Legacy of Traitors RPG

[Everdawn]

Arridan glanced at the Gondorian man “Sir, may I remind you that my father is the Lord of this town, and I may do what I please, and that you sir, and that Lady whom you are protecting from me” he chuckled. “…are guests here. Imagine what trouble you will cause if you kill me then?” Arridan knew he had a point. “Well Maén, will you stay with us. I know it boils your blood to see me, but you were always fond of my father, he will be glad to see you.

Maén narrowed her hazel eyes at him “It depends upon my companions.”

“If it is a safe place to stay miss Maén, I see no reason why we cannot.” Said Roryn. Maén knew that the old ranger was right.

“Very well” she said. “You may take us to your estate Arridan, but we leave in the morning.

She followed Arridan outside to where the horses were tied up. The young woman glanced at Hittai’s side where she had completely forgotten the mark of the Il Galoth house was branded. She could have kicked herself for not knowing. The obvious frustration must have been showing on her face because Arridan laughed at her. “Could happen to anyone.”

“It shouldn’t have.” She answered. She did not know what was going on with the others, other than they followed silently. It was nearing nightfall when they reached the Cast Iron gates and the long pathway to the home of Jacobe’s Run’s lord Arriten.

The manor was huge, bigger than the Il Galoth manor in Minas Tirith and it was made of grey marble, making it blend in with the solemn feeling of the town. Several servants met them at the front doors as well as Arriten himself.

“My dear girl!” he cried taking an unwilling Maén in a hug. “Its has been four years since I have seen you! Not since you broke your engagement to my poorly son over there.” Maén felt a pang of anger. She had not intended to say yes to Arridan in the first place. Her family wanted her gone, and Arriten was not the kind of man that Maén got along with. He was pretentious and arrogant, womanising and worst of all he had been a soldier. Maén hated the soldiers.

“I did apologise” she said weakly.

“Well, its all in the past!” said Arriten with a hearty laugh. “Tonight we feast and you will tell me why you have come here.” Arriten observed the group that had come with Lady Il Galoth. “And your friends, they must come too.” He ushered them inside. “You will find everything you need, clothes, bathrooms, and bedrooms. You must have a good sleep. We will have a mighty feast Maén just like old times” laughed the old man.

[Amanaduial the archer]

As they rode from the Inn, Atharen cleared his throat gently and turned his head slightly to Crystal. She was sitting more tall and stiff than before - stiff and straight. Oh gods, now I've offended her...

"My lady, back in the Inn, when I called you my fiancee...." he paused uneasily, then rushed on. "I did not mean to offend you. It was simply a....well, I wanted to protect you, you needed to have some status for travelling purely with men."

There was a pause, then she murmured back, "That is all? That is the only reason why?"

Her voice was giving nothing away, and Atharen suddenly got a rather ironic glimpse of how frustrating it must be when he veiled his feelings in talking to people. However, he was quick to affirm his story - what, does she think I see her as that man insinuated?! "Yes, my Lady," he replied quickly.

"I see." Another silence fell between them, and Crystal seemed even stiffer than before. Inside, Atharen ached to say more, to come out with why he had said fiancee rather than simply sister, or cousin, or...

If only she knew...

[Hama Of The Riddermark]

Roryn opened the door to his room, there was a beatifullly made bed with silk sheets, and a large portion of the floor was sunk several feet down and filled with steaming water. He smiled, it was going to be blissful. Pulling off his leather armour he threw it onto the bed, then hoisted his tunic over his head and took off his boots. He unded the drawstring around his troos, and walked over naked to the bath. He slid in, the warm water easing the muscle pains that he was feeling from all the riding. He dunked his head under, and the water swooshed in a spiral over his hair. He came up and took a gasp of air in, the water trickled down as he swept back his hair. He allowed himself to lie in the bath for almost five minutes, before getting out and drying himself with a towel. Walking over to the bed he noticed several patterned robes on the pillow. He took one and slipped it over his head. It fell to his ankles, the green cotton was heavy and warm, and Roryn smiled. He shook his hair and rubbed it with the towel, then slipped on a pair of sandals.

Walking down the stairs he met Crystal coming up, she strode past him, but he caught the expression on her face. Extreme sadness, Roryn suspected that Atharen had said something or done something wrong and sighed. For all his charm Atharen had little tact on occasions. He walked back up the stairs and as he passed Crystal's room he heard a quiet sobbing from it. His mouth curled down at the edges and he took in a larger than normal breath. He knocked gingerly on the door and heard Crystal cough and rummage around for a few sconds before saying "Yes?".

Roryn turned the knob and opened the door. He saw Crystal sitting on the bed, trying to look normal, but her eyes were red, and a patch on the sheets was damp. "What?" she enquired curtly, and Roryn was taken aback by her manner. He walked over and sat down next to her. "You need not keep pretence Crystal, I'm quite harmless." Crystal laughed, and in that laugh Roryn heard the sound of a sob, cleverly disguised, but there nonetheless. "It's all right Crystal, now talk to me, eh?"

[Kransha]

Idruil concealed his relative surprise after finding out the actual identity of the newcomer. He scolded himself swiftly, as he so often did, for even considering lashing out at a man he didn’t know. Before he knew it, he was up again, leaving his not yet imbibed tankard of ale behind, still brimming after his solemn session with it, on the table that had narrowly avoided being upturned and littered with Roryn’s acute arrows. For Idruil, the short, cross-town ride to this new, more comfortable abode passed quickly and mellifluously, Idruil himself too caught up in a subtle moment to pay attention to anything else. When they arrived at the home, as grandiose and splendiferous as it was to the naked eye, Idruil still seemed strangely detached from the spiraling reality. He headed in, as the group began to split up and go their separate, conspiratorial ways throughout the mansion. Idruil, alone at the time, did not head off to inspect the place, see to his room, and do some much needed exercises of hygiene. He could get to that later, though.

The man of Minas Tirith found himself, at long last, in the dining room of the manor belonging to Arridan’s patriarchal parent. He sat back, enjoying the feel of supple cushions relaxing his pained back, arched and hunched after days of horse riding and sleeping on the cold ground. He laid his gloved hands on the great, oaken wood table, smooth and polished with a multicolored cloth laid carefully over it. Smiling a withered smile, Idruil peeled his leathery gloves from sweat-soaked hands and laid them in a pile beside him as he leaned forward on the table. He relaxed, removing his heavy woolen cloak for the first time in several days and lay it in a cloth heap on that table. Without it, Idruil’s more slender silhouette was visible; his more colorful garb could be seen as he sat back again. He placed his arms on the carved arms of the chair in a regal fashion, puffing his chest out playfully, trying to mimic the solemn sternness of a throne-seated king.

He was annexed from his daydream by a flitting figure, who wasn’t truly flitting. It was Atharen who entered the room through the door opposite him. Usually, the entrance of a cohort would not have deterred Idruil from his single, treasured moment of splendor, but as his own eyes turned to the lowered ones of Atharen, he detected a look of dejection on the ranger’s face. His eyes were turned down as he stalked forward, just as contained as Idruil had been in a personal shield that would not take in the dim fluorescence of the room around. Idruil could not detect his usual ample warmth.

Though Idruil was not a man who understood such things, he had been near Atharen to see the apparent. He knew rangers of Atharen’s ‘caliber’ held much grace and courtesy, but Atharen had been visibly more than courteous to Miss Crystal, indeed. As much as Idruil tried to tell himself that he should not male foolhardy assumptions, his mind kept nagging him with the truth that he knew, or at least thought he knew. The way Atharen acted around her, though he never seemed to flinch from his ranger persona, the things they talked of. [i]‘Perhaps I am merely being foolish,’ thought Idruil calmly as Atharen paced by, ‘I have not experienced this quality of companionship in ages, so perhaps I am blurring the difference between love and graduated friendship…but…’ He was almost sure at this point, and his thoughts seemed affirmed as he looked across the table into Atharen’s down turned eyes. He was firmly resolute in belief, but he needed to know if he was right or not. Daring to stir Atharen from his new mood, Idruil spoke up at last.

“Atharen, something troubles you?” he murmured as softly as he could without being unheard completely.

[Crystal Heart]

Crystal ran over the events of the quickly passing night in her mind. Roryn stood, wanting to hear her troubles. It wasn't something she was use to, but at this moment she needed a friend.

"You may not want to hear this, but my troubles are not of normal consequence. I love the ranger, Atharen. I have since our meeting. I wished so hard that when he called me his fiancee tonight that it was because he loved me as well, but when questioned he said that it was just for safety. I have walked through life wondering if a man would come along and love me once again. I have been a walking corpse lately, until he came. And now all my heart's wishes have come to show that they are just that, wishes. There will never be a day where I will be the lucky woman who is loved so truly by a man for me and not my status. I had wished he was, wished he knew. I," Crystal said in a rush as she began to sob.

She took a deep breath and swiped at her eyes. She had wanted to talk to Atharen and she knew that the festivities were still going on downstairs. She got up off the bed and walked past Roryn.

"Where are you going Miss Crystal?" He asked her. She turned around softly.

To do what I know I must do before my heart breaks once more," She answered. With that she turned and left and headed down the hallway towards the room that Atharen had ducked into. She crossed the floor and headed straight for Idruil.

"I need to speak with Atharen alone. May I have a moment please?" She asked him. He nodded. She took Atharen's hand and made her follow her out of the room. She walked in another room that was empty, her heart racing. There wasn't anything that she could do to turn back now. She had made up her mind and she wasn't going to back down. He had to know. This tension, this incredible pain that she was feeling wasn't what she wanted any more.

He turned, his eyes filled with a surprise that Crystal hadn't noticed before and wasn't inclined to wish upon at the moment. She took a deep breath and swallowed hard.

"It's not enough that you said that I was your fiancee for protection. It's not enough any more to ride behind you on Sacriheart. It's not enough to watch you walk ahead of me and wish this anymore, wishing that you knew what you do not. It's not enough. I love you, Atharen. I have since the moment you put your arm on my elbow and led me away. You don't act frightened or turned away by who I am. When you said I was your fiancee my heart soared. I thought I finally knew that you loved me as well, but now I know I was wrong. I just wanted to tell you that I love you so deeply that I hurt inside. I hurt so badly that I can't even think. Every time I get close to you I just don't have any idea what to do or to say. I don't even remember time passing. These days have gone by like lightening. All I remember is you and that's all I want to remember. I just wanted you to know that I loved you before I left the quest. Maen would do much better without me tagging along, as will you."

Tears sparkled in Crystal's eyes. They fell down her cheek as she backed up, unable to turn away from his eyes. She fumbled against the door and her hand shakily looked for the door knob. She found it, but found she didn't have the strength any more. She slid down the length of the door to the floor and sobbed.

[Everdawn]

Maén was felt a strange sense of relief spread over her as she was alone in the room which Arriten had assigned her for the night. She ran a hot bath and lay in it for some time taking deep breaths. She was not happy to be in Arridan’s home, even if his father was here. She knew that Arridan had loved her name more than herself, she had always known that and no matter how hard Arridan had tried, he could not hide this well enough.

As the bath water got colder and colder Maén decided that it was best to get out before she caught a chill. She had brought with her a bare minimum of luggage, but what she did bring were dresses fit for a lady. This was one tradition that Maén did not resent. She dressed in a blood red one which she had brought with her and arranged her golden hair on her head and lay back on the bed until there was a sharp knock at the door. “Come in” she called suspecting that it would be Arridan to annoy her some more. But to her surprise the dark figure of Carathir entered and bowed deeply.

“I was just wondering Lady, what the custom is to eat with at these places?” he asked. Maén sighed.

“Knives and forks.” She said sitting up.

“Knives, I see.” He said. “Ill go now, and prepare.” And Carathir left.

“Strange lad” said the golden-haired Gondorian before following Carathir into the hallway. He was nowhere to be seen. Maén slowly made her way to the stairs which lead to the rooms of the others. It was then that Maén wondered why her room was so far from the others.

When she walked further she found Roryn looking equally as puzzled as she felt. “Whats wrong with you?” she asked putting her hands on her hips.

“Oh, my dear, Ive just had the strangest conversation.” He said rubbing his head.

“As have I.” sighed Maén sitting on the nearby couch. “Pray tell... No wait. Let me guess. Crystal has finally gone to tell Atharen she is in love with him?”

“How did you guess?” smiled the old ranger.

“Well Roryn my friend, I observe, I know a lot more about most people than they know about themselves. Other than it was half obvious.” She gave a light grin. “How are you holding up?” she asked.

“Not bad, other than I would have caused trouble if I had put an arrow in that Arridan lad of yours.” Roryn said weakly.

“Lets not talk of him for the time being, I intend to spend as less time here as I can. There are some things that need to be worked out though. One, Lysia has a notice that Guriel may have purchased property near here. Arriten may be able to help me find him.”

“And when we do find him, well kill him” said Idruil joining them.

“I do want to thank everyone for their support, you have been wonderful, but why do I get the feeling that Ferethor and his companion Aelimur want to stop me?” Roryn and Idruil exchanged uneasy glances. “No lets not speak of that either.” Ordered Maén “All this scheming will do my head in. Shall we wait for them or shall we go straight to dinner?”


~+~+~+~+~

Carathir did not know exactly why he had gone to ask Maén about dinner, he supposed that it was Lysia’s force of habit. It was not long after he himself had gotten lost in the many corridors of the manor that he found himself eavesdropping on a conversation between two men.

“Surely she hasn’t come to take me back father?” said one. Obviously Arridan.

“She’s come after the traitor, son.” Said Arriten

“How do you know?”

“I do, she’s always been like that. Never cross an Il Galoth unless you are sure that you can kill them. No, she will find what she came for, eventually, and we may just help her.” Carathir wondered what they both meant by this but by the time he had decided he did not know both men were gone.

[Amanaduial the archer]

Atharen turned sharply to Idruil as if only just realising he was there. Had his worry been that obvious? He was usually so good at hiding his emotions, was he losing something...

No, but you will if you wait much longer! Blast solemnity and mystery!

"It's the Lady Crystal," he replied abruptly, blurting out the words before they hid again. Idruil raised his chin very slightly, signifying that he was listening. Atharen turned, beginning to pace again, his hands behind his back, organising his thoughts. He spun around once more, his hands spread. "I think I lov-"

"Miss Heart, what is the matter?"

Idruil spoke over Atharen and the ranger whirled around yet again towards the door, something like guilt flashing with surprise in his eyes before it was hastily veiled. He shot a look of gratification at Idruil for warning him - but why? Rather keep this relationship than frighten her away forever...

"I need to speak with Atharen alone. May I have a moment please?" There was a desperate note that Atharen detected underneath her careful, polite words. Idruil paused, then complied mildly. "Of course, my Lady, of course. I bid you a very good night, Atharen, and you, Miss Heart. He is all yours." The last sentence was accompanied by a mock-conspiratorial wink before Idruil departed, chuckling slightly to himself. Atharen wasn't fooled. Is there anyone who doesn't suspect the thing I myself am not even sure of?! he thought wryly and with a little panic.

Even before the door shut behind Idruil, Crystal started towards Atharen…but after a few steps she stopped, as if unsure, then seemed to hesitate. Like a sparrow hopping a few feet away from a still human, she seemed intrigued, wanting to come close, but on the verge of flying away at any second. But there was never a sparrow so beautiful…

“My Lady, what is wrong-?” he started, stepping towards her with a hand out, but she shied away. Atharen felt as if he had been stabbed in the heart – not the heart as in the centre of the body’s life, that organ which pumps around the body blood, supplying oxygen and food to all areas – the second heart, the one that supplies the mind with far more than anything material could ever amount to. He stopped still, and his hand dropped slowly to his side as if it had never moved, surprise registering in his dark eyes as Crystal glanced up at him. Then, taking a breath which seemed to sob slightly, she began to speak, gushing out words that could have come from Atharen’s own heart.

Speechless, he could only watch as she turned away, somehow frozen although that second heart screamed at him to take her arm, to call her back. But somehow she seemed to lack all energy and suddenly slumped, sobbing, to the floor, curled against the door, her robe falling around her and crumpling, as her face crumpled into tears, the sobs of a child escaping her lips. Atharen flinched towards her as she fell, his reflex being to catch her before she fell, then he stopped, still apparently stunned from the verbal blows that he thought he may never recover from. She was of his race, and so close, and with no family or the like standing between them…but in that moment, Atharen felt that the barrier between them was more than was ever faced by Beren and Luthien, or Elessar and Arwen. To grab her…too rough, to harsh, to hasty. And there was nothing he wanted more in that moment than to be more gentle than anything.

Moving very slowly, he knelt carefully beside her, his eyes always on her face. She looked up towards him, her eyes following his down until they were level. Moving one hand forward, he rested it on her elbow, as he had done before, gentle and kind, but less firm than before.

“Crystal…” He began to sentence that he didn’t know how to finish. But as he looked into her eyes, he realised there was nothing he could say which a single action could not make her realise – a single action that would, in this case, speak louder than any words ever could. She looked away again, dropping her gaze to the floor as she sobbed once more, still apparently thinking the worst. Taking a silent breath, Atharen moved his hand up her arm, coming to her neck and raising her chin gently until she looked once more into his eyes. Then, turning his head to the side, one hand on the side of her face, he leant forward and kissed her, his eyes closed, on the mouth.

After a few seconds, he broke away, lingering for a second before he opened his eyes. As she opened her mouth to speak, seeming stunned, Atharen moved a finger to her lips, then rose silently, extending a hand and pulling her to her feet.

“Good night, my Lady Crystal,” he whispered almost silently.