Tales of Calth: Isilorbor and Lendes #6

Isilorbor spread his hands out in offering towards the nine men around him over the map table in the barracks in Calth. The map table in front of them was a rough detail of the Calthrian River and the banks beyond, it lay mostly blank and a grey-yellow as it was hardly ever explored in detail, no one ever lived long enough. It was noon in Calth, the sun was at its highest in the sky and light shone in thought all windows and into every building in the city, bathing them in light and warmth. In the barracks, the light was just behind Isilorbor himself, the beams of light making him almost looking divine. The Sergeants had gathered for the first time for war since the loss of captain Learchus’ death almost eight months ago. To Isilorbor’s eyes, the Fourth Company had not broken, but their blade was dull and cracked, which needed to be repaired if they were to carry on fighting the war. With this knowable, orders came to past that the Legion would march to the Calthrian River and aid in holding back a massive attack upon its banks and push forward to drive the orc army to the Black Gates of Mordor. Most of the 13th Legion would march along with Chapters from the 9th Legion and other Companies from the 2nd. The rough numbers were around five-thousand men would be deployed to the banks to aid the one thousand defenders already there. Around the map table and Isilorbor himself, were his commanders of his Company. Few of them remained after the battle with the Easterlings, such as Tarkin, Gorro, and Evernor. They had been with Isilorbor since his training to the Legion, and each of them had been giving a high ranking office within the Company, Gorro became the Banner carrier after Keeper Isudor died shortly after Learchus. Evernor was promised to lieutenant after Isilorbor took his captaincy, and Tarkin moved to First Sergeant after Evernor himself. Zelderan was promoted a few weeks after the party at the Ventris vain yard, leaving his own section to fill out the last three commanders to the Fourth. It only took a few hours after Zelderan took command of the Fifth Company for the Fourth to miss him greatly and a brotherhood forming between the two Companies, much like their captains. But it remained that Fourth was greatly undermanned, barely at a quarter strength. Their salvation came from a very unlikely source. Risthir Faerveren. He had lead nearly one-hundred men for the Fourth to recruit and move into their own ranks, no one knew how he came about so many men, but it was clear no one wanted to ask the question. With Isilorbor overseeing the training, Evernor and Risthir himself set to weed out the weaker of the men until the Fourth was ready for war. Men were promoted to Sergeant with Isilorbor’s say, most men were a match for Risthir, Very powerful builds, tall and very strong. One man, Isilorbor found it hard to believe that he was indeed Gondorian, his name was Loken. He wore his long shaggy hair down to his shoulder blades, his face as hard and cold as ice, the lines of his mussels stood out like ropes over his body, his bearded thick and over his chin and upper lip. Isilorbor could also see that the men Risthir had recruited were loyal to him, they always looked him for orders and Isilorbor found it hard to places his command over them. If that was true, it means that over sixty percent of his Company was out of his control. It sent a dark shiver down his spine, but he had a plan to unite them. This war would bring the Company together, it would tamper them and prove Isilorbor’s worth to command them. It would be a great war, something to tell their children to, but first Isilorbor told them the details of the march and their stations. The ten men stood around the map table, each deep in thought and standing in different stances to show they approve to their march, save for Risthir, of course. “Why don’t we go by horse? We can get there much quicker and save time so we can be the first in the fight?” Risthir offered, Loken nodded his agreement along with sergeants Wulfgard and Galatir, all three of them towering men and each loyal to Risthir. “If we take horses there will be unable to place them in any sort of stables, we may get there faster but leaving horses to roam wild around a battle field will be most unwise.” Isilorbor explained smoothly, however he saw the defiance behind Risthir’s eyes. “I say we should get their first before anyone should take my…I mean, our, glory…” Risthir cleared his throat as if to suggest he made a simple mistake, but everyone knew his ambition all too well. Isilorbor simply let the comment slide, addressing each sergeant quickly and directly, giving them their orders with quick barks of commands. “Evernor, see to that the men are ready for departure in five days time. Tarkin and Loken, you two are on supply duty. Wulfgard and Risthir, see to for medical equipment at all speed, I want everything in stock in two days time. Galatir and Gorro, I want reports every twelve hours on events from over the river in detail. The rest of you will spread my orders over to the Company. Dismissed!” The sergeants saluted with the sound of a hard drum, but Isilorbor noticed as the men started to leave that Risthir hung back, waiting until it was only him and Isilorbor. Tarkin flashed a worried look at his captain before Risthir closed the door in his face. Isilorbor frowned deeply at the rudeness. “You should show him some respect, sergeant.” Risthir chuckled mockingly, shaking his head and walking over to Isilorbor’s wine cabinet and reached for a bottle of his fine wine. “Do not touch that!” Isilorbor snapped. Risthir’s hand hovered over the bottle and sighed irritated. “I wonder where you found that backbone of your’s, Ventris. You should know your betters.” He growled. Isilorbor’s eyes narrowed, his fists tightening on the map table. “As you are in my barracks and under my command, I outrank you, Risthir! Remember that always!” Risthir shook his head, as if one might shake their head to a child asking a foolish question and took a letter from his pocket. He walked towards Isilorbor and placed it before him. “My wife wrote that for your mother, ‘captain’.” He added a mocking tone to ‘Captain’ and let the slightest of smirks pass his lips before taking a few steps back and bowing mockingly. Isilorbor bristled very slightly at Risthir calling Lendes his wife, he knew what he does to Lendes, and it boiled his blood to think deeper on the matter, never mind the mocking and insults. “I take my leave, your majesty.” He smirked widely, throwing the door opening and slamming it shut with all his might, making a huge bang so the locks fall into place and laughed loudly. Taking a very deep and calming breath, Isilorbor opened the letter and at once he felt his heart flutter inside his chest as he could smell Lendes’ scent. He closed his eyes and pictured her in the same room as him, smiling to himself before reading it: “Once upon a time, in a kingdom far far away. Lived a handsome and strong knight.” Isilorbor took a chair and held the letter in the strong light of the day, looking over the lines and turning it over in his hands, seeing no secret under lies in the paper and looked more closely at the words themselves. He would never be so modest by calling himself handsome, strong or even a knight for that matter, but Isilorbor knew that Lendes meant him. He smiled at the idea of wearing snow white armour with a white horse, ridding in to slay dragons for the good of Gondor and his people. He shook the day dream away and read on, chuckling to himself at his own imagination: “He lived in a beautiful peal white city, in a castle. The knight had been out travelling for a long, long time, when he finally returned to the white city.” Reading the lines aloud a few times before coming to the concision that the “Peal white city” was Calth. “Clever, Lendes.” Isilorbor mused and grinned widely. Saying the “White City” would send anyone into the thinking of Minas Tirith, and not even Calth, but if anyone was reading this then they might have solved that problem. The next lines took Isilorbor a lot longer to figure out: “He went to the Inn where he spend much of his time, he offend helped the keepers around the Inn. Cause this knight weren't just any knight, he was helpful, kind, warm and giving. He had a heart of gold.” He spent almost half and hour thinking about each word, carefully placing them into the right context and meaning. The Inn, well, if the White City was Calth, and Isilorbor himself was the knight, where would the Inn be? The Vain Yard? “No, too obvious…” Isilorbor grumbled to himself. His house? Isilorbor nodded quickly, feeling a knot in his mind come undo and a wave of relation claiming him. The next lines were easy to sum up, this was just Lendes saying what she felt about him, he smiled lovingly at the words, wanting Lendes to walk into his office and embrace him: “One night the wife of the Innkeeper asked the knight go to the stable of the Inn, where there were a new stable girl might be needing a hand, getting the horses settled for the night. The knight went to the stable, to the stable girl and offered his help, she turn around and looked at him, stunned by his beauty.” Now Isilorbor had the code in his mind, he quickly placed the stable girl as Lendes herself. He chuckled gently at the thought of his mother and father as Inn Keepers, but with luck they will never see there’s letters. Reading the last two lines, he recalled Lendes’s face with a burning pain in his heart, wanting to cup her face and spill his heart to her. Fighting down the feeling to read on with the letter: “The knight and stable girl, spend many days together, were they enjoyed each others company. But one dark day, when the knight were away, the stable girl were taken away by a Dragon, how hold her in his dungeon.” Isilorbor laughed out loud at the “Dragon” knowing at once it was Risthir. The idea of Risthir as a dragon was quite well fitting for a man of his statues. Grinning, he made the leap that the “Dungeon” was the house were Lendes and Risthir lived. His grin faded as the pieces fell together, Lendes felt like a prisoner in her own home, a slave to a dragon. Understanding the message in total, Isilorbor rolled up the letter and placed it in his desk, taking a parchment of his own and writing his own coded message for Lendes, careful to stick to her own codes. “The Knight sat dumfounded and weighted down by the rocks of fate which lay upon him, the dragon sweeping a woman he grow so close to and rendered to slavery” Perhaps a bit too dramatic, Isilorbor thought to himself, letting the quill feather move under his chin in thought. “The Knight stormed out of the Inn to mount his mighty steed, turning towards where the dragon was last sighted and rode forwards to the dark dungeon” Isilorbor decide it was best to keep the message simple; he did not need to make an epic poem to show Lendes he understand their new found code. “The knight and his steed stopped, overlooking the dungeon with his silver lance in hand and fire in his heart. He waits there now, waiting for his chance to save the Stable girl.” The day wore on and Isilorbor remained in his office, he summoned the sergeants back before dismissing them for the days duty and handed Risthir back “His mothers response” “I’m not your mother’s herald!” He barked loudly, drawing a few heads in his office towards them. Isilorbor stood slowly up and leans closer to Risthir, a hint of a grin on his face. “Indeed not, but fail to deliver this letter back to your wife, sergeant and they will be consciences.” “Like what?” Risthir dared to speak, and fell into Isilorbor’s trap. “Your section will find themselves on rear guard duty, staying behind the formations and overseeing the supply links for the rest of the campaign.” Risthir’s jaw hardened at the threat, wanting the glory more then anything, he snatched the letter from Isilorbor and tucked it into his belt, throwing a very casual salute before dismissing himself. Isilorbor grinned and held out his hands to stop Evernor and Tarkin from barking at Risthir, telling them he will sort the “Lord” out, but they have duties to see to. And Isilorbor had a letter to wait for.