Situated in the wholesome bosum of the citadel, this Atrium is a respite from the long inner corridors of Ost-in-Ernil. Surrounded by high wells and tall towers, the Atrium is lined with gentle gardens and at their center: a twinkling fountain. Along the paths here that cut their way through the gardens there are white benches to sit at, usually near basin's of water for birds to bathe themselves in. There are only two ways to access this Atrium. To the north, beyond a small porch you see a pair of double fluted doors, and to the south, a small veranda with doors beyond.

 The light of day flows over the gardens of the atrium allowing a pleasant aroma to waft through the currents of the air.

Type <+inspect/list> for a list of obvious inspectables.
Obvious exits:
Veranda Doors and Double Fluted Doors

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Weather:            Rainy
Time:                Early Afternoon <about 1 PM (after lunch) >
Season:              Summer
Date:               Sterday - June 23, 3015

Real Time:          Mon Sep 21 21:36:50 1998
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Amid the rain soaked statues present within the atruim of the Prince's castle, stands a lone figure. His cloak is already darkening with the moisture from the rain, but he seems not to care. His eyes watch a fountain, gazing deep into the ripples of the water caused by the gentle falling of the rain. The slowly darkening misty cloak hangs over his arms which hang limply at his sides while his shoulders slump, they slump as if in defeat. He turns not at the opening of the door, only he continues to watch the patterns created by the falling rain upon the water within the foutain.

Torelin leads his wife out into the Atrium to find Nials alone and not at all well it seems. He quietly motions to his bride and whispers in her ear, "Perhaps you should ask him what is wrong. We have not always seen eye to eye." He steps forward, awaiting the lovely lady to speak.

Aiesha lifts an eyebrow at her husband's remark. "Surely you two have gotten over that by now?" she returns, teasingly, before moving towards the single figure standing in the rain. She halts, behind him, and taps him on the shoulder. "You'll catch yourself a nasty cold if you stay out here too long," she chides gently. "Then what will Illiana say?"

His eyes do not turn to the voice which is in an instant familiar to him, yet this time he does speak, "Hail to thee Lady of Linhir," Nials greets her softly, his voice just loud enought to be heard over the piter-pater of the rain, "My lady is well, though she is tired." Though he turns not to her, his head does lift to look at the wall before him, "It seems that our child, which doth grow within her belly tires her more and more each day." Then sighing his head falls again, eyes closing to block out the world before him, "A cold I can live with Lady Aiesha," then finally he turns to face her, raising his troubled eyes to meet hers. Within his eyes are a whirlwind of doubt, fear, self-pity, "My mind on the other hand I cannot."

Torelin takes another step forward about to give him a big congratulations, however, he thinks better of it as Nials continues to seem quite upset. Deferring to the much more abler person at making people cheerful, he lets Aiesha continue to speak with his brother knight.

Aiesha frowns at the use of 'Lady' before her name, and places her hands on her hips. "You know I don't like being referred to as Lady," she chides, then smiles brilliantly at the mention of children. "Congratulations!" she chirps, seeming to ignore Nials' mood. "When's the babe due?" she asks, her eyes sparkling despite the rain. "Does she know when?" A large drop of rain drops onto her nose, causing her to blink in surprise, and pause in her onrush of congratulations. She suddenly notices that she didn't bring her cloak with her, and that she, too, was beginning to get soaked. "Why don't I start practicing what I preach?" she half mutters to herself, grabbing a hold of Nials' sleeve. "Get out of the rain!" she orders, tugging. "You're beginning to get me down too!"

"Aiesha please," he says looking at her, his eyes pleading with her to be serious, "I know you like to cheer those around you, but I am not in the mood for it." The soft tone of his voice rises at these last words, but then falls again so as not to arouse the anger of her Lord husband. The blue of his eye seems to darken and the grim seriousness upon his face seems to deepen. "My thoughts trouble me ... haunt me I should say ... " then those orbs of deep sapphire blue turn to the Lord of Linhir, "Gaurd well you wife Lord Torelin, my brother in arms, for the city of Dol Amroth is not safe as I once thought it to be .. no the servants of the shadow, willing or not, have come into my world ... nay into this very city and have taken from me that which I hold more dear than my life itself." Shaking her hand loose, Nials turns back to the fountain, but speaks loud enough so that his words can be heard by all. "I fought within the tournament the day before last and I lost, yea though I lost with honor to a noble warior from the plains of Rohan, a lord of the Horses by the name of Rananar. During the duel I was robbed of my senses as I fell to the ground defeated, but as I lay there upon the strecher a man, a Knight dressed in all Black stole my Lady from the field of the Prince's festival ... he stole her right out from under the watchful eye of those men guarding us ... he stole her within inches from me." His voice falls lower at these last words, but violently he spins and yells, "And I could not do a thing about it ... She was taken from me and I could not save her .. I could not protect her ... Even here, even in this city."

Torelin watches; he watches the rain continue to pour down into the otherwise silent Atrium, the little conversation between Aiesha and Nials in which his affection for the former never ceases, but only grows more as every minute passes--her smile, her way out her, the tiny movements that express so much--he also watches Nials in some inner torment, seeing himself in the other knights obvious dismay, remembering all the frustration and utter futility he felt inside after his rage took him to attack the friend before him now; and as he watches he can not help but recall how he once was, before all the triumphs, before finding himself through hope and love, and all these things Nials brings forth. Now his eyes reflect a fear he hadn't felt before--before he met the one who he could not be without. His own deaths flash before his eyes and he imagines not scraping through the next battle, not being able to parry a deadly blow. All these things he follows through in his mind, but to no one at all does he speak of them.

Aiesha stops her insistant tugging, for the barest of moments. She frowns, then tugs again. "Well, come brood out of the rain.....I won't have you getting sick, and unable to do anything but feel bad and full of torment from a sickbed!" She chuckles briefly. "Illiana would have my neck if I didn't at least try!" She pauses in her pointless tugging to wring water from her hair. She peers at her brooding friend, concerned. "How much help are you going to be to your wife if you're stuck in bed?" she points out gently, tugging once more. Her eyes pleading, she speaks up once more. "All I ask is that you move out of the wet."

Turning and looking about, as if to notice that it is infact raining, Nials nods slowly, "You have a point," he answers her, "A vague point but still a point." Then with a slow motion, he moves to the pathway, raising his hand to pointout the doors to the veranda on the opposite side the atrium. "There is where I head," he says to them both, "For I have no wish to return to the conversation of the Prince and his heir. If memory serves there in those doors we shall find the Grand Ballroom, hollow and empty as am I."

Nials climbs up the veranda and pushes through the doors.

Dol Amroth: Ost-in-Ernil - Grand Ballroom

Bare, echoing marble. The floor stretches in seeming miles in every direction, crossed and re-crossed with the natural veins of the stone that glow a faint blue in the shimmering white marble. Imagination suggests the heels of many boots and dancing slippers clicking and thumping in a perfect rhythm across the room, and skirts of silk, satin, brocade, chiffon, swirling, separating and swishing back and forth.

No tapestries adorn these walls, lest they muffle the beautiful reverberation of the musicians' efforts here on festival days and endless wondrous nights. Instead, the space itself is immense, the echoes chasing themselves to the vaulted ceiling, so high that it almost cannot be seen... yet at the uttermost peak of the roof, a huge, perfectly round pane of crystal allows the lights of sun, moon and stars to pour in upon the room. No torches here; instead, branched chandeliers holding many white candles hang at intervals from the ceiling.
 
Obvious exits:
 Veranda Doors leads to The Atrium.
 West leads to Dol Amroth: Ost-in-Ernil - Hall of the Faithful.

Torelin arrives through the veranda doors.

Aiesha arrives through the veranda doors.

The echoing sound of booted feet resound through out the room as Nials paces. His head is still hung low, with his body covered with in the dripping cloak of grey mist. He mumbles to himself, ocassionally stopping to look up at the ceiling. But speak aloud he does not, only the sound of his steps echoing and the soft mumble of his voice can be heard.

Torelin emerges not far from Nials and seems to be surprised at the man's behaviour. "Nials, you can not protect us all, all the time. Nor can you keep predict what is to come. You tried your best...what else can anyone ask for. Surely Illiana does not think you weak or defenseless?"

Aiesha follows Nials in, though she is a little hesitant, at first. She pauses in the doorway, and shakes her head when she sees him pacing the floor, causing little droplets of water to fly this way and that. She stands beside her husband, dripping water everywhere. She murmurs her agreement at his words.

"It matters not what she thinks," Nials replies his voice low, yet still it echoes throughout the hall, "I know she loves me, and I know I cannot protect all ... that is not what troubles me." Then the pacing stops, silences fills the hall .. a dreadfully heavy silence, "I cannot even protect her .. her, my wife ... I cannot protect Illiana." come his words low in tone but rising in volume at each passing phrase, "And what makes things even worse is that now she is with child, If I cannot protect her how am I to defend the child?" Lower his head, Nials closes his eyes again and breathes deeply for a moment. After a long span of time his eyes open and look once again at Torelin, "How am I, a Knight of the Swan, one who has already had his beloved taken from him within the very city they call home .. within striking distance .. how am I to defend a helpless child?"

Aiesha grins to herself, a knowing sort of smile. "Get Coren to look after the babe," she murmurs to herself, though loud enough for it to be heard. She suddenly blushes, shaking her head. "Now there's a silly idea, if ever I heard one.....you can hardly recognize him now...." Realising she was talking to herself, she abruptly shuts up, glancing around to see if anyone had heard her.

Torelin shakes his head, turns to gaze upon Aiesha with a look of, "I am no councellor" and then thinks about Nials' comments. When he speaks his words are slow and thought out, "Nials, the Valar protect us as well as they can and when they can not we must have hope. Hope in our future and hope that all will be fine. You and I have seen trolls the size of mountains throw rocks upon us and been surrounded by a hundred haradrim with only our wits to get us by. We have travelled upon the shores of Tor Morwen! and spoken to the Eldar. You were unlucky that day when Illiana was taken and that can make one lose sleep. But you are as brave as any man that has stood in this very hall."

The words of Torelin, Lord of Linhir weigh heavily upon the mind of Nials for a long while, and during this time he is silent. And it is with a slow smile that he speaks again, "Your words do strike to the heart of the matter my friend .. no my brother. Though long ago I though you a rash and arrogant young man, your words no prove your worth as he that was chosen to reveal the Dragon Helm of Dor-Lomin." Smiling to them both, "You have given me a new light to think upon and now I must take my leave of you for even though I am not the lord of my House I must conduct the affairs of that house lest we lose our rights to all trade within Dol Amroth." Turning from them, the now-less-troubled Knight walks across the hall, his steps echoing within the room. But before the door he stops and turns, "I thank thee Torelin, for both thy friendship and understanding, and know again that my promise is still this: should you need support only ask and Calanros shall aid thee in anything. And to thee Lady Aie...Aiesha, Thou and thy husband do make a solid match, treat him well and love him with all thine heart for that is the strength upon which hie shall depend .. more of that strenght that the power of his muscles or the quickness of his mind." His words carry across the room, but he has already left.