House Mallorn ar' Celeb'ithil

The Clearing
Some deer drinking at a stream of water to the side of a small road suddenly raise their head to the unfamiliar sound of carts creaking up the road. As the first rider leading the carts comes to the deer’s sight, the deer bolt to deeper and, presumably, safer parts of the forest. The small caravan passes on, oblivious to the turmoil raised in this small part of the forest. The lead rider is being ever vigilant, keeping an eye from side to side of the road, both at the forest’s ground and at the trees, looking for those that might impede the progress of his group. Spotting a small clearing that looks partially cleared by a previous storm, he pulls into the small glade, signaling where he wants each of his seven covered carts to park and marshalling in his five other riders, each armed as he is with both swords and bow. Confiding with them in a quiet voice, he directs four of them to explore out into the forest as groups of two spiraling out, meeting at the two halfway points with orders to not investigate any weirdness, but sound horn and return quickly. The fifth rider who had the slot position for the day at the back of the wagon string is to keep watch over the camp, while he returns his attentions back to the forming camp, making sure the drivers and their assistants are quickly caring for their horses and wagons.

Dismounting, he brings his horse over to the rope strung between two large trees and drapes his mount’s reins over it while quickly counting the animals on the line. He nods to himself as it seems all but the riders’ horses are there. Walking to the supply wagon, examining it, noting how much empty space there is, he remembers how packed it used to be when this trip started. He sighs a little to himself and remembers organizing this caravan to bring the remaining “thises and thatses” of his Mistress’ belongings. “When originally given this task,” he thinks to himself, “I thought it would be a single cart or two and a fast ride out, but on cleaning out her personal library, her magic paraphernalia and tools, and, as her relatives required, her remaining closets and wardrobes. It grew to five completely packed wagons with covers bound over the contents to ensure it all stayed in place. Add to the count a cook wagon, a supply wagon and five additional guards to feed and protect this small caravan. In all, we still seem to have made reasonable time.”

“Dharashaess!” called the cook. “Do you want a cold camp or can I have a decent cook fire out here?

The caravan leader turns from the supply wagon to the human cook. This tall elf, red of skin and hair, eyes blazing with their own inner fire stares at the cook for a moment as if playing with several ideas, then finally says, “Sam, you can gather the wood for a fire and make preparations for a cooking fire, but not to light it until my guards return from scouting the area.” The cook nods and thanks his boss, then takes leave. Returning to his thoughts, now broken from the conversation, he turns back to the camp and makes the rounds, talking to the drivers, looking at the wagons, and checking all the animals.

“Tha’s one scary elf,” Zeke, the main driver for cart three says to Gabby, his assistant as he points to the caravan leader while gathering some wood for a cook fire.

“Scary, but fair,” replies Gabby. “Those eyes burn, like he ain’t normal. Ya know, even for an elf, not they’re too normal anyways…”

“Shhhh, ya stupid fool,” says Zeke, slapping Gabby’s head with his open hand. “He’ll hear ya with them pointy elf ears. They all have good hearing. Some hear better. He maybe scary, but least he’s on our side.” Zeke reaches down and picks up another log. “And git ya tail movin’. Ya return with nothin’ and da others will get mad atchyu,” pointing to another large log, “That one o’er thar’ll help.” Gabby grumbles as he gets the indicated piece of wood. Zeke continues in his hushed voice, “And ya saw what he did to that thar bar when it came a snufflin’ along to our supply wagon.

Gabby agrees, “Yeh, we coulda shot it too, but he stopped us and went to da bar and got it surprised with one of them those balls of fire he does with his hands. Caused it to back up and rear it did. He moved so fast pushin’ the bar over onto its back like a turtle, then ran behind it and did somethin’ to it so it went to sleep. Then when he had us move it back a long far away….”

“But it tried to get him, it did, but he kept movin’ out of its way,” Zeke interjects. “But did he have to give it food anyways? I know we’re goin’ to some place around here, but that comment about his Mistress owning this thar wood…”

“But wouldn’t that make it his then if she’s, ya know, his, um, …” asks Gabby.

“No, no, no!” hissed Zeke, “It’s his Mistress, ya know, like His boss, not his girl friend. And don’ make that mistake to his face or he’ll get all mad at ya. I saw him a couple towns back when we resupplied our meat for the wagon, when he felt someone insulted her when he made a comment. Them was just bullies them were, thinking he was an easy mark for the gold he carried. You saw how he just nicked them a little at a time, playing with them, bleedin’ them a little bit at a time, lettin’ them run away if they wanted, if they wanted. Then that one really got him mad and he punched the bully in the face enough to break his nose and a few teeth. That was when the other two ran and two of our guards pulled him back quickly, one around each of his arms. He stopped when he realized that they where his folk, lucky for them and that we had some cold water to help with thar burns. Pity about thar leather gloves burnin’ off.” They both stop as they hear a burst from a muted horn from the direction of the camp. “Time to git us back it seems. Guess he’s goin’ to have a cook fire after all, lucky for us.”

“Whew, thank goodness,” exclaims Gabby as he grabs one last log for the fire. “Guess we can git a few more on our return to camp. Guess we have been lucky like that, makin’ it through some of them bandit roads without a scratch. Been one of the easiest ‘vans I’ve been on.” Zeke nods at that as they return to camp arms full of wood and a new topic to talk about.

As I lead my caravan on the final day, having had a good night’s repose, we make a turn and see the towers and halls of House Mallorn ar' Celeb'ithil. I stare at the wall and can see some movement. “Good!” I think, “Our arrival is noted and we shall see how well they respond.” I call back to the caravan, “Our objective is in sight!” Making the over emphasized arm gestures for speed for all to see, I then move out at full gallop to the gates, knowing that the caravan will come as fast as they can, but also knowing the call of food and a nice comfortable bed is more enticing to them.

Coming up to the gates, I see the humans manning them. “Shall I test them for strength or will my Mistress, complain, again, for me picking on those that follow her,” I think to myself. “This wouldn’t be the first time I am chastised by her publicly, but no, I did promise her in missive I would be good this trip as we are carrying some of her treasures and some of her not so much treasures I was required to take. If she wants them gotten rid of, I am sure we can find several elsewhere who would enjoy the good clothes.” As I get to the front of the gates, I call out in a booming voice, “Ai Mallorn ar' Celeb'ithil! Ai vaethor veleg! Eneth nîn Dharasha’ess. Min vellyn” I look at their blank but wary faces and add, “Avo nago nin!” I couldn’t help the smirk that creeps onto my face. “Nin heniach?” I ask. Still seeing the blank look on their faces, I can tell they could not speak my language. “Oh why does … Mistara, yes, Etriel Mistara is right, stay with these who can not speak a decent tongue?” I take a deep breath quickly through my nose and let it out slowly through my mouth. “The calming of the mind is good for the soul,” I chant in my mind. “The calming of the mind brings peace. The calming of the mind brings patience. The calming of the mind …”

“You there!” I hear called down from the wall. “Can you speak the common tongue? What is it you would have from here?”

“… won’t work with such as these,” I finish. Looking up at them, I can feel my skin darken a bit, but being with Etriel Mistara, I am sure that they have seen magic in play before. I can see them readying their weapons, thinking me, Me, some fell demon no doubt. I hear the wagons drawing neigh and know that this needs to end since I will not have survived to the doors with her things only to watch any one of them get nicked or, worse, broken. I turn to look at the wagons, then back at the guard. Realizing my saddle will only hold back the heat from my horse for a while, I take one quick calming breath, feeling my skin dim back to its lighter shade of red and call to them, “Hail Mallorn ar' Celeb'ithil, I am Dharasha’ess. I am of the race of fire elves and I ask of you to … please …” Ow, that word chills my tongue. “… open the gates and inform, Etriel Mistara, that I have come bearing ‘gifts’ of things for her.” I say this last with a grin on my face. Well, even though the stuff is hers, she didn’t want it all, but she might change her mind when she sees I brought her old stuffed friends Gurth, the green dragon, and Belegorn, her tree ent. I know what she will say though about the 12 chests of dresses I was forced to take and have placed on the fifth wagon. I was also forced to take some of the jewelry I have hidden in a small chest in the first wagon and an heirloom I carry in one of my red dragon hide pouches, along with a scroll from home, sealed in a tube. These last two can wait till later though.

I look back to the wall. I think normally they would have let me in had I not seared a nearby bush, which was unfortunately too close to me when I started to get mad. I stare back and wait, empty handed. The wagon guards pull in close to me. I signal two to cover either flank and stay vigilant and a third to watch from behind, but stay in plan sight of the wall. Also inform them not to even look like they are drawing a weapon unless needed to from attackers. Their first priority is to protect the wagons, which form a nice line starting not far behind me. The remaining two riders sit their horse beside me, waiting for a response.

The captain of the watch looks on as a caravan approaches the main gate from the main forest road. “Look alive!” he calls to his men as the wagons creak along looking fully laden. The guards all snap too under Brock Brightshield’s watchful eye. Rumor has it that there are orcs running these forests and this might be one of their traps.

A strange, red skinned elf separates himself and calls up in the strange elfin tounge he has heard before but has yet to learn. “You there!” Brock calls down from the wall. “Can you speak the common tongue? What is it you would have from here?”

He calls back, “Hail Mallorn ar' Celeb'ithil, I am Dharasha’ess. I am of the race of fire elves and I ask of you to … please … open the gates and inform, Etriel Mistara, that I have come bearing ‘gifts’ of things for her.”

“Drop the gate,” calls out the captain as he adds to his men, “I shall go greet our visitors.” Racing down the gate tower ladder, he hits the bottom and slips out the door, then the gate till he stands almost even with this strange visitor. Noticing how the riders are nervous in their saddles and seats, he sees that this stranger, this … Dharashaess is calm. “Greetings,” Brock says in a loud voice for all to hear. “I am here to welcome you in the name of Etriel Mistara to House Mallorn ar’ Celeb'ithil. I am Brock, Captain of the Watch and please follow me in.”

The wolf was padding along in the forest, satisfied with her hunt for the day, when she finally heard the call of the trees. She was so engrossed in her hunting earlier she must’ve missed the message. She cocked her head listening, the message was clear; her long awaited guardian is here. She pushed herself into the air leaping with her hind paws, and shape shifted into the owl, flying as fast as she could toward the house. The window into her study was still open, just as she left it earlier this morning.

Flying in through the window, the owl took a dive towards the floor, the figure that rose up was that of the druid, the pensiveness on her face that had been there for a week is now gone. The real owl, her familiar, hooted a greeting from its perch by her desk.

“A fine day indeed Faenwen”, she returned the greeting.

She was beaming with a smile, as she straightened up her dress; she took a quick look at her reflection on the window. Seemingly satisfied, she called Faenwen requesting the owl to be her eyes at the gate. Just as the owl flew out the window, she heard a polite knock.

“Enter”

The figure that appeared behind the door was that of the house Captain, Lord Brock Brightshield, looking rather pleased. “Etriel, your expected guest is here. He awaits you at the Great Hall”

“Thank you Captain, please lead the way”, she smiled as the Captain bowed and offered his hand. She took it with a gracious smile, placing her palm on top of his gloved hand, as he led her to the hall.

She quickly sends out her thought to Dharasha’ess, knowing his antiques, “Vorima, ni estel mánala nin.¹”

As she arrived at the hall, seeing the face of her long awaited companion her eyes sparkles and a warm smile graces her own. She nodded towards the captain gratefully, as she let go of his hand. She greeted the fire elf before her in the language he prefer, the common elven, instead of the high elven she is prone to use.

"Elhadron tirion vuin, Gîl síla erin lû govaded vîn. Faer nîn veren. Guren linna gen cened.²"

Her eyes glazed over, as she entered Faenwen’s vision, quickly scanning the gate area for fire damage, and found only that of a burning bush. She also noted that the line of wagons by the gate seems to be fully intact, although the faces of the house guards are uneasy. She quickly left Faenwen's vision and chuckled lightly, “Mae coren vellon nin. Le hannon o gûr nîn.³”



¹ Faithful one, I hope for my sake you are behaving.
² Beloved faithful guardian, a star shines upon the hour of our meeting. My spirit is joyous. My heart sings to see you.
³ Well done my friend. I thank you from my heart.

Escorting the Etriel of the house into the hall, Captain Brightshield halts with her. Locking his ice cold blue eyes on this newcomer, he stands rigidly in a comfortable, but ready stance, unmoving like a rock, yet flexible for action if need be. His ears and eyes take in the room, while he feels the subtle motions of the air as if that too can tell him how to act next. Indecisive on the stranger who seemingly is a friend of Lady Mistara and is being welcomed into the house by her, he waits to see how the cards are played.

As I sit my horse, I watch the gate drop in a reasonably civilized speed. An armor clad human, the obvious leader of the watch, walks out and stands on the middle of the gate. He says in a loud voice, “I am here to welcome you in the name of Etriel Mistara to House Mallorn ar’ Celeb'ithil. I am Brock, Captain of the Watch and please follow me in.” I nod to him and make a few quick hand gestures after a loud whistle. Quickly glancing to see the guards and led driver saw the hand motions, I dismount and leave the reins draped over the saddle. I walk up to this Brock with my horse trailing me by a length. I purposely keep my hands relaxed and positioned away from weapons as I meet him on the drawbridge. Having already learned that they don’t speak elvin, I greet him, “Well met, Brock. I am, as said, I am Dharasha’ess. I will follow peaceably.”

He leads me into the yard and up to a large hall. My horse, of course, stopped at the end of the stairs, looking for a nearby trough from which to drink. Reaching the middle of the hall, I await where I am asked to stand, smirk still stuck to my face. As Brock leaves, I noticed where he had his weapons positioned on his body and continue to watch how his body naturally moves as he walks away. I can hear through the open door to the outside, the guards outside directing the caravan to places where they can watch them well on the inside of the wall. “Good!” I think, “Basic security practices. It is good I didn’t have us test their security. I think Arniel would not have appreciated a small mock raid in her own courtyard.”

“Vorima, ni estel mánala nin.” comes to my mind like a spring breeze, fragrant of the blooming flowers and gentle on my mind. “Yes, Arniel,” I think, knowing that my thoughts don’t carry as hers do. “I have been good this day as hard as it’s been.” I turn in the direction she is, knowing that she is moving closer to me. Her presence a radiant beacon to me. I watch her come out of one of the corridors feeding this hall and note that this is obviously the way to her study or bedroom. The guard, Brock, leads her like a peer instead of a guard – that is fine, I guess, now that I am here. He is obviously the Captain of her guards then. My guess is that we shall have some agreements to make between ourselves as his job is to guard the halls and mine is to guard … Mistara. What would her family think if I came back to them telling them that their daughter was mortally injured?

“Elhadron tirion vuin, Gîl síla erin lû govaded vîn. Faer nîn veren. Guren linna gen cened,” is how she greets me. I see her eyes staring through air at nothing and know she is either watching through the wolf or owl. I am guessing Faenwen as that is her favored set of spare eyes. A chagrined look crosses her face as in place on her face as that dour scowl is Brock. “Mae coren vellon nin. Le hannon o gûr nîn,” she smiles at me. Looking past her, I see Brock staring at me, his blue eyes taking my measure. He seems to be holding his opinion, like a good military man. That one I will need to watch. I turn back to Mistara.

“Arniel, Govaded vîn 'lass. Guren linna gen cened. Thiach vae Le tolo na mîr.” ¹ I glance back at Brock so that Arniel can see who I mean, then look back at her and add, “Conui tirith so trastannen achen a al-heniom. An so thelion pedion faeg lam Adanath estan glam.” <sup>2

1</sup> Translation: Arniel, Our meeting is a pleasure. My heart sings to see you. You seem well. I come with your treasured items.
² Translation: Your captain is troubled for you and does not know me. For him I must speak that deplorable tongue man calls speech.

“Arniel, Govaded vîn 'lass. Guren linna gen cened. Thiach vae Le tolo na mîr.”

She gazes at her long time companion lovingly, they have never been apart for this long in the past and she has indeed missed his presence. Although he is technically not bound to her by blood or oath that she is aware of, he has followed her through countless seasons. She had asked him many times why he chose to follow her this long, and he had never given her a straight answer to this day. Regardless, she truly enjoys his company, and the pair had endured many things together throughout the many years they have been together. She smiles as she approaches him, taking his hand in hers, “Elhadron, avo bedo brún. Min únedh adar nín herth.”¹

“Conui tirith so trastannen achen a al-heniom. An so thelion pedion faeg lam Adanath estan glam.”

She follows his gaze and met that of Brock’s, noting the slight tinge of jealousy and annoyance in Dhar’s voice, “Please allow me to introduce you two to each other. This is Héru Brock Brightshield, Captain of the Watch.” She added in a silent whisper to Dhar’s mind, “Maer abonnen.”²

She turns, “Captain, this is Dharasha’ess. My faithful companion, and has been so for many ages.” Their relationship has always been hard for her to explain into words, she left the introduction short.

Turning her attention from one to the other, feeling the tension as both men seem to be sizing up each other, she waited to see which one of them will speak first.

¹Elhadron, do not speak so formally, we are no longer in my father's court.
²A good man.

I stare at this Adan¹ and realize my fear for Arniel might be driving my animosity of this man who seems more gracious than I would have been had the situations been reversed. How does one call … Mistara’s … and my relation -- Professional? Yes. Deep? Yes, but not as the Edain² would understand. Bonded mates we are not, but twined spirits we are. I suppose I would be concerned and as formal as this Lord Brock Brightshield, Captain of the Watch. I feel Arniel … Mistara wants me to accept him or, at least, tolerate him as she did tell me he is a good man. He looks like he wants a sign that I am “safe” to this house, his people, and his position. Well, two of three casts are true. I have my own job, and I have not done anything to a friend that a good healer can’t put right quickly. Still, my temper, well, like the time at the Inn many a year ago, but, well, that is another story.

I extend my hand to this man, Brock Brightshield, and try for at least a friendly smile, though that is not a shape my muscles find often, and say, “Le govaded vaer, Héru Brock Brightshield, Hîr Maethor...” I stop in mid greeting and realize I have yet to switch back to this “common” these edain speak. I start again, “My apologies, I mean to say, ‘A pleasure meeting you Lord Brock Brightshield, Captain of the Watch.’ You must have a stout heart for … Mistara to accept you into this position. May our paths cross frequently and in the sun. ”

¹ Translation: Man
² Translation: Human

The two males stand locked in appraising stares, summing up the two as two young wolves do in their quest to be the alpha dominant. Feeling yet no threat from this elf, Brock awaits his house Etriel to formally introduce them. While watching Mistara offer welcome to this “friend” of hers, Brock decides this is good enough for him and accepts him, at least for now, as a friend. He waits while listening to them greeting each other in their elven language. Following that, he was formally introduced with a handshake and some praise. Not following for any potential ruse, the captain nods and replies, “A pleasure to meet you Lord Dharess’ess. May you enjoy peace within our walls while you and your men are here.” Turning to Mistara, Brock sketches a respectable bow to her then offers, “ If my service are no longer needed m'lady, I shall return to the watch tower...” Standing rigid, almost at attention, he waits for Mistara to dismiss him back to his other duties.