This log recorded on August 26th, 1997 by Ravenwyr who is reluctantly brought, by his returned friend Elbarad, before his Steward. There reparations are offered with appoligies for the horrible misdeeds done onto the ex-Officer who went to trial and into exile wrongly. But before this meeting can be completed.... before Wyr's belief's in his Lords can be refound, terrible news comes of his wife's abduction to Osgiliath by Landromir who has all alone set him up and framed Ravenwyr. Here is part one of the end of our story...
The taproom of the White Tree Inn is a large, airy room with exposed wooden beams in the ceiling. The atmosphere is crowded, noisy, and at times, raucous. A wooden bar runs the length of one wall and tables are placed about the main floor. A fire burns continuously in the large stone fireplace during the winter months. Behind the bar is a large exquisite tapestry and candle sconces are mounted along the walls.
Table codes are in effect, type 'thelp' for information.
Contents:
Ithilir
Japhin
Dalamar
Goresgal
Elbarad
Madeleine
Obvious exits:
Inn
Dalamar Finishes his juice and nods to Ithilir, "Well it seems it is time for me to leave, good talking to you." with that he stands and heads out the door almost bumping into Ravenwyr.
Dalamar heads for the Inn, leaving the Tavern.
Dalamar has left.
Ravenwyr steps in the door to pause and hang his light cloak, momentarily turning his slim back on the taven's occupants while he tends to this task before facing back around and setting his cane tip to the floor. The older man takes a moment to survay the busy tavern, looking for someone.
Japhin nods to Goresgal in a bowish sort of fashion, "So shall we leave it." Turning to Elbarad his face brightens a little, "I'm sorry. Did you say an elvish vintage? I have several old ones in my private store. You shall have to come test with me to see if I have it. If not, I must know whom you received it from. they are very hard to come by without long, dangerous journey's." His eyes twinkle and he seems to be accidentally recalling some of the joys of merchant life and his first love, wines.
Ithilir sees Ravenwyr enter the Inn, and catching his eye, nods briefly. He then continues to drink his water.
Goresgal allows himself a smile at Japhin then rets back in his seat, while Japhin and Elbarad speak of wines he uses the opportunity to guage the room occupants a little further, with his back to a wall he is able to look over the crowd without attracting too much to himself and spies Ravenwyr entering the tavern.
The older man shares a brief glance at Ithilir but no more... not seeming to reccognise the other or not interested in speaking to the Dol Amrothian. Instead Ravenwyr turns purposefully towards the bar to seek a cup and quench his thirst. He sits down and sets his cane beside him as he waits for the brandy. After a few moments he again turns to skim the room, searching the faces. When he sees Elbarad sitting with Goresgal and Japhin, he pauses to watch them.
Elbarad is sitting across from Goresgal his back to the doorway, he says, "Well Japhin, the journey would be long indeed to find the owner of the wine we had. The lord of Orthanc served us. And fine it was although very potent." Smileng anew at the memory of the wine's potency he says to both men, "And the most wonderoue thing about the trip was not the wine of course but the tower itself and meeting there with Cuninar."
Japhin nods and such. As the door opens to reveal Ravenwyr, he glances in its direction. something he sees seems to remind him of something. "Drat!" turning back to the others he says, "I thank you for your company, m'lords and hope you will permit me the pleasure of your presence again. " He grimaces, "Unfortunately, at this moment I have only half a bell until I must attend to the steward's wishes in the citadel. Time has truly flown." Standing he heads out.
Goresgal's attention returns to Elbarad as he mentions 'the tower' but not without giving him a nugde under the table and his eyes directing him over toward the bar..
Perhaps it is enough for Raven to just sit and look at his friend's back and hear that other man's voice faintly entangled with the speach of the others here, but Wyr does not stand to join them. Instead he nods and mumbles his thanks for his drink and turns his attention to the bar and his brandy, his back to the room.
Goresgal frowns and watches Japhin's hurried exit and as well Ravenwyr sitting at the bar, he leans toward Elbarad, "There quick friend.." he points openly at Ravenwyr's back...
Elbarad chuckles as Japhin rushes out the door. As his gaze follows the man's fleeing back he looks to see where Goresgal has indicated. He sees a glimpse of Raven's face just as he turns around. Nodding his thanks he rises to his feet and says to Goresgal, "You'll forgive me if I go to bring him to our table?"
Goresgal waves off Elbarad casaully, "Of course... go ahead " he smiles warmly.
Ravenwyr sips his drink, looking at it with thoughts long down a road not here. He seems to ignore the others and doesn't speak with anyone, sitting alone.
l elbarad
A darkly tanned man with dark hair and deep blue eyes, Elbarad proudly wears a surcoat of black, emblazoned with the image of the White Tree in silver across his broad chest signifying his enrollment in the Citadel Guard. Upon the left shoulder of his surcoat is a silver insignia that indicates his rank of Commander of a Division, and on his right is sewn a Silver Shield with a White Tower outlined in Black indicating that it is the Third Division. His high winged helm is made of Mithril and makes him appear even taller then his normal six and a half feet tall. Under the surcoat is the bulk and glint of his steel chain mail and on his hip is the scabbarded greatsword, Angring. He rests his arm on the sword's two foot long hilt that rises high above his hip. When he walks his black riding boots make the paving stones ring with each step. He appears to be a man both proud and concious of his duty.
Elbarad gets to his feet and approches Ravenwyr from behind. Remembering how his friend does not like to be surprised he restrains himself. He says softly, but loud enough to be heard over the noise of the tavern, "Ravenwyr, would you like to join us?"
Thalid enters the Tavern from the Entryway.
Thalid has arrived.
Thalid is an IC Male Human Gondorian
Thalid looks around the tavern at the new faces.
The man turns where he sits and looks at Elbarad... looks him up and down carefully as if to make certain the man is real and not someone pretending to be his friend to fool him. For a long moment Wyr's greyish eyes settle on Elbarad's tabbard device of the White Tree, then are finally pulled from those threads to El's once familar face. Raven's voice is low and alittle rough, "You came back." Ravenwyr's gaze flickers to Goresgal, then back to Elbarad. He doesn't stand just yet.
[Tavern(#18046)] Thalid sits at the Oak table.
Jorus has connected.
Thalid just looked at you.
Thalid says "Hello Jorus, Goresgal." Thalid says "Hello to all."
Ravenwyr slowly reaches his right hand to take up his cane, his brandy forgotten as he looks over Elbarad, searching for changes... new lines in that man's face, any sign of wounds.
Elbarad's face sets into his familier easy smile, "Of course I came back my friend. You don't think I'd stay away any longer then the I had to did you? Please, come join Goresgal and me."
Goresgal meets Ravenwyr's gaze with his own keen eyes, then looks about hearing his name spoke elsewhere in the room... he shrugs and sits back into the chair, lifting his mug for a small draught..
Ravenwyr stands up, leaving his drink forgotten for certain, and glances again at the table offered, then to Elbarad. He hesitates a fraction, almost as if he were about to do something embarassing and decides not to. Whatever it was, he lowers his hands and nods, a hand absently tugging at his civilian clothes self consciencely to straighten them, "Alright. Awhile perhaps." He looks away from Elbarad and follows the Commander over to their table, "Evening, Goresgal."
Jorus looks at Ravenwyr. "Hello, who might you be?"
Goresgal lifts his gaze to once again meet that of Ravenwyr's.."Good evening.." he pauses wondering how to address the former guardsmen then leaves it at that.
Thalid looks around and says "Hello Jorus."
The older man glances at Jorus and casts him a hint of a frown, "Nobody. Don't worry yourself." Ravenwyr then otherwise ignores the young man and sits down, looking to Elbarad instead.
Jorus looks around for the voice who spoke to him and sees Thalid. "Greetings there"
[Tavern(#18046)] Ravenwyr sits at the Oak table.
Thalid turns to Goresgal and says "Good evening Goresgal."
Elbarad goes back to his seat sliding up next to the wall to allow Ravenwyr to sit with more room for his legs.
Ravenwyr sighs, skimming a hand through his silvered hair and seems tired. He looks to Elbarad, "I had heard you were back... I didn't dare get any hope up."
Thalid continues to eat his stew.
Goresgal inclines his head and looks off to his right, finally finding the voice, he looks at Thalid and nods his head "Evening sir.." then looks back to Ravenwyr and Elbarad.."Well tis good to see you both again."
Jorus grins as he notices that Goresgal and him are wearing the same clothes, but Jorus is puzzled.
Elbarad looks around at those at his table, unsure how much he can be free to speak of. He nods to Ravenwyr's statement, "I just got back last night. I met with the Steward and gave him my report. Then slept for most of the day. I should be back, ready for duty in another day or so."
Ravenwyr glances back to the bar, just now realizing that he'd left his brandy there and has nothing to drink. He sets his cane to lean against the table's edge and listens to El, "Of course I'd like to hear the details that I may, when you feel up to it. We have alot of catching up... " The man hesitates, sharing a brief look with the Woodsman before continuing, "I eh... don't know what you've been told. Doesn't really matter. I am immeansely relieved to see you home safe and whole."
Thalid finishes his food and drink.
Jorus looks at Ravenwyr, annoyed at his answer.
Elbarad says to Ravenwyr, "I've not been told nearly as much about what's gone on since I was gone. But perhaps this is not the place for it. How about instead I tell you some of what I saw on my trip?"
[Jorus(#27319)] "THAT WOULD BE GREAT!" Jorus outbursts, rudely.
Ravenwyr nods, sharing a glance at the faces near at hand he does not know and agrees with Elbarad, "Please do. I am anixious to hear anything you can tell me."
Jorus just sits at the oak table, listening while being ignored.
The older, heavily scarred man glares at Jorus who spoke loudly at overhearing Elbarad explain a desire to tell of his journy. Raven eyes the younger man, dressed akin to a woodsman but possibly not. Wyr looks to Goresgal for a hint here and raises a brow in question... one of his?
Elbarad turns to Jorus, "Sir... we don't mean to be insulting to you but certainly you can understand how some friends who have met again after a long journey might be interested in hearing each others tales."
Goresgal notices Ravenwyr's look and turns to study Jorus somewhat closer, he looks back to Ravenwyr and barely shakes his head, enough to let the man figure a negative response and looks back to Elbarad once again, "Please... tell us what you care too... I understand this is not the place indeed for... certain information.." he looks over the patrons briefly, he himself rarely coaxed for information here.
Elbarad then glances over at Thalid, "And who might you be sir? I don't recall having met you before." He turns to the others at his table, "Do any of you know this man?"
Thalid grumbles and says, "I am Thalid, the merchant Yeoman of the Alcaronda."
Goresgal raises an eyebrow and turns to look on Thalid, "I believe I met him and a fellow sailor just a few days back... I think? ..is that so, good sir?" he says to Thalid.
Ravenwyr nods subtly at Goresgal's silent reply then leans back in his chair to look for Maddy, waving a stub fingered hand missing some fingers for her attention, "Mad, when you can... and no hurry, another brandy please."
The woman smiles warmly, "Sure, Raven... be just a few." before disappearing to find a cup and the bottle.
Thalid says to Goresgal, "Yes I do think I remember you." Thalid slouches in his chair.
Wyr looks to the two strangers, then back to Elbarad with a shrug, "New faces to me. Many new faces in the past ... months. I don't even think I know half the guard these days." The older man drops his voice, "Not my problem anymore."
Goresgal smiles, "Ahh well then" he turns to Elbarad, "This man is one of Rinkair's.. and such a fine fellow I should think" he gestures to the sailor, but as he hears Ravenwyr and notices the mans obvious pained expression over the guards, he stops.
Elbarad clears his throat, and smiles halfheartedly at the others around the table, "Very well then now that we've all been introduced I guess I can start telling a bit of my tale. As it appears rumor has it through out the city it is true that I went as far north as the Tower Orthanc. Just the sight of it is enough to stir the blood of the West that runs though my veins. A more wondrous work I have not seen the like of before."
Ravenwyr glances again at Thalid, hearing of the Alcaronda, "Rinkair? Didn't I just see that man Captained up at the Fountain?"
Hushing up as Elbarad begins, Wyr turns his head to nods his thanks to Maddy as his fresh brandy is set on the table. He slips her a few silvers and a thin smile before settling in to sip his drink and listen.
Thalid says back to Ravenwyr "Yes, you might have." Thalid silences himself.
Ravenwyr nods faintly to Thal, then looks back to El.
Elbarad says, "I'd heard tell that the Tower was the work of Numenor when she was strong and truely now I believe it."
Ravenwyr sips his brandy again then pauses, "How so? What is this Tower like... and where again?"
Elbarad says, "It is a tower of purest black. The stones are polished so smoothly and fitted so well you couldn't get a knife between the joints. And all around it is a might walled city. Now...to describe where it is...Do either of you know where the Gap of Rohan is?"
Goresgal nods he watches and listens closely to Elbarad, "Aye.. I have been through there, but not of late."
Ravenwyr leans forward on his elbows, sleaves of his off white shirt pushed up to bare his dark arms, "What were the people of the Tower like?" He frowns, "Gap of Rohan... I would have sought it had I not come back by sea." The man pauses to think and sip his drink, "I thought such things were only ruins now."
The older man barely offers a glance as both of the unknown younger men amble off to seek other entertainment from less bitter guests. He sips a goodly portion of his brandy, the glass nearly gone as he looks back to Elbarad and Goresgal for the tale.
Elbarad nods at Goresgal, "Well... it's a ways north of there. Very close to the tail end of the Misty Mountains. In fact you could see them from the city. And as for the folk who live there Wyr, they seemed to mostly be from a folk called Dunlanders, although I deem they've interbred some with those of Rohan. But this might be of interst to you both, I met a woman from Bree while I was there. That's the town my father visited in his youth. In fact I bought some of that herb I keep for my pipe. I never thought I'd find more once I ran out."
Ravenwyr stops in mid sip, "A woman from Bree? Tethka?" He blinks, "Well, of course not... not likely. And Dunners... I know about them alittle -vaguely- from rumors. Go on."
[Goresgal(#13677)] The woodsmen too takes careful notice of the others as they leave and looking over too the nearest table is satisfied for the moment of their words not easyily overheard. He frowns at the mention of a town called Bree, "Bree?..I have never heard of such a place..where in the lands is it?"
Ravenwyr leans back, eyeing for Maddy to refill his brandy and fills Goresgal in while El takes a drink of his cup, "Bree... is some town or another way to the north and west of Rohan... someplace. Prolly on some Valar forsaken map in the guts of the Steward's Tower, winds only know where. Unimaginably far away."
Elbarad says, "The woman's name was Aelswn or something like that. I only spoke to her twice. She told me she'd traveled more then two weeks from the north to make it to Isengard. Visiting her husband's father I believe."
Goresgal hmms as he sits back comforatably, he mutters to himself.."The Steward's map.." then suddenly blinks and glances about, slightly flushed and cranky at himself for thinking aloud...
Madeleine finally makes her way over to refill Raven's cup but he kindly and firmly pries the whole bottle from her, "Don't you worry, Maddy... I'll take care of this, thank you." he refills his own snifter, then flickers a glance at Goresgal for his mumlbling. To Elbarad Raven speaks, "Isengard?"
Elbarad overhear's Goresgal mutter about maps, his face beeming excitedly he says, "Oh and the maps Goresgal....the maps in Cuninar's chambers. He has many old maps hung on the walls. We spent a long time looking at them while we were there. In fact the Knight-Herald Amarthion had a copy of one of them made." He turns to Wyr as he asks again the name, "Aye, Isengard. That's what they call the land about the Tower. What of it?"
Goresgal notices Madeliene and gives her a slight nod, hoping anything he spoke would make little meaning for most, he looks once again to Elbarad, "Aye ..Isengard..come Elbarad speak more of this wonderous place."
Ravenwyr shrugs, sipping his brandy again, "I don't know... never heard of it and was asking. You hadn't clairified what that was... the land around that Tower." Maps don't seem to impress Raven overly much at this time.
The ex-Commander stretches, rubbing his right knee to ease a cramp. Ravenwyr looks to the door, wondering at the hour.
Real time is: Tue Aug 26 17:49:50 1997
Elendor time is: Late Night (about 3 AM > on Sterday of Spring - May 7, 3012
Ravenwyr mumbles, "Lynn is going to be upset."
Elbarad looks almost as if he is enjoying having an audience, something that would have bothered him before the journey, he gladly continues, "To be honest we didn't see much of the people. For the most part we were kept to ourselves. But the fortress that makes up the city is mighty indeed. It is well that we have such a strong ally to the north although few know of it."
Goresgals keen eyes look from both men to the door and back, he allows a slight smile, "The hour does pass on, but for some it carries more so than others... shall we continue this in the new day?" he mainly impresses on Ravenwyr, noticing his reluctance to stay too much longer.
Elbarad coughs into his fist, "Oh damn! Here I've been enjoying talking with my old friends and I've almost forgotten. The Steward has charged me, Ravenwyr, with bringing you to see him the first time I saw you."
Ravenwyr distinctly frowns at Goresgal over his brandy snifter, "Hrmmm... ignore me. Lynn's long past asleep at this hour. Her wrath with me will have to wait until morning." He shrugs, "Besides, we have alot to catch up, El and I... and it's not like I have a job to rush off to in the morning." he continues to frown, then looks to Elbarad, distracted.
The frown upon Wyr's face shifts too... disgust? Or perhaps anger, "What does -he- want now?" he asks of Elbarad.
Goresgal shrugs off Ravenwyr's words, but not without taking a moment to watch the men, always his mind yearns to learn more of the people of note in the land and to learn what he can.. "Pay it no mind then.." he looks to Elbarad, "Oh.. so thee has an audience with the Steward right now?"
Elbarad shrugs, "He said not what he wanted Wyr.... but I think we should go to see him now. The thing is he might not be up at this hour. Why don't the three of us go up there and if he's not awake we can continue at Drover's?"
Ithilir steps forward as Elbarad stands, and says, "Please excuse my presumption, but I had hoped that I might hear more of your trip to Isengard? May I buy you a drink at the Drover's, should the Steward be occupied?"
Ravenwyr releases a sigh like a windfall, leaning back in his chair and turning his amber filled glass round and around slowly in his left hand, "I suppose... I'm long overdue to speak to that man, though I'd as much spit in their eyes, the who lot of the bastards." Wyr's gaze slips to include Ithil too late to censor his bitter words.
Ithilir smiles at Ravenwyr, and says, "You may not remember me Ravenwyr, but we have journeyed together. I had assumed the name of Karl at that time though. I am glad to see that you are beginning to settle in here again."
Elbarad glances at the man who approches him, "Oh...Ithilir right? That Cavalier in service of the Prince? If you'd like to join us I'll take you up on that offer." At Wyr's bitter words El's teeth grate together as his grinds his teeth. He says, "Wyr.... I don't know the full story about what's happened here but soon I'm going to sit you down and have all of it."
Ravenwyr shrugs at Ithil and downs his drink, not meeting Elbarad's eyes.
Ithilir bows to Elbarad and Ravenwyr, and says,"I would be honoured."
Ravenwyr stands abrubtly, setting his glass down on the table and taking up his cane, "We better go then before I loose my nerve or my temper."
[Tavern(#18046)] Ravenwyr stands up from the Oak table.
[Tavern(#18046)] Ithilir stands up from the Bar.
Goresgal looks on at Ravenwyr as he seems to speak harshly of the Steward, at first his eyes seem to alight with fire for surely this man would not speak so of the Steward he thinks, then thinking further on at what has happened to Raven, he settles his thoughts, "Aye.. I will accompany thee three."
Elbarad nods and including all three of the men in his gaze, "OK, let's be on our way then. If we're lucky our lord will be a bed already."
[Tavern(#18046)] Goresgal stands up from the Oak table.
Ravenwyr turns and starts out, knowing he's the slowest with being lame and the others will have no trouble over taking him. He gathers his light cloak against the humid night's chill and goes out into the street.
At this point we jump ahead and skip the traveling up to the Citadel and into the hall outside of the Steward's rooms. Here we resume role play...
Ravenwyr comes in reluctantly, eyeing this place warily, the last time he'd been around here he had been treated very uncouthly... dragged in chains. Absently the man rubs his wrists, frowning.
Elbarad gives the three men a glance before asking, "Ready?" as his knuckles pause in front of the door.
Ithilir grimaces, having had this experience recently, but nods.
Goresgal stands quietly looking around as if he has never been here before. He awaits on Elbarad.
Elbarad was waiting for Raven to say he was ready but with a slight shrug goes ahead and knocks on the door.
[+Commands(#433)] Elbarad knocks on the door.
Ravenwyr shifts uncomfortably, waiting, and says nothing.
[Denethor(#12717)] You hear the door latch unlock and a voice from inside "Come in gentlemen."
Ithilir follows the group.
Ravenwyr glances at Elbarad to proceed them, then follows quietly.
Elbarad opens the door and steps through.
Denethor's Chambers
This room is larger than you would expect. Along two walls are ceiling high bookcases. The other wall is covered in a tapestry depicting a battle in what appears to be Osgiliath. The last wall contains a wide fireplace, where a fire burns, keeping the room warm. Near the bookcases is a small desk, with a large upholstered chair behind it. Two smaller carved wooden chairs are in front of the desk. The desk is covered in orderly piles of parchment, and scroll cases. In the other corner of the room, shielded by semi opaque screens, is a small dining table, where the Steward takes meals privately. Behind the screens is not only the table, but a sideboard, with ornate crystal bottles filled with various liquors. A small door in the far wall opens into the Stewards private chambers.
Contents:
Elbarad
Denethor
Obvious exits:
Small Door leads to Bedroom. Out leads to House of Stewards - Hallway.
Ithilir enters from the hallway.
Ithilir enters the room, and bows deeply to the Steward.
Goresgal enters from the hallway.
l denethor
An old man with silver hair and ivory skin. He looks out at you from dark deep eyes over a long curved nose. His face is carven with a proud Numenorian bone structure. His regal clothing hangs from his shoulders in the form of a well adorned, yet simple robe of state that flows down to his ankles, drawn at the waist by a wide leather belt, studded with silver. The golden buckle of the belt holds firm before the end of the belt loops up and then back down through itself. In either of his hands he is normally found carrying a rod.
Denethor is sitting like a fixture in his chair. He pushes aside some papers on his desk into a neat and perfect pile then looks up to nod at those in the room. "I know why two of you are here. Would you care to explain why there are so many?"
Elbarad steps into the Steward's Chambers, "Good Evening m'lord. I've brought Ravenwyr as you ordered. I beg your pardon for these others but we did not know if you would give us leave to see you tonight on short notice. And as they were with us and trusted men I though it would not hurt to bring them as well. If you wish they and I can wait outside."
Ravenwyr steps in hesitantly a stride or three behind the Commander, eyes seeking Denethor from his down cast dark face... he is dressed in civilian clothes and appears unarmed, of course, carrying no sword within the city's walls. He takes up a postion near the wall, behind El and watches the Steward with a silent glare.
Goresgal slips in through the door behind the group, he stands to the rear and allows a shadow to stay across him, his hood is up and over his head, his blue eyes reflect the lighting within the room, he speaks quietly...
[(#13677>] Goresgal says something unintelligible.
Denethor nods and says, "Elbarad and Ravenwyr may sit. Goresgal and Ithilir may stand, guarding the door if they wish."
The eldest man, aside from the Steward himself, says naught at all but continues to watch the Lord without a bow or motion. Ravenwyr glances at Goresgal's strange words but does not know them.
Elbarad bows his head at the Steward's words and takes a seat as directed.
Denethor looks at Ravenwyr with a stoney gaze that softens after just a moment, "Please, have a seat. There are many things we need to discuss."
Ravenwyr's eyes remain half lidded, "No, I think I shall stand."
Wyr clasps his hands behind his back, knees locked to wait and listen, some tension in his jaw muscles.
Denethor shifts his hands so that they are palm up for a brief moment before resting them again upon the top of his desk, "As you wish." He takes a moment and looks directly into Ravenwyr's eyes, "There is something that must first be done before we go any further. Ravenwyr, loyal man of Gondor, you have been falsly accused and gravely mistreated while I was distracted and unable to protect you as you should have been and as I had promised. For this you have the deepest and formal appology of the land that you call home and my own personal regrets and appologies."
[Elbarad(#17969)] Only Elbarad's eyes reveal his surprise at the Steward's words. They widen appreciably at the tone the proud lord normally takes.
The man seems to hold his breath and grinds his teeth. Still, he says nothing for long moments before easing just enough to find his voice, "Why? Why did you send them to bring me back? What use could you possibly extort from me now?" His eyes glitter with his bitterness, "I've been back for many weeks and still I've had no word, no pardon... I just wait. -Why-?" Ravenwyr twists the words, "And where is Landromir, the liar?"
The sun slowly rises in the sky, spreading its brilliant light upon Gondor.
Denethor reaches into a drawer at his desk, drawing out a rolled piece of parchment with an official seal upon it, laying it upon the desk, "I have ordered that Landromir be brought forth to me for personal judgement when he is found and I believe he shall hang from the gallows for what he has done. As for the delay in bringing you unto me, there are circumstances that you know not of and I am again sorry." He pushes the paper across his desk toward Ravenwyr, "This is yours. It is a full redemption and a grant to lands outside of Minas Tirith, if you wish to claim stewardship of them."
Ravenwyr looks at the rolled parchement but for a breath, then to the older man as he tries not to react, attempting to keep his voice level, "What has been found of Landromir? I .... perceive there is more here than his merely lying in the Court about his whereabouts during the assault on the Lady Selind?" Wyr is careful to not touch the scroll or mention it, not wishing to be distracted from the subject.
[Elbarad(#17969)] Confusion grows in Elbarad's face at every moment. Unasked questions seem to struggle to burst from his lips. But still he says nothing, unwilling to draw the wrath of his lord by speaking out of turn.
Denethor looks at Wyr, holding his angry gaze with ease and not cringing in the least, "As far as further evidence, I have not been granted any. None have been able to find further damnation for the man, even though I wish they had."
[+Commands(#433)] You hear a knock from the direction of Out.
Goresgal moves just slightly to one side, from there he tries to look past the head of Ravenwyr and unto the table, after a short while he frowns unable too... a sudden knocking from behind attracts his attention.
Denethor looks up at Elbarad and motions to the door, "See who would disturb us and what business they bring that is so urgent and report back."
Ravenwyr presses his lips into a thin line... then shifts his weight and glances at his cane and mutters, "Let me speak to him and he'll talk. That I can promise." The knock at the door makes him look up.
Elbarad nods and rises to his feet, he goes to the door and opens it.
Imrahil enters from the hallway.
Ithilir bows deeply to the Prince of Dol Amroth.
Denethor looks up at Imrahil with indignation and irritation, "Why dost thou barge into my private chambers without recieving permission?"
Elbarad inclines his head as he sees it's the Prince. He takes a place next to Goresgal as the only chair available nearby is the one he'd been sitting in.
A faint hiss of breath is intaken between Raven's teeth at the Prince's entrance. The man shifts his stance to better watch and face Imrahil while making room so not to be too close. There is strong anamosity in the air here.
Imrahil enters the chambers his cape sweeping beind him. The Prince pauses at the entrance and looks ahead to where the Steward sits. He bows and says, "May Eru and the Valar, guard your sacred duty, and may you long become it." Imrahil rises and now arches a delicate brow at Denethor, "Hail kinsman and brother by law. I have but lately received your directive to hold counsel with me."
Denethor stands slowly from his chair, pushing it back and out of the way so he has room to stand, "Indeed I did send for thee but, I did not grant thee permission to enter into my chambers without any word from me. Retire from here and await my summons Lord Prince."
[Goresgal(#13677)] From one side of the door, half cloaked by the shadows the woodsmen Goresgal watches closely as the fair prince of the west enters the room, he glances sideways at Ravenwyr... noticing the mans discomfort at the prince's arrival.
Ravenwyr glares openly in dislike at the Prince, not offering any hint of bow or respect but stands stiffly, waiting. Only Elbarad at this angle... and possibly Denethor can see how white Wyr's knuckles are wrapped around his cane behind his back.
Imrahil raises his brow looking quite Numenorean, "Indeed Lord Steward, your summons we take in friendship or foul, but in former days you were not so quick to anger nor were you so ill disposed to counsel which you yourself asked from me. I shall go, indeed I shall, mayhap to Dol Amroth if my aid is not welcome here." He turns without bowing and motions for Ithilir to follow.
Imrahil turns and begins his march out of the chambers...
Ithilir follows quickly after the Prince.
Denethor says, "Halt."
Elbarad stand in total shock at the harsh words between the two lords.
l me
Ravenwyr(#14510POXeA+Ncf)
Wyr is IC
Standing at 5'10" in height and lean of build, this man has rather bronze swarthy skin and sharp features. Thick, loose and overly long black hair falls down his shoulders and sometimes is blown into his dark grey eyes. It is liberally laced with silvering and his face is badly scarred down one side and across his lips. You would be inclined to judge this man to be in his forties, perhaps.
He is dressed in an off white blousy shirt with laced sleeves and unlaced throat. Snug fitting black pants are tucked into knee high black boots that were once kept shiny but are now scuffed. In the man's right hand a black cane with an ornate silver top sculpted into the likeness of a raven's head.
Imrahil stops and turns around, "Yes Lord Steward?"
Ithilir stands to the side of the Prince, his face impassive.
l ithilir
Ithilir is a tall man, lean but powerfully built. His hair is dark brown, with grey flecks, and is worn shoulder length. Grey eyes peer coldly over his aquiline nose. His cheekbones are high and gaunt, and his chiseled chin is covered with a heavy reddish brown beard. He wears a blue tabard trimmed in white, and with a silver Ship and Swan embroidered on the breast. A large pendant, in gold, lies upon his chest. He carries a long knife on his right side. Attached to his belt is a large cloth bag, which bumps his leg as he walks. A long grey cloak, much travel stained and dusty, hangs from his broad shoulders and flows to the floor. He walks with a quiet grace that bespeaks many years of stealthy hunting
. Goresgal frowns at first, slightly confused, but does not let his mind get the better of him and waits a while longer, long customed to hearing strange things and seeing worse then harsh words between kin.
Imrahil holds himself up and he looks like and unlike the Steward, he is younger and perhaps more hale, but his grey eyes shine as his. No anger lays within them, yet the two together seem as if lords of old come from the sea.
Denethor stands tall and calmly, his back stiff and his face stoney, "I asked you to await my summons. Since when has my beloved brother forgotten that it is appropriate to await admission before coming through a closed door? Hast civility and manners been lost? Is it that you are so comfortable in your own lands that you have slipped into not remembering respect for others? Or, as I assume it is a mere and simple mistake and understanding? I shall assume the latter of the three since I know thee so well and cannot believe that the Prince of Dol Amroth would be guilty of aught else. Please, accept my invitation to be at ease in another room and my servants will cater to your needs."
Imrahil looks puzzled, "Lord Steward, your very guards did let me in? No less chivalry have I than of old, and no less love, in fact it is love which moved me to question you."
Ravenwyr very carefully sets his cane tip down onto the floor and brings his hands into view to lean on the cane, aching tired. The man refuses to sit or lean against the wall, but finds some strength within to wait and endure still, frowning and listening.
Denethor cocks his head to the side and quirks an eyebrow, "Indeed? Can you tell me who it was that granged you passage? I must have a word with them since I left instructions that I wished not to be disturbed."
Imrahil rubs his chin, "I believe it was the one called Grimaldi, Lord Steward."
Denethor gives Imrahil a slight bow then straightens to look directly into his eyes, "My appologies. It is such a tragedy how mistakes and misunderstandings can come so easily and cause such ruination. The best we can do is to try and make amends and set right what is wrong. This is only proof that even Princes and Stewards are only mortal men that are not infalable."
Imrahil bows and looks at Denethor with compassion, "Lord, be not so, I know how hard the war is. Shall I leave then?"
Ravenwyr's eyes narrow, listening to Lord Denethor without comment.
Elbarad eases his posture slightly as the two lords clear up their misunderstanding. While the two lords are busy talking he gives a quick questioning glance to Goresgal.
Denethor stops momentarily in thought, looks at those in the room (pausing especially long at Ravenwyr) then lowers himself into his chair while pulling it back into position, "Nay. Remain with us while I offer OUR appologies to the noble Ravenwyr."
Ithilir looks to Imrahil for guidance, and then resumes his post near the door.
Imrahil nods and says, "No matter how many times the sun may set, it not suffice me to do justice to the grevious wrongs done to he." Imrahil turns and bows very low to Ravenwyr.
Goresgal looks from Imrahil to Denethor, a feeling of warm and ease at their kinder exchange and wise words... and then looks to Ravenwyr wondering at the man's reaction to the Prince he so oft and openly dispises.
The slim and scarred man in civilain clothes does not move. Wyr just stands still and quiet, watching and listening, very likely trying to decide if to believe these Lords or spit in their faces by the expression on his own. He continues to grip the silvered top of his cane tightly.
Imrahil looks to Ravenwyr and the grey eyes of Numenor rest upon him, therein lays compassion and sorrow deep easily beheld behind those shallow pools.
Denethor's face is once again stoney impassive and his brows furrowed as he begins to speak, leaning forward in his chair with palms resting on the desk and fingers outspread, "Brother, what is being done to bring the liar into our custody so he may face justice and what further has been learned that will enlighten us to the fullest extent of his guilt?"
Ravenwyr takes a long, slow breath and looks away, finding his voice again if only softly, "What's to be done?" As Denethor speaks the very question that lay upon his own mind, the man becomes silent once more, looking to Imrahil for this answer.
Imrahil opens his mouth to speak but suddenly a swift and urgent knock comes to the door.
Denethor looks over at Elbarad and says, "Go and see who else would disturb my chambers."
Elbarad nods, "Aye m'lord." and steps outside the door to see who's waiting.
Ravenwyr shifts, long since weary of standing but doesn't say anything at yet another intteruption. He continues to scowl faintly and waits... it's all he can do.
Elbarad steps back into the room. He trys to catch Denethor's eyes to recieve permission to speak.
Goresgal casually leans forward, clasping his hands in front of him, he watches Elbarad leave before straightening back up, an eyebrow raised bemussed by all the traffic on the stewards chambers this eve.
Denethor quickly gives a brief nod of his head.
Elbarad says clearly, "Earion of the Guard requests admittence m'lord. He says he bears urgent tidings."
Impatiant with further dealys to drag out this meeting, Ravenwyr slips into Elbarad's abandoned chair without asking, changing his mind and in no mood to deal with further hassles thismorning. He sets his cane against the chair and looks to Elbarad, listening.
Denethor is most obviously displeased with yet another unexpected visitor to his chamber after only expecting two, "His words had better bear great worth. Admit him."
Elbarad nods and steps back outside for a moment before returning with a man in tow, he annouces him, "Earion of the Guard m'lord."
[Imrahil(#10108)] Earion steps forward and cries after bowing, "Hail Lord Steward. Grim tidings I bring from the city!"
Denethor entraps Earion in a steely gaze, his eyes burning with impatience.
Goresgal takes a step forward from the shadows, his glare is hard and grim as he looks on the guard, the words concerning him.
[Imrahil(#10108)] Earion pulls himself up, "Landromir, who has been detained at the behest of Boromir has fled! More ill news have I, but my tongue falls heavy lord... lord... Landromir... he... he..."
Ravenwyr stands at the name of Landromir, taking up his cane and steps forward one step, listening intently.
Denethor bolts up from his chair knocking the large heavy structure backward into the wall and coming to rest again on its own four feet with a loud clatter, "Yes?"
[Imrahil(#10108)] Earion finally mouths the words and they come as a slow whisper, "He... he has kidnapped a woman of the city. Lynnithia by name I think, fair and with the look of an outlander! Ai alas!"
Denethor's face blanches to a pale white as every muscle in his face goes slack...
Elbarad says with a shout, "Lynn?!" immediately he takes a step closer to Ravenwyr, unsure what his reaction will be.
Imrahil turns and raises a brow, "To whence did he take her?"
Listening and watching the Guardsman, all color seeps from Ravenwyr's face as he stands in shock, left hand reflexively going to his chest. He just looks at the man dumbly and mouths 'no...' without sound.
[Imrahil(#10108)] Earion says, "Osgiliath! We lost him in the ruins!"
Ravenwyr asks softly, still too rattled to react yet, "Nithwyn? Darvian... Rhi?" He names the children, a desperate breath of inquiry for Earion.
Imrahil turns to Denethor, "Lord Steward, I ask humbly that I leave with that dispatchment of troops immediately for our host will hunt down this Black Gondorian and hang him for his fell crimes!"
Denethor turns and reaches to the wall behind him and pulls down a sword which has hung there for a long time then turns around and quickly comes around the desk to stand before Ravenwyr. He lowers himself to one knee and holds the sword in scabbard out to the man hilt forth, "I shall give thee a command which I hope thee will follow. Take my own sword and lead forth men of your own choosing from the guard and track this scoundrel down and slay him with thine own hands."
[(#13677>] Goresgal turns to Denethor, a fire in his eyes, "(UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH)"
Denethor swivels his head to look at Imrahil and Goresgal, "Put yourselves at Lord Ravenwyr's disposal."
Imrahil turns to Ravenwyr, "Come, let us gain your vengeance and bring honour to your house..."
Goresgal nods promtly and looks to Ravenwyr, "Aye..you know of my task Ravenwyr of Minas Tirith... my aid I grant thee. What would you wish of me and my men?"
Belatedly in a distracted manner, left hand taking the blade offered, Wyr watches none but the young Guardsman who brought the news finding greater volume to his voice to repeat his earlier question, "Where are my children?"
Elbarad falls to a knee in front of Denethor, "M'lord.....I beg leave of you to go with Ravenwyr and search out this man who has taken Lynn."
Denethor rises from his bended knee and nods to Elbarad, "Ravenwyr may take any as he chooses." He then looks unto the poor guardsman who brought forth the news, "Pray tell us of the children."
[Imrahil(#10108)] Earion cries, "They are safe my lord and in the Houses of Healing."
Elbarad spins, still on bended knee to face Ravenwyr, "You'll not leave me behind will you Ravenwyr? I've followed you into Osgiliath alone before......." he half threatens.
Goresgal rests a guantlet on the shoulder of Ravenwyr he says soothingly, "There your kin are safe, but come we cannot let the trail grow old, let us be off with haste." he looks about the men present, "All await you good sir"
Ravenwyr's reactions are a tad slow, shock numbing his thoughts and adding confusion. He nods, then looks at Elbarad, Goresgal and the others in the room, "You are welcome, so long as she is not harmed. Him I want." he man double checks the ancient sword in his hands, cane forgotten where he dropped it on the floor, then moves for the door, intently beginning to focus only on what he is driven to do.
Denethor lets out a sigh of breath he did not even know he had been holding before turning to Ravenwyr, "Then go forth knowing that they are safe and I shall give unto you a promise I shall not break. While you are delivering justice unto this man I shall see that they are safe and cared for."
Denethor puts down a Longsword. Denethor removes Ice Toungue
. Imrahil nods and says, "Then let the tucket sound for the note to mount! And let the hard hosts of Gondor ride speedily for vengeance and redress!"
You pick up Ice Toungue.
Ravenwyr exits the room, not waiting on the others though he can't walk fast enough to loose them if he tried. His right hand trails the wall, sword in left with his cane lying on the floor behind him. Forgotten too is the parchment scroll on the Steward's desk.
You leave the steward's chambers.
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