Farothel hadn't expected to find himself at this door again so soon. With all the tasks around Dinmir's house and shop requiring attention, his schedule was full. Aldawë's and Arandil's arrival made the workload less strenuous; still, there wasn't much time for frivolities. Bah, now he was thinking like Auros.
So why was he knocking at Laikendir's door? Why had he been sent for rather than Dinmir or Auros? On a cloudy day like this, he should be helping the others cover the lumber for Dinmir's house; and he would be if Aldawë hadn't all but thrown him on his horse when the message came that Laikendir wanted to meet with him. Perhaps Farothel had said more than he meant to when he spoke of that lunch. Why Laikendir might want to see him wasn't as much of a mystery as Farothel wished, but he'd rather not jump to conclusions. Going into a conversation with unwarranted assumptions could lead to misunderstandings, and Farothel had no desire to make the kinds of mistakes that could incur.
At last the door opened, but rather than Laikendir standing behind it, there was a man who looked rather uncomfortable in the suit he wore. "Greetings, Sir Farothel. Master Laikendir awaits you in his study. Please follow me." Though dressed the part, the doorman himself didn't look it. If demeanor were anything to go by, he would rather chase down a horse that had escaped its stall, and had only resigned himself to his current duty in deference to the master of the house. Why Laikendir would ask this of the man was a mystery, and to solve it there was naught to do but follow his lead.
Follow he did: past the sitting room where he'd enjoyed lunch last time, down a hallway lined with portraits. This hallway had a different feel than the previous, like it was older, more lived-in. The divide was well-disguised, but he suspected they'd crossed into the heart of the original estate. The paintings hemming them in were old, bearing the images of many different men and women, but each held enough of a likeness to Laikendir and Gelurien that they had to be family. Despite the haste instilled in him, the doorman paused long enough to straighten one portrait with a gentle hand and a fond gaze. Long enough for reason to consider his deference was due to more than respect for his current employer. Once the task was done he resumed his pace and led Farothel around a corner to a set of double doors. The doorman gave them a firm rap, and a call to enter came from within. He ushered Farothel through and eased the doors closed behind him.
Pacing along his wall of books, Laikendir appeared taller than Farothel remembered; the man was no taller than Auros, and Farothel was scarce shorter, but he felt a need to draw himself up nonetheless. How did Auros manage it? How did he seem twice his height?
"Ah, Sir Farothel, you made it! Thank you for coming!" Laikendir hastened over, took Farothel's hand and gave it several jerks up and down. The strength of his grip was surprising from a... actually, the man's occupation was still a mystery. "Please." Laikendir motioned to the empty seat in front of his desk. "Can I offer you something to drink? I imagine the ride was a thirsty venture."
Once he had his hand back, Farothel clenched it a couple of times, relieved to find it still worked. "For my horse, mostly. Yes, thank you." He took the proffered cup and sat down. The cushions in this study weren't so soft as those in the sitting room. Their pattern, as well as the other furniture and decor, gave him the sense of preserved antiquity.
"Your horse is being seen to, I assure you." Catching Farothel's gaze, Laikendir answered the question left unsaid. "This was once my granduncle's study. He was something of a collector. When he bequeathed the house to me, I had little to my own name. I keep it this way in honor of the great faith he showed in me." His own cup in hand, Laikendir took his seat and eased back at a considerable angle. With this final piece, the doorman and the long walk through the house made sense: he wished to present himself every bit the sovereign of his domain. Given the same situation, Aldawë would have some smart quip, and Arandil might play along if it amused him, but Auros would have no patience at all with such petty bids for dominance. For the moment, discretion was Farothel's choice, but Laikendir's eyes met his, and Laikendir sat forward, hands folded together as he leaned on his desk. "How are you and your cousins faring? I trust Madame Dinmir is adjusting well to our town?" An arched eyebrow hinted that he found the relation dubious. While it was a slip on Farothel's part, the blame for which he gave to lack of practice with introductions and being caught off guard, Dinmir and Aldawë might as well be his cousins. It was no business of this Laikendir fellow anyway.
"We fare well, and yes, each passing day finds her more at home."
"Good, good. I understand you've had some companions arrive recently. Her brother, and...?" The man was fishing for information, though he seemed to know enough already.
"A friend of ours." Tone bordering on curt, Farothel curbed it just in time.
"Aha, a friend." One little word, and Laikendir's interest vanished.
It required more effort than usual for Farothel to maintain his poise. Arandil hadn't been quite so clever about hiding his affection for Dinmir as he thought, and while he might not sit at the pinnacle of her esteem at the moment, Farothel wasn't about to side against a friend for this stranger. He set his cup on the desk and steepled his fingers, his brow furrowed and a frigid glare levelled on the man across from him. "Master Laikendir, I trust I've not been called here merely to recount the number and relationships of my dearest friends."
"My apologies. I meant no disrespect. I do wish to be considerate of your busy schedule, so I'll get right to the point." Despite that assurance, the crackle of the fire was the only sound for at least a full minute before he continued. "My cousin is a lovely woman, is she not?"
Just when Farothel thought he'd steeled himself, that he couldn't be caught off guard again. The fire seemed to crackle slower as a studious manner settled on Laikendir, his gaze fixed on his target. Finding himself that target didn't daunt Farothel, it made him calmer, more focused. "I can't imagine anyone would disagree."
"Including yourself, I presume. Have you seen her like in all your travels?" Why Laikendir wished to focus on this topic was lost on Farothel.
"Begging your pardon Master Laikendir, but if I wished to expound upon Gelurien's beauty, would she not be the more proper recipient?"
"Indeed, indeed. My apologies. I'm pleased to know you remember her name." His host took that as a victory for some reason. "She has a keen mind as well, as you were treated to during your last visit."
"She has beauty and wit. I concede both." Farothel fought back the terseness in his tone. Under other circumstances he might be annoyed rather than suspicious, but as he studied his host, the same tightness settled between his shoulders as when he patrolled the passes of the Hithaeglir knowing a band of orcs could be around the next bend. There was a point to this, he was sure of it, just as he was sure he wasn't going to like it.
Laikendir leaned against the back of his chair, swirling his beverage. His countenance had changed. Farothel now sat across from a strategist who deemed his first tactic a failure and sought a new one. "I'll admit to you, Sir Farothel, that I've looked into you. I have means and sources when I need them. I'm satisfied by the reports." His words carried a tone of both commendation and warning.
"It's comforting to know one's reputation is held in esteem."
"Indeed." The swirling continued as he let the silence sit. "Sir Farothel." His drink sloshed against the side as his hand ceased its motion. "I am in need of someone I can trust, and for the task at hand I find myself in short supply." Intriguing that, of all the people of the town, Laikendir would choose a newcomer and visitor.
"I see. What kind of task might this be?"
"I find I must make a journey soon, and I worry for my cousin. She has wit enough for several, but while she has acquired the techniques of defense, a warrior she is not. Our house has an unsettled disagreement with another prominent family, and while I don't suspect any particular foul play, I've been given cause in the past to ask Gelurien not to stray too far from home while I'm away, at least not alone. While it's been for her safety, I fear that she's becoming much too accustomed to tarrying on the grounds of our estate even when I'm present. She's still young." A wry grin appeared. "Younger than me, at least. You two are perhaps near enough in age that you would understand the need to get out into the world, to breathe fresh air, to explore, even if it's just the small corner in which you live."
"I suppose."
"I don't like that I've feared for her, but I like less that she should fear for herself."
"If protection is what you wish for your cousin, then my cousin would be the best choice."
That answer seemed to amuse Laikendir. "I've no doubt Sir Auros could freeze a dozen men in place at the mere suggestion of drawing his sword. Begging your pardon, but were I given proof he were the greatest swordsman extant, I still would not choose him. He's a worthy man, don't mistake me. I've heard naught but good about him. However, I deem all he would see is the duty set before him; and you, well, you see Gelurien, don't you? My cousin doesn't need a soldier who can cow the townsfolk with a glance. She needs someone who can let her be about her business in peace, who can be a companion until it's time to be a defender. I don't want her to feel as if she has a second shadow haunting her steps, watching and waiting only for the moment when his sword must be employed."
The more Farothel heard, the less he was sure he could turn down the request; and the more he was sure he should. He was also sure Laikendir hadn't told him everything, and it was the unspoken words and unasked questions that usually proved the most pertinent. "You say you expect no particular foul play. What are you expecting, and how do you wish it to be managed?"
"I'm hoping none at all. I'm hoping that your mere presence will deter any of the more ambitious attempts from Taurant."
"Taurant?"
"Yes. His is the family at odds with mine, though he is all that's left of his in this town, and likewise mine has dwindled to myself and Gelurien. I've tried to settle our disagreement to no avail, and I've tried to send my cousin away on several occasions to spare her; but she insists on remaining, as if by doing so she hopes to prevent some greater calamity. An admirable sentiment, don't you think?" Laikendir didn't seem to expect confirmation for that assertion at least.
Farothel knew he should've refused to aid Laikendir. Neither he nor Auros held any respect for the man named Taurant, but Auros wouldn't approve of antagonizing him either. He would say their first concern should be to watch out for their own, and that meant not giving anyone like Taurant a reason to harry Dinmir once they were gone. He and Farothel wouldn't be there forever to back any cause, so it wasn't their place to involve themselves. On top of it all, something still didn't sit well with Farothel.
Laikendir allowed Farothel to sit in contemplation for several moments before breaking the silence. "I understand your hesitation. I ask much, I know, but now that you understand the plight, I hope you will agree, for Gelurien's sake. We have an accord, do we not?"
As if invoking his cousin would sway Farothel's decision. If nothing else galled him, it was that. The man had no qualms appealing to Farothel's interest in Gelurien to get what he wanted. That alone was enough reason to reject his request, but there was too much he felt had been left unsaid, and that was dangerous as well. He'd been polite and heard his host out, but there was no reason to entertain the matter any further. "Well, Master Laikendir, I—"
"Whatever 'accord' you have, you won't need it." The doors swung open and Gelurien entered unannounced. The doorman made several apologetic bows as he dragged the doors shut again. He hadn't succeeded in keeping Gelurien at bay; not that he was likely to by Farothel's estimation. The set of her jaw, the light of fire in her eyes: she was angry, but it wasn't the slow burn of a well-stoked fire with proper fuel. Such a flame could bide in patience for the proper moment. No, the glint he caught as their gazes grazed one another was more akin to the flash of a handful of dried leaves, or at best the ignition of kindling. It would burn hot, expend itself, and if more fuel wasn't found, it would be gone. She knew it, and she wasn't about to waste the flame standing outside. "What are you up to now, Laikendir?" Even with the heat in her voice, Farothel found her fetching. He pushed that thought away. Such musings weren't conducive to careful thought.
Laikendir's solemnity dove into a doting visage with a speed that would've made a falcon jealous. "I told you. I'm meeting with Sir Farothel to discuss a proposal."
Proposal. With Gelurien standing in front of him, it felt like a careless use of such a word. He hadn't much time to reflect on it beyond that before Gelurien wheeled on him. When those beautiful sky-blue eyes locked onto his, his heart wanted to skip a beat. She must've felt it too: she hesitated before finding her fire again. When she spoke to him, her voice was firm, but it didn't have the same heat that moments before had been directed at Laikendir. "What do you have to say? You're a knight, so you can't lie to me. Why did my cousin call you here?"
Farothel rose to his feet to buy some time. Why had he been called? It was forgotten the moment their eyes met. He glanced at Laikendir, who seemed concerned for the first time. Perhaps he hadn't discussed with her what "proposal" the meeting had been about. Farothel had to say something, and only one thing came to mind. "Actually, milady, I thought you might like to take a ride into town with me." Surprise lit Laikendir's face.
Anger vanished. Gelurien's eyes darted down like she'd lost her place in a lecture she'd rehearsed until she knew it by rote. Her cheeks tinged pink, and yet again Farothel thought about how, even flustered as she was, she had a lovely visage. He didn't have much time to relish it before Gelurien found her voice again and aimed the heat of her anger with full force at Laikendir. "You hired him to be my guardian, didn't you? Chaperone! Protector! Escort! Keeper!" That's right, she needed a guard. On she went, and while Laikendir seemed content to let her continue, Farothel was impressed by how many words she found to say the same thing. When she paused her litany to breathe, Farothel took that opportunity to interject.
"'Knight' is sufficient designation for me, milady, and more flattery than I deserve." Farothel remained stolid as he spoke. Was this how Auros managed it? Her glare flickered to him, then back to Laikendir, but in that instant where he had her attention, he thought he'd caught the hint of a smile and a glint of admiration.
"I suppose I'm to ride into town in his arms? Or am I to be thrown over his shoulder?" Admiration or not, Gelurien's tirade hadn't ended.
Though it wasn't aimed at him, something inside Farothel prompted him to retort. "If that's how you'd prefer, milady, but I imagine a second horse would be easier on your back and my horse's." Why he didn't let Laikendir dig his own hole, he wasn't sure.
Her bearing remained stern as she wheeled on Farothel again. Tight lips and narrowed eyes. She was annoyed: annoyed that he kept answering for her cousin, but braided with it was a distinct puckish strand. "Are you suggesting you would rather carry my horse than me, Sir Farothel?"
Had it not been for Dinmir's habit of quibbling to keep their wits sharp, Gelurien might've had Farothel. Thanks to that practice, an absurd retort sprung to mind, and absurdity is what he needed. Without so much as a twitch towards a grin, he let it loose. "If your horse can carry a tune, I'll carry it, and my horse will carry me. I suppose you'll have to walk. It would be unfair to expect any of the three of us to carry more than one thing."
Laikendir planted his hands on his desk, face down, shoulders shaking with laughter he fought to contain. He hadn't uttered a single word since "proposal" and she'd had several, each one returned by Farothel. "I'll have a horse prepared for you at once."
Just as Farothel expected, the fire in Gelurien began to fade. She hadn't much practice in stoking such flames. "So long as it's Ellecrist."
"Of course, and if you find Sir Farothel unfit to attend to your safety, I'll rescind our arrangement at once upon your return."
Bereft of the heat of anger, she pulled the icy evenness of nonchalance about her like an armor. "Very well. I shall go. I have some things I need in town anyway."
Farothel flourished a bow. "I'll wait for you outside. If you're of a mind, I'm certain Dinmir would enjoy it if you paid a visit. We might even get there in time for lunch. Her chef, with the spurring of foresight that she might have unexpected but much-welcome guests, prepared a larger meal than usual today."
"Very well. I'll be happy to pay a visit to your cousin. I won't be long preparing." She glided towards the door with a curtsy and a solemn glare, but as she got closer, Farothel noticed in her gait a sense of haste and excitement. He grinned as he watched her slip by the sheepish doorman.
"I've not often seen Gelurien at such a loss for words, Sir Farothel. I thank you—"
"I shall lend my aid to Gelurien, Master Laikendir. You've requested a guard for her, and that's what she'll have, if she'll have me." If Laikendir wouldn't set clear terms, Farothel would. Looking into Gelurien's eyes he found he couldn't in good conscience stand by. Surely Auros would agree. "However, I will not otherwise involve myself or my companions in your feud. While we've been given no reason at all to support Taurant, we also as of yet know little of you. Besides that, since Auros and I won't always be here, it wouldn't be right to insert ourselves where we have no business, particularly if it could cause trouble for Dinmir. We have to watch out for our own, as I'm sure you understand."
"That is commendable and agreeable. We have an accord." Shaking his hand, Farothel didn't get the sense of a man who'd got the result he wanted, nor of one who'd been defeated in his goal; rather Laikendir seem to be a man surprised by the outcome, but content to accept it.
"Good." It was quite likely he'd come to regret it, but any repercussions were his alone to bear. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've agreed to escort Gelurien into town." This wasn't how he expected to become more acquainted with her, but perhaps it was for the better. His sense of duty had already planted a dozen or so reasons in his mind for why he shouldn't seek more, not the least among them the same reason he was reluctant to embroil himself in a feud against Taurant. Thanks to his agreement, it was his duty to better know Gelurien to better protect her... or that's the argument he gave himself.
When Gelurien emerged from the house in riding attire, she hadn't shed her armor. Farothel wanted to frown at the thought of such a lovely woman clad in icy indifference. Perhaps there was hope to overcome the cold.
A rustling in the rose bushes announced Ellecrist as she trotted onto the cobblestone and nuzzled Gelurien's shoulder, and a spark of affection showed through. After rubbing the whorl on the horse's forehead, she mounted up and trotted over to where Farothel sat watching from atop his horse, her manner as regal as she could manage. "Should the need arise, Sir Farothel, I assure you that I carry a tune almost as well as Ellecrist." Despite the cold delivery, pink developed in her cheeks as she seemed to consider the implication behind those words for the first time. Farothel grinned. It made sense that repartee would be the crack in her armor.
"Unfortunately I can't claim the same in relation to myself and my horse. We'll have much to weigh should we need to reconsider the riding arrangements." The amusing image that should've painted didn't break through. It didn't even make a dent. "In the meantime, perhaps we know some of the same songs."
"Perhaps. We'll have time to see along the ride. I suppose if you're going to be acting as my guard, I should know your horse's name." Her voice held, if not warmth, then at least a hint of a thaw. There was still hope, and she'd posed the right question to give him another chance.
"It's Quinga."
"Quinga? Why do you call him that?"
Curiosity. That was the look he was hoping for. To and fro his gaze darted, as if concerned of who might hear; then he leaned in and gave her as serious a look as he could muster. "Because if you make him mad, he'll launch you like an arrow into the nearest river." Such a lesson one learned from experience. Solemnity melted to joviality with a wink as Farothel raised a finger to his lips. Gelurien's icy indifference shattered, and a broad, beautiful smile was the reward.
"Then I shall endeavor to become his friend." Her smile faded as she stared down at Ellecrist's mane, rubbing her horse's neck. "I would like to apologize for my behavior earlier. I'm not usually like that, I assure you. It's just... Laikendir told me this morning he was going away again, and when he's gone, it gets so quiet and lonely in that house, even with the hands bustling about. I thought I'd come here to keep him company, but... I'm sorry, perhaps that's more than I should burden you with on only our second meeting. If you can forgive me, I'd like you to stay on as my guard— my knight —while he's away." She granted him another beautiful grin as she looked up at him and said "knight".
"As you wish, milady."