland without anyone managing to stop them, much less see them. A lot about it seemed odd to me, to be honest, as one who has fought those servants of the Enemy. I thought of going to take a look at the wreckage myself, but I was busy with my own search, for Reilly. Certain things just... I don't know." He frowned. "I had intended to find a way to ask about the incident, as tactfully as I could, while we had him at our house for dinner. But of course, I never got the chance. And now I know that I would've only gotten lies. I have the real story, now, anyway."

He glanced up at them. "Amardir and his parents were attacked, but not by orcs. It was Ademar.. and I guess some of his hired men. The boy watched as they murdered his parents and the servants they traveled with, helpless to defend them. He.. could do nothing but watch as they cut and slashed their bodies, just as orcs like to do. Making it look like orc's work. He thought he was going to be next, but instead, they took him away, and brought him to that island, down into the cave. He.." Hal sat back with a sigh. "He was the same age as Reilly." That part was irrelevant, but he couldn't help feeling saddened by how young they had both been.

@Karis Ziranphel @Rillewen
For a moment, there was nothing—no clatter of crockery, no scrape of chair legs, no word that could fit itself into the stillness Halberion’s revelations left behind. Only the slow thud of Macardil’s heart, and the faint tremor that travelled through his hand where it still clasped Ziran’s.

Chains, from the Guard in Minas Tirith. Macardil's gaze flicked to Aderic, who was staring at his friend. This... none of this could be easy to hear for the youngest amidst their company. How old was the man, really? Suddenly, he struck Macardil as too young for all this.

Then again, was anyone ever old enough for this kind of harsh reality?

He managed a slight smile at Halberion's reference to little Moira picking locks. Shook his head but once, when Halberion said Ademar had hurt Moira's arm and her hands. His hand twitched around Ziran's fingers when his friend told them his legs were broken. Had been broken.

He stared at Halberion, at the pale reflection of candlelight in his friend’s eyes, and for several seconds could not trust his voice to serve him. The names of Halberion's family alone summoned too many memories—letters written in an affectionate hand, shared meals and moments together. The wound of the tragedy which had befallen Hal and his wife and children, which mere days ago had still been painful but which had at least scabbed over, were now ripped open.

The images Halberion painted — they were too vivid, too cruel.

He let out a slow, measured breath through his nose. Macardil had no idea why Moira had never reached him. Had she perished? He did not wish to believe so.What other reasons could there be? His eyes flicked down to the notes Aderic was taking, and then back to Halberion — fierce, regretful, and heavy with guilt. "Perhaps, if she were waylaid at first... by the time she made it to Minas Tirith, I was not there. I could have been away, on a mission. Or in the dungeons," he mumbled, lowering his eyes to the table.

He shook his head, his hand tightening briefly on Ziran’s before easing again, reminding himself not to let the anger rule him. "The real Amardir..." A pause, before Macardil looked to Aderic. "Your brother's claim will be rendered useless, with this information.”

@Rillewen @Pele Alarion


Unalmis glanced over to Hadassa, who had said she did not wish to lose her cavalry skills through idleness, and then back to Xyler, who’d admitted he did not wish to try riding practice on his own .. and he pushed his tongue into the inside of one cheek, as he began to scratch with his knife blade at the middle of one of the small log pieces thoughtfully. “Most of the private land is fenced off, I think,” he advised the Rohir, wondering if boundaries were similarly fashioned in the Mark. “I’m honestly surprised that Eryn hasn’t talked the pair of you into forming your own cavalry trio all around the fields. She doesn’t usually take much convincing to take out for a ride.”

Having scratched a small dent into one piece of log, the Ranger offered it over to Hadassa without explanation. “Not this time,” he answered Xyler’s polite enquiry instead. “There was something blocking their chimney, and Hosta couldn’t dislodge it from the hearth alone. So I went up on the roof and worked at it from the other end. We got it out between us, eventually.” He commenced scratching a dent in a second log, as he described his recent errand. “Oh, it’s this,” he concluded, handing the second, dented log piece over to the other young man. “I mean, it isn’t a bowl yet. But it will be. The embers still need a while yet, but you’ll see,” he promised.


As Xyler’s attention was caught up in the memory of the inn, Nal picked up the final log piece. He was halted from remarking any more upon the recent evening at the inn, however, when his company asked, not for the first time, what he had wanted to ask of them. “Well, since you keep going on about it, I’ll tell you,” he grinned, with one eyebrow raised, as though he hadn't been the one to bait them with his hints and mystery thus far.

“I’m on a secret quest," the Gondorian paused in stabbing at the third piece of log, laid across his lap, and leaned toward his audience. "And the two of you are, to my thinking, the people most likely to be able to help me solve the thing. But you can't tell anybody.” he put in, To be fair, it would be a miracle if Roselly had not told everybody in the fief yet, but Nal had suffered enough teasing and intrigue from his sisters to share this beyond those he needed to involve. “What do you say ?”

@Arnyn @Karis Ziranphel
Ric felt as if a spell had fallen upon him, making his hand still. In fact, for a moment, it seemed as if that spell lay upon them all. His heartbeat seemed like the only part of him that moved, and it ached with sorrow to hear all that Lord Veranis had to say. Of all the things he might have imagined his brother to be guilty of, it seemed as if every time he heard something new, it was worse and worse than he ever could have guessed. His throat seemed too tight.

At last, after a few heartbeats that felt to Ric like they lasted ages, the 'spell' was broken as Lord Himhathol spoke. Ric released a slow breath, closed his eyes, and dropped his head down slightly, focusing on his paper. He resumed his writing again. He had a couple more sentences to write, since he had gone still before the man had finished speaking.

Hal, meanwhile, had let his gaze drift over to watch the flame on the candle, his thoughts either miles away, or years away. Now that he knew that the three who had escaped Ademar's clutches were not with Macardil, as he had hoped all of these years, he couldn't help worrying about them. Wondering. Where could they be? Would he be able to find them, now that he was free of that horrible dungeon? Were they safe? What if something terrible had befallen Mae Wen and Blaise? What could have stopped Moira from reaching her Valar-father? He frowned as Macardil suggested that he might have been away by the time she reached where she would have expected to find him. He wanted to argue that she was a smart girl and that she would have found a way to get help. Even if it meant sneaking into the very dungeon of Minas Tirith to find Macardil. While he wasn't sure if she would have been capable of such a feat, he had no doubt of her determination. Especially with her family in the predicament she had left them in.

But for whatever reason, it seemed that she had not done anything of the sort. And while he was convinced that she wouldn't have simply run off and left her father and sister to that terrible fate, he was also quite sure that she was alive, if only because Ademar was still convinced of it. He drew in a slow breath, sighing as he exhaled. There was no sense in getting caught up in all the questions which he could not have answers to, Hal acknowledged. Instead, he turned his focus toward another thing, which Macardil's words had made him think of.

He turned to his friend with a curious tilt of his head. "Then, that is true?" He asked, with a surprised note to his voice. "I... heard about you being imprisoned," He frowned. "I didn't believe it, of course. I thought.. he had made it up, to taunt me, or something." He mentioned. "Then, Alyssa told me she'd heard it confirmed, that you really were accused of... murder?" His tone was clearly that of disbelief. "I figured it must be some sort of misunderstanding, or a frame-up, or... something." He frowned in confusion. "But, then, when you showed up here, I thought maybe it was all just some ridiculous tale that he'd made up, and somehow managed to falsify the news that Alyssa heard it confirmed, by. He is good at that sort of thing," He glanced down, not wanting to get into all the various mind games and things the creep used to do, to mess with them both, over the years.

He cleared his throat and glanced back at Macardil. "So, if it really was true, then how are you here, now?" He had to ask. "Did they get it all cleared up, then? They found the real killer, and let you go, right?" He guessed. "I've been rather curious about that, I have to admit, because I know that you wouldn't have done what I heard you were accused you of doing."

---

@Ercassie @Pele Alarion
"Hmm, Eryn has been rather busy, I think." Xyler replied with a little shrug, watching as his ranger friend began digging holes into the pieces of log. "But she has mentioned getting together for a ride. Our schedules just haven't aligned yet." He thought of the way the girl had been dining and dancing with that stranger fellow, the other night. He wondered if Nal knew who that guy was, and if he ought to ask about that, or leave it alone.

Meanwhile, he listened with a small smile as Nal explained about some chimney trouble with the older couple, and how he'd managed to achieve it. "It's good you were there to help them." He commented, absently wondering whether his grandmother was doing alright, and if the village people would help her if she needed it. That was the biggest concern he had about being away for so long, and right now was the worst part of the year for her to be alone, with all the heavy snows up in the mountains. He only hoped he'd managed to leave her with enough firewood. He decided he'd write to her, as soon as he got back to his living quarters today.

Distracted from his thoughts as Nal handed him a log, Xyler looked at it questioningly and then waited for him to explain further. His eyebrows rose slightly with intrigue at the mention of a 'secret quest'. "Oh? And what can we do to help you solve it?" He wondered with a curious grin. "I'm certainly intrigued, but until I know what the quest is, I won't really be able to tell you if I can solve it." He pointed out in amusement at his friend's cryptic-ness. "How about a deal, though?" He proposed, as an idea struck him. He leaned forward slightly. "You help me with my 'quest', and I'll help you with yours? As well as we each can help, anyway."

@Karis Ziranphel @Rillewen
A very faint, and very wry smile, came in response to Halberion's question, while he avoided his best friend's gaze. Hal's words of disbelief, so clearly spoken, so certain... while they touched and honoured Macardil, they still... hurt. Maybe not the words - for those were a kindness, a relief, a mercy - but the way they still caused Macardil guilt. And shame. Because Macardil had not been able to do anything. He had not been able to resist. All he had been able to do, was comply. And no matter how many times Ziran reassured him that no one could have done anything else in his stead, Macardil was not as convinced. His hand around Ziran's went slack.

"Yes, I was imprisoned. And I was accused." After swallowing, he ventured to look at his friend. "Stripped of my rank. Removed from... the unit." His jaw worked. "Rightfully so," he added, more quietly.

@Rillewen @Pele Alarion

“It sounds as though we all have been busy,” Nal could not help noting. “We shall have to make more of an effort to meet up,” he shrugged. As soon as he had said it, the Ranger swallowed the unwelcome thought of a retraction. Because at least half of why he had been busy lately was some certain training. And he could not really speak about that with his friends. But it also meant that everything could very well change very soon. In fact he might have to leave Gondor and he was not sure quite when, nor could he promise that he would come back at all ... The notion inspired a greater want to make the most of what time they still had.

“Not even your work schedules though ?" he was surprised to hear that even Xyler had not spent much time with Eryn lately. "Are there some whole lot of apprentices all learning at the same time ?” he wondered. And yet did not like quite how that notion settled, moments after he had supposed it aloud. Every time he had seen their mutual friend lately she’d been caught up with friends. And yes, Eryn was exactly the friendly sort of girl who people adored. Her and friends .. no surprise there. But lately it seemed she was with all new friends. From what he had observed from the rooftop, and then of course at the Guesthouse ... Quite where she was meeting all these new people he had no idea though. They looked far too healthy for her to have come across them at the Houses of Healing. But if they were all apprentices, then why was Xyler not always among their group as well ? Perhaps, he eyed Hadassa subtly, perhaps Xyler was the apprentice sneaking off to spend time with his fellow Rohir rather than their peer group.


“Well I wasn’t going to tell you anything until you promise to keep it a secret,” the Ranger began. And as he turned over the founding of their small fire with a stick, it’s thin polish of ice melted down to nothing but a hiss. “But since you have a secret of your own .. ” he grinned, noting that the time was now ripe. Unalmis gestured with his hand for his friend to now hold out the clawed log piece he’d been gifted, and selected a second small stick, by which pair, he proceeded to prise and raise a small ember out of the fire. No sooner had it been set carefully in the prepared groove of Xyler’s log piece, Nal nodded. It would not now take long for the smouldering centrepiece to begin burying its way through the wood where it was sat. “Do not let it fall from the log, but blow on it gently, to help it forge a proper dent,” he encouraged his friend, and then glanced toward the young woman in their midst, as he readied a small ember for her log as well.

“Hadassa we are going to both have to trust you to keep our secrets. Unless you have some secret of your own to put up ?” He extended a small ember between his twin ‘tools’, to find it’s seat in the groove of her small log also. And then repeated the motion so that he too had a small smouldering piece of heat burning its way through the log on his own lap.


“You must drop the ember back into the fire before it comes close to burning all the way through the log to your knees,” he warned them both. Though knew from past experience, that this would not happen too quickly at all. “In time it will burn out a small bowl in the wood, that we can wash out and use to eat from. But that shall take a while. So,” he decided, thinking somebody would have to start the ball rolling. “My quest is that I’m trying to find somebody," he was getting too impatient to tease any longer about it in truth. "I have something of theirs which got left behind, and I’m trying to see it returned. Only I don’t know who they are exactly, or where now. And I’m hoping one or both of you two might. Because well, the mysterious owner is from Rohan. They came here visiting. And .. I know, its probably a long shot,” he sighed, and remembered to blow at his bowl’s progress. “So anyway. What type of 'quest' are you holding onto ?”

@Arnyn @Rillewen
The real Amardir Ansellidus? Ziran’s eyebrow lifted in mild surprise, before her brow creased in thought as she listened to the rest of Halberion’s story. It made sense that the usurper of the Ansellidus estate would have made that uncertainty of the survival of the heir the means for inserting himself as the lost and traumatized nephew, even as she nodded in agreement with both Hal’s comment and Macardil’s. It was yet another proof that the current “Lord Amardir” was not who he claimed to be and had unlawfully taken possession, imprisoning, torturing, and killing any witnesses or opposition. When Macardil’s fingers tightened on hers as he mentioned the various reasons he could have been gone, including being in the dungeons, she glanced over at him with sympathy and subtly caressed the fingers she could reach.


She felt her muscles tense slightly on her indrawn breath at the incredulous note in Hal’s voice as he reacted to the truth of Macardil’s imprisonment and went through the list of suppositions that she knew could cause the self-recrimination and pain to echo once again. Macardil’s hold on her hand loosened, and she closed her eyes in a slow blink for one heartbeat before opening them again as he replied to his friend quietly. Here she could help a little.

Clearing her throat slightly, Ziran spoke quietly. “I had similar questions, but could not refute what happened. I was there during the fighting, and took him to the dungeons at the King’s command. He spoke not a word in defense or explanation, and served his sentence willingly.” She paused. “It was indeed right, and yet completely out of keeping with his character, as you say. It was not until many months later that I inquired after and received permission from the King to speak with Macardil because it still did not sit right with me.” Her gaze was straightforward, and her tone was matter-of-fact as she shared, not yet inviting the questions she knew they would have. It was better if she could share her full account first. “I discovered that he could indeed speak, but couldn’t speak directly about the incident other than to say he did indeed wield the blade and so deserved punishment. It took some while to find a way for him to share his story with me, through pantomime and answering questions, but eventually it became clear that although he took full responsibility for the actions, it had been some spell of the enemy wielding his body and preventing his speech about it. I took my observations and questions to King Aragorn, who agreed to meet with Macardil himself to ascertain the truth.” She glanced up at Macardil for a moment, her stern expression shifting to one of warmth. “The rest is his story to tell, but the King freed him that day.” She knew that many still marveled that she could trust and love him indeed, but although her hope in who he was had been rebirthed that day, it was the many confirmations of his heart and character in the days and months since that had made all the difference in confirming her hopes and trust.

@Arnyn @Karis Ziranphel
Watching Macardil, the way he avoided his gaze, Hal was confused. He didn't understand his friend's reaction, and he was further puzzled by his words. Not that he was accused, nor imprisoned, and all that, but that it was rightfully done? That didn't make sense. How could it be? Hal's gaze shifted slightly toward Macardil's wife, and listened as she began to speak.

That she had actually been there and had seen it all happen, surprised him. Then that meant.. wait, he actually did do it? She had seen him do it? But how was that possible? That left Hal feeling tremendously confused, for he knew his friend well enough to know that he would never do such a thing. Not deliberately. Not willingly. He couldn't possibly have changed so much as to be a cold-blooded murderer, so how could it be right? There would have to be incredibly strong, and good reasons for him to have to do something like that, Hal was certain of it.

As she went on to explain how she had gotten permission to go and speak to him, Hal nodded slowly to show he was following her tale, even if he didn't quite understand. But as she continued to speak and it became clear that it had been some sort of spell of the enemy, Hal sat back as it all began to make sense. "I see." Hal said softly, with a small, sad nod, feeling a pang of regret and sorrow for his friend's sake. For having to endure such a thing, and having to be the instrument of the captain's demise.

"You don't have to say anything more, my friend, if you don't want to discuss it." He assured him softly, guessing that such a thing would be very hard to talk about. He got enough of an idea from what the lady had said, to put the rest together. He started to say something else to Macardil, but he recalled Aderic sitting at the table, and decided to wait until he had a chance to speak with Macardil with a little more privacy, in case he was reluctant to speak in front of the young man. None of them knew him very well, after all. To the lady though, he added, "I'm grateful, for my friend's sake, that you took the time to seek out the truth. I can't tell you how glad I am that there was someone there, who helped him."

He took a moment to consider what she'd said about the king, how he'd given her permission to talk to Macardil, and had then freed him after learning about this. "It sounds like the king is a fair and reasonable man." He commented, feeling somewhat hopeful about that. "I haven't heard much about him, to be honest," He added with a wry smile. "Only that there is a king now. It surprised me a lot to hear that." He wondered if they might tell him more about this king, and then he realized that the king was likely to be hearing all about Hal's testimony, soon, and he would surely be hearing all about Ademar's doings as well. That reminded him of Aderic, and he glanced over at the young man, who hadn't responded earlier when Macardil said something to him.



Ric, meanwhile, had finished jotting down the rest of Hal's tale, and had then gone back to a fresh page, to fill in the parts that had been told before he got his notepad. He had been focused on writing while the others moved on to talking about other things. So focused, in fact, he hadn't even registered it when Macardil made a comment to him about his brother's claim being rendered useless. His eyes blurred a little as his pencil moved swiftly across the page, determined to write everything down that he could remember Lord Veranis saying, as accurately as he could recall.

It had been hard to hear the lord talk about all of this. About how the man’s family had been tormented and murdered by Ric’s own brother… and all the awful things he'd done. Both then, and since then. How Mar was working with an Umbarian priest of Sauronic worship, and actually making sacrifices to Sauron!? Ric still didn’t want to believe it, but he did. He believed every word, and each one felt like a stab into his heart. And a lot of other things began to make sense now, too.

---

@Ercassie @Pele Alarion
"Our work schedules, sure, we've worked together at times," Xyler replied, shrugging slightly. "But not as much as you'd think. She has her shift in the early mornings, and mine is later. So we have an hour or two that overlaps and then she's gone. She has a lot of chores in the afternoon, I guess, and other stuff. I've not really had much chance to do anything with her after my shift is done, and I'm not sure where to even look for her." He explained. "The other night at the Guesthouse was one of the only times I've seen her outside of the houses, since the Masquerade."

He then shrugged a bit at the question whether there were many apprentices learning at the same time. "A few. Myself, a girl from the North, and some others as well. And of course you have my promise," He assured his friend, regarding the secret. "I thought I'd already said, or else that it was implied." He watched as Nal put a burning ember in the piece of log in his hands, telling him not to let it fall off, or burn through into his lap. "Mine isn't exactly a secret, though," He added with a little shrug, but he went quiet as he listened to Nal begin to explain his quest.

He was watching the ember, slowly burning its way into the piece of wood, when Nal mentioned that he was trying to find someone. Xyler glanced up, listening a bit more closely. Curious, he nodded slowly at the information that he had something and wanted to get it back to her. If this had been anyone else except for his friend, Xyler might have been concerned. But he felt fairly confident that Nal was not out to get anyone, so he was definitely not getting the same vibes as he had gotten from that fellow in the inn, shortly before he'd left to come here. But he wasn't quite sure why Nal was asking them for help in this... until he revealed that this mysterious person was from Rohan. His eyebrows raised at this detail, curious. "Well, what can you tell us about this person?" He wondered. "I mean... it helps to know that they're from Rohan, but a little further information would help narrow it down, a bit." He teased, grinning. "Actually, the only other person that I know of, who came to Gondor from Rohan around the same time as us, is Melahny." He added with a little shrug. "But I haven't really seen her since we traveled together. I don't think she looks like a... typical Rohir, though," He added with an apologetic shrug. "She isn't blond, like most of us, so if you're going by hair color, she wouldn't be the person you're looking for."

He sat back and glanced at the ember, to make sure it was still there, and still burning. "Oh, my quest?" He looked back up. "Well, I'm also looking for someone, ironically." He gave a little laugh. "Just um, mine might be a bit harder." He shifted a bit uncomfortably and looked back down at the ember. "It's probably silly, to be honest. I don't even know how to begin looking. I just had this... stupid thought, that since I'm going to Gondor, and I know she came from Gondor.. but I don't even know where in Gondor." He shrugged slightly, suddenly aware of how unlikely his search was to succeed, and he felt a bit ridiculous.

---

@Arnyn
The Pelennor was growing dusky by the time they set out. Most folks would have considered it too late to be setting out on a journey, this time of the year, at this time of the day. But it worked perfectly for the travelers' purposes. For the fewer people who knew anything about Ava and her departure from the White City, the better, as far as this group was concerned.

There wasn't much to see along the way, what with it being dark, but Gladhron was less interested in looking at the scenery, and more interested in the sight that remained beside him, the entire way. He had claimed the extra seat next to the driver seat, with the excuse of keeping her company and watching for any potential ambushes. Though such a thing was hardly very likely, here within the walls of the Pelennor, he would not be swayed. So he sat beside Celume on the driver's seat, his bow resting beside him.. almost as if he'd forgotten it was there. He was near the end of a story he'd begun telling, to amuse her and pass the time.

Gwestion could have posed some arguments as to the flaws in his plan. Such as the fact that, between the two of them, Gwestion was a better shot with a bow. Or the fact that Celume was perfectly capable of handling a bow, herself. But he remained quiet, keeping his thoughts to himself as he let his brother have his way. It might be his last chance to spend time with her for a long while, he acknowledged, and so he made no protest. One of these days, he might have to remind Gladhron of some of the things he'd done for him. Call in a favor or something.

So far, Gwestion was not having a very good time. Not that this trip was meant to be a good time, but he did not really find much enjoyment in sharing a carriage with the two lovebirds. Dimly, he could hear his brother's voice outside with Celume, telling a story. His blue-grey gaze seemed fixated on the window, but he was keeping an eye on the lady as well. Even if he didn't appear to be. While he doubted that she would try anything at this point, if she had any intentions of 'trying anything' at all, he still wanted to remain wary and watchful, just in case she did strike when they weren't expecting it or something. For the moment, her interest seemed mostly fixated on Tercen, however; quietly staring silently off into space while snuggled up beside him. Gwestion somehow doubted if she even knew anyone else was in the carriage.

Ava was being considerate, in fact. She was, of course, aware of the silent, serious-faced ranger seated in the carriage with them. And, since both he and Gladhron were to be guests at her home for the next few weeks, she did not want to offend them or make things awkward with them, like with the ranger in the safehouse. She had mentioned to Tercen, in private before they'd left, that they ought to show some restraint during the trip when they were not alone in private.

At the moment, she was actually in a quiet mood, leaned cozily against Tercen's side, thinking. She was feeling torn and apprehensive about this whole venture. She was eager to return to her home, to her beloved Izrazor, and to see how things were going. To make sure that everyone was still alright, and to see whether she could do anything else to help the escapees taking refuge in her estate. A small part of her was even looking forward to showing Tercen all around her estate, and hosting guests, and everything to do with that.

But at the same time, she was anxious and afraid. Fearing that she might return to find that some tragedy had struck in her absence, or that some spies had made it back to Pharak and she'd been exposed.. that she might be going into an ambush of some sort. She was nervous about the possibility that she might be taking Tercen into great danger, and that these rangers accompanying her might be going into a far more dangerous situation than she had led them to believe. Her imagination was playing through a dozen different ways this whole thing could turn out badly, and imagining what sort of devastation she might be returning to find. And yet, at the same time, she was imagining how fun it would be to show him all her favorite rooms and the places she liked to spend time in her home, and going through all the things she would want to do when she got there, and sort of mentally making plans.

@Karis Ziranphel @Rillewen
Macardil was grateful that Ziranphel took it upon herself to provide further details on the circumstances, for he did not wish to speak of it any more than he must. Especially in front of a stranger. Yet even without Aderic's presence, even with the ban on his tongue now lifted, it would have been difficult to revisit the topic. It would forever remain thus, Macardil assumed.

I see.

The soft-spoken words of Halberion Veranis made Macardil lift his eyes to the best of friends he had ever had in this world. Who felt badly for him. Despite the much worse situation Halberion was in, himself. The two men had both lost a wife, now. Something Macardil had never wished upon anyone, and least of all Halberion. However, Hal... had also lost his eldest son and heir. And he had quite possibly lost Moira, Blaise and Mae Wen as well. Even Alyssa... For they did not know where she was, at present. If she was alive, they could only guess at her condition.

Halls of Mandos, no. Macardil's 'woes' faded into nothingness by comparison. Especially now. For Macardil had emerged. Somehow. Thanks to the woman beside him, and thanks to King Elessar. Halberion, however...

Yet, despite everything, his friend still thought to thank Ziran. A smile lit up Macardil's eyes, tugged at his lips. This is what he had always admired so about Hal. Even considering everything, the man was unbroken. He could still jest. After five years.

Macardil shifted his hand around, enveloping Ziran's in a different way, offering a slight squeeze. She had seen him, believed in him. He would never forget that her tenacity was what had released him from his silence and from his imprisonment. If not from his shame.

"What I can tell you about the King is that his eyes are very keen. That his wisdom, and his mercy, are only rarely found," Macardil said quietly. "Yet my situation has now mostly been resolved," he ventured. "Yours..." He held back a sigh. "And yours, as well, Aderic," Macardil addressed the youngest admist their company. "Has yet to be detangled."

---

@Rillewen
She'd have preferred to ride Nársulë herself, rather than have her mount hooked up to the carriage and sitting in the driver's seat. But it had eliminated the need for an additional set of eyes. The Lieutenant supposed that the manner of their departure would attract all sorts of criticism, when shared. One might say she should have had a scout. A rear guard. But they were still in Gondor. And there were three rangers among their party already. In the end, Arnyn had stopped her endless internal debate. An officer who could not make decisions was not much of an officer at all.

She'd been somewhat surprised when Gladhron chose to sit next to her, instead of inside the carriage - where the wind did not pull at your clothes and your hair, and where the cold did not bite into whatever skin was left exposed. None of it would improve as the light faded into darkness.

The company was appreciated, however, and so was the extra set of eyes. Not that Arnyn had the impression he was watching much of their actual surroundings. Gladhron seemed more interested in weaving one of his stories - and in watching her react to it. And while she had always enjoyed his storytelling - and while she enjoyed it now - Arnyn could not focus on it fully. For she did keep an eye on the road ahead and what lay to either side of them, as the carriage travelled through the Pelennor. Still in the Pelennor or not - Arnyn wore her full leather armour, all black, and she was well armed. To top it off, her thick winter burgundy cloak shielded her from the cold well enough, for now. Besides her caution, anxiety about sending her brother and two of her best friends into the giant unknown, into possible (predicatable?) danger... it was gnawing at her. Of course. Despite however cold or reckless some may think she was.

Despite her concerns, however, his story had her smiling. He'd thought up another adventure of the fairy and the raccoon-turned-into-a-man. "This guy is starting to sound more and more like you," she said, lightly nudging her shoulder against Gladhron's. She glanced over her shoulder. "You do know there was still room for you in there, right?" she checked, still a little incredulous about his choice of seat. "You kind of made Gwestion the third wheel, I'm afraid," she added more quietly, not wanting the others to overhear that part. "At this rate, he may want to turn back by the time we reach the ship..."

*

Tercen thought the carriage was comfortable enough, although it was really the woman who'd snugly positioned herself against his side, that was the prime reason for that. He didn't much care for the jostle of the thing. But he loved having his arm around Ava, and it was undoubtedly much warmer in here than it would be out there.

Honestly he felt a little bad for Gwestion. The more unsociable of the two brothers, left alone to sit with Ava and him. Tercen was sure gwestion would have preferred Gladhron to be in here with him. Or even that the brothers' places had been exchanged. From what Tercen had been able to observe during the meetings over the past few days, was that Gwestion was much more comfortable around Arnyn than around him or Ava. Which made sense, of course. But the two brothers' personalities were almost night and day, in very notable ways. Tercen caught himself thinking about what Gladhron had spoken about once. The sun and the moon. And how Gladhron had insisted that, when it came to Tercen and his sister, Tercen was the sun and his sister the moon. Amused, Tercen smiled as he listened to the sound of Gladhron's voice coming from the front of the carriage. His friend might have reconsidered that opinion, by now. How Arnyn apparently still couldn't see Gladhron basked in her every attention... He held back a snort.

Tercen had been amused by Ava's not-so-subtle hints to 'show restraint' in the carriage. As if he would devour her with Gwestion or Gladhron right there, without a means of escape. He'd given her a rogueish grin, and had not made any promises. But obviously he had not been planning on that. He played with the line, sometimes, sure. He even enjoyed stepping out of bounds once in a while. But he wasn't entirely shameless.

He felt like he'd done well, so far, in hiding his nerves about what lay ahead. While he had no doubts about Ava, there was no telling how the sea journey would go. It was the dead of winter. And after that, well... after that, all bets would be off. Allof their lives would be in the hands of Luck. That unsettled him more than he cared to admit, even to himself. Yet he willed himself to breathe slowly and evenly, so Ava would not notice. He still did not wish to give her any reason to leave him behind at the last minute.

"Why don't you tell us a bit more about your ship, Temptress?" he murmured, though loud enough for Gwestion to hear. "We'll be on it a while."

@Arnyn @Rillewen
At the sad sound of Halberion’s acknowledgement, Ziran’s gaze slowly moved back to him as she assessed the thoughtful look on his face. Perhaps he had grasped or guessed at the rest of the story, and it seemed to be so from the words of thanks he extended. She inclined her head in a graceful nod of acceptance, although her actions had been entirely driven by her own concerns and unrest. This was not the time to dispute over details.

When he asked about the King, a smile lit her eyes once more, and she agreed with Macardil’s words in response. Returning the light squeeze, she let the quiet settle a moment as she looked around at the men who joined her at the table. They had been through a lot already that day, with lots of heavy revelations that tamped down on the joy of freedom and accomplishment that lingered despite their exhaustion. “They have yet to be detangled, but we have made a beginning at pulling the first threads. There is still hope, though the road may be a long one er the end.”

@Arnyn
Gladhron glanced at her in surprise. "Really?" He asked, in a tone that suggested that he hadn't noticed. "Hmm. Maybe that's why he's so likeable?" He joked, clearly not really being serious with that comment. He adjusted his cloak a bit as he tucked his hands under his arms. Having been involved in his storytelling, his hands had been waving around a good amount, and now they were rather cold. And, even if it hadn't seemed like he was paying attention to their surroundings, he had been. While telling his story, he had, admittedly, been focused on Arnyn, but he had also been taking quick little glances around here and there, where it worked in with the tale. It was a trick he had learned over the years; to appear like he wasn't paying attention, while keeping a sharp eye on his surroundings. It even drove Gwestion nuts at times, when he didn't know he was doing it. Part of the fun of it was annoying his brother, to be honest.

He sat back on the seat and shrugged as she mentioned there was room inside. "I know. There was room up here, too." He pointed out. "I thought you might be bored. And, if you want a break.. you know, warm your hands maybe? I could take over." He offered. "Anyway, Gwestion'll be alright." He added, not very worried about that. Gwestion would survive. Maybe it would even help him relax a little and not be so shy or whatever. He grinned a little at Arnyn when she suggested that he might want to turn back. "If he does, he'd be breaking a promise. And you know he won't do that." He whispered to her, then sat back against the seat.

"I'm still impressed by how easily Narsule takes to the harness, by the way." He mentioned, observing the horse in front of them. "I remember being a bit surprised when he pulled the Millson's cart, too. Mael and Gaeroch haven't had much training with that sort of thing, so we were both reluctant to try and ask them to do it," He recalled.

*

She was drawn out of her thoughts by Tercen's murmur. Stirring, Ava glanced up at him and then smiled. While she still leaned against his side, she shifted to sit up slightly more, resituating against him. "What shall I tell you about it?" She asked, tilting her head to look up at him. "It is a small vessel, compared to most of the others." She shrugged the shoulder furthest from him. "The captain is in my employ, and I know him well enough to trust him with this mission. He is loyal enough, and all the men he has employed as his sailors will follow his orders." She tried to think of what else there would be to tell about a ship. "I am sorry, I do not know what more there is to say about it," She apologized. "Though, I do hope that none of you are prone to sea-sickness," She cast a glance at Gwestion.

He blinked as he drew his gaze inward, from the window. "I have no idea." He answered, realizing that was partially directed toward him. "I have never been sailing." That seemed like the simplest answer, rather than explaining that he had been on a ship before, but that it had been anchored, and all of that adventure. No, he didn't have any intentions of telling her about his prior encounter with Umbarians and a ship.

"You mostly ride on your horse, yes?" Ava asked, trying to find out something more about the guy.

"That's right." He answered quietly, with a small nod.

"Hmm." Ava was not entirely sure how to respond from there. And his comment did not seem to invite further questions or conversation. "Do you ever ride horses, Sunshine?" She turned to him with a little smile, knowing he would be more willing to engage in conversation to pass the time.

---

@Arnyn @Karis Ziranphel
Hal was debating whether to say something to Aderic, but then his attention was drawn back toward his friend when he spoke of the King, and of his wisdom and mercy. Hal smiled faintly, glad to hear that Macardil had been able to receive such mercy. He gave a small nod at the mention of his and Aderic's situations needing to be detangled. As for the lady speaking of hope, Hal smiled. For he had hope now, for the first time in years. Hope that he could recover his health. Hope that he could seek out whatever remained of his family. Hope that the monster who had destroyed his family would soon be brought to justice.

"Perhaps, before we begin any further unraveling, we could get rid of this?" He suggested, with a hand rubbing over his beard. He hated it, and wanted it gone, yet he did not trust his hands yet to operate a sharp blade near his throat and face. Nor did he trust anyone else, except for his closest friend, to do so. And he had already offered, earlier, to help him with it.

"Unless I am mistaken, I think we are all finished eating now," He ventured to guess, glancing around. He hadn't noticed anyone still eating for a while now. "However, before we adjourn from the table, there is one thing I feel I should ask." He smiled faintly and dipped his head both respectfully and apologetically toward his friend's wife. "I have been trying to wait for a proper opportunity to ask, but none have really come. So, I am going to simply ask; what should I call you, ma'am? I heard you give a couple of names to the seamstress, Taendis, and I heard you tell that you are a ranger, and I know now that you are also Lady Himhathol, but I am not quite certain what name is proper, or preferred, for myself to use, when addressing you." He explained.

*

Ric had partially lost the train of conversation while in the midst of jotting down his notes. Perhaps it was for nothing, but he... he needed something to do, he told himself. Something to keep himself busy. But, hearing his name mentioned drew him out of his focus slightly, and he glanced up to acknowledge that Lord Himhathol had spoken to him, briefly. About his situation, being detangled. A skeptical laugh almost wanted to come out of him, but his throat felt too swelled up to allow it. As if he could ever be properly 'detangled' from his brother.

While he appreciated the thought, he felt far too skeptical to believe that it was possible. He was fairly certain that he was going to end up in the city dungeon the moment they brought him in, regardless of whatever they might say in his defence. Mar had done too good a job turning people against him, marring his reputation, and all that. No one would believe anything he said, back there, because Mar had convinced everyone that they could not believe, nor trust, Ric. The thought made his heart sink just a little further, though he hadn't thought it possible.

And when Lady Himhathol spoke up and mentioned that 'there is still hope', Ric let his gaze drop back down to his paper, resting his forehead on one palm to prop his head up. He stared down at the page, his thoughts returning to Reilly. Remembering all the years Ric had refused to give up the hope that his friend was still alive. Hoping to find some clue that would lead to finding him, or finding out what happened to him, at least. Remembering Amy, Reilly's fiancé, and how both she and Ric had clung to the hope that they would eventually find him, and then everything would be alright again. Hope? He'd recently had his hope snatched away, with the harsh fact that Reilly was undeniably dead. By his own brother's hands, no less. Any hope that he may have held onto that his brother might not really be to blame for the things he was accused of.. was also utterly gone.

But he couldn't bring himself to speak, to say any of the things going through his mind or heart. Instead, he merely nodded and kept his gaze down. He knew that wasn't what she had been referring to, but still. He found it difficult to feel hopeful about anything, right now. Hearing Hal speak about leaving the table, moving on to doing something else, Ric thought that would make an excellent opportunity for him to be alone for a while. Funny, he thought, after all those months of being alone, desperate for someone else to talk with, now all he wanted was to be alone for a while to grieve for his friend.

@Karis Ziranphel @Rillewen
He had quite forgotten about dinner. Macardil blinked at his plate, and quickly filled it up with a few more items. It should not take long to finish - he was starving, but had been thoroughly distracted by the ongoing conversation. "Ten minutes," he stated, already digging in the moment it became clear his friend was addressing Ziran. About what she'd prefer he called her, apparently.

Sapphire eyes glanced between all three others gathered around the table as he wolfed down his meal, and finished first his water, then what was left of his wine, with good, strong gulps. Ziran might not approve of him rushing, Macardil realized. However, surely she would understand he did not wish to keep Halberion waiting overlong... after he had apparently already been waiting for five years...

---

@Rillewen
"Maybe," was all she offered, her tone entirely non-committal, seeming neither to agree nor disagree. A quiet but amused 'ha' escaped her when Gladhron pointed out there had been room up here, as well. "Touché." His comment of how she may have been bored, otherwise, made her lift her eyebrows. He had shown concern about her getting bored, before. While she did not see it as a bad thing, per se. She could stand to have a little more boredom in her life, actually. Amused by that thought, which she chose not to share, she glanced aside at her friend when he mentioned he could take over if her hands were cold. She was wearing her thick riding gloves, and her hands were, as of yet, probably much warmed than his own. But it seemed like Gladhron was on a mission to... make himself useful to her?

After Gladhron whispered Gwestion wouldn't break a promise, Arnyn smiled. "I know," she whispered back. "It was a joke."

As for Nársulë... "When I became an officer, as second of the Hyandaner division at the time, I was encouraged to procure a horse of my own," she explained quietly. "Most rangers chose leaner horses, like your Gaeroch or Gwes' Mael. Horses that were faster and lighter on their feet, in case the rangers needed to move fast. As was often required. All horses were taught to deal with the chaos and noise of battle - some went further, encouraging kicking from their mounts." She grinned wrily. "Though that sometimes did backfire when they were not in any kind of battle at all. Anyway - what I noticed at the time, was that the only proper destriers were to be found among the Lieutenant and Captain of the Pelecconner, at the time. Probably because they wore much heavier equipment than the rest of us. But the Ranger force back then - and this hasn't changed, I suppose - was not only sent out for quick missions." She shot Gladhron another glance. "And whenever there is a need for a longer journey, comes the need for supplies. I am sure you know that ambushing a supply line is a wise strategy to cripple any force. Meaning it is also wise to target the horses pulling those supply wagons. Something I had seen happening, already, before I became an officer."

Arnyn directed her gaze ahead, once more. "So, I decided on a mount that was rather unlike most of the other officers'. A slower, much heavier horse. Not because he was required to carry me, for I never wore heavy armour or weaponry - but so that he could prove useful to whatever force might be sent out with supply wagons, at some point. Which is also why he was trained for things exactly like this." One corner of her mouth tugged up. "In addition, of course, to crushing the bones of the enemy when he tramples them." She paused a moment, before continuing, her smile full now as she looked ahead at her stallion. "It didn't take me long to fall in love with him. I don't care most of the other horses in the ranger stables can outrun him. I don't care he's not the most 'rangerlike' mount. He's got qualities almost none of those other horses in there possess," she declared, tilting her chin up proudly. "And he's mine," she said with no small amount of satisfaction.

*

"Do the captain and his sailors speak the common tongue?" Tercen wondered. "Or will I be reduced to ridiculous gesturing and pantomiming?" he added with a little grin. "And what does 'loyal enough' mean? I can sleep wherever you sleep-loyal? Or I best keep my distance from you on the ship-loyal?" Fair questions, in his mind.

When Ava stated she hoped none of them got sea-sick, Tercen blinked. He hadn't even thought about that. Listening as Ava tried to make conversation with Gwestion, and failed, Tercen smiled and shook his head slightly at the younger man opposite from him. Since Ava's next question was directed at him, his focus turned down to her soon enough, however.

"I do know how to ride," he acknowledged. "And I enjoy it, when I do. But I have no real need for a horse in my woods. When I transport furniture from my workshop to the settlement, I simply pull the cart myself," he shrugged. "Not with a harness or anything," he grinned. "It's one of those carts you might have seen merchants use around the marketplace, while we were in Minas Tirith?" Tercen waved vaguely. "I might need a horse when I get old. Right now, though, I don't see how the benefits of having one would outweight the effort."

He slanted his head. "I am not sure about sea-sickness, either, for the record. Not much need for sailing when all I've ever really done is move from Ithilien to Minas Tirith and back. It's my sister who's the traveller. Not I." He winked at Ava. "Well, untill now."

"What about you, Starlight? I bet you are an accomplished rider as well as the owner of a sturdy pair of sea legs, aren't you?" After all, she was basically perfect...

@Arnyn
Gladhron merely grinned in response to Arnyn assuring him she had been joking about Gwestion. He knew it had been a joke, but it didn't change his reply. Instead of continuing in that line of conversation, he listened as she began to talk about Narsule, and why she had chosen him. He smiled as she spoke about her reasons, and he enjoyed the way her smile warmed as she looked at, and spoke about, her horse.

He nodded in understanding. "When I chose Gaeroch, I was first drawn by her beautiful coat, and I saw her running around in the field," He smiled. "She came from Rohan. My cousin took me to a horsebreeder, when I was needing a new horse. They had all these lovely horses in the field, and she came running over," He added. "She followed along after me as I walked along the fenceline, you know?" He smiled, remembering. "I felt a bit of a bond with her right off. She was eager to show me how fast she could go, too," He laughed. "Gwestion picks on me sometimes, saying her reddish coat makes her stand out too much in the forest, but when Autumn comes around..." He grinned. "She blends in better than Mael, with all the colors of the leaves."

He kept his gaze straying around the dark terrain as they drove along. "Before her, I had a gelding named Arrow." He added with a little smile. "He was a good horse. He was also really fast," He grinned at the theme in his preference in horse's traits, then grew a bit more serious as he went on. "When my father was injured, Arrow outran a pack of wolves. Then, when Seri said Father could travel again, we used Arrow to pull a cart so we could get him home. We used him as a pack horse for a while, too." He explained. "He eventually died, though. We've never gotten another, though. We got used to traveling light." He smiled faintly. "We've never had to deliver supplies to an army, of course. And when we did need to deliver some supplies to the Inn that time, Seri was kind enough to let us use Nutmeg." He added.

*

"The captain does," Ava laughed at the image of Tercen trying to gesture and pantomime to communicate. As if she would not have acted as a translator. "I believe most of the sailors do, too. But you needn't worry about not being understood." She took his hand and smiled at his next question. "Loyal enough to trust him with transporting me to Gondor and then having him wait." She answered. "Loyal enough that he knows that I transported escaped slaves here." She tilted her head up at him. "Loyal enough that I need not worry about him telling anyone anything about my business. Does that answer your question?" She asked with amusement. "The captain will not tell anyone anything he should not tell." She assured him.

"Why is he so loyal?" Gwestion asked, curious about that. "What makes you so certain about it?"

Ava paused and turned back to look at him. "I have known Captain Daamri a very long time. He worked for my father for many years, when I was a child. And my father trusted him." She paused for a moment to think how to explain what made her so certain. "Captain Daamri's father was a corsair sailor, back in my grandfather's day, but his mother was a Gondorian slave." She explained. "His father died when he was still quite young, and he was raised by his mother. Therefore, he has seen how bad things are for the slaves. He is, therefore, very sympathetic to those whom I am trying to help." She shrugged. "That, and the fact that I pay him very well, and he is happy with his position."

Having answered that question, she turned her attention toward listening to Tercen's answer about riding. She smiled, trying to picture him pulling a hand cart. "I did see some like that," She confirmed with a nod. She felt a little disappointed that she wasn't able to go to Ithilien and see for herself, but perhaps some other time she would be able to.

When he turned the question on her, Ava laughed softly and shook her head. "No, horse riding is not really very common in Umbar." She explained. "Camels are more practical, usually. Sometimes Mûmakil for some purposes, but those are far too big to use in the city." She explained. She hesitated slightly. "Some of the rich people ride upon a palanquin," She added, to give them fair warning of what they might see when they got there. "I have never been one to do that, but plenty of my peers do."

"What is that?" Gwestion had to ask, frowning as he tried to imagine what kind of animal that might be.

"A palanquin?" Ava realized it might be a rather foreign word to them. "It is.. a seat, with a frame, usually with curtains for sun protection. They are generally carried by slaves. A rich person sits in it, and they carry their master around wherever they want to go. I think it's stupid and lazy, but many feel that it makes them look more powerful, I suppose." She turned back to Tercen. "As for 'sea legs'," She smiled slightly. "I've only sailed once. To come here. I didn't find it too uncomfortable, but we had good weather, and it is not a long trip."

---

@Arnyn @Karis Ziranphel
Hal grinned, and gave a little laugh as he watched his friend suddenly remember that they had food in front of them. It was probably cold by now, but it hardly seemed to matter to Macardil. "You needn't rush, Macardil." He told him, amused. It felt good to have something amusing, to distract him from the recent, heavy topics that had come up. "I can wait a few minutes. I just thought everyone was finished, that's all." In the meanwhile, he awaited the lady's reply to his question.

@Arnyn @Rillewen
It amused Ziran when Halberion hinted at a shave from Macardil, and indicated he was done with the meal, only to have Macardil quickly dish up more food to inhale. She didn’t fault him for wanting more sustenance, as it had been a long cold day, and reached for another slice of bread for herself to follow on after the stew that she had finished earlier. She also recognized when it was her cue to finish soon and leave. She was in the middle of buttering the slice when Halberion asked his question about what to call her. Flicking her gaze to him briefly in surprise, she tilted her head to indicate that she had heard his question and was thinking on it while she finished her task and sliced a sufficient amount of cheese to cover the bread. She found it curious that Macardil’s friends had a tendency to ask her for specificity in what name to use, as it wasn’t a common occurrence for her otherwise. Most would use the names that they heard unless specifically told to call her by a certain title. She did not usually offer the use of her shortened name until she had known friends for a while, and while Halberion was a close friend of Macardil, she did not know him well enough for that to feel in any way comfortable.

Laying down her knife as the men bantered, she applied the cheese but paused before picking up the bread. Looking back at Halberion directly, Ziran smiled slightly as she replied. “Despite the circumstances requiring it to be heavily used today, I am only beginning to be accustomed to the title that came with wedding Macardil. My name is Karis, and I have gone by Karis Ziranphel since I was young. Most in the army and the Rangers know me as both, enough that I frequently go by Ziranphel among my acquaintances. You are welcome to use either….the same goes for you.” She added the last to Aderic with a nod. “In turn I will return the question before I take my leave for the night. What would each of you prefer to be called?” Tilting her glass of wine in salute to the table in general, she quaffed the last swallow and then picked up her bread and cheese. It wouldn’t take her long to finish it, and then she could leave the men to their time of conversation and personal grooming assistance.

@Arnyn @Karis Ziranphel
Hal smiled at the mention that she was still getting used to her new married title. He nodded in understanding, for he remembered that it had taken his own wife a little while to adjust to that. Thinking of it gave him a small ache in his heart, but he kept the little smile on his face despite the sadness associated with the thought. He nodded to show his understanding, and listened while she continued.

"Very well then, Karis, I shall remember that." He said with a little nod. "I thought it best to ask, partly because some people in the noble circles can be very.. particular.. concerning what's considered appropriate and what isn't, when it comes to how a man should address a lady who isn't his wife, and vice versa," He rolled his eyes at that, finding the formalities to be a bit silly. "But also, while I said that I overheard you give your names to the seamstress earlier, I didn't exactly hear what those names were. I was preoccupied at the time, so please forgive me for that." He explained.

When she turned the same question back to him, Hal grinned slightly. "You have called me Halberion a few times so far, which is fine with me." He answered. "However, Macardil is my very best friend, as close as I will ever come to having a brother. And you are his wife, so you are also welcome to call me 'Hal'," He added. Then he turned to look at the young man, and waited for him to answer her question.


Glancing slowly up while Halberion was giving his reply, Ric hesitated. He felt fairly sure that it would be improper for him, a commoner who may or may not even still be a guard, to address the lady by her first name. Even if she was saying that it was alright. He said nothing in response to that, though. Only a small nod, to acknowledge that he had heard.

Then, when it was clear that Hal had finished with his reply, and had turned to give him a chance to answer, he cleared his throat quietly. "Ric, please." He answered, somewhat glad to be asked. "'Aderic' is..." He hesitated. It was probably silly to not like his own name very much, and his reasons were probably even more absurd. So, he decided not to mention that. "Well, Ric is easier." He concluded, instead. "And, I apologize for lying about my name, when I first met you," He added toward both she and her husband, with a downcast gaze. "I felt.. desperate, and afraid, and I didn't really know what to do."

@Karis Ziranphel @Rillewen
While the other conversed, Macardil made quick work of most of his plate. It did not take him much longer to finish. Once he had, he wiped his mouth before addressing Aderic. "Desperate times calls for different measures," he simply agreed. "I do not fault you for it." As an afterthought, he nodded to the young man. "Ric."

The lord thought to rise from his chair, but was then stalled by a dilemma. For, on the one hand, Halberion might wish to only rise from his chair, with Macardil's help, once Ziran and Aderic had left. On the other hand, Macardil knew for certain his friend was eager to have his facial hair removed and, likely, speak with him in private. After only a brief moment, Macardil rose regardless of his doubts, then leaned down to press a kiss against Ziran's cheekbone. "Thank you," he whispered near her ear, before straightening and walking around the table to approach Halberion.

"Come then, brother," he said, his tone slightly teasing. "Even if you do not need it, indulge me and let me fuss over you a little," he demanded as he pulled Hal's chair back and put an arm around him to help him up. "You have done it to me in the past," he stated, truly - for Halberion had tried to make a difference after Mellaurel had died. And even though he was jesting with his use of 'to' instead of 'for', Macardil figured it might help protect his friend's pride a little. In case that was necessary. "I believe it is safe to say it is my turn, now."

---

@Rillewen
"Gaeroch is very beautiful," Arnyn agreed. "Most people fall in love with the all black or white horses - but I've always thought horses with Gaeroch's colouring were the loveliest," she spoke honestly. "When Nársulë was younger, his coat was a little lighter. A little more like Gaeroch's - not that it was the same, mind you, but it did darken a little. I've always had a weakness for horses in any and every shade of brown," she admitted, and laughed quietly. "Almost as if I've always felt the need to make up for all those fans of differently coloured mounts."

When Gladhron mentioned Arrow, she looked aside at him and caught his grin. Arnyn let him talk, then flashed a grin of her own before looking back at the road and their surroundings. "I get it. You like fast."

"Good thing I am in the driver's seat, then," she added after a few heartbeats, her face unreadable. "Fast would likely get you in trouble."

After another moment, her eyebrows lifted slightly, even though her eyes stayed fixed ahead of them. "Since we're travelling with a lot of baggage." She gave a tilt of her head in the direction of the carriage behind her, and the people inside it.

*

Tercen glanced at Gwestion, making himself remember it was not simply the two of them in here. "Yes," he therefore said, his tone light. "That answers my question." And quite to his satisfaction. He was further interested to hear Ava explaining to Gwestion why she was sure of the ship captain's loyalty, and Tercen filed that information away. Captain Daamri.

He was surprised to hear horse riding wasn't very common. "Camels," he repeated, a little incredulous. He wasn't even entirely sure if he had the right animal in mind - he always kept mixing up camels with... the other one - let alone that he could imagine how someone might ride them. On the hump? Or in between the two? Depending on which one a camel was again? But Ava knew how. Incredible.
He didn't comment, however, since Ava and Gwestion had moved on to talking about a palanquin. He had actually heard of those before. It had been described in a fictional duology he'd read, years ago.

"Funny, how people think having others carry you around makes you look more powerful," he mused aloud. "Seems to me that it makes you seem weaker." He was sure he had a different point of view than rich Umbarians, though, so he shrugged. "Power is in the eye of the beholder, I guess," he mumbled. "But to me it sounds ridiculous. Someone who cannot or will not move themselves from point A to point B on their own... Someone who has to force others to help them..." Tercen shrugged again.

Ava surprised him yet again when she revealed she'd only sailed once. On the way to Gondor. "Really?" he couldn't help but ask. She just seemed so... worldly. Then Tercen smiled. "Well, you've still sailed more than I have," is what he took away from that.

@Arnyn @Rillewen
Tilting her head to listen to Halberion’s explanation as she savored the sharpness of the cheese, Ziran smiled slightly in understanding and gave a motion of her head to indicate she would do as he asked. Finishing her small portion while the fourth in their party added his answer to her question, she nodded in affirmation to his request before drinking her remaining water as Macardil replied. “Ric it will be then.” She followed his statement with a tone of acceptance.

When Macardil rose and kissed her cheek with a whisper of thanks, Ziran looked up at him with a smile in her eyes and watched as he moved around the table to help his friend. She didn’t feel the need to give him any admonition. It would be a good opportunity for the men to properly catch up without outsiders present. It was also heartwarming to see the care her beloved extended to guard his friend’s dignity and give him support.

She rose smoothly after pushing back her chair, and turned to nod briefly in the direction of each of the men, intending to precede them out of the room so as to prevent further perceived embarrassment for a slow stride. It was time to return to her room. “Well, gentlemen, that is my cue. Sleep is calling. Rest well, and I will see you in the morning. Hal. Ric.”

With a twitch of her skirts to straighten them, she pulled the shawl around her shoulders to brace against the cooler temperature of the hallway, and moved to swing the door open. She would put her own notes down in brief form once she got to the room, and then prepare for much anticipated sleep to combat the physical and emotional exhaustion of the day.