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Old 05-10-2006, 09:03 AM   #6
Celuien
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Join Date: May 2005
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So it was true. The innocent, childlike Lady Linduial had fallen prey to treachery. Garstan stood to the side of the group around Eodwine and Queen Lothiriel, fists clenching and unclenching in a swirl of emotion, burrowing tunnels into the earth of the courtyard with his eyes. Though used to dealing with the Queen's cousin of late, the presence of the Queen herself coupled with the flurry of thoughts racing through his head sent Garstan into a deep silence.

He struggled to sort through the chaos in his mind. The first thought was anger. Anger at the villains who could stoop to abducting a girl who was barely more than a child. Anger at their treachery to the Queen, to whom they owed allegiance and loyalty. Anger at the image of the frightened girl imprisoned by her captors. For surely she must be terrified; only a few hours earlier, she had laughed under the sunlight, holding Lčođern’s hand in hers as they started off to the fair.

The trip to the fair. Regret now came to him as he thought of his last conversation with Linduial. He had distrusted her guardianship of his daughter. Unjustly, as it turned out. For Lčođern was safely back at the Mead Hall, thankfully indoors taking her evening meal with her brother, far away from the announcement of Linduial's kidnapping, while Linduial was taken. Worry for Linduial should have come to him too, and he ought to have joined their party, even if only for his own satisfaction about Lčođern's safety. Perhaps this would never have happened had another set of watchful eyes been at the Fair.

Grief and tenderness. Lčođern would have to be told that her friend would not be returning to the Mead Hall for sometime. She would be disappointed, unhappy, and unable to understand. Garstan didn't know how to tell his daughter. The complete truth was out of the question; Lčođern would be terrified. But if he masked the truth with a tale of a visit to friends or other such pleasantries, she could only see the disappearance as rejection. That would be unfair, both to Lčođern and Linduial.

Linduial. Garstan suddenly realized that some of the same feelings for his daughter were directed at her as well. Odd, and yet not so. Though his attachments were generally slow to form, the quickest way to earn his trust and friendship was through kindness to his children. Linduial had certainly shown that to Lčođern. And too, she was cousin to the Queen. Garstan had a deep love of country and loyalty to its rulers. Those so closely allied to the Queen would certainly gain his loyalty as well. Though with Linduial, the feeling went deeper through her personal attention to those dear to him.

What could he do? The impulse to run to Linduial's aid was strong. She couldn't be far away. Only a few hours ride at the most. The letter's language, and the fact that a letter had been written, indicated that her captors were most likely noble. Disgust at their black treachery redoubled at that realization. How many places could there be within a day's journey likely to hold her? Garstan was sorely tempted to seek out Eodwine at once and beg to be permitted to join to rescue party.

And yet, could he go? He had responsibilities. Lčođern and Garmund could not be left alone and untended at the Hall. Could he leave them in another's charge? Worse, should the rescue turn dangerous, as he knew it most likely would, and should he come to serious harm or death in its course, his children would be left orphans. He couldn't shirk his responsibility to them. He owed the children his protection and care before anything else. Nor was Garstan an expert in battle. While he knew basic principles of defense and weaponry, he was a stoneshaper, and as such, had come to little experience in such matters. Skill would certainly be needed in confrontation with the kidnappers.

His mind torn in two, Garstan felt in desperate need of counseling. Who could he ask to advise him? Lord Eodwine seemed a man of intelligence and wisdom. Garstan determined to seek him out in an unoccupied moment to open the tumult of his thought, and hopefully, to arrive at a decision on his role in the events before them.
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