Thread:Maltalidenta Kwuitidherali/@comment-26295802-20160103210909

See what you think, it presents the lore we talked about in a story format:



Two youths sat upon a stone wall overlooking the Harbor of Dol Amroth. One was Imrahil, a boy of thirteen, future prince of the seaside-kingdom. The other was twelve-year-old Travian son of Travious II, recently made squire to Imrahil.

"I think you'll like it here, Travian" said Imrahil "It's a nice place, here where the mountains meet the sea."

"Indeed, I think I will like Dol Amroth" said the younger "But I'm afraid you'll have to show me around the court. I come from the Northern provinces, you know, and I don't know all the protocol for the magnificent courts of Dol Amroth"

Imrahil nodded

"I know that where you come from, being a squire makes you. . . inferior, somehow, to the knight. It is not so, here. Here, squires are valued greatly, and the saying goes that 'It is more honorable to be a squire to the mightiest knight, then to be, yourself, the second mightiest'. You should also know that as the squire to myself, the future prince of this fiefdom, you will serve no other master until either of us die. When I inherit the throne you will become my right hand, my seneschal"

Travian smiled thoughtfully

"I think I will like that indeed, Imrahil"

Suddenly the conversation was interrupted by female a voice coming from behind

"Imrahil! Travian! Come here, lads, I've made some honey cakes and tea for you!"

They turned around to see a beautiful elf with a tray of piping hot cakes and two small cups of tea. She had long hair as fair as the light of day, and was dressed in a long blue gown. She looked to be around thirty by the reckoning of mortals.

"Ah!" said Imrahil, leaping to his feet and taking the tray hungrily "Thank you, Lady Cal'endurë!"

She smiled warmly and turned away, walking back towards the Tirith Aear.

"Who is that?" asked Travian "She is surely not your mother, for you called her 'Lady'"

"Well" said Imrahil, thoughtfully sipping tea "I honestly don't know why she cares for me so. She lives at the palace and has been as a mother to me, yet nobody knows why and not even my father can remember her coming, for it was so long ago. Even Old Man Bergil says that she's been here as long as he can remember, and that she cared for my father the same way she cares for me."

"What??" said Travian "How many generations has this happened??"

<p class="MsoNormal">"We don't know" replied Imrahil "But its been at least ten, for she is mentioned in the Annals of Tirith Aear then. The Princes of this kingdom have been raised by her for generations uncounted."

<p class="MsoNormal">"And nobody knows why she does it??"

<p class="MsoNormal">"There are rumors, of course, about her being a cousin of Nimrodel, and rot like that, but nobody knows for sure. And none of the princes have ever been against having her raise their son because it is such a tradition."

<p class="MsoNormal">"Wow. . . So the same elf that raises you now, also raised your grandfather and your great-grandfather?"

<p class="MsoNormal">"At least! It does give me a feeling of importance somehow. . ."

<p class="MsoNormal">"But still. . . what an odd tradition. . ." <ac_metadata title="A story"> </ac_metadata>