You stand in a surprisingly long, quiet room that runs the length of this side of Cair Paravel’s west wing. The room is narrow in shape, and thus appears to be more of a long, unusually wide corridor. Someone has constructed a series of shelves along the north wall, under tiny windows that let in only enough light to see by. Torchwicks line the south wall that can be lit for additional illumination, and under them sit several wooden tables and accompanying benches.
The floors are bare, so your footfalls send hollow-sounding echoes through the marble walls. There are archways at the southeast and west ends of the room — the west archway leading into the northwest tower, and the southeast archway leading into the common gallery.
Chlamash glances to Mateo, “Zalinreh was a little land under her own disorganized rule. The possession of a lessor lord of a lesser land. Teebeth, the capital city of Tisroc’s enemy. Both now prosper under the Tisroc’s rule.” He thinks for a moment, “Now where should I begin…” This he says more to himself than to his companion.
Mateo nods a little as he listens, waiting for the main part of the story to begin.
Lanisen steps into the library, the heavy door closing softly behind him, carrying two cups of tea. He turns aside to talk briefly with the Faun attendant at her desk and leaves one cup of tea with her before moving on. He looks toward Chlamash and Mateo curiously.
Continue reading war stories
In the Valley
The slope here is easily traversed, slanting gently down into the valley to the west. There are a few trees here, tall and widely spaced, giving intermittent shade to the area. These are mostly the tall cone-bearing type, stately pines and friendly larches, but the foliage grows decidedly more deciduous lower in the valley. The ground is covered with sweet-smelling grass and the occasional bank of heather, and a rough track leads further down into the trees. A chattering mountain stream disappears into the wooded valley to the west.
To the south, the mountains rise massive and insurmountable, white peaks often obscured by clouds. North is the range of rocky hills that separates the valley from the great woods, their slopes too steep and treacherous to scale easily.
Megren finishes filling a pot at the stream and sets it over the fire.
Darrin tends to the horses, which are hobbled near the stream’s edge.
Avery wanders around the area, picking up some dry sticks. “Do you need any help, Dame Megren?”
Lanisen helps sort out the general jumble of belongings near where they have built the fire. He carries his bedroll a little distance away from the pile and begins to lay it out.
Continue reading camping
Glora is lying on a window sill, staring out the window and watching the world go by as she suns herself.
Lanisen steps into the quiet kennels, brushing off his shoes on the mat at the door. He looks tired and distracted, as he has since he came back from Narnia, but he grins to find Glora basking. “Hey, you.”
Continue reading traveling companion
Megren knocks on the door.
Lanisen calls, “It’s open!”
Megren slips inside. “Evening!”
Lanisen is just setting out the hounds’ dinner, and it’s accordingly noisy, until all of a sudden it’s not. “Hey,” he says, going to rinse his hands. “How’re you?”
Continue reading come raingiver
Lanisen is wandering the empty pasture with Nia, slowly making his way down toward the lake.
Darrin leads Gambol back to the horse pasture from the stables and lets him off his lead.
Lanisen shades his eyes against the late afternoon sun, squinting toward Darrin and Gambol.
Darrin watches as Gambol shakes his mane and trots off immediately, without so much as a backwards glance. “Typical,” he snorts to himself, with a shake of his head and a smile.
Continue reading cheese to come
Glora appears outside of the window, peering in. The bright sun casts her in semi-silhouette, but she’s enough larger than a normal cat that it’s impossible to mistake her for anything but herself. The purple ribbon around her neck also helps.
Lanisen appears at the door a moment later, peeking out at her in mildly bewildered amusement. “Afternoon, miss,” he says gravely.
Glora looks towards the door, ears perking forward. “Oh good, you’re here.”
Continue reading apple muffins
Glora is curled in a pile of blankets in the middle of the bed, despite the afternoon hour. A few snowflakes curl past the window, but the room is plenty cozy.
Lanisen knocks on the door lightly.
Glora opens her eyes and looks towards the door. For just a moment, she curls up again and tucks her nose under her tail; then, with a yawn, she calls, “Come in.”
Lanisen opens the door a crack and peeks in. “Oh,” he says. “Should I come back?”
Continue reading catseye view
Glora wanders through the ward. The afternoon crowds part before her pointed remarks, more in surprise than response, so she makes fairly easy progress, if not in any particular direction.
Lanisen steps out of the kennels, winding a scarf around his neck as he goes. A gentle snow is falling, with a heavy sky to suggest that more is on the way, and he makes his way through the crowd toward the inner gate. It takes him a moment to notice the mild commotion, and he pauses before passing through to see what is going on.
Continue reading unexpected company
Lanisen is sitting at a fire a little after sunset, wrapped in a blanket. He has the same pale, bloodshot, anxious look as many in the party, and watches the path east into the trees without any particular focus.
Wintermoor draws close to the gathering Circle, pausing to take in those assembled there.
Lanisen resettles in his blanket and sniffs, chilled. He glances up automatically toward the Centaur, looking at his face to see if there’s any news, then looks down at the fire.
Continue reading day 2: borrowed shelter
Cor comes out of his tent looking poorly rested, and a little disheveled. He is warmly dressed, but still looks a little cold.
Petria rises from her place by the fire stretching and moves the greet Prince.
Bracken glances toward the prince. “There’s coffee if you want it Your Highness.”
Lanisen, sitting with his arms on his knees by the fire, rouses and straightens as Cor emerges. He gets to his feet, a little wobbly with lack of sleep, and bows.
Continue reading day 2: moving forward