BalerionTheDrake
Pacta sunt servanda
Way to earlier for that but you know, it might happen.
Good that was what i was aiming for.
Land of King(s) - Tolkien/LOTR SI
- Thread starter BalerionTheDrake
- Start date
RichardWhereat
Feanor did nothing wrong.
- Location
- Australia
So, what are your thoughts on Laurefindel's ancestry? Given that he's a prince of the Noldor, and Vanyar in heritage, I always went with younger son of Lalwen, and a Vanyar elf.
And aye, interesting new direction and position, as it grants him closer access to Laurefindel through the Gwathlo, and if Arnor breaks, he can always create a new Kingdom in the Enedwaith.
And aye, interesting new direction and position, as it grants him closer access to Laurefindel through the Gwathlo, and if Arnor breaks, he can always create a new Kingdom in the Enedwaith.
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JadeKaiser
Uninspired Custom Title
- Location
- Under Your Bed
Surveyors are more focused on the technical fiddly bits of the land itself than cartographers, I believe. More of the "where is this property line, exactly?" the "is this soil good for farming?" and the "if we build a building here, will the riverbank erode and drop it into the water?" than about making maps.
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BalerionTheDrake
Pacta sunt servanda
Findis and a Noldor elf, explains why he went with the Noldor.
Property rights, property lines, property disputes, where should this road/bridge/statue go etc. Things like that.
I know it's pretty... Anticlimactic but seem you have some knowledge of your past life MAYBE you can use it for give some tech boost to Tharbad and give some... Special attention to you.
For example you can invent the first medieval guns and cannons or create better fortress like Leonardo Da Vinci do.... Or you can find a way to improve the africolture in a drastic way but with minimum force.
That kind of thing.
For example you can invent the first medieval guns and cannons or create better fortress like Leonardo Da Vinci do.... Or you can find a way to improve the africolture in a drastic way but with minimum force.
That kind of thing.
RichardWhereat
Feanor did nothing wrong.
- Location
- Australia
Fuck firearms, s bend toilet, and printing press.
Chapter 5 - Of Roads
BalerionTheDrake
Pacta sunt servanda
Chapter 5 - Of Roads
From shining Annuminas we marched, not south as one might expect, but east. Taking the lake road across the shore of Evendim and the source point of the River Baranduin, we made the hundred mile march to Fornost Erain. Along the way we made visits and tours of small lakeshore manors and towns, and we, the two traveling princes of the House of Isildur, were greeted by the cheering populace along every stretch of the way.
I was fairly certain that word of our approach traveled faster than naturally possible for word of mouth or horse. How else could I explain why there was always a growing throng of people whenever we crested a hill or rounded the road when we were approaching a town. Only the High King warranted a herald in Arnor, so we certainly weren't being announced.
Still, the attention of the crowds were nice to bask in. Thorondur and I didn't have to do anything other than ride by for them to cheer but by an unspoken agreement we adopted after two days on the road, we would wave and smile and thank those who came out to greet us. It was the least we could do.
Once we journeyed past the area around Lake Evendim, the adoring crowds dropped away and the only company we had were the lone waystations that dotted the north-east road. This was normal, I knew. The peoples of Eriador, Dunedain included, did not settle the plains of this land much. Civilization had settled comfortably among the hills and river valleys for millennia now. The highlands and plains were sparsely populated and I imagined they always would be.
Not even the migration of Elendil's folk into the hills of Evendim and its lake had changed that. My ancestors had merely directed settlement down the course of the Baranduin, establishing ourselves as we pleased. However we did not settle along the eastern banks of the River Lhun, despite Gil-Galad having gifted the land to Elendil the Tall. My guess was that we avoided it out of respect for the elves back then and the tradition had continued.
So the journey to Fornost Erain was, plainly said, quite boring but once we reached that most northern citadel of the Dunedain, the boredom faded away.
For Fornost Erain, whatever it was fated to become, was the home of the Royal Army in these days. The Captain of Hosts and all his ranking generals kept their residents and posts at Fornost. As such, the companies of the army not currently posted on the borders of the kingdom kept their barracks there. With the numbers never truly falling due to post rotation.
Amlaith had told me once that this permanent concentration of soldiery made Fornost among the most economically prosperous locations in the kingdom.
We were treated to a dazzling display of military parade upon our arrival. Troops of horse pranced along with us to provide escort and the foot of the army displayed their full regalia in formation as we rode past, with battle decorations woven with thread-of-gold into the black pennants bearing the five pointed star of Isildur.
Here the Captain of Hosts treated us with aplomb, keeping us as his guests for two days before we set out again, this time with a new escort as the company of the royal guard departed back to Annuminas.
Now we made fast time, as opposed to the good time made on the road to Annuminas, for we were now traveling on the North-South Road. A behemoth of Dunedain engineering that ran from Fornost Erain in the North to the havens of Pelargir in the South, linking the two realms in exile. It was so wide that four wagons could travel in one direction as a group and not have to worry about colliding with another group of four wagons going the opposite direction. And those travelers who chose to walk could do so sidewalks purpose built for them.
All of this great construction was done with skillfully put together stone and so enduring was the craftsmanship of my ancestors that grass or other common weeds could not encroach on the construction.
So we made great time on the road out of Fornost. In just a sennight we were past Breeland, with its large population of stout folk descended from Middle-Men stock. Thorondur and myself hadn't the time to pay our respects personally to our ancestors at the Barrow Downs but we enforced a day of silence on the day when the party rode past them, the tall gray megaliths, which rose from the hills like the outstretched fingers of some giant entombed beneath the earth, marking the locations were a King of Arnor was buried.
And so it came to be that, in what seemed like a blink of my eyes, we found ourselves at the doorstep of Tharbad.
She was a lively city and the growth had outpaced the wide oval shaped walls made of dark stone. Over the city loomed a citadel of golden stone, the ancient Numenorean fortification that had first borne the name Tharbad in antiquity. A far off time when Westernesse still stood in the truth and wisdom that had been gifted to us, and when evil personified had walked the earth with the goal of utterly dominating all creation under his tyranny. It was a humbling place to approach, if you knew the city's history.
Though if pressed I would have to admit that the Barrow Downs had caused far more awe.
We traveled on the main road through the city outskirts, heralds at the head of the column with the white star on black banners held high. They raised their voices and heralded the arrival of two princes of the Line of Isildur to Tharbad, making the proclamation in Quenya, Sindarin, Adunaic and Westron as they rode.
Behind the heralds came up the trumpeters, blowing their trumpets and horns to produce a noise that focused the attention of all who heard it on the company that approached. The marching soldiers quickly removed the protective covers from their tall shields and bright spears and began to lockstep forward in the parade march I had seen in Fornost Erain.
When we passed under the arch of the main gate and entered the city proper, a ground shaking cheer erupted from the gathered citizens of Tharbad, and joyful shouts came from the crowd.
"Long life to King Elendur!"
"Blessings of the Valar upon the princes!"
"Hail Arnor, Hail!"
The bells of the city rang along with the roar of the crowd as we made the climb up to the citadel of Tharbad, for the city had been built up in the shadow of the tall motte the men of Numenor had constructed to give the citadel a commanding position of this side of the river Gwathlo.
I took in the sights, all the clean stone constructs, the well paved and ditched cobbled street, the parks and gardens and gurgling fountains. The streets led to busy markets where the stalls were adorned with vibrantly striped fabric and merchants from across the North who had made the journey to hawk their wares. The people were predominantly Dunedain, though I noted it was a melting pot of the tribes of fallen Numenor that made up my people here instead of the all present gray eyes and dark hair of the citizens of Annuminas.
After a half turn of the hourglass, we ascended to the citadel of Tharbad and the crowds faded away. The troops of the royal army tramped off to the barracks they had been assigned. Thorondur and myself dismissed our servants to go and prepare our temporary quarters. The next day he would depart down the Gwathlo for Lond Daer.
The notion brought me to a halt. He would be going and I would be staying. We would…be parting ways.
Had we ever actually been apart for any significant period of time? I didn't think so.
"Cirion, catch up!" My brother called and I jolted back to the present and lengthened my stride to catch the party.
"Apologies." I said once I was even with Thorondur again. "Got distracted."
"Eh? Oh, nothing to bother yourself about." Thorondur shrugged. "Big moment for you, I understand that you might need a moment to gather yourself."
His eyes took on a humorous glint. "You wouldn't want to trip over your words when we greet Lord Abrazimir would you?"
Smarmy bastard. Greet a visiting dignitary in the wrong language, using the wrong language once and he never lets it go.
I elbowed his side. "Worry about yourself brother, wouldn't want you to trip over yourself while walking into a great hall, again, would we?"
He shuddered theatrically. "So it's come to this, has it little brother? to think you'd bring up the hour of my greatest shame and use it against me in such a manner. The horror!"
"Psha!" I scoffed. "At least Lady Cadweth won't be present to see it this time."
Lady Cadweth was both of age with us and, as the name suggested, very well…shaped indeed. Thorondur hadn't been able to look in her direction for months after he had face planted in front of her.
We were at the entrance of the great hall. I signaled for one of the guardsmen to announce us to those inside. I could faintly smell the scent of spices and pork coming from the hall. Lord Abrazimir was famous for his hospitality and good food according to father. We had been waiting for this feast for a week at least.
"Announcing the princes Thorondur and Cirion, sons of Crown Prince Eärendur!"
~~~
After a feast of such quantity that my poor belt was pressed to its limits, a servant brought me to my quarters. It was homey in terms of size but first rate in the quality of the bed and furniture. I noted a trio of stacked crates in the corner, placed well away from my luggage.
"What is that?" I asked the manservant who had brought me here.
He turned to look at the crates before replying. "Master Curunion must have had them brought up my prince."
Curunion was the chief of Lord Abrazimir's stewards, I had been introduced to him at the feast.
"What is inside?"
"I know not my prince." Was the simple reply.
I waved the manservant away. "Very well, you are dismissed. Oh, I prefer to take my bath immediately after the sun rises."
"Of course my prince, all will be arranged as you desire it." The manservant departed in silence, gently shutting the door as he left.
I went over to the crates and opened one at random. If Curunion wanted these to be in my quarters so soon then they must be related to my new task as head of the royal surveyors stationed at Tharbad.
The crate was stacked to the brim with sheets of parchment and scrolls of vellum. Intrigued, I picked up a sheet at random and began to read.
"In the case of the property dispute between Master Karbazir, son of Ibal and Master Tamruzir, son of Ehadron, the adjudicating judge has placed the case in administrative review, pending an overview of the property in question by the royal surveyors. Until such a survey is complete, the case will remain inactive. By the authority of Judge Berenthand, in the year of seven hundred and sixty-two…." I trailed off. That year couldn't be right, this was nearly nine years ago.
I hurriedly flicked through other sheets of parchment. All of them were legal cases involving property. All of them had administrative review as the determination, awaiting final judgment pending a survey of the property by the royal surveyor's in Tharbad. The other crates presented a similar state of affairs. One had road expansions that, of course, needed a survey along the proposed route. The next one had requests for new maps of places of varying size.
All of them pending a survey by the royal surveyors of Tharbad.
I sat down on the floor and stared at the mass of paper in horror.
How could this be! The post had only been vacant for a year! What kind of fuckery had been afot here for the backlog to grow this bad and for it to stretch back for years!
There was no way that I would have been given this post if my father or grandfather had any notion of how bad the situation had gotten so this had been hidden from even them, right?
I took a deep breath and thought things over, whatever or whoever had caused this fucking disaster would be dealt with later -and believe me they would be dealt with- but I was the Chief Surveyor of the Tharbad department of the Royal Surveyors now. It was my giant pile of shit.
My formal assumption of command didn't start until next week, so I had some time to figure out a way to unfuck this and to figure out if I needed to purge the existing surveyors for sheer incompetence. But first, I needed to do some reading.
I looked back inside the first crate I had opened.
Valar damn it I wasn't going to be sleeping tonight.
Thorondur is going to die laughing once I tell him what I had -inadvertently!- signed up for. Smarmy bastard.
A/N - Another chapter done and the formal prologue is complete. Cirion is up and active and now he must face the greatest danger of all: a bureaucratic fuck up! Oh the horror.
The story isn't going to remain a governmental drama, worry not, but these are peace times for Arnor and a newly adult prince isn't going to be chucked off the deep end into combat or large command. Not to say that current affairs are how Cirion would like them to be.
Next time: brothers part, Thorondur laughs a lot and Cirion meets his ragtag band of surveyors.
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- Location
- Scotland
Looks good. But admin work reminds me too much of my own job haha.
- Location
- Elsewhere
Maybe he'll have his own problems?
"So… this is the harbor."
"Yes Your Highness."
"The harbor of which I am the new Harbor Master."
"Yes Your Highness."
"It seems like it's missing something… but I can't quite put my finger on it…"
"Yes Your Highness."
"Boats! A harbor should have boats! …where the fuck are all the boats?"
"They sank Your Highness."
"…fuck."
BalerionTheDrake
Pacta sunt servanda
"What do you mean the docks just floated away?!"
- Pronouns
- He/Him
A good story so far, I rather like your writing quality and style for Tolkien while still being an SI.
Should that be "had caused far more awe"?
Interesting. Land grants are srs business for this style of country, so this really is a huge failing.
But governmental drama is the best type of drama! Just think of all the i's people forgot to dot.
BalerionTheDrake
Pacta sunt servanda
lol, or all the adjudication cases that have been in admin review for half a decade.
Oh and running feud between two offices that originated over a difference in letterhead(egad!)
- Location
- Elsewhere
"Somebody forgot to tie them."
"Tie them to what!? They're docks! They're supposed to be docked to the ground!"
"That's what everybody said, but.... off they went."
As a proud government bureaucrat, I can state this is true. There is also the many cases of vital projects going nowhere, because everyone is competing for the Phone Tag championship.
Can't wait to see the author handle the even slower version, post tag.
Chapter 6 - The Royal Busybody
BalerionTheDrake
Pacta sunt servanda
Chapter 6 - The Royal Busybody
Thorondur, the smug bastard, ended up laughing at me quite a bit when I revealed my situation to him. I hadn't managed to fire off a witty reply to his bellowing laughs at the mountain of work I had willingly consigned my to. So I instead hoped, watching his barge begin to float off down the Gwathlo, that he found an even larger headache awaiting him at his own destination.
Maybe the fishermen would be on strike or something, or the harbor would be blocked by a dwarven stone merchant's wares. Something that would make his hair turn gray. As I walked away from the pier, the entourage of guardsmen Lord Abrazimir had assigned as my escort fell in besides me. Turns out that even in a land as peaceful as Arnor, it was bad form to allow princes to walk about as they please.
"Well met Prince Cirion." A voice called out to me. I turned around to see a familiar face.
"Hail Aglareb, good morn to you." I greeted the eldest son of Lord Abrazimir. He had the look of his line, red hair and gray eyes, he had cultivated a short beard since I had last seen him some four years ago in Annuminas.
"Indeed it is my prince. Especially now that you have arrived to take up your duties." He replied, falling in step with me as I continued to walk back up into Tharbad proper.
"Yes, I saw the…paperwork that awaited me in my chambers the night of my arrival. Not very subtle, your father's man."
Aglareb has the grace to look contrite. "Curunion is dedicated to my father, though he can be, perhaps, too hasty in some matters when delicacy would be better served. However my father's fief has been aching from the lack of action by the royal surveyors for some time now and he is eager to see it resolved. He meant no offense."
Ah, I didn't mean my words like that. "No offense was taken nor do I assume any was meant. It was the timing that I took issue with. Not really the kind of nighttime ready that puts one at ease you understand."
We crested the road that led to the docks, themselves cast in the shadow of the Great Bridge of Tharbad. To the right, stood the tall citadel of Tharbad, a double walled fortress that had been the cornerstone of Numenorean might during my ancestors' long age of imperium. The city itself was a new construction undertaken by Elendil in the short century between the founding of Arnor and the war against Sauron.
After moving through the first market square, itself teeming with the activity of early morning commerce, we joined the main road that divided the city in twain and provided a direct route to the Great Bridge and to the Western Gate of the city. The complex that housed the royal surveyors was along this road, fairly close to the Western Gate.
Headquarters looked like a villa or a manor, a low wall separated it from the other buildings around it and the courtyard had a few trees in it along with a small fountain. The rectangular two story building ensconced by the chest high wall was painted a shell white color with wooden pillars and railing. A plain affair and rather starkly contrasted to what I was used to.
A huddle of people stood in front of the main doors. I looked them over with a critical eye.
It was a very small turn out for a group that had managed to amass such a large backlog of work.
Finally one of the men stepped forward and bowed low. "It is a pleasure to be in your presence, my prince. My name is Rennor, royal surveyor, and let me be the first to formally greet you as the Chief Surveyor of the Tharbad District."
I did the royal handwave, which had been drilled into me by many tutors, that allowed the man to straighten out of the bow. "I thank you for the warm welcome, Surveyor Rennor. I would also appreciate a tour of the premises before business begins."
The man, who was shorter than I or Aglareb, nodded and stepped away to the side at a respectable distance.
I shook hands with Aglareb, wishing the man a good day and setting a time and place for us to see how each other's sword skills had improved over the years. He agreed to the friendly bout and set off back towards the citadel, he was a second to the captain of guards these days and had duties to attend to before pleasure.
I remained smiling genially at Aglareb until he was out of sight. Then I turned back to the cluster of surveyors. And I was very much less than genial when I ordered them to take me on a tour of the premises.
The wary band of surveyors took me on the ordered tour, quick as it was. The first floor had the records storage, scribal desks, reception area and the map hall. The second floor had the working quarters of the actual surveyors and their assistants, along with the office of the chief surveyor. No kitchen was attached to the building, so you had to go out onto the main thoroughfare to buy food from one of the many stands that lined the side of the highway.
When the tour wrapped up at my new office, I dismissed everyone who wasn't a surveyor so that they could go about their daily work. So I was left with a group of twelve. Rennor and two cohorts, Mallen and Dravor, were senior surveyors. The rest were their teams of assistant surveyors.
I sat down behind my desk before and folded my hands together while thinking. The silence stretched on for a minute or three while I thought. Everyone else remained silent, not daring to interrupt. The benefits of royalty.
"I have been presented with a series of disturbing revelations regarding this department since my arrival at Tharbad." I said, breaking the uneasy silence. I commanded the entire room's attention. "I have learned of such a large amount of dereliction of duty and what I can only describe as willful malfeasance in all matters of your duties that I am tempted to ascribe your actions as nothing short of treasonous."
Twelve pale faces stared at me.
"But I am not here, for the moment, to hand out judgment. I am here to lead this department of the royal surveyors by the remit of the High King himself. " I put on the 'extremely disapproving' royal face(yes tutors trained these into us).
"So I am allowing all of you this one chance to explain this horrendous mess that you've become. Please explain what you've done to my grandfather's kingdom."
~~~
It all came out rather quickly truth be told.
And the tale ended up being one as old as time, or at least as old as money was.
The prior Chief Surveyor had been a man who had some vices, gambling being the foremost of them. A string of poor gambles had seen him in trouble with his creditors. Said creditors wanted their silver they were due and now instead of later. My predecessor, liking all ten of his digits and toes, ended up cutting a deal with the boss of those collection agents.
A favor for mercy, and a favor from the man who had the power to sway property disputes in whichever way he chose too was too good a thing to pass up. So a deal was made and a merchant lost the rights to set his stall up in a square. No big deal right? Right.
However, while this would be good for the members of the underworld, my predecessor came to a realization of just how much power he had at his fingertips and just what he stood to gain if he turned it towards benefiting himself instead of the kingdom he swore to serve.
Public works and maintenance were soon set aside in the department, as their boss bent their efforts to self beneficiary means. Suddenly he was able to buy a number of properties on the cheap due to flooding the market with rumors of said buildings being ruled unsafe for habitation. He was suddenly much richer than a man in his standing had any right to be, and a number of judicial proceedings ended up stalling out due to wait times from the royal surveyors. A man at the top just moving around pieces of paper to create a result that benefited himself, without anyone working under him being none the wiser. Because he was their superior and the government of Arnor was so well administered and cultivated that it can be reasonably said that everyone had the skills and talents needed to fulfill the position they occupied.
Base corruption, a tale as old as time I suppose.
He'd been caught in the end, obviously. But it had been years since he had started and the damage he had done had spread to all corners of eastern Arnor by then.
The public had lost trust in the surveyors of the king and relations with the lords whose roads we had failed to repair in a timely fashion were strained.
Valar take that piece of filth. I was disgusted to think that such a complete failure dared to lay claim to the blood of the Dunedain. What a pathetic disgrace to his ancestors.
At least I could take comfort in the fact that he had either been executed already or was currently serving out the rest of his short life in a far flung jail cell in the icy Forodwaith.
I stood up from my desk when the sordid tale was over, and looked over the assembled surveyors.
"Men, I can't say that I'm pleased to hear all of this but that is in the past now. It is up to us to look to the future and move forward from this disgrace. The following fortnights and months will be trying for all of us but I have faith that we will overcome the challenges and restore our lost honor."
"You are still the royal surveyors of Elendur the King and he still has full faith and confidence that you are able to execute the duties you have been burdened with. That I am here is all the proof you need of that."
"Now it is time to get to work. I understand that we have a lot of it."
I was a Prince of Arnor and it was my birthright to be a caretaker for my kingdom. I was not going to let something as pedestrian as a corruption scandal leave a black mark on my career or show that the faith my father and grandfather had shown to me were misplaced.
The past six months had been leading up to this moment and I would not be found lacking.
~~~
A week later the first letter arrived from Thorondur.
As it turned out, he had arrived in Lond Daer to discover that the merchant guilds and dock worker companies of the city were at each other's throats over a wage dispute, and the entire harbor had ground to halt as a result.
The harbor that Thorondur was supposed to be in charge of.
Not even the fishing boats could go out.
I spent a long time laughing at the news before composing my own reply on the state of my department. At the very least we could commiserate over our shared situations.
A/N - a short chapter yes but I don't plan to spend much time at all in this part of Cirion's tale. And Thorondur doesn't get to catch a break either. But that's just life. Sometimes you end up landing feet first in a mess you didn't cause but you still need to clean up. And Arnor raises its royals to have a strong sense of noblesse oblige, what else could you expect from the Dunedain?
- Location
- Elsewhere
"It's all in the wrist... no that's too much wrist. It's 75% wrist, 5% fingers, 10% elbow, 5% head tilt, and 5% hip shimmy!"
And from the other direction, you don't send out the guy with lots of authority to handle the situation that's going well.
Not only would it be a waste, but it would also be unfair to the guy already succeeding.
The mark of a successful bureaucrat is never getting attention.
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BalerionTheDrake
Pacta sunt servanda
Princes can be purpose trained in Dunedain realms to be problem solvers/leaders on an administrative/military level but Arnor obviously doesn't rely solely on them to keep the administration running straight. People can be corrupt no matter how enlightened a civilization generally is and that needs to be dealt with.
Chapter 7 - Onwards
BalerionTheDrake
Pacta sunt servanda
Chapter 7 - Onwards
Time flew along in a blurr. Seasons came and went, the wet heat of summer in Tharbad and the following windy winters of the Gwathlo river valley both had their turns to dominate the work of the royal surveyors. Spring was the planting season and the later part of autumn was the harvest season.
The change of the seasons dictated the work cycle. Spring and summer were labor intensive, laying out the work for new roads to be dug out and constructed, the exact ground bridges needed to be placed into to prevent slippage, surveying of taxable properties for modifications for the tax records come the next collection.
Fall and winter we sat down and focused on judicial backlogs, pulling records to be provided for a "light" evening reading session for judges. Any survey of disputed properties, most of which were close to Tharbad itself, were also conducted under gray winter skies.
A quick five years, there was no denying that. But an extremely productive five years, if I were to return to Annuminas today and be made to give a report of my efforts I had complete confidence that I could unfailingly report complete success to both Father and Grandfather. When I left the Tharbad Department of the Royal Surveyors they would remain on the straight and narrow, and under good leadership.
But at least for the moment it was a warm summer's day. I was seated at a table that had been hauled out of Tharbad, looking over freshly drawn maps of the area that a new road was being constructed in. We had an awning set up to provide shade though the common laborers who toiled down the hill didn't have that small luxury.
Not that they had a hard life. The crown paid well in all things. They were fed and bunked by the crown and, should anything happen, would be treated by doctors paid by the crown.
There were far worse professions in Arnor, like pig rearing.
Boots crunched into dry dirt behind me. Rennor, my chief subordinate, sighed in relief at being under the shade again, and took a long drink of spring water from a line of cups that were set up on a stand.
I looked up at the sky, judging the low height of the sun as Anar continued her daily procession.
"It's not that hot." I commented. Rennor was not one for life outside a city, I had found out years ago.
"More humid near the stream, my prince." He murmured around the lip of his cup before finishing off his water and moving to the main table I was hovering over. Rennor picked up a piece of thin slate and etched out a rough diagram of the terrain ahead of the work crews. He laid it in front of the maps. The rough diagram would be the last portion of road we mapped and then told the work crews were to build before departing back on the main highway, the future Greenway.
Then it would be a two day journey north, over the Baranduin using the bridge at Sarn Ford, so another new stretch of road could be mapped for the towns, villages and castles that formed Mannish civilization from the Tower-Hills, which marked the border between Lindon and Arnor, to the southernmost part of the Shire.
The Shire in these days being the hunting reserve of the royal family, though I believe all documentation referred to it as the king's private estate. It wasn't as large as the future hobbitish version, much more condensed. Far less farming too.
Father had loved to take all three of us down to the Shire during the solstice times so we could learn to hunt and track and camp in the wilderness. He had also loved to scare us, Amlaith included, with the tales of the Old Willow-man which haunted the woods on occasion, waiting in thickets and the brush to swoop in to kidnap an unsuspecting young prince!
At least that's how Father told the stories.
I mentally sighed and moved back to the present. Rennor was looking at me expectantly. I really need to stop daydreaming, blasted summer months.
"The ground ahead?" I asked.
"About as perfect as one could want for our needs." He replied. "Good red clay once you clear away the topsoil. No major dips or protrusions in the path. Foliage is low and there is only one cluster of trees that will need to be cleared."
"The Valar themselves could not have created a finer place for a road then." I declared, jotting down what Rennor had said. I set the notes aside and moved to a blank piece of parchment. Dipping a nearby quill in its inkpot, I wrote down the next phase of construction for the head of the work crews and authorized, as chief surveyor, that the route mapped was good and true for the king's road to be constructed on.
Then I dripped wax onto the bottom of the page and pressed the seal of the chief surveyor into it. I passed the sheet to Rennor.
"Bring that and the maps, when you've completed them, to the work crews so they can calculate their wages and needed materials. Have Mallor's men start lining the route up today, Dravor's troop can take over for them tomorrow."
"Right away, my prince." Rennor took the proclamation of intent from me with a bow and exited the shade of the tent, moving down the small hill to order his surveyor's about. I shook my head bemusedly. Five years and the man still maintains strict formality between us.
At this point I knew that there wasn't anything I could do to make him, or the rest of my subordinates, treat me with less formalities, it was just too ingrained that I, as a prince of Isildur's blood, needed to be treated with the utmost respect at all times and that anything I requested be done was done with the utmost speed. Good for our work time, but stressful for them. Which I did my best to offset with fortnight vacations when the seasons changed over and during festivals and solstice days.
I sipped my own water as I jotted down estimates on the final costs that the road would be. This would have to be sent to Annuminas for the records after the royal surveyors. Grandfather did like to keep track of where and how his coin was being spent.
Speaking of, I reached into my purse and took out a shiny silver castar coin, about the size of the middle of my palm. One face showed the scepter of Annuminas and the Elendilmir star. The other side had a side profile of King Elendur and the words "Aran Arandórë" and "Aran Arnor" on either side of his profile.
As much as I didn't like to say it, even to myself, Amlaith had outdone himself with the latest mints he had struck. Not that he had told me about what he was doing. We'd only been exchanging perfunctory letters on birthdays for the most part, and even those had been all but ordered by mother. I put the coin away.
It stood in stark contrast to the fortnightly correspondence Thorondur and myself had kept up for five years. My closest brother was doing fine as harbormaster of Lond Daer. He'd managed to keep the merchants and dockworkers from killing each other when they broke out into their bi-yearly feuds, and had even managed to squeeze an expansion of the harbor into his busy schedule. Aglar had confided that his father was very pleased by the increase in trade along the Gwathlo that came from the expansion and the increased trade that came into Arnor as a result.
A rap from the outside of the tent knocked me out of my thoughts. I turned around and saw a smaller man holding a message roll. He had the badge of the royal couriers sewn onto his tan tunic. The name was deceptive, the royal couriers were about more than carrying the king's decrees and proclamations across the kingdom. They were the ones who carried all the messages and letters of government about the kingdom as needed.
"Prince Cirion." The courier bowed and presented the cylinder. I walked over and took the object; and in a spurt of generosity, gave the man a few of the new castars from my purse.
"My thanks for your timeliness. Please partake of the refreshments before carrying on with your duties." I told the courier, waving him in the direction of the water and the basket full of apples next to them. The courier deepened his bow before moving to quaff two cups of water and grabbed three apples on his way out, giving a 'Valar bless you my prince' for good measure.
I uncapped the cylinder and pulled out the rolled up message. Breaking the plain seal, I began to read. It was immediately clear that it was work related, there was only one 'Prince Cirion' in the entire message.
"Prince Cirion, Chief of the Royal Surveyors out of Tharbad, I, Hastor son of Asgarion, the current Lord of the vassalage of Dol Elril, humbly requests …blah, blah, blah." I spoke aloud, quickly skimming through the formalities and to the meat of the message. "The bridge crossing the Hoarwell is in need of a routine maintenance check..blah blah, lack of service in prior years, blah blah. I am also requesting updated maps of the terrain of my vassalage, the last available ones in my possession having been authored in the days of your great-great grandfather King Tarondur, may the Allfather keep him."
I skimmed the end of the message but there was nothing else of importance. Now this was interesting. I had never been that far north since taking up my position. Come to think of it, I hadn't been past the South Downs in five years.
I glanced at the work crews as they broke their midday rest and marched back up to the front, their mattocks and shovels glinting from the way the sun reflected off them.
It's not like I was needed here anyways. Mallen and Dravor had affairs well in hand, and Rennor could get used to a little independence in overseeing the affairs past the Baranduin.
And the Iant Methed was, technically, within my jurisdiction. Meaning that there was no department established that far north in the realm and requests were sent to the nearest one, which was either Tharbad or Fornost Erain. Meaning, I had good reason to take the request, but I could also buck it over to Fornost Erain to handle, or even the Breeland Department if I wanted to make those lazy layabouts earn their wages for once.
Though…I would have to take a boat up river for part of the journey for there was no road that followed the course of the Hoarwell. But on the other hand, new and exciting places of the kingdom to visit. And a place to practice my music.
That composition wasn't going to refine itself.
Decision made, I called for one of my personal assistants to bring Rennor back over to me. Then I jotted down a quick response to the Lord Hastor and affixed it with the seal of the Chief to affirm its authenticity.
Suddenly it seemed to me that the lazy summer heat had been blown away by the cool winds of adventure.
Onwards to the northlands it was. I left the shade of the tent and walked down the hill to find that courier, humming the words of that song I was trying to completely remember as I walked.
"Eärendil was a mariner,
that tarried in Arvernien."
A/N - see, told you the government job wasn't going to take that long. Now up towards Rhudaur, where hillmen run underfoot and Dunedain watch from on high. And Cirion totally doesn't get kidnapped for ransom along the way. Oh and the local Dunedain basically revere him because they are starved for royal attention.
Informational Iant Methed = Last Bridge from the books. And the year is currently 776 TA.
See you next time.
See if Rennor were able to shake his habit of formality at all times, he would surely have replied, "Says the man sitting in the shade." Cirion would probably like him better if he were the sort of second in command who dared tease his prince like that, too.
Okay, now I need to call your attention to a confusion in the text that bugged me through the whole scene. Is Cirion sitting under an awning (that is, a piece of cloth stretched overhead to provide shade but without any walls) or is he inside a tent (that is, a structure with walls made out of cloth that blocks line of sight)? (Actually, technically this would be a canopy; an awning is attached to a building... or to a tent.)
He starts off clearly under an awning. He says so, and he can see the sky.
Then we switch to being inside a tent. Rennor exits a "tent" and the courier approaches without being seen... though that could simply be because he's approaching from the opposite direction that Cirion is facing.
But he prince can still look and see the work crews below, so he doesn't have walls blocking his sight.
I think it's basically supposed to be a canopy, and the courier walked up from behind, and it's the reference to a "tent" that's incorrect.
- Location
- Elsewhere
"Where are the Hobbits?"
"That's what the royal family hunts."
Or he's being possessive.
His prince, not anyone else's.
He might be going yandere, especially if you keep giving vacations.
BalerionTheDrake
Pacta sunt servanda
Pretty much that I guess. I was thinking more of those big tents you see without walls.
RichardWhereat
Feanor did nothing wrong.
- Location
- Australia
A marquee tent?
BalerionTheDrake
Pacta sunt servanda
After looking it up, basically that.
My apologies for any confusion, basically anything that is set up with poles and has a covering on the top I call a tent.