So sorry, work is busy and I'm terrible at getting back to people. Also, setting up for a prequel, The Dark Mage of Rhudaur.
The Bar Aran – Narwain 6th, 1410
The city was buzzing with rumors concerning the arrival of the King of Arthedain. People were in the streets in the snow near the Royal Quarter, trying to get a glimpse of the young king. Stories of his bravery during the war with Angmar and Rhudaur played in taverns and theaters all winter. From within the Bar Aran, Nimhir frantically made preparations to receive Araphor. The King and his knights sat on feldstools in the Royal Hall, awaiting their hosts. Araphor bore the Sceptre of Annúminas, a four-foot, plain silver rod, carved with a spiral of Tengwar letters depicting the history of Tuor and Idril and the Prophecy of Huor. He also wore the Shards of Narsil, the sword broken by none other than Sauron, at his belt. These were priceless artifacts of the realm, used only for official state functions. Several servants brought the delegation some refreshments.
The herald of the house pounded his staff on the floor. "Announcing the Chancellor of Cardolan and regent of the realm, Nimhir!"
All but Araphor rose. Customs among the aristocracy were scrupulously adhered to, even between the kingdoms. Nimhir approached Araphor and knelt before the King. "Your Highness, you grace us with your visit. To what do we owe this honor?" he asked with all courtesy.
The King bade him to rise with a gesture. "Kind Nimhir, We are here concerning the letter We sent to Cardolan last month. Have you had time to consider our proposal?"
Chancellor Nimhir nodded. "A permanent alliance... Yes, it would be most advantageous to our two kingdoms," he said cautiously, trying to ferret out the true meaning behind the visit. He sensed that the King was not entirely for this plan.
Araphor continued, "The Council of Arthedain has met and we have come to ask for not only an alliance, but a permanent union. A reforging of the Kingdom of Arnor."
Nimhir gasped and fought to contain his reaction. "The Kingdom of Arnor. Why that name has not been heard here for five hundred years. What do you propose?" Nimhir asked, already knowing what Araphor would ask. He would play ignorant and let the Arthdans reveal their hand first.
The King hesitated a moment, then spoke. "We propose... We ask for a marriage to be arranged between ourselves and Her Royal Highness, the Crown Princess of Cardolan," he said very quickly. It almost seemed as if he just blurted it out to get it over with.
Nimhir nodded and put his fingers on his chin. "I see. The Princess has many suitors. It will have to be up to her." All he could do is buy time. Things were happening so fast now.
"Then we will just have to meet her," Araphor said with a grimace that screamed it was the last thing in the world that he wanted to do.
The Great Hall of the Bar Aran
Nimhir bowed and left to find the Princess as the Arthedan group waited. Araphor drummed his fingers on a table, bracing himself for the meeting. Images played in his mind of women orcs and female dwarves with beards. He popped a dried cherry in his mouth for something to chew on. It made him feel better.
Artos commented sympathetically to Araphor. "Who knows, maybe some other poor soul will get to marry her for as many suitors as she has. You know... she can't be that bad looking," he said hopefully. "Besides, even Haros has learned to live with his wife," he jested, pointing at another knight. Haros Eketta was a wealthy lord, who had married into even more money. His wife's ugliness was legendary in Arthedain and Haros took great offense to any negative comments. He had been in twelve duels in the last five years, being victorious in every one.
Araphor pursed his lips and prepared for the worst. "Lord Tarma, that gives us no comfort."
The great double doors to the Royal Hall opened and the herald again pounded his staff. "Announcing the entry of Her Royal Highness, Crown Princess of Cardolan, Nirnadel!"
Kaile lead the way, wearing a pink silk dress with her ginger hair intricately braided. She bowed before the knights.
Artos elbowed Araphor in the ribs. "She's not bad. Actually, she's quite attractive."
Araphor barely heard Artos as his attention was grabbed by the woman who followed Kaile. The King replied, "We don't think this is her."
Artos watched Nirnadel enter, followed by Galadel and Anariel. "Whoa, what was Malborn talking about? This cannot be the same Princess he described." Nirnadel glided across the floor and curtsied before Araphor. She was dressed in a gown of red, black and silver in a square checker pattern with ruffled sleeves and shoulders. Around her neck was a string of white and black pearls and her black hair flowed down in a waterfall braid. Her heart shaped face was lightly made up with rosy cheeks and lips glossed in ruby colors. She had expressive gray eyes over a slightly upturned nose. Behind her, Anariel carried a red pillow upon which the Sceptre of Thalion sat, the badge of the ruler of Cardolan, which Nirnadel could not bear until her coronation.
The young King knelt before her and took her hand. "This cannot be, surely you are not Nirnadel, the Princess of Cardolan?" he asked suspiciously. He looked at Artos and then Nimhir, half expecting to be the butt of some joke.
The Princess blushed. "Good King Araphor, why do you ask? Surely you have heard our herald." She also seemed confused as if expecting some ruse to be revealed. King Araphor scratched his head, remembering the vision that Malborn had shown him before he departed: the 'vision' of the 'Princess', bloated, scabby and missing teeth. Araphor shook his head and winced. Could the Palantíri break like one of those mechanical clocks in Annúminas? It certainly wasn't functioning properly.
Nimhir stepped forward. "Perhaps a stroll through the Royal Gardens would suit the King and Princess? I'm sure Anariel would love to escort you two."
The pair wandered the snow-covered Royal Gardens talking and laughing. Anariel, Kaile and Galadel followed behind closely, seeing that nothing improper happened. Araphor put on his most confident, humorous and charming display, using all that he had been taught in the Court of Arthedain.
Nirnadel looked up at him. "Good King Araphor, might we ask about your part in the war? We heard about the fall of Annúminas and We are deeply sorry. We lost our father and brothers in the war, and it is time that We learned of what happened if We are to govern wisely," she said thoughtfully.
Araphor sat on a nearby bench, and she sat next to him. "The city could not be held. There were simply too many of the enemy," he said gravely. "My father had asked for reinforcements to Amon Sȗl, but none could be spared. We were barely holding on. When we learned that the tower had fallen and my father, slain, We were prepared to defend Annúminas unto death. It was Artos Tarma who convinced us to retreat. We were able to get most of the citizens to safety and secure the treasures of the kingdom through his leadership." With his breath steaming in the cold, he showed her the Sceptre and the Shards of Narsil. "These are the heirlooms of our heritage, Nirnadel. The Sceptre was once given to the Lords of Andúnië in Westernesse. Elendil carried it out of Númenor ere the fall. Narsil has an even greater history. Eons ago, it was forged by the dwarf, Telchar of Nogrod in lost Beleriand and then given by Tar Minastir to the Lord of Andúnië, Ciryon, for his service against Sauron after the fall of Eregion. Here, We want you to hold the legacy of our people, the heirs of Númenor." He held out the two artifacts and offered them to Nirnadel.
She took them and looked them over, examining every detail and reading the Tengwar script. "Magnificent." She felt the weight and balance of the broken sword. "This was the weapon that cut the ring from Sauron's hand. We are in awe, Good King." She handed them back and Araphor passed them to Galadel, who stood, stunned by the overwhelming history of the items. The Princess looked into his eyes and said, "We were lost after hearing the news of our father and brothers being slain upon Tyrn Gorthad. We were…in a dark place. We have little idea or knowledge of how to rule. We are…overwhelmed."
Araphor put his hand on top of hers until Anariel put her hands on her hips and he pulled it back. "We too, miss our father. He fought many campaigns and was a king to be respected. We are…still finding our way."
Nirnadel nodded with a sad smile. "We…I understand. The loss of so many still weighs heavily." She rose and then pointed to a swing beneath a snow-covered Birch tree. "I can still feel my father pushing me. I can still hear his laughter. Is this normal, Good King?" They walked towards the swing. Nirnadel looked back to see Kaile smiling.
They sat together on the swing beneath the tree. Araphor looked about. "Yes, Good Princess, it is entirely normal. You have not felt anything that…I have not," he said and then swept his hand around the gardens. "Your house and lands are most fair. As you know, I am offering marriage to strengthen our kingdoms. I desire the reforging of the old Kingdom of Arnor, the legacy of Isildur. I am not asking for any answer right now. Please take time to get to know me. We are both young and have our whole lives ahead of us."
Nirnadel sighed. "Marriage is such a distant thought for me, Good King. I am enjoying the pleasure of your company and would gladly get to know you better. As for marriage, praythee, let me think upon it."
Araphor smiled. "Fair enough... One moment...," he began as an idea formed in his head. Why hadn't he thought of it before? "Would Your Highness be opposed to a visit to our fair city of Fornost? I would also show you the recovery efforts at Annúminas."
Nirnadel brightened as her face beamed with interest. "I indeed am not opposed. After all, I have never been beyond the borders of Cardolan. When can we go?" she asked as if ready to pack her bags this instant.
Araphor jumped up, laughing. "Why, right away of course. We will leave tomorrow if you wish."
Nirnadel joined in the laughing, taking Araphor's hands. "Splendid... simply splendid." She saw Anariel with her hands on her hips again and stepped back, blushing. "Come, let's tell Uncle Nimhir."
She practically dragged him into the Chancellor's Office to announce the trip. Nimhir sprayed tea from his mouth across his desk. Coughing, he spoke, "What? Go to Arthedain? You cannot be serious, Your Highness? This is…this is most irregular."
Nirnadel smiled. "Good uncle, of course we are serious," she said in a soothing voice to elicit sympathy. "I have King Araphor's word that we will be well protected, right Good King," she said, tugging at his sleeve. "We shall bring our personal guards and staff for good measure. Do not worry uncle, everything will be fine. Think of it as a diplomatic visit." Araphor nodded quietly in agreement.
Nimhir scratched his head and sighed heavily. "Your Highness, you do not know how important you are to both me and the kingdom. If something were to happen to you, I do not know what I would do."
Nirnadel put on her most pleading expression. "Oh, please..."
Nimhir couldn't look her in the eye. "I will speak to King Araphor first." The Princess' expression changed to a huge grin. Nimhir could deny her nothing. He motioned to an elegant chair and the King sat. The Chancellor looked intently at the young sovereign. "I feel that you are an honest king. I will grant the Princess her request to travel to your lands. However, I will hold you accountable for her safety. Do I make myself clear?" he said gravely.
The King nodded. "We will hold the safety of Nirnadel no less than our own. She will have the might of my kingdom to defend her. This, I swear."
Nimhir sighed reluctantly. "Very well, Your Highness. I will hold you to it and I hereby grant permission for the Princess to travel to Arthedain in the interests of unity."
Tharbad
News of the Princess' travel spread quickly as an entourage was formed to accompany her. Her eight-man Royal Guard would make the trip, along with Amrith. Firiel was offered a chance to join the group, but declined to stay with the Houses of Healing. Valandil and Mercatur were chosen to go, along with Kaile, Galadel and Anariel. Haedorial was chosen to be the Princess' herald. Each of the noble houses were tasked to send two representatives. The new Hir of Ethir Gwathlo sent two foot soldiers. Ostomir Tinare and his squire volunteered. Falathar Girithlin and his squire readily accepted. Celeph Calantir also sent two foot soldiers. Thangar Eredoriath and his squire stepped forward. Annael Feotar and his brother agreed to join. Finally, two dour knights from Tyrn Gorthad signed up.
Given the state of the kingdom, the fact that the procession was ready to depart in just over twenty-four hours was nothing short of miraculous. Araphor led his forty knights into Menetar Street in front of the Bar Aran to cheering crowds. The sun was shining, melting off some of the snow and slush pooled in the divots in the road. Following them was the Princess' entourage, dressed in their finest and marching or riding along. In the center sat the Princess atop a snowy white horse. Her sable cloak ruffled in the breeze as she waved to the people. Falathar rode right behind her, seeming to always want to speak with her. The staff of the Houses of Healing, now grown to fourteen, met them at the gate to the Bar Aran. Valandil and Firiel embraced, vowing to see each other soon. Finally, as the procession headed north, they let go. Valandil continued to look back until Firiel could be seen no longer. Little did they know, Silmarien moved along behind them. She was dressed in plain traveling clothes.
"These folks are going to need a little help," she said to herself.
The Palace of Thalion
Tardegil had done a bang-up job fixing up the palace. He had the men work around the clock to remove dead plants, polish furniture, and replace wood paneling. Though the work was crude by craftsman standards, it was a vast improvement over the decay that had taken over. True restoration would come later. The arrival of the Royal travelers improved morale considerably.
The hard-core, elite Raggers lined the road as the entourage passed, yelling, "Hurrah for the Princess! Hurrah!" They had heard of her deeds during the riot and felt she would be no less of a ruler than Ostoher, their beloved King. Tardegil waited at the entrance to the palace wearing his old, weathered silk robe. Nirnadel rode up and dismounted.
The old captain knelt in the snow. "Your Highness, it is good to see you so well. I was truly worried," he said in his deep, gravelly voice.
The Princess took his hand. "Your concern touches us, brave Tardegil," she said warmly. The faithful captain rose and Nirnadel hugged him. He returned the affection with his characteristic big bear hug. "I remembered how safe I felt in those big arms," she said, looking up at him.
"And I remember the small, but willful girl who hid behind my chair during council meetings years ago," he answered, getting a laugh out of her. "Now please, come in before you catch your death from cold."
The group was welcomed into the palace grounds and made camp and stabled horses. The proud Tardegil took the Princess into the palace and up to the throne. The massive, bejeweled seat appeared as golden eagle wings encircling a red velvet cushion. The tall throne back mounted a crystal dome with an intricate etching. Tardegil smiled broadly, the upturned palm of his hand pointing at the throne. "Your Highness, you will one day sit there. As you know, this is the throne of Thorondur, the first King of Cardolan. I know that you will live up to his name and I hope that I live to see that day." Nirnadel nodded gravely. She knew of the throne and of the long history of her people. A great weight rested upon her young shoulders. Quietly, Kaile, Galadel and Anariel waited behind them.
Tardegil led her beyond the throne into the main hall, where two ornately carved stairways ran upstairs on opposite sides of the wall. Reaching the top of the stairs, he revealed the fabulous stained glass windows facing west to catch the sunset. Kaile 'ohh'ed and 'ahh'ed, being a simple girl from the city. She had never before left Tharbad.
Nirnadel watched the last glow as the sun dipped behind the mountains to the west. "I have seen many sunsets through this very window. And each one is as beautiful as the first."
Tardegil then ushered them to the King's Suite. The ornate door held a gold disk bearing the circle of seven stars, the Royal symbol. The Princess had never been in here before. She spent her time at Thalion playing in the gardens or in the Queen's Suite and adjoining nursery. With much unease, she opened the door.
Tardegil bowed with deep reverence. "Your Highness, I take my leave of you now. The rooms are prepared, and refreshments can be found within. Call if you require anything." Nirnadel embraced him once again and then slipped into the King's Office with her ladies in tow.
The King's Office
The King's Office displayed portraits of the nine monarchs of Cardolan, including Ostoher. Nirnadel strode up to that painting and looked up into her father's gray eyes. His regal expression was just as she remembered: clean shaven, jaw set, eyes bright and hair neatly coifed. The painting captured the essence of his being: confident yet gentle, proud yet understanding. Nirnadel's knees weakened. Anariel rushed to her darling Princess and held her up. "Your Highness, come with me. We will draw your bath."
Nirnadel stood straight and sniffled. "We are well, good Anariel. T'was but a moment's weakness. Please, take us to the bath," she said taking some deep breaths. She held out her arms as her ladies removed her clothing, layer by layer.
Sitting in the porcelain and gold tub of hot water, Nirnadel splashed water on her face. A glass of fruit juice sat nearby along with several ripe apples and cherries from the winter crop. She drank several sips and then called out, "Kaile, please bring us some reading materials." She had become much more informal and relaxed around the former nurse.
Kaile gladly gathered some books from the King's Library and brought them in. She set them beside the tub on the counter. "This place is so magnificent. I have never before seen such grandeur. Thank you for the chance to see these things."
Nirnadel smiled. "Oh, I so much envied your life. Such excitement. I wanted so much to be involved with the city."
"Oh, you have been involved. We couldn't have done it without you. I felt bad having to leave the Houses of Healing, but your concern has allowed Firiel to hire three more assistants. I hear the plague has already done its worst and the number of new cases is dropping. You're the one to be envied," Kaile said seriously as she sat by the tub.
Nirnadel blushed and threw water on Kaile. "Oh posh, you are making us embarrassed," she giggled. The two laughed and chatted on as girls are known to do.
Later, when Kaile had left, Nirnadel perused some of the books. She noticed one written by her fallen brother Braegil. Braegil was a renowned lore master, even among the elves. In the text, written in the Sindarin language, she read of an expedition that Braegil had undertaken in 1405 to the ruins of Lond Daer. Just prior to the war, Braegil had organized another expedition in the hopes of finding a fabled 'Mithril Room' of the Númenorean King, Tar-Telemmaitë. That king had an irresistible lust for the metal mithril and his wealth and greed were legendary. Though the king died nearly three thousand years ago, the fable of the 'Mithril Room' lived on. Braegil wrote of a Númenórean ship lost in a storm, known to have carried 800 pounds of mithril in eight panels. The panels were completed by the Dwarves of Moria on contract for Tar-Telemmaitë. Near the end of his life, the greedy king refused to yield the Sceptre of Armenelos as was tradition, until his death. And so he died, yearning and hungering for ever more mithril. Nirnadel was fascinated by this tale. However, she noticed that her fingers and toes were becoming quite shriveled. Reluctantly, she put down the book and slid out of the tub in search of a towel. As she found one, she heard the dinner bell ring. Galadel rushed in and helped the Princess prepare for the evening meal.
The dinner was the finest Thalion had seen in nearly a year. Nirnadel sat at the head of the Royal Table with Araphor at the other end. Knights, staff, and soldiers filled the outdoor festival court under a red and green canopy. Four large reflecting ponds surrounded the court and diners. A feast of roast turkey, mint lamb and flame broiled beef filled the bellies of host and guests. Amid the sound of silverware clinking and conversation, Tardegil raised his crystal goblet full of wine. "A toast to House Tinare and the House of Finwarin for this fine feast and the supplies that strengthened Cardolan." The diners rose and lifted their glasses as well.
Nirnadel rose and raised her glass again. "To our brethren in the north, a toast to King Araphor, House Tarma and House Eketta and to the courage that flows in their veins." Cheers arose and diners lifted glasses as Haedorial wrote down every word and sketched the Princess with her glass held high."
When the meal was done, Nirnadel sat by one of the reflecting ponds and gazed at the image of the full moon therein. Falathar sat down beside her. "Fair Princess, have you thought upon my proposal?" he asked nervously.
Nirnadel splashed the cold water with her feet, attempting to distract herself. "Good Falathar, we have just met. We are still young and in no hurry. Please let us think on your proposal," she replied without looking at him. An uncomfortable silence ensued until broken by Anariel, who had watched Falathar's every movement with eagle eyes.
Anariel stood over Falathar with arms folded. "Your Highness, dessert is being served; strawberries with whipped cream among other delights. I know this is your favorite."
Staff came out and placed the dessert before each diner. Dishes of apple cobbler, raspberry tarts, pumpkin pie and, of course, strawberries with cream, brought squeals of delight and shouts of approval.
The Princess leapt up. She took Falathar's hand and pulled him up. "Come good Falathar, you cannot miss this treat," she instructed, winking at him in a friendly way. His eyes bulged with surprise and happiness.
The Royal Dining Room
At another table, Mercatur stuffed strawberries into his mouth as fast as his hands could move. "Mmm, chomp...chomp...slurp...I never had it this good in Rhudaur. If I ate sawdust I was grateful...chomp...chomp..."
Valandil laughed as he cut another slice of pumpkin pie. "Enough of this down in the dust mercenary crap. Just how bad was it in Rhudaur?"
Annael and Ostomir nodded. "Yes, we'd like to know." Mercatur drained another mug of ale and was feeling pretty good. He traded knowing looks with Tardegil, Amrith, and Artos. All had fought in Rhudaur at one time or another. Mercatur's hand gripped his mug with such force that his knuckles were white beneath his tan skin.
"Have you heard of the Gondyrn-onen-Egladil, or Stone Trees of the Angle? They were five beacon towers in southern Rhudaur that defied the power of the Witch-King. The Cultirith, rangers in the service of Rhudaur would try to capture these towers every year and depending on the circumstances, I had both attacked and defended these towers. In fact, only four years ago I had dined in the Chamber of the Merethrond in Cameth Brin. I was one of many being honored for our part in sacking a beacon tower. The only one I would not attack was the Tirthon. I have…had…never mind."
"Well, the following year, when it was time to renew my contract, the agents of the Witch-King told me they weren't going to renew. So, I took up as an Airund-shegan, or war lackey for some wagon train. It didn't pay much, but a guy has got to eat," Mercatur explained, drinking another ale. Nirnadel, Kaile, Anariel, and Falathar stood and walked over listening to Mercatur's continuing tale. Haedorial had also joined them, writing every word down.
"We were betrayed and pursued by wolves and Dunnish warbands. One by one, the other mercenaries fell. Finally, we arrived at Ynarri's Drift, an inn just outside of the Tirthon, one of the beacon towers. Well, we thought we had it made until the Cultirith attacked the inn. The wagon boss, Dagar, was frantic about getting his grain to the tower, so he promised me five extra silver coins. Well, we cut our way out and made it to the tower. I saw my old buddy Hirgrim among the attackers, but that is another story."
Nirnadel and Kaile gasped at the description of the incident and Mercatur looked up at them and nodded darkly. "This wasn't the end of it. The Dunnish warbands arrived and a siege was formed. It was there that I… oh, I'm just going to come out and say it, came across my cousin in House Rhudainor. Yeah, yeah, I know. I have drops of blood from the Royal House of Rhudaur. Not that it means squat to me. I'm much more of a bargeman and a rogue than any uppity royal," he said and then looked to the Princess. "No offense, Highness."
She put her hand over her heart. "None taken, good Mercatur. Praythee, please continue."
He took a deep breath. "The lord and my cousin, Marendil Rhudainor, had recently lost his wife and had become suicidal. Several days into the siege, he organized a cavalry charge into the prepared defenses of the Dunnish warbands led by an Easterling mage named Ethacali. Well, we got our butts kicked and Marendil was badly wounded. I was captured, but Hirgrim offered me my life and ten silver coins if I would switch sides. Well, I pretended to go along. Yeah, I'm a lowlife mercenary, but I don't go against family."
"So, for several more days, I led weak attacks against the Tirthon that only looked tough. Finally, it seemed that I would have my chance. Leading a group of the Cultirith, I had succeeded in climbing the wall of the Tirthon and was fighting against my former boss, Dagar. Well, he knew he couldn't beat me, so he threw down a bag of ten gold coins, saying there would be ten more if I would switch sides. I told him I was still on his side, but I kept the money anyway."
Haedorial was writing in a frenzy now, adding crude sketches of the mercenary holding his mug. "Come on man, I need to hear the rest!"
"So, after I slew the Cultirith climbers and hurled their bodies down on the orcs with the battering ram, Ethacali and Hirgrim got a little upset with me. Understandable," he said with a shrug. "First, they sent eight trolls against the Tirthon. The trolls breached the gate and there was desperate fighting. The Tirthon's new commander, Oswy and I poured molten lead down on the trolls, which slowed them down quite a bit," Mercatur spoke. He was beginning to shake and downed another mug of ale. Perspiration poured down his face onto the table.
Haedorial looked down at the scribbled notes that he had taken. "Go on," he urged. The Princess and Kaile grasped the edge of the table, white as ghosts and Anariel covered her face.
Mercatur slowly nodded. "All right...That mage then sent his most foul allies...Marendil had recovered by then. But they came by air, unnoticed...horrible...I...I can't go on," he said, pale white by this time.
Haedorial grasped Mercatur by the shoulder. "But you must."
Valandil pulled him back. "Don't push it, Haedorial." The bard nodded and sat back down. Mercatur drank another ale and then began to mumble an old Rhudauran song from the trollshaws.
Kaile looked at him. "I think he's drunk. Let's get him to bed."
The crew helped Mercatur back into the palace and into one of the rooms and Nirnadel carried his bags. The mercenary flopped into bed and began snoring very loudly. After they shut his door, Ostomir looked at Valandil and commented, "You two look very familiar."
South of Fornost Erain
The party was now approaching the outskirts of the new capitol of Arthedain. Their journey had taken several days in the thickening snow. The snow-covered hedges that lined the road gave a mystical feel to the journey. Invigorated, Nirnadel and Kaile inhaled the fresh air and talked about riding and sledding. Meanwhile, Valandil had finally satisfied Ostomir that he and Mercatur were engaged in a legitimate operation for Eärdil when they stood outside his mansion on King's Row those many weeks ago.
Nirnadel maneuvered her horse alongside Haedorial's mount. She brought out the book she was reading and gave it to him. "Kind Haedorial. Please read this book written by our brother, wise Prince Braegil, and tell me what you might glean from it. If Braegil were interested in this Mithril Room, than it would be of some importance, yes? I trust your skills as a lore master."
The bard was flattered, placing his hand over his heart. "Of course, Your Highness. I will talk with you later."
He slowed his horse and fell back to the rear of the party, behind the foot soldiers. Nirnadel narrowed her eyes, somewhat confused, hoping he would have stayed and continued to converse. She always enjoyed his knowledge and lore. In another moment she felt a tingling in her mind, almost an itchy feeling that couldn't be scratched. She heard whispers in her ear. It was Haedorial's voice, but she knew he was well out of earshot. She stood up in the stirrups and looked around.
"Your Highness, I see that you are learned in my art," his voice sounded clearly in her ear now. Some memories came back to her, and she turned around to see him at the rear of the column. He smiled and waved.
Focusing her mental energy, she returned the whisper from afar, "A gift from our late mother. I am still very unlearned." Haedorial bowed in the saddle. She indeed had a lot to learn and he had a lot to teach.
