Standing upon the beach upright in the moonlight with the pale light casting his ghostly shadow against the gritty sand behind him is a figure stooping to hide his full height. His sword, almost as tall as he now that age has bent his crooked back, is thrust into the soft ground perhaps a foot, and the large crossbars support his arms as he leans down against it, resting his head on the worn pommel as his glassy eyes wallow among the sea-foam and distant breakers.

Charystra comes skittering down the path. Her courtly dresses are absent, a simple floating gown of silk twisting about her slender body. Her passage is far from silent, the occasional gasp as her bare feet strike sharp stone, audible in the night air. She pauses at the sight of someone else on the beach this late at night, and claps a hand over her mouth

The longest tendrils of salty water slither up the shore, splashing and frothing as they slowly lose strength and then die, swept back away with the rumble of sand on  their backs. The lone sea-gazer twists his head towards the interloper, swiveling it slowly still atop the cross formed by his bare blade, pressing it further into the soft mush by an inch. He seems relunctant to shift his body, but seeing that the figure is a lady, and not some wayward fisherman, he straightens his back and throws on a cloak of dignity. By the popping sounds rising up along his back, he must have been sitting like that for hours. "Good evening, dear lady," he says softly, barely above the steady roar of the sea.

Charystra's voice is soft, "Sir Mindell..I appologise for my instrusion. i did not know anyelse would be on the beach at this late hour.." her voice is rough as if from crying, and she wraps her arms about herself, as the wind tugs at her flowing gown

"Thy apology is not needed for treading openly these paths that have been forbidden to no one," Mindell responds. The wind catches his hair and flings it seaward with an audible flapping, like many black pinions; cut through with grey that is almost invisible in the pale moonlight his hair shimmers with moisture and his face shimmers with either perspiration, or mist blown in from the curdling water. "It is I who should beg pardon, for interrupting thy walk with my less than adequate company. Shouldst thou require the solace of these shores for thy own alone, merely speak and I shall depart. My somber moods are as well assuaged by the high towers as
they are the sea."

Charystra shakes her head, "No Sir Mindell, remain and contemplate the sea as you will. I sought simple respite from dreams and sadness, and often find it here by the sea. Thy company is welcome enough, as it is always." She manages a smile, her pale gold  hair shimmering like a halo around her face and slender body down to her
hips

Only the barest of nods the old man turns his eyes back out to the ocean, seeking to droead and casting his eyes further away, out to the horizon, far from this little strand of beach, "that each life is precious and each death painful. As it should be. Yet as I have aged I find that though each life is no less beautiful, the acceptance of each death comes more easily. Lovers, poets, and the youthful rage and weep and wail over spent life, severed love, star-crossed destinies. But old men seldom weep, and old warriors are deserts where rain seldom comes."

A tall dark figure comes down the path towards the beach, moving quietly, yet not stealthily.

Charystra chuckles wryly, "Sir Mindell, I have lost a husband, a love, and now my best friend, as well as all my family but for my sons. I am 25, and I know the pain of loss but I do not let it kill me." she manages a faint smile, drawing her arms more closely about her knees, and the light sleeping gown she wears. The wind tugs at her golden locks, the moonlight playing on her glistening cheeks, still wet from tears

The dark figure pauses at the edge of the beach, and then purposefully steps on a large branch, before stepping forward into the moonlight. He pulls back his grey cloak, and seems to look at the assemblage with a quizzical expression, but says nothing.

Another figure walks into view, having followed the sweep of the coast in from the north. He espies the two figures standing nearby each other in the moonlight and the third figure approaching down the steep path. He nears the group, recognising them all as he closes the distance.

Charystra starts visibly, then calls out, "Lord Ithilir...what has draw thee from the warmth of thy bed so late at night." her voice is rough from crying but clearly ringing all the same

Ithilir moves forward, and bows first to Charystra, and then to Mindell. Rising, he says, I am but late returned from Linhir, My Lady, and had need
of some night air, after being in a closed coach for so long a time." He notes her ravaged visage, and with  a look of compassion, but not of pity, says, "But if I am intruding, I will withdraw?"

Mindell smiles and is about to comment further, when suddenly their quiet conversation is beset by not one, but two other people. He closes off his rising words, and grows silent, settling back into more passive vigilance, lettings others speak for and around him.

Charystra shakes her head, "Nay Lord Ithilir, stay if you will. You do not intrude." She manages a smile and a shrug. She looks at Mindell, then back at Ithilir and Beladan in growing surprise. She speaks again, 'I aught to leave..i did not mean to be seen looking as I do....I beg thy forgiveness, for letting my sorrow intrude into thy lives.." she moves to stand, but thinks better of it, hiding her face against her knees for a long moment

Ithilir reaches a hand towards her shoulder, and squeezes it gently, saying, "Nay my Lady, grief is naught to shame such a one." He releases it, and then says, "Stay if you will, for the night air may offer some balm for the pain you bear."

Beladan nods warmly as he nears the group, his gaze shifting between concern for the Lady Charystra and warm affection for the Knight-Captain. "My Lady, I did'st promise thee an ear should'st thou but need it and gentle silence if that be thine desire. I  am sure my Lord Ithilir is as much moved by compassion and as little by thine appearnace as I am."

Charystra swallows audibly, and manages a shaky smile, "Good Beladan...i did not come to thee for I would not disturb thy rest." she looks at Ithilir and murmurs softly, "I thank thee Lord. I came to seek solace in the steady sound of the sea and in its power and beauty. There is peace held there...." she looks at Mindell then adding softly, "And thak ye for thy words....they did sooth the pain better than though knowst..."

Ithilir walks then a short way down the beach, and sits on a log of driftwood, and looks off over the Sea, his chiseled features, and windswept hair seeming to add to the illusion of some ancient monolith. His cloak has pulled itself back, and his travels tained tabard, and battleworn chainmail seem out of place in this place of gentle peace.

Reluctant to speak now with so many others around Mindell only nods to Charystra with a slight smile. His attention then drifts, as it always seems to after only a few moments, back out to sea. His tall sword, sticking up from the sand at his back like a  stubby metal tongue, breaks the rhythm of the peaceful strand, shattering the subtle lure of so many idyllic waves with its chipped blade all aglitter. A stolid symbol of brutality, it serves to remind what the harbour, hidden behind a bend in the beach and many rocks, cannot. These sands are at the feet of a promitory of war.

Beladan moves to Charystra and squeezes her shoulder gently as she sits. He looks to Lord Ithilir, impassive and regal in his cast. He nods also to Lord Mindell and for once, seems lost for words.

Charystra rises slowly to her feet, letting the wind tug at her light gown. She walks to the edge of the sea, up to her ankles in the water, as it laps at the hem of her gown and at her skin. Silently she stands there, pale gold hair streaming in the wind  about her shoulders and face like a halo of sorts.

Beladan struggles to control his emotions, and turns gently towards the north, walking slowly off towards the city.