Captain Amrothos of Dol Amroth (amrothos) wrote in untold_logs, @ 2008-04-30 13:30:00 |
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Current mood: | weird |
Entry tags: | amrothos, erchirion, essam, imrahil |
"PUT THAT AWAY."
Who: Imrahil, Erchirion, Amrothos, Essam, a bunch of knights, including Arato, Norno the prince's bodyguard, and Nandir, and the new provincial lord Arnatur.
What: On the road to Minas Tirith, Imrahil and his boys run into a very suspicious-looking town where they are supposed to stay the night. Investigations follow.
When: Prior to Imrahil arriving in Minas Tirith for Aragorn's wedding?
Where: Somewhere in eastern Belfalas.
Notes: Part one of... eru knows. This is just a mini-plotline Sar and I came up with to finish fleshing out our reset characters so that when they get to Minas Tirith they're ready to go!
Warnings: Excessive snarkitude, hyperactivity, spookiness, and length.
The sky was getting dark. To Imrahil, night always came too soon in the provinces, and though he was not a superstitious man, he had heard Dol Amrothians whisper the same often enough. They said darkness still hid in the provinces, a superstition Imrahil had repeatedly denied, and attempted to explain away with reasoning like it was farther from the western setting sun. At the head of his column of knights, all travelling towards Minas Tirith under the blue and silver banner for the wedding of the king, at least they were a much smaller risk for the regular robberies and highway murders he heard reports of so often back in his city.
Ahead of them, the last thing lit on the long road, was the village surrounding the large manor-house that was their destination for the night. Imrahil felt quiet unease, though they had been on the road nearly a week and passed many other villages, some completely abandoned and ruined, and others, like this one, fortified against what everyone insisted was bandits and mauraders. The wooden walls around the outside were very tall, roughly constructed, and though the gates had been closed, the sight of the blue banner, and Imrahil's messenger that he had sent earlier, meant that they would open soon. Still, something nagged at him, as they passed silent and farms with barred doors and shuttered windows. In the last village, even as late in the day as this, the people had come pouring out, if only to stand in the doorway and watch the silver-clad knights of Belfalas pass with their singing. But this time, he didn't even hear a single hum from his riders. Everything felt too quiet.
"Not good." Erchirion announced to no one in particular from his place at the front of the party. "Usually you can't shut these people up but now..." he twirled the banner he was carrying in an idle circle. "No one's even passing out their usual dead weeds. Do they call this a greeting?" he wondered drily. "You don't suppose they've all been killed of plague and we're all riding straight into it?" he asked, leaning over a bit to try and gauge his horse's opinion of the matter. "What do you think Turin, should we run and hide now?"
"I see lights in the houses," Amrothos said after a moment of glancing around him. He had never felt particularly at home on horseback, and wished he had taken Elphir and Aergannel's offer to sail up the river instead. Even if the idea of being on a ship not his own felt physically painful. "It's like they're too afraid to come watch us. It's not like we're wearing black hoods and have a 'your money wanted' sign above our heads."
"That's possibly a sign." supplied Sornorno, Imrahil's current bodyguard/protector/man about town, whatever they were calling it these days. He himself had quite forgotten long ago. "They'll be watching from inside somewhere, and ready to leap out at us. It's how they think." It probably actually wasn't but...Norno had a habit of preparing for the worst no matter what was up. "Let's hope nobody dies. I want off of this horse as soon as possible." His usual mount had turned up lame a day before the journey out and the current stallion he had borrowed was...who in Mordor took a stallion anywhere these days?
Imrahil cleared his throat before speaking; it had become a habit some months ago, to try and avoid coughing in the middle of important sentences. He spoke loud enough to be addressing them all. "I suspect we shall find the answer in the walls," he returned, watching the gate open. It wasn't much of a gate, but appeared to be a temporary measure, a wall on wheels, that could be wheeled in and out of place. "This was the estate of Lord Adrahir, but I've been told a new man is in charge. Spread the word that the knights are to be on the alert until we know what kind of man he is."
"...do you really think anyone would be foolish enough to attack the prince of Dol Amroth?" Amrothos cut in, reining his horse off to the side to turn around and ride down the column, glad for an excuse to not have to stare at the grimacing palisade anymore. "I mean there's a score of us."
"This day and age?" Norno inched closer to Imrahil as he watched some of the knights fan out. "I would wonder if they didn't. Pick US off and well...who knows whose pocket they could find to live in after that."
"Eru knows if they put ELPHIR behind the prince's desk, we're doomed to firey death pinned beneath falling build...Oh wait." Erchirion stopped twirling his banner for a minute and just glanced off to his right to smirk at the new knight commander. "We actually saw that happen with him didn't we?"
"You're not very nice!" Amrothos called behind him as he got within speaking distance of one of the captains. "My father says look sharp, there's a new man in town and he could be bad news." So maybe that wasn't exactly what Imrahil had said...
"Let's all behave," Imrahil reminded Erchirion. "We're on our best manners, after all, we are guests." He lifted his head and sat up taller in his saddle, though he was tired, and gave the weary Wheele a nudge in the ribs, just enough for her to pull her head up and step a little faster, and pass between the wooden walls into the village looking proud.
Inside, it was even worse than the farms, for while Dol Amroth's nightlife had begun to bustle again, a silent and surly town greeted the knights, lit brightly by torches that pointed the way towards the large manor house, too humble to be a castle. Guards seemed to be posted at every corner, and none of them looked at all pleased.
"If I said I didn't feel like being nice would that change anything?" Arato asked Amrothos, gesturing for some of his company to spread out on that note. "Make a perimeter of sorts around the prince." he directed his undercaptain. "We'll at least die before he does and maybe there'll be enough time to write some mournful song. Slain There In The Boonies. It's romantic."
"I lived through The Coastal Fires," The young, fair-haired Nandir muttered to no one in particular, referencing the corsair burning of Belfalas' coastline as he took up a position near the right. "I'm not going to die in Darknesstown. If I am the only one to escape I shall surely write a song in your memory."
"If we were to die here." Essam gave Arato a withering glance, "Before the ink has dried on my promotion, you may have my promise I will haunt you through the afterlife. If the rest of you choose to go and leave Nandir and I...maybe between us we could give Lord Elphir the proding he needs. Providing of course we can defeat this great terrible darkness thrust upon us." he muttered sardonically. Honnestly, they all acted as if this were something terrible and new.
"Perhaps it's a surprise party!" Erchirion called over his shoulder. "We set foot inside, someone rolls out a cake and out pops a dancing girl. Fun for us all."
The smell of lilacs floated through the air past the right column as Nandir abruptly broke the flanking formation and moved beyond the front of the now-staggered column. In the main square was a newly constructed gallows. The sight sent chills down his spine. After the war had ended, Imrahil had sent out a document, forbidding all provincial executions and demanding criminals be taken to Dol Amroth for trial. Nandir slowed his horse, riding around the prominantly displayed platform. There were nooses hanging for four.
"So it's THAT sort of entertainment." Arato drawled in a low tone. "Nice how they haven't bothered trying to hide anything don't you think?" he asked anyone in the immediate vicinity. "I love it when it's obvious." he added, smiling slightly. "The paperwork takes up less..." The sound of hooves cut him off short as a gentleman clad in what appeared to be a sleeping robe appeared.
If the gallows were not meant to be there, it was no matter to the new Lord Arnatur, who'd recently taken over here. They ought to have put that away of course, it wasn't meant to be used again until the party vanished in the morning after all, but SOMEONE had apparently jumped ahead of the schedule and not bothered to inform him. It was getting difficult to find good help these days, he thought, heaving a sigh as he approached the party, not bothering to bow from his saddle. "Prince Imrahil, distinguished....rabble..." he greeted the others with a slight wave of his hand."Welcome."
Amrothos stiffened in his saddle as he caught a glimpse of the badly dresed man on horseback, but bit his tongue from retorting that this was no ordinary rabble, it was a well-trained, highly-armed unit of peace keepers.
Imrahil raised one gloved hand in greeting, clearing his throat again before speaking. "Word of your name has not come down the line to my knights and I, I am afraid. Do you have lodging for twenty-five?"
"Just because we haven't all got silk pyjamas." Erchirion muttered. "You don't suppose that's why he's hanging all the others?" he asked Arato quietly. "Lack of proper wardrobe? Are we expected to dress for dinner?" he added on to Imrahil's question in a louder voice. "Or can we just go nude?"
"...Yees of course, lodging." Arnatur had rooms prepared of course, but this had been before he knew that everything was still left out. He only hoped the irons were not... "Let us see your horses to the stables and I will make sure all is ready." He hoped they'd had the sense to burn the proper scents after branding the prisoners earlier today at least. Burning flesh was so hard to just spritz away.
"I don't like it," Nandir muttered as he returned to his old place in the line near Essam. He reassuringly touched the lilac sprig he had cut from a bush by the roadside and pinned into a tunic pocket. "He's concealing something."
"Yes," Amrothos muttered, hoping the man might get too close, so his father's so-called body guard might take it as an assault, "he's concealing just who he plans on murderering tomorrow morning."
"You have an eye to that then." Essam told Nandir with a nod, trusting the undercaptain's instincts, young though he may have been. "Whatever it is you see, tell someone who will take it seriously." Clearly, his tone suggested, this was NOT Arato who, at the moment, was deep in a whispered conversation with Erchirion. Something, Essam had vaguely overheard, to do with whether or not appearing in the lords hall meant they were required to have sandals. He rued the day either of THEM had been promoted.
Norno edged out a bit in front of Imrahil, staring at the pyjama clad noble for a long moment, his gaze measuring the man's body, searching for weapons he might have hidden underneath that robe, any strange bulges that could not be something else. "...He has a knife belted to his left elbow." he whispered to Imrahil after a moment of such scrutiny. "Nothing else I would take to be a threat right now...Inside though...." he sniffed the air, then frowned.
"We shall need use of any food you can provide us as soon as our horses are cared for," Imrahil said at last to the man he had the misfortune of now being the guest of. "We shall join you in your dining hall shortly." He felt the painful dryness in the back of his throat that usually came before a fit of coughing, and wished the man to turn around and ride away as quickly as possible.
"Very good, my lord." Arnatur told him with a nod, jerking his head in the direction of the stables, before snapping his fingers for a manservant to appear and tossing his horse's reigns over the animals head, knowing they would be caught. "Do something useful with the salary you never earn lazing about and get the beastie put away." he ordered, before abruptly vanishing the scene and marching into the house again. "PUT THAT AWAY." he could be heard screaming amongst a slight din of noise and a muffled dog yelping.
"There's dinner." Erchirion said helpfully. "But which bathrobe SHOULD I wear in public? They're all so nice and black..."
"Did you bring anything with you?" Arato asked Essam, hiding a grin as best he could. "If you did, why then you ought to fit in at least a little. I'd leave the scarf behind maybe, I don't THINK that's in vogue here."
As Imrahil dismounted and began loosening Wheele's tack, he glanced at Norno, who was closest to him. "Something's bothering you," he said, "and I don't just mean this place. You've been troubled ever since we spotted the gallows." As he lifted the heavy saddle off his hourse, a dry, hacking cough cut the air out of him, and he struggled not to drop the damn thing he had just been sitting in on the floor of the stable.
"Why don't you wear the hideous rabbit slippers," Amrothos offered his brother, and was about to say more when his father began coughing. Again. A look of worry crossed his face. "There he goes," he muttered, as if the words might be traitorous.
"I don't think it..." Norno started, then rushed to grab the saddle as Imrahil started coughing. "...Not important right now." he said instead, trying to pull the thing away as much as possible, though he didn't think Imrahil would be content to just give the saddle up. "You ought to be sitting." he chastised the prince. "Eru knows they need you in one piece in Minas Tirith."
"Where nothing else IS." Erchirion agreed, crossing towards his father at the sound of that cough. "You have to be...some sort of glue to meld it all together after all." he pointed out. "They'll want your opinion you know and you can't give that if you're stuck in someone's bed gasping."
"And not even in the way you might enjoy." Arato called, then ducked as Essam aimed a slap at him. "It wasn't an invitation, I will have you know, Knight Commander. We all know you get jealous."
Imrahil's horrible, heavy coughing subsided into rasping laughter, and he at last steadied himself on his horse, who was now nosing his shoulder with what clearly was concern. "It's fine, it's fine," Imrahil said, raising his voice a little so all the nights could hear him. "Just the cool night air, that's all. I'm not so old that after a long day of sitting I can't stand up for five minutes."
"Right right. That's what you.." Erchirion started, then he realized, maybe it wasn't the best thing for morale right now to bring THAT up again, so he just nodded. "Fair enough." he said instead, "You ought to know." He and Amrothos would keep a closer eye on their father all the same, he knew, that was what they always did when he threatened to break into a coughing fit like this.
"Well..." Essam glanced around the stable and was relieved to find it wasn't in a shambles, there was no one cringing in a corner and no rats were fighting the current occupants for grain. "At least he is keeping his horses well enough." he tried to make the statement light but owing to everything else...
"I'm entering first." Norno decided, daring anyone, even the prince himself to argue with that tone. "The rest of you can wait till I'm inside and we know nothing's eaten me."
"If you're going in first," Imrahil said in an undertone, laying his hand on his bodyguard's arm, "you have to tell me what's been bothering you. I want it off your chest before you go in there." It was understood -- his very best set of eyes and ears could not be distracted at a time like this.
"A distant memory, nothing more." Norno lied swiftly enough. After all, the whole truth was...not relevant and nothing that should distract him further. "That galllows...wondering if he may be dead by some means now...I have been looking but...I'll put it out of my mind now I know there's a job to do." he declared instead. "You know me, by now, my lord. Just point me at danger and I'm a regular hound."
Imrahil's face softened a little at the words. A lot of men had lost their friends, and it should not have surprised him that quiet, reliable Norno - a man who Imrahil did not even know by his birth name - would have lost them too. "We'll talk about it later," he said, taking his hand away. "I'll be in as soon as I've taken something to keep from coughing again, so don't worry about that, either."
Meanwhile, in the midst of the great drama of Imrahil's Cough, Nandir had been poking around the stable for Suspicious Things. That was how he found the branding iron, thrust in a bucket of water that had gone dark some hours ago. He examined the end of the brand thoughtfully. P. But why would they be branding livestock up here in the lord's equestrian stable...? And why didn't it smell of burned hair?
"We're all going to die," Amrothos quipped cheerfully.
"Yees." Erchirion agreed, flinging his tack into a corner with abandon and starting to rub down his horse. "It's all a plot I think." he added, switching to a hoofpick. "They'll only leave one survivor naturally and no one will believe the tale and fling him into a madhouse. I wonder which fate is going to be worse."
Imrahil removed a ginger candy from his saddlebag, and willed it to soothe the cough just enough to get through dinner, until he could take some laudanum. He listened to the conversations going on around him as he inspected the grain he was about to feed his mare. He hated feeling old -- there was so much living left to do. Maybe Erchirion was right, maybe he should take things slower. Maybe he shouldn't push the knights so hard to make such progress each day.
Speaking of madhouses, Arnatur was quickly moving through his own, ordering servants about, directing them to please put things away and..."Don't bother with feeding any prisoners." he told one of his men. "We don't want them making a mess tomorrow, do we? See about shutting the mouthy one up, he's not going to say anything of real value before we hang him anyway." he added, then, that business taken care of, he did a quick last check that all was in order for his guests and nothing out of the ordinary could be found there. "You stashed the irons somewhere sa...IN THE STABLES? YOU GREAT IDIOT?"
"...Arnatur doesn't start with P," Nandir said with a sudden start. "This estate doesn't start with P." He dropped the cold iron as if it had suddenly burned him. He felt a cold sweat come over him as he considered what exactly that could mean.
"More fun? Arato wondered, glancing at Nandir, and frowning. "That's...one hell of a hefty conclusion." he said, getting the idea and feeling his heart sinking a little in his chest. "It does make sense though doesn't it?" he said, with a little shake of his head, "And naturally, any evidence inside the house is going to be stashed away. What nice things you've found."
"I think it's time to get ready to spy," Amrothos suggested. He did not feel at home in the stable, surrounded by the jostling knights busy putting horses away and doing... other horsey things. HE was only trying to copy everyone else.
"Good instinct." Essam agreed, frowning at the iron, though he gave both Amrothos and Nandir a little nod. "We will want to arrange it so it looks as though we're doing anything but of course. So...Let us think." he mused, trying to come up with a useful plan. "I think it best we take it in turns to slip away to 'use the necessary' and on those moments..." he suggested, though it wasn’t exactly an order yet. "Seem reasonable?"
"...some of you can go off on private business together," Nandir offered. "They've surely heard the horror stories about the knights by now." Even if, as far as Nandir could tell, they weren't true, barring the rumor about the prince and his bodyguard, the man who always wore a hood or cap and whispered softly. Even being in such close proximity to the prince, Nandir had never seen the man's face. He suspected it was supposed to be that way.
"And who wants to go out with me?" Arato wondered, grinning at all of them in turn. "Not you Nandir, you're too young and too....innocent where those matters are concerned." he said, glancing over to Essam. "If it were the two of US, then everyone ELSE would talk more than they usually do." he actually winked at the knight commander here. It was not that they WERE really, but when something looked a certain way well...
"We can play tag," Amrothos offered. "I'm not so noisy or clumsy as my brother here. We can poke behind tapestries and listen at closed doors, and so on. What do you think, Father? Do we have permission?"
Imrahil was resting against the door of a stall, holding the small glass bottle of laudanum in his hand and turning it this way and that in the light. "Just don't get us kicked out or murdered in our sleep," he said. "But do try and find out whatever you can." All the knights were watching him now as he tucked the bottle into his pocket. "And please, everyone, let's be discreet."
"Whenever you say that, someone still winds up glaring at me." Erchirion remarked gracefully, finishing up with Turin's hooves. "Maybe this time it can be different." It wouldn't, they both knew it, but concessions were important here.
"That's because you've got a big mouth," Amrothos retorted, "and large feet."
"I'm sure we can all do our part," Nandir said, loud enough so that only the group of knights closest to Imrahil could hear. "I mean, people will die if we don't sort this out."
"Those who haven't already." Norno said, in a whisper that only Imrahil could hear. Whoever the young undercaptain was, he didn't want to scare the boy off at the beginning of this. He could recall a time when...Best not to think of it, he decided, pushing the thought from his mind and giving the little group a nod. "I'll start out ahead then. " he decided, hurrying off to see if there was any proof.
Imrahil shifted gears, then, now that Wheele was taken care of, walking among his knights, straightening tunic collars and brushing off bits of dust. "Look sharp, boys," he said, tugging lightly at the hair of a boy that everyone knew was really girl so her braid lay flat between her shoulders. "Keep open eyes. We can't leave until this mess is sorted out, and I want to make it to the wedding on time." He then positioned himself in sight of the door of the manor, to wait for Norno's sign.
"Right." Arato agreed, dropping his front for a moment to peer seriously ahead as well. He knew they weren't moving until Imrahil, but all the same...attacks could come from anywhere if someone were truly desperate. Or crazy. Either way it seemed distinctly possible.
So far so good, Norno concluded, after a brief glance around the place. Nothing was directly dangerous right NOW, at least to the group of them. Motioning to Imrahil with two fingers raised, he jerked his head inside to indicate that while things seemed all right they ought to keep an eye out. Where their host was...well he had no clue right now.
Imrahil rested one hand on the hilt of his sword, and began to walk towards Norno, leading the group. He had absolute faith in his protector's sense of judgment, and had ever since the day the younger man had thrown himself in the way of one of the corsair explosives in the fight for the city, explosives Imrahil had not even seen coming. "Sit in groups," Imrahil reminded his knights as they followed him. "Smile at your host. Try not to make prostitutes out of any of the serving girls. Or boys, Arato, I know how you feel about those."
Nandir laughed softly to himself, and since he was walking next to Arato, he casually elbowed his captain in the ribs. "Now I know why I got promotion, you think I'm cute."
"You're very cute." Arato agreed, conversationally. "A little young for me I should think, though there weren't any cute girls eligable to go up in ranks at the time either so...You'd do in a pinch maybe." he teased, winking.
"You'll make Essam jealous," Amrothos retorted, "talking like that."
Imrahil took a moment to roll his eyes before he passed underneath the doorway to the house, and fell in step with Norno. "My knights," he muttered in an undertone, "always laughing about something."
"And the tone of it does not surprise me, much milord." Arnatuar drawled, popping up from somewhere or another, causing even Norno to jump. Noticing this he smirked and beckoned that they should follow him. "Please do forgive the mess. SO hard to find good help these days in the midst of..." there were the smallest traces of blood down one of the halls, and he could only hope they did not notice that.
"Good help is always hard to find," Imrahil said gravely, glancing out of the corner of his eye at Norno, gesturing silently with his head that the younger man should signal to the knights not to say anything. The halls they were walking through were poorly lit, but the large doors to the grand dining room were flooding out light - and the smell of food.
"I hope he's got a real privy," Amrothos whispered to Erchirion. "Though in this hell-hole we'll be lucky if he has a ditch to throw shit in, much less a covered latrine." To say nothing of flushing water.
"Ask me, we're safer sharing with the horses aren't we?" Erchirion whispered back, frowning at a muffled thud that seemed to be coming from beneath them. Rather than say anything, he quirked a brow at his brother, as if to confirm what he had heard was actually there. "I haven't lost my mind and none of you are telling me?" he asked softly.
Nandir jumped as he heard something that sounded distinctly like a thump. He glanced nervously at the floor, as if expecting to find himself walking over grating. "There must be a level below," he muttered. That or one of those awful dungeon pits he'd heard about in stories of Umbar, long dark pits where they put people to starve to death. But who would go through the great effort of digging out a hillside from behind, to make a lower floor, when the front of the manor appeared to be ground level already?
Hobbits, that's who, but this house was no Bag End.
Imrahil walked into the dining hall, and had to admit, at least for a moment, that his host had gotten something right. The table was set heavy and full with roasted pig, that had been spitted whole, and appeared to be stuffed with grain and fruit. Half-wistfully, he thought of the knights he'd been forced to leave behind, one of whom was petrified of pigs, and would have been an amusement at the moment.
"Who wishes to be the one to say it?" Essam wondered, smirking at the pig and everyone in turn, though his eyes clearly indicated he was not really relaxed now. Still, he would make a token attempt, he decided, to set everyone else to looking natural. After a bit when they began their moving about...that was when things would get interesting.
"I wish Alcarcalimo was here," Nandir offered brightly. "I could use a laugh." He was still glancing at his feet occasionally, though everything SEEMED normal.
Imrahil picked a seat at the table, regrettably near the head and near Arnatuar, letting Norno take the seat between him and the badly dressed man. "Sir Knights!" He called, glancing back at them after they had all filed around the table near the benches. "Remember Numenor, and look to the west." It was an old custom, and not one Imrahil put much weight in himself, but the knights had been gazing west before meals since before there had been a formal knighthood. The tradition would stand tonight, at least.
Arnataur was the only one who really seemed to blink at this point but..."As the prince commands." he muttered under his breath, eyes rolling backwards ever so slightly in his head. Old traditions in this day and age? He thought it patently ridiculous and...did not really need to find the words to say it, his expression, which he covered with a smile quick enough, settled that one.
The Dol Amrothian tradition had its own phrases, and the knighthood had taken the old symbol and made it their own. "Remember the Fallen," Nandir echoed, his mind returning back not to an island no one in his lifetime had ever seen, and never would see, but to the war, to his parents, "remember the faithful." To his brother.
"...never forget from where we have come," Amrothos muttered, saying the final words of the chant, stepping over the bench and sitting down. He hated the speech. It was the same one they said at funerals.
"Where's that?" Erchirion whispered in an undertone. "The land drowned out by incest?"
"Shut up, some guy missing his homeland wrote the speech," Amrothos hissed. "I'm sure it was very meaningful at the time."
"Knights," Imrahil said, turning to them as he sat. "Serve yourselves!" Some expected the knights to have a rigid order about who ate what in what turn, but Imrahil had relaxed his father's standards, for he knew those who needed food most would get it, if only because his boys (and girls) were good men, and looked after one another.
Arato's hand shot out instantly to claim a fork as his very own for the evening at once. No one here traveled with one, so it had been a while since... "Argh." He protested as Erchiron's hand closed over his and tried to wrestle the fork away. "I saw it first!"
Nandir, who was sitting roughly opposite of the prince (the unfortunate side effect of being smaller than the other knights, and being forced near the front by his chosen seat repeatedly being taken), leaned forward, snatching a fork right out from underneath Norno's hand. "Begging your pardon," he said cheerfully, to the man whose face was still in shadow.
There was something about Nandir almost that put Norno in mind of...But no, he thought, a second later, shaking his head to clear it a bit. "Go right ahead." he said instead, and pulled out an intricately carved knife.
Twirling the fork with the characteristic lightheartedness that set Nandir apart from many of the other knights, he tore at the enormous roasted pig, whistling his favorite song from childhood, a rather inappropriate song about apple-pickers in May.
Amrothos was struggling to gain control of one of the forks. "Give me that," he challenged Erchirion, who seemed to have come into posession of two forks. "I only want ONE."
"Duel you for it!" Erchirion suggested, half serious, half teasing. It was his job to torture Amrothos a little after all.
Amrothos brandished his eating knife. "For Dol Amroth and the honor of Swanhelms!" It was good to take his mind off the obvious Something Wrong-ness lurking in the background, if only for a moment.
Imrahil was observing all. The knights were relaxing. It was good -- it meant they'd be less likely to jump at shadows, and find concrete and real things to uncover instead. All except Norno. "You're wearing that face again," he said in an undertone, under the pretense of leaning over to serve himself food."
"Hmm?" Norno wondered, tearing his gaze from..where he wasn't looking at anything in particular at the moment. "Concentrating I suppose." he answered Imrahil at length, not wanting to press the other issue now. "The obvious reason of course." He had been still doing that after all so nothing was a complete lie.
"You should relax a little," Imrahil protested, "there's not enough armed men in this entire town to take us in an ambush." Beneath the table he patted Norno's knee. "Tonight I want to know what this is really about."
"Later then." Norno agreed, though he'd try to get out of it if Imrahil seemed tired enough later. He preferred the quieter nights sometimes that way. It kept him from having to say very much.
"Well SOMEONE'S loved very much." Arato commented, proudly brandishing the fork he'd won from Erchirion as he watched the cutlery duel with interest. "If I had any money with me, I'd be putting it on you." he informed Amrothos, inclining his head a little. "Since your brother was so mean to me."
"Father always did love me best!" Amrothos said, sneaking his hand across the table and snatching the fork from his brother even as he crossed knives with Erchirion. "Stealth and speed win the day!"
"Oh pecans!" Nandir burst out suddenly, as he uncovered a new layer of filling. "I love pecans," he told no one in particular, all his friends being down the table some ways from him. "There was a great big tree in the courtyard of my house, I used to gather them by the bucket full."
Ngh. Again with the memories Norno was attempting to push away. He idly thought maybe...but no it wasn't possible. He'd left behind someone far younger than Nandir and besides. "It seems we're from the same region I'd think." he said lightly.
"Central Belfalas, just west of the grain belt?" Nandir asked, his eyes lighting a little as he squinted, trying to make out the older man's features. He could only see the man’s chip and the tip of his nose, and the faint luminescence of the light catching in the other man’s eyes. "I'm looking for someone from the area, my family, do you know which refugee camps all those people went to, by any chance?"
"I haven't been through there since..." It wasn't totally true. Norno had rode through asking after survivors but had not had the time to truly follow up, beyond paying a few people to look for details and getting no real word. "Since before all of this hit."
"We passed the old road to my house just before we hit the grain belt," Nandir mused, "but there's not much point in going there now, it's all burned down. Only my mother's lilacs are still growing. They burned the village, too, it's hard to know if anyone lived through it. Everyone's so scattered, I could have ridden past a village with my own neighbor in it, and I'd never know."
"Ouch." Norno sighed in sympathy. He hadn't gone that close to his own home to know what remained there, hadn't seen the use really when everything around him had been...well fairly obvious. "I imagine that would be easy to do now, wouldn't it?"He wondered with a sigh. "Everything has changed so MUCH."
"If you're from the area," Nandir offered, "maybe we met during a fair, something about your voice seems familiar." If only he could have seen the man's face, for he was reminded painfully of his favorite uncle, though his mother's brother had never been so soft-spoken, and was older than this man sounded. No one in Nandir's family had been soft-spoken. "What's your name, anyway? I'm Nandir. Undercaptain." Not that it was the name his mother had given him, which was the embarrassingly patriotic Aglahad. He'd picked it up on the road to Dol Amroth, before the war.
"Sornorno. The Prince's bodyguard." Norno answered with a little barking laugh. He'd had another name once before the war and everything which came with it but...things had changed since then and that was just the way of it so he had changed as well.
"...nice to meet you," Nandir said, and was about to say more, but was distracted by a ruckus down at the other end of the table. He turned, stretching his neck to look the other direction at the commotion.
Amrothos was being loud again. It happened. It was mostly caused by the sudden hot food after traveling on the road and the impression -however brief- that things might be okay. "I think the design for the rebuilt theater is absolutely ugly," he declared firmly. "Why do we need a theater that looks like a temple? Classical is one thing, but are we going to be entertained or to worship like the old Numenoreans?"
"Another waste of money if you happened to ask me, which naturally nobody did or they'd have heard it all before." Erchirion snorted slightly. "The theater is all well and good if you're one of that sort, but you're absolutely right about the rest of it." he declared, between sips of wine. "I don't know what we think we have to prove, that we're as good as the Tirithians think they are. Soon we'll be engaged in games designed to compare our absolute snobbery. I only wonder who will win."
"We will," Amrothos said with supreme confidence. "We win everything, we're Dol Amrothian. We're even snobs about being snobs. Isn't it wonderful?"
Imrahil was still uneasy. He glanced at the meal's patron, particularly staring at his unbelievable fur hat that appeared to be what happened if you tried to make a bowl out of rabbit fur and then decided it wasn't waterproof. "I apologize to the loudness of my knights today, we've had a long road and it's been several days since the last hot meal or promise of a bed."
"No trouble, none at all." Clearly this wasn't the case, but...so long as it kept the knights from finding out what they weren't meant to than Arnatur could...cope with them. There had been too many other annoyances within the past few weeks for him to be truly riled up about this. Still if any of these men had been peasants under his law...well no matter, there were always things to be done once the knights had gone to bed.
Amrothos lept from his seat suddenly. Things were about to get very serious, but he kept up the cheered act for a little longer. "Lord... er... what was it...good host!" He called, not bothering to walk to the head of the table, intentionally pretending he had forgotten Arnatur's name. "I require the use of your privy! Which way is it?"
This, this could be a problem. However if he gave the wrong directions, there was a greater risk that Arnatur would land himself in some sort of chaos. He hoped that whoever was on duty down below was doing a proper job at keeping the men he'd condemed silent. After all, it wasn't like they had any hope of respite ordinarilly. "Out the door to your right and down the path." he directed. "Do stay on it by the way, small animals have been known to attack otherwise."
"Ah, thank you!" Amrothos said. "Anyone else coming?" He asked, glancing over the table. Looking at Arnatur unsettled him a little, something about the man was distinctly... odd. But Amrothos couldn't say what.
"I do so hate to leave the fun," Arato drawled, rising from his seat. "But in the interest of protecting you from the crazed animals running around out there ready to leap at you the moment you do something wrong...I'll come along."
Amrothos gallantly offered his arm. "I know I am greatly disadvantaged, it is good to have a knight to protect me," he joked.
"The blind leading the blind." Essam commented, making a show of shaking of his head at the others. "Do be careful not to let each other fall through the holes won't you?" he asked, then when he didn't think anyone had noticed, gave them both a small nod.
Amrothos nodded almost imperceptibly, before walking towards the privy. So-called privy. He planned on looking... well, for a lot of things, but not really that one. He could always innocently say he got lost...
Arato followed after him, making a grand show of sweeping his cloak. "The royalty passes!" he called dramatically. "Step back ye foul squirrels!" The moment they were out of reasonable range of the others though, he dropped the act. "Where first?" he mouthed at Amrothos.
Amrothos was gazing down the hall at the doors. "You take the left side and listen for anything unusual," he muttered, "I'll take the right." Away from the bright, warm light and the food, the reality was beginning to settle in. And the reality was very horrible.
"Right." Arato agreed, snapping into action and nodding once. "We ought to have a signal if..." They should have thought of one to give the others, he chided himself, deciding, not for the first time that being a captain was a little too much for him to feasibly deal with. "...Death to the Squid." he decided quickly. "It's strange enough that no one will know what to think but us. "If we run into trouble we just shout that and then try to find each other."
Amrothos nodded, only half-listening. Death to the squid. Well then. It seemed Arato's reputation as unusual wasn't entirely undeserved. He carefully listened at a door, touching the handle lightly, before turning and opening it. It was nothing more interesting than a linen closet, so he shut it, and moved to the next door, bending to peer through the keyhole.
Back in the dining hall, Imrahil was watching the mad dining revelry wind down. Worse than when the knights went apple-picking and bright their stores back for the stables, really. "I'm rather tied from the long journey," Imrahil told Arnatur, lying somewhat. "Could you direct me to the guest accommodations, and perhaps also tell my knight commander -- that would be Essam," the name was enough to identify the Umbarean man instantly, "where my knights will be staying?"
"Very well." Arnatur agreed, only hoping that in the space that they were gone, there would not be any chances of....but well looking at all of them he hardly though it likely. "I'll escort you there myself." he decided, better to keep Imrahil from seeing anything or wandering off. "If the rest of you could excuse me?"
Nandir waved his fork a touch sarcastically. "Many thanks for the fooooood." He drawled the last word as if he had suddenly become drunk on the wine.
Narno rose as well, to follow Imrahil and see that no harm befell the prince now, giving the table a general nod, though his eyes settled on Nandir for a moment still. But then there still was work to do and no time for reminiscing. Later on perhaps but now he had a job to do.