The Stumbling Of Man Upon The Uttermost West.

[YayGollum]

On yet another brisk day in what he considered his father's port in the Forodwaith, Brandor's first stop was his favorite pub. His full grin was barely pulled back into a self-deprecating smirk as he hopped through the door. "Barkeep, my usual! Ha! I still haven't learned any better than to come here first!" At the sudden interruption, several sailors turned, revealing a smattering of surprised, amused, and annoyed faces, most of which sobered when Narvi stomped his way up behind and closed the door.

The two picked their way through a moderate crowd to a round table in a corner far from the bar. The short statue grumbled, only half to himself. "No, you haven't. Shouldn't we visit home first? We've been gone, what, a year, this time? Ugh. The only son of the most successful man in the business doesn't need to associate himself with the common employees! And he knows that even the smell of alcohol will get him sick!"

Once seated, the young man innocently gave a few steamed sailors a, "Forgive him," smirk. "Shush, Narvi. There's nothing common about the man that braves the open seas as well as these! Ha! Ah! My tea! Thank you. Say hello the family for me! And try not to let the word out that I'm back so soon." Already, though, several patrons had scuttled off to spread the news that the wandering heir of the shipping business that fed them all had returned.

[Narya]

"There was no other way...he said to leave while I still can. So I did. I left him there."

With the ship in even keel, Kastor decided it was time for another shot of Pöusse. The dark bottle warned, drink moderately, and it was good advice: Pöusse was the most potent liquor this side of Middle Earth. Kastor loved Pöusse and what it does to his wits despite the massive hangover he knew he'd get the morning after. He opened the bottle and the room was quickly filled with its strong aroma. A shrill squeaking sound from his right coat pocket prompted him to put the cork back in. After fastening the button of the flap, Kastor opened the bottle again and poured the golden liquid into a shot glass and downed the drink in one gulp.

"He'll be in all the news by the morning." He said shortly. "Perhaps we can muster enough men for the next voyage, ey? We need to stop at the slops in town to buy me more of these here Pöusse."

He stood and wobbled a bit, then looked out through the porthole and saw the dock was empty as a graveyard. He pulled out an old pocket watch and saw that it was only four in the morning. The sun would not show his hot face until eight. Kastor decided to make use of the dawn.

Taking his spear, he said, "He had a son, I believe. Lived here I suppose. Never did meet the lad but---" he sighed laboriously before heading out of his cabin into the alleyway. "---well, there's always a first time for everything."

He ventured off into the foggy morning, tightening his grip on the spear and making sure that his right coat pocket does not twitch too much.

[chrysophalax]

An other headache creased Horatio's brow. Must be the weather, the clouds have been gathering...either that, or trouble's on its way!" He paced the length of his office, high in the eatern tower overlooking the harbour below. Horatio made it his business to keep his eyes on his workers and woe betide they if he should catch them slacking! Time was money, after all.

The fact that his brother seemed to have disappeared on another of his daft "voyages of discovery" hadn't helped his temper, or his migraines. It had been months and the fool hadn't even bothered to have word sent! Typical...leave me to handle the wages, the complaints, the orders to be filled...while you go off, shirking responsibility yet again! This had been an on-going battle bewteen the brothers for more years than Horatio cared to remember and now things looked like going in the same direction with his son, Brandor. At least, that's how they had been. Just wait until the youngster got back into port! Uncle Horatio intended to have a long talk with the budding adventurer. A talk which would hopefully settle him down and make him see that if he wanted a place in the business, it depended on more than just having his father's name. It was time that he either assumed a more constructive role, or if not, find himself being dealt with.

A cruel smile lit Horatio's face as he poured ihmself a glass of miruvor, a delicacy he rarely indulged in. First the brother , then the son... and then maybe at last Horatio would have what he had always desired...exactly what he deserved.

[YayGollum]

After only his second cup and his fifth visit from a fellow customer, Brandor perked up as he noticed who was coming in next. "Old man Dingo, is that you? You're looking as healthy as ever! It's Brandor! You remember me, don't you? Come on over! I've got room. Narvi, get up, won't you? That chair won't support you for long, and I'd like to give our visitors the chance to sit." The statue mumbled something about merely attempting to keep up appearances but stood and rooted himself protectively behind his ward.

Old man Dingo, as he was oftimes called, veered his gaze away from the bar that he had come for, spotted the unusual duo, flashed them a surprised grin, and ambled over. Before taking the vacated seat, he gave the kid a slight bow and removed his hat. "Of course I remember you, Brandor. And Narvi, as well, of course. Your tastes certainly haven't aged in the last year, I see! A young man of your position could afford quality, but you insist on equipping yourself with only the simplest. Ah, well. To each his own. How have you been?"

With the perfunctory critique of his attire out of the way, Brandor hailed the bartender to order his visitor a generous gift of wine, even though he knew that the fumes would make him dizzy. With the perfunctory thanks for the generosity out of the way, the wanderer fumbled with his words, attempting to make a disappointingly routine journey seem interesting.

[chrysophalax]

A knock on the highly polished oak door brought Horatio out of his reverie. "Enter!" Now what calamity has befallen that needs my attention he thought as a straight-backed young man slid silently into the room. "Message for you, sir." he said softly, well used to his employer's moods.

Horatio took a long sip of his elven wine before sinking into the red leather chair behind the ancient mallorn desk. His brother's desk...now his. It had been in the family for several generations and even then had cost a fortune. At certain angles, it gleamed with a soft, golden light that never failed to make Horatio want to reach out and caress it. His fingers slowly made their way across the table's surface as he glanced up at his secretary. "Well? Out with it, man!"

"Sir, it appears that your nephew has been seen down by the docks, in an establishment called, " he consulted his memory, "the Dancing Ogre. It seems he is home, sir." Horatio twirled the stem of his wine goblet between his fingers. "Is he, indeed? That is...interesting news. Send for my horse! I must go and greet young Brandor." The young man bowed his way out as Horatio went for his cloak and hat. Home at last, was he? Now all that remained was to get him out of the way again...as soon as possible!

[Narya]

Although he limped, and the docks had creaking floorboards that tilted sideways when he passed, and very little light, Kastor found his way to the Dancing Ogre with ease. It was packed to the rafters with sailors, their lovers, and regulars that don't even like the smell of the sea but would pay good money for a taste of good ale and to hear a good tale. Kastor push his way through the throng and found his usual place in the corner right next to old Tobbald. The old timer nodded a greeting to Kastor before returning his attention to his mug. Kastor sat on the chair and lifted his left leg on another.

Eana brought him his usual brew -- 1420 -- and Kastor sat back, watched and listened as the sailors animatedly took turns bragging about their voyages and their adventures and their women.

One voice rose above the noise and boasted, "I seen them lands, far back south where the Kings of old 'ave been said to 'ave stayed!"

"That be nothing to what old man Jenkins told me!" Interrupted another. He stood up, pointed his forefinger into the air. "He's seen them elves! Lurking in that old forest!"

"Rubbish!" The crowd chorused; they laughed at him, and many went back to their drinks.

"He's seen 'em, I tell ya!" The man insisted. Kastor could see he was looking around for listening ears. Kastor avoided his eyes.

The crowd relentlessly taunted him.

"Elves? Down in the old forest?"

"There'd be dwarves as well?"

The man looked at him and said, "They don't live in trees!"

Silence followed that remark, then like rain, the pub slowly errupted in laughter. The man had no recourse but to give it up and he left the pub swerving from all the ale in his head. Several hours after that, the crowd went back to their tales and more ale and after an hour or so, most went out. The pub soon quieted down and Kastor very nearly fell asleep when a young man and what looked like a walking statue, came in. The whole pub hushed and gave them both a suspicious look. They made their way towards the bar and ordered something to drink.

"It's him." He whispered. "They look so much alike." His pocket twitched in answer. "Let him have his ale and then we'll tell him."

[YayGollum]

Brandor slumped back into his seat with a baiting and unfulfilled look, once he finished telling what little he had to tell. Dingo caught onto the sense that the kid was still a bit miffed that he didn't see anything mythological and wanted to be cheered up. "Ah! Now, don't get discouraged, young man. The next time the wanderlust strikes you, be sure to remember me. I was a wanderer, too, you know. There are still several magical places left. You may not even get the chance to see them, though! Many responsibilities lie ahead, if you decide to stay, this time. You're much older, and your training has barely even begun!"

After the kid's face grew a more decisive shade of dismay, Dingo continued, "I notice that you've been avoiding every opportunity to speak of your responsibilities here. The sailors look to your family for guidance. Isn't it about time you answered them? No need to rush home yet, but, Look there! Isn't that Kastor, one of your father's best men?" The old tailor nodded in Kastor's direction and attempted to hook his gaze but saw that Brandor was already taking the initiative and sighed to himself. "I'd envy your energy, if I didn't know where your status demands it to go."

Brandor, eager to meet someone who his father spoke highly of, stood and scanned in the indicated direction. Loudly, and in a fizzled attempt to boom, ending with a boyish grin ---> "Where's that Kastor? One of my father's best men, you say? A high claim indeed!"

[Narya]

Kastor watched with amusement as the boy and his friend ordered their second ale. Quite a heavy drinker for a young lad, he thought. Nin proded him to approach while the boy was still sober but Kastor was not bringing news for the sober. In fact, in his opinion, the boy needed a bit more ale and a soft bed after.

"He'll find out soon enough." He whispered to her. She twitched and he felt her lift the flap of his coat a bit. He pushed the flap back and secured the button. "No, Nin. This is not the right place for --"

A familiar figure entered the pub. His dark blue suit stood out in a room full of neutral colours. The hairy faced newcomer was a welcome sight for Kastor who had not seen him for many months. Dingo, he was called, and he was a werewolf; Kastor found out after his second voyage. The ship was crossing the Greyflood and picked several passengers from Tharbad Port on their way back up to Forodwaith. Dingo was one of them. The night before they reached Hoarwell Port, Kastor was mopping the deck. The moon was high that night and Dingo, the tailor, decided to take a walk.

Dingo passed him a glance. Nothing more was exchanged between them and Kastor hoped he would not tell the boy about his presence. Dingo, expectedly, walked straight to the boy who, unexpectedly, seemed to be well acquianted with the werewolf. They exchanged words and Kastor wished not for the last time that he had the hearing of the elves. From the stories that he heard, they had magnificent hearing, but Nin never confirmed this information.

He went back to his seat and waited again. Dingo looked at him again and nodded and Kastor worried whether he had mentioned him to the boy already or...

"Where's that Kastor? One of my father's best men, you say? A high claim indeed!" The boy announced.

"Dingo, you fool!" He said in an undertone. Nin twitched wildly and Kastor agreed with her cursing of the mangy nut. "He's going to get castrated with that mouth of his."

Kastor decided it was time to tell the lad. He stood and said to him, "What is he to you, boy? Whether you find this man or not is of no importance to you..." Kastor's voice rang inside the pub and the few who had stayed behind to finish their mugs looked up to see this towering bulk move closer to the young man. There was fear in their eyes, he could see, for though he frequented the Dancing Ogre, he was seldom seen by anyone.

Kastor stood a foot away from the boy and the odd looking individual standing valiantly at his side. "...Unless you need to hear news that only he brings."

The young lad looked at him, his eyes brimming with curiousity. "You're Kastor?"

"Aye." Kastor replied. "And what is your name?"

[YayGollum]

While straightening under the larger man's gaze, Brandor lifted his chin confidently. "Brandor, sir." He seemed to get distracted by the ceiling for a second, then brightened and casually stepped back to offer a seat at his table. "Oh! You mentioned news? I'm afraid that this is only my first day back home, actually, so, if it's about work, you should probably talk directly to my father. I'd like to take a couple of days to settle in before thinking about business, you understand. Ah...would you care for a drink?"

Dingo's ears pricked up at Kastor's seriousness. He attempted to slice the kid's genial behavior with a sharp look, then turned to the sailor with a comradely grin. "Brandor, don't try to shrug responsibility off before you even give it a chance. You would do well to earn this man's respect. He'll set you on the right path. Hello, Kastor. How was the weather?"

Narvi, although he had grown a bit of wariness when the sailor advanced, relaxed since he figured that if the guy was of such high status, he should know better than to actually harm the kid. He mused that getting stared down by some brute might actually be good for him. He didn't take the time to be polite enough to change his expression, though, and only moved when Brandor stepped back. After that, he just hunkered down again to observe.

[Narya]

"Brandor, sir." Replied the boy; Kastor sweeped a glance at the bar and realized his mistake. No wonder he smelled like grass. Returning to the boy who had mentioned something about taking the affair to his father, Kastor realized the mistake he was about to make again. He does not know of their voyage to the far south. He felt his pocket twitch and he quickly placed his hand inside it until Nin calmed down.

"Brandor, don't try to shrug responsibility off before you even give it a chance. You would do well to earn this man's respect. He'll set you on the right path. Hello, Kastor. How was the weather?" Dingo said shortly.

Kastor looked at him but did not reply; There was so much being revealed to too many ears. Dingo was an old acquiantance that had had other dealings with strange folk, himself being, no doubt, the strangest of all. It would not hurt to tell him of the latest adventure Kastor had gotten himself into. However, from what Kastor had learned from their last expedition, nothing must be left to chance. It would have been different had they not been too careless. No. Dingo cannot be trusted...yet.

Then there was the odd looking individual who seemed to serve the boy as his guard. Kastor could not make out what he was exactly, and therefore his trustworthiness hangs in the balance. The bartender was also exceptionally interested that morning, and who wouldn't be? This must have been the oddest gathering of people in the Dancing Ogre in a long while. Kastor knew there were more ears pricked and listening and interested especially after Brandor, foolishly, announced his name.

Too many. Nin was right. He should have made the first move. His errand was to the boy alone. The news and all its detail should first be revealed to Brandor and the then to the other person in his list: Horatio.

"Begging your pardon, but I cannot stay too long." Kastor declined the offer of a seat and another mug of ale. "However, I would appreciate a talk at a later time. Would it be possible for us to meet at your father's estate, Brandor?"

[YayGollum]

A look of surprise and confusion popped onto Brandor's face when Kastor declined the act of generosity, but he nodded and gulped down the last of his tea. "Oh, well, of course. I'm just wasting my time here, anyway. I should at least start looking at what my responsibilities will be, I guess. Shall we go?" Eager to prove himself, Brandor whirled to make sure that Narvi was still behind him, then waved that they would be moving on. He would have rushed past and forgotten all about Dingo, if the guy hadn't stood to lean towards Kastor, which made him stop short.

Dingo, since he had been trying to go easy on the kid, was dismayed that he'd be headed for the ones who'd try most aggressively to pin expectations to him. He wanted to at least give him the opportunity to talk with more of the people he'd be helping by learning the trade. Of course, since he didn't know Kastor's news, either, he didn't know better than to lightly touch the guy on the shoulder and speak cautiously to him. "Is this news so important? Your most cheerful disposition is no different than when you bear the worst of news, you know. I was going to have you help ease the boy into his position, but you might have other plans?"

For the group, while attempting to whisk them outside and away from prying ears ---> "Now, then! May I walk with you, to Brandor's place of birth? Or could I tempt the young sir with a visit to my shop, first? Really, you could at least do with something warmer!"

[Narya]

Suddenly aware of the werewolf’s interest on the boy, Kastor turned his full attention to him. “Dingo,” Said Kastor, sweeping the boy aside as he strode closer to the bar; “’Tis been too long since last I saw you. How has your shop been, ey?” He looked at the bartender, again, the man seemed as aware of him as was the rest of the pub. Something’s amiss. “Lad, I changed my mind. It’ll be too rude if I shouldn’t at least take a mug before we left. Give me another of ‘em 1420’s, there’s a good man.” A mug was placed before him, and he downed it in one long gulp.

The werewolf was little impressed; in fact, he was now looking at him with a grin on his face. Kastor could tell that Dingo had an interest on the boy’s affairs perhaps it had something to do with Brandor’s father and the business. “Find Horatio” was the last thing he ever yelled before Kastor was out of earshot, and for many nights before they got moored on that forsaken piece of unmapped land, they’ve talked about nothing else except Horatio and his son, and how there are those who would like to claim the business for themselves.

“The news I bear,” Kastor said shortly; “Is not for your ears, master tailor. So I’m afraid you cannot walk with us, although I expect,” He was now looking at Brandor, pretending to size up his clothing; “The young lad will have to visit you afterwards. He does need new clothing...and perhaps a bath.”

The insult caught the boy off guard and Kastor saw him smell his underarms and the inside of his shirt before straightening it with both hands. Gullible git. Kastor sighed laboriously then went back to Dingo, then said, “So, if that’d be all. Boy, pay the good man and let us be off. I would like to finish my errand early today.”

[YayGollum]

Dingo squelched a thoughtful frown and turned away as Brandor, not to be left behind, rushed past them to pay the bill. The old werewolf decided that whatever the news was, it was most probably important to the business or the boy's family. Nothing that immediately concerned him and which he wouldn't eventually find out anyway. Brandor, having merely intended to wait for the two to exchange farewells, suddenly caught his breath and rushed outside, looking green. Narvi just tutted and took his time with stomping out after him.

After a brief smirk, Dingo caught Kastor's eyes to add an earnest plea ---> "He's a good boy, and very like his father. I know you'll keep him safe." He then took a seat at the bar to go about his usual interactions but touched his hat and tossed Kastor a wink before turning away. "Looks like the tea was too much for him!"

[Narya]

Kastor placed his arm around the young man's shoulders and leaned a bit on him. He could see that his weight made Brandor wince a bit. So much like Doran, he thought. "Do we really have to travel with that," Kastor threw a glance behind them to the walking thing; "That friend of yours?"

Brandor, after wiping his mouth, straightened and looked back at Narvi with sympathy, and said "Well, he is my friend, so, of course!"

"I've never seen anyone like him,” Kastor said shortly, again looking behind to see the fellow marching behind them. It was the strangest thing he had seen in that port in years and Kastor had seen many strange things. There was something about Brandor's friend that alerted Kastor's nerve and he didn't like the feel of it. "What is he lad?"

Brandor winked at Narvi, then grinned at Kastor before saying, "We're not quite sure of that, yet."

Narvi took the time to cross his arms and look Kastor up and down with disapproval. "We are alone, now. What message have you for the young master?"

Surprised by the question, and somewhat alarmed by this uncanny character, Kastor stopped, sized him before looking at the boy and knew that they shared some kind of bond. It would not do well for him to try and pry them apart, nor would it be beneficial for them all if he were to contend with that bond that they share. However, his judgment had been challenged before and oftentimes it was proven wrong. Could he be wrong again on this occassion? He might be. Then again, maybe not. Maybe he was just being overly cautious and that this thing is a real friend to Brandor. At length, he decided to keep his opinions of this individual on neutral ground and wait for a sign to suspect him.

He smiled at the boy and said, "The ground has ears, and the wind," he looked up into the open air filled with cold fog; "Can speak messages---” He struggled for the stranger's name; he couldn't recall if it was given or not in the many exchanges that transpired inside the pub. Deciding that perhaps he was not properly introduced, Kastor smiled wryly and said, "There are ears that have been waiting for the very message that I carry, Brandon's friend--- However, it is only meant for Brandon himself. I will discuss it in safer quarters." He turned to Brandon again. "Are we far from your father's house?"

Brandor, having never possessed much in the way of a sense of direction, looked around while glaring at the buildings studiously. Narvi, having always possessed very little patience and a much better memory, took the lead and pointed the way. "This way." He marched forward and when he was beside Brandon, he grunted, "We haven't been gone so long that you should forget where your own home is."

Brandor mumbled about growth and development. Brandor saw Kastor shake his head and took it as a sign of disappointment. He decided to turn the table around and before moving along, he raised an eyebrow at Kastor and attempted to gauge his worth, something that had always sounded easy.

"So, my father, how is he? Did you get back recently?"

"Aye,” Kastor replied. He was not going to answer the first question in the open so he decided to waddle in the second. "The ship is anchored there," he pointed to the biggest ship in the port with gray folded sails and a large white mermaid in the bough. "She's a beautiful ship. Doran's finest. We traveled to the South, her bilges are bursting with crates of mollusks and stone crab from Tharbad port. The market should be swelling with it by now."

Brandor, easily distracted, licked his lips then said, "Ah, a feast for my arrival! I'll ask if you can stay, Kastor, although, my father shouldn't mind, if you're as close as Dingo hinted. I'm sorry that I am not around more often. I really should know you better already. But my father has the sea and I have the land--- much to my family's dismay!"

Cringing at Brandor's carefree laugh, Narvi grumbled over his shoulder at them. "I wish that your uncle would put a stop to that! He, at least, has a good head on his shoulders."

"Does he, now?" Kastor said, narrowing his eyes. Hook. "What is your name again?"

The statue halted in the middle of the alley they were passing through, stomped up to Kastor, and was forced to glare at least a foot up at him. "I was not given a name that I know but Brandor calls me Narvi."

Brandor hastened to step beside the two since he couldn't exactly get between them. "Yes, Narvi. After an old Dwarf I heard about. It's a good name!"

Narvi, giving the man a steady glare, spoke again. "Have you a distaste for those who can carry the weight of such a vast shipping business, even through the hardship of a brother like Doran?"

Line. "I have very little care for such things. The shipping business was Doran's forte. Mine is the sea and how to steer his ship across it and back. However, because of circumstances, Doran has entrusted me with matters concerning his shipping business and I hold it and its interests in high priority. I trust no one with it. Not unless Doran himself says he can be trusted." Kastor's lancing gaze bore down upon the creature that obviously wasn't human. Narvi just stared back. Both did not blink and Kastor barely moved. In his mind, the foremost thought was that his spear may not peneratrate the thick hide of this "thing". Brandor cleared his throat and Kastor looked up to see that a crowd was now beginning to form around them. He lowered his gaze, and even forced a small smile before saying, "Narvi. I shall keep that in mind. 'Tis a good name, lad, let us hope that he acquires a few of their traits. Just a few, Dwarves are known to be ruled more by greed than by loyalty."

Narvi gave the man a smirk before turning away. Brandor looked at the two worriedly and clapped Kastor's shoulder lightly, and then said, "Well, actually, I think that I might have met a few Dwarves already. They aren't so bad. But then, they might have just been descendents. Or just a few short loremasters. They're more cautious than greedy. And certainly very loyal, if you get to know them. You are actually very Dwarflike, Kastor! Well, not in height, of course. Your beard is quite lacking, too. But you do have the loyalty of a Dwarf. They don't even need to know their rivals to hate them, either! Ah, have you met my uncle, by the way?" the last, he said with an innocent smile.

"Yes," Kastor said. "I have."

[YayGollum]

They made their way through the busy streets now loud with market-fare. The men from the ship, Evertas, have unloaded their crates of mollusks and stone crab and the merchants were now bargaining for prices.

At long last they reached the manor, quite an estate from the look of it, and very palatial if compared to its very modest neighbors. The gates bore a large insignia of Doran's family. They made their way inside and Brandor thought it best that they talk in the library where the books and thick drapes muffled their voices. Not, of course, before he spoke to at least three servants about preparing a feast and gathering his family for a surprise.

In the library, after Narvi shut the door and stood with his back to it, Brandor found a comfortable chair and motioned to another.

"This should be fine. What news can you have for me that must be kept so private? Oh, I should have asked the servants for drinks!"

"Leave the drinks," Kastor said. He refused the seat once more much to Brandor's displeasure and this time he couldn't hide it. "I bring terrible news for you, Brandor."

With an honest gasp, Brandor said, "Oh? What happened?" Narvi stepped forward a bit, as the kid was normally too lighthearted to show much worry.

Kastor, who never learned to say things with a grain of salt, knew only of one way to disclose news: blunt and fast. "Your father is dead."

Brandor blinked once, then shook his head and smiled, looking around the room. "Is this a trick? Father would sometimes play tricks on me, but I never would have thought that he'd add one of his shipmen to a plot! Is it because I've been gone so long and should be so much wiser? Where is he now? He's not dead." Only a soft and hopeful laughter followed, though. Narvi, on the other hand, didn't doubt the man's tone, but started stomping around the room, checking behind drapes just to make certain that noone was hiding behind them.

Kastor didn't know what to say next. He just realized how young Brandor was and how gripping was the message he had brought. He couldn't meet his eyes. He felt a stinging jolt run through him as he listened to the young man's disbelief. I shouldn't have left him.

Brandor, showing a bit of annoyance, crossly said to Kastor, "Come now! Don't lie to me, Kastor. I've only just returned. What kind of welcome is this, to hear that my father is dead? Very bad taste, sir!"

Narvi, after checking around the room, shook his head sadly and took a place beside his companion.

"I'm sorry, Brandor." Kastor regretfully said, and again he felt remorse coursing through him. "It is the truth. I come to give you this,” He took out an envelop with Doran's seal. "It is your father's will. It leaves the entire business to you." Handing it to the young lad.

Brandor shakily stood, while glaring at the drapes, to take the envelope, but he didn't open it. "Are you certain? Did you see him die?"

It was the question that Kastor feared to hear. He didn't have the stomach to tell the boy that he ran and left his master behind so that he can save his own life. Yes, he needed to stay alive and give Brandor what was rightfully his, and make sure that he keeps it. He needed to stay alive to make sure that the business and the house and all of Doran's belongings were given to his son, and not taken by those who have been conspiring to take it from him. Nevertheless, if he only stayed for a little while longer, and fought, Doran would not need to pass down his will. Not yet.

"Did you see him die?" Brandor asked again, and this time his voice shook.

"I,” Kastor hesitated. "I did not."

For a moment, Brandor's face held a confused glare, but after a deep breath, he dropped the envelope on his chair and gave another carefree grin, this one accompanied by a much harder voice. "Then I have no need for his will yet, do I? So, where did you leave him? Oh, and why?"

Do I tell him? Kastor could see how stubborn this boy was -- after all, he was Doran's son. He knew the task needed more than just a day to accomplish, and now that he has met Brandor it would take longer than he anticipated. His pocket twitched again. He steadied it but not quick enough, for Narvi's eyes quickly caught sight of it. He said nothing though, which added to Kastor's already growing suspicion of him.

[chrysophalax]

Horatio was in high dudgeon. Rarely did he ever waste time and yet, here he was, apparently on a wild goose chase. His dear nephew and several suspicious characters had left the bowels of a particularly rank pub near the docks not long before, most likely for home. Hardly the establishment I would have allowed my son to frequent. I must speak to the whelp about the family reputation. he thought as he rode hell-bent for leather along the cobblestones toward the mansion. His brother had obviously been remiss in the lad's education.

Candlelight blazed in the windows and lanterns had been lit all along carriage entrance Horatio noticed through narrowed eyes. A cynical smile graced his lips as he pulled the frothing horse to a skidding halt in the yard and leapt off. A startled servant darted out, as if from nowhere. "M-my lord! We had no news of your impending arrival! I..." He cuffed the boy's ear soundly. "Because I sent none, fool! Be off with you!" The lad needed no further encouragemant and lead the heaving animal to the stables, leaving Horatio to contemplate the reason for the gaiety within.

A frontal assault had never been his forte, so Horatio walked calmly to the rear of the massive stone structure, all the while thinking, ever thinking. It was obvious the young wastrel was busy spending the family fortune on those eccentric "friends" of his, the most dangerous of which in his opinion was Dingo, a rather dapper older man that always seemed to smell like a wet dog, for some reason. From the sound of things, young Brandor had to have done well on this venture and his unce was bound to find out exactly how well. When he reached the back of the manor, Horatio slipped through the postern gate, to which only he and his brother had the key. Two flights later, after startling several bats that always lurked in the stairwell, he was once again in his apartment.

"He's back, m'lord." Horatio tossed hat, cloak and riding gloves into the ever-waiting arms of his life-long servant, Thomas. "Really? You mean that bonfire of candles downstairs isn't for my homecoming? You wound me, Thomas!" A thin, perfunctory smile greeted the acidic comment. "M'lord likes his jest, I'm sure. Wine. m'lord?" On the table in the center of the drawing room sat a delicate crystal decanter, full and a goblet, also full. Inwardly, Horatio relaxed as he strode to the table, picked up the goblet and inhaled. "Ahhhh, Thomas. What would I do without you?" "Hire another servant, m'lord?" Horatio chuckled. "My cynicism has worn off on you, I see. Nay, nay. Come, tell me all. I want to be prepared before I greet my nephew with open arms."

[Arvedui]

Meanwhile, in a dark corner in the library, a small, squat statue carven in stone, was standing. Immensely old it seemed, carven with humanlike features, but much shorter and broader. And even if it was just a statue, some sort of mysterious power seemed to emit from it if one got close enough.

[Narya]

Nin slowly made her way into the sleeve of Kastor's coat. Using every crease as though they were steps in a large staircase. She made it to Kastor's broad shoulders with very little effort and, hiding herself in the thickness of his hair, she whispered to him, "Remember Ankaragmir..."

Her slicing voice cut through Kastor's consciousness like a hot knife on butter. His mind was thrown out to sea on a day he will forever regret...

He was trying to log their bearing when Doran came down. Kastor looked at the piece of parchment that Doran had placed on top of the loxodograph. New bearings. He wants to go further down south. He never questioned Doran's decisions - not once - but today, after they have voyaged steadily southwards for months, Kastor was beginning to suspect that his master had lost his mind.

"Captain," He called.

"Yes, Kastor?"

"You want us to go further South?"

Doran nodded; he had that silly smile plastered on his face like the one you see in a child who had mischief in mind. He turned around and was heading out the door expecting Kastor to just follow the order that he had just given him.

"Captain," He called again.

"Is there something wrong, Kastor?" Doran replied, his voice had a tinge of annoyance, which Kastor expected seeing as this was the first time his order had been questioned by no less than his first mate.

Kastor hesitated, unsure if he should tell him his fears. Then again, he had been getting warnings from Nin for many nights now. Do not go down to the Dune; Ankaragmir is the birthplace of the Laminak!

"We are going to the Dune?"

"Yes. We are." Doran replied, suave and casual, as though the Dune Sea was a place he frequented.

Kastor knew he had to try and talk him out of it. He took a deep breath and said, "There is nothing there, captain. It's just a dead sea."

"We will port in Caldûne, and go inland from there. The town of Julus is famous for its pearls and torquiose, and..."

"We will go inland, captain?" Kastor echoed.

"What is the matter with you, Kastor?" Doran asked, clearly bewildered by his obvious hesitation to go south. "I've never seen you this agitated before."

Kastor closed his eyes tightly and sighed heavily. He didn't want to reveal the existence of Nin. Not even to Doran. Especially not to Doran. He would be exceptionally interested with her; his lust to see such beings in existence had been the driving force of many journeys to unchartered lands. Journeys that nearly ended in tragedy and Kastor knew that if they continued teasing fate, she will tire of their jest too soon.

Doran walked back to him and placed a hand on his left shoulder, and then said, "You and I have risked dangers and garnered treasures that no man in Forodwaith ever had."

"Worthless treasure." Kastor reminded him.

"Treasure is not just silver and gold!" Doran interjected. "The history of our land has been kept in ice and water for many centuries. The books of lore have been sold to the highest bidder, who takes them out to sea only to be plundered by pirates."

"Legends!" Doran exploded. "Captain, these are nothing more than legends that we are after. You are risking your life for something that lies in mists! You have a son --- "

"Who loves the ground more than the sea!" Doran interrupted.

"Still he is your flesh and bone and blood. He is your real treasure." Kastor insisted.

There was silence after that. Doran just looked at him and smiled sadly. Then he nodded and turned around placing a hand on his waist while the other rubbed his forehead. With Doran's back to him, Kastor bowed his head in shame knowing how much it pains his captain to remember his dead wife. However, Kastor needed to convinced him not to go on with this mad hunt to uncover the past and the only way he knew was to dig into the deepest wounds of his heart.

"You have neglected both him and the business in Forodwaith." Kastor said.

"Horatio is taking care of both while I'm away, Kastor, you know that." Doran replied.

Kastor limped toward him. He said, "Are you certain of that?" Looking directly into Doran's eyes, his own pupils glittering with words he could not utter. It was clear with Doran's confused expression that he understood.

He asked, "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Horatio seems to be ecstatic everytime you leave for the sea and disappointed whenever you show up at the harbor..." Said Kastor, looking out the porthole, then turning back to Doran again; "...alive."

"Madness! What are you implying, Kastor?" Doran asked. "Horatio is my brother! I doubt the people he mingles with but never him. Blood is still thicker than water after all." Kastor looked undeterred by it, and in an attempt to win the debate, Doran spoke again, more sternly now, and said, "If you--- know something--- tell me."

"I only know what I feel in my gut, captain. My gut is telling me not to trust Horatio." Kastor said. "Blood may be thicker than water but it dillutes faster when you're always out in the sea. Soon, the ocean will have disolved everything that ties you both."

Doran sighed laboriously, and said, "I know why you feel so strongly about Horatio, Kastor. But your squabbles doesn't concern me. I trust him fully."

Kastor could see that he could not contend with that yet. Maybe he'll never be able to. Doran you fool, how can you be so stubborn, Kastor thought. He could desert him once they port in Caldune. He has paid his debt and earned enough to start a life somewhere. He can leave now. However, Doran was the only friend he has ever known. The only one who even showed the slightest sign of humanity towards him when he was about to give up on the human civilization entirely. He can never turn his back on him. If I have to die defending him...

"Aye, captain."

"Now," Replied Doran , grinning; "Shall we go to the topdeck so you can steer the ship to our next destination?"

Kastor could do nothing but agree. His pocket twitched madly in revolt and he had to endure the sting of Nin's rod in his hand for at least an hour.

Narvi was still looking at him when he shook free of the memory. Brandor was talking about something; he couldn't recall what it was, but he was certain he mentioned something about finding Doran. Nin had made her way back into his pocket.

"No," Kastor said, realizing he interrupted Brandor in mid-sentence, he walked closer to the boy holding out a large hand in front of him as though he was trying to clear some fog. Narvi quickly went between them. "I will not harm him, Narvi. He is my charge---"

[chrysophalax]

Following a lengthy debriefing by Thomas, Horatio sat back in his orc-hide recliner and pondered. That his nephew had returned was, in itself, nothing that would normally cause him any distress, for thus far the young man had shone no great promise as a businessman and seemed more than willing to let his uncle take all the responsibility. However, the fact that Kastor was with him boded ill. He had never seen eye to eye with Doran's friend and captain and in Horatio's view, Doran valued the man's opinion far too highly. And then there was Dingo...

The elegant werewolf had always intrigued Horatio, much as a deadly snake is intriguing merely because of its deadliness. His eyes narrowed in thought as he wondered why Dingo had chosen to come to the mansion with Brandor and he could find no reason that seemed good to him. He had the uneasy feeling of a trap slowly closing in and he didn't like it one bit.

"Thomas? Alert the appropriate people, will you? I want no trouble here. Make sure my "guests" are well taken care of and stay close. And tell my nephew I will receive him in the library." Thomas nodded. "Of course, my lord." Then he disappeared without a sound to do Horatio's bidding.

As Horatio made his way to the library through one of the many secret passageways, he smiled to himself. Thomas had been one of his father's more interesting discoveries. The man was more than half-elven, a rarity in this day and time and his loyalty to the family (meaning Horatio primarily) was beyond question. Early on, Horatio had discovered that Thomas was passionate about his elven heritage and Horatio had used this knowledge (albeit illegally) to acquire many treasures long thought lost and even allowed Thomas to own one or two himself. He had proven so grateful that the fact Horatio was a scoundrel at heart made no difference. Together, they made a formidable pair when it came to smuggling.

Upon entering the library, Horatio was instantly watchul. For some reason, he always had the feeling that he was being watched here, so it was rare that he ever came to this room in person. Horatio held out his hand, clasping Brandor's in a firm grip and pointedly ignoring the other people in the room. "Welcome home, nephew! Come, sit you down and tell me of your venture. I trust it was lucrative?" Brandor stood before him awkwardly for a moment and Horatio exclaimed, "Of course! Where are my manners? Would you like tea? I've recently acquired a very aromatic blend from Umbar and a delightful herbal tea from the hillsides just west of the Misty Mountains, where there once stood an elven settlement, it is said." Horatio seated himself and waved Brandor to a chair near the fire. "Tell me everything."

[YayGollum]

Although his eyebrows perked up with interest at the mention of the tea, Brandor winced at his uncle's liveliness. He was used to feelings of annoyance and impatience while he was around the guy, which made him feel horrible about having to keep him informed. He picked up the will and handed it to his uncle before sitting down and offering a comforting smile. "Heh. An unfortunate homecoming, this time, Uncle. I was just talking with Kastor here about my father. He wasn't dead when his first mate abandoned him, at least. What do you think we should do?"

Narvi backed away as Horatio entered. Although he was used to only looking after Brandor, he admired this businessman and had gathered that Kastor could be a bit unreasonable, hence his need for a better position. He ended up standing politely to the side of the fire, but still what would be too close for a normal human's comfort. After providing a slight nod of respect for the what might be dead, he noticed another statue. Interest in the conversation quickly made him forget about it, though.

Dingo unexpectedly appeared from behind a curtain, probably by way of a secret passage, and only noticed by those who weren't focused on other things. He silently glided towards the group, giving a sympathetic nod to any who noticed him. If much surprise was shown, he'd flash a grin and whip out a dashing new outfit, obviously meant for Brandor. Saying nothing, his own eyebrows perked up when he spotted the will.

[Narya]

The silence brought upon by Kastor's uncanny mumbling and abrupt motions toward the young man placed all three of them on alert. Brandor was particularly confused and curious by the look in his eyes. Kastor had to compose his thoughts carefully knowing he had to win the trust of this young man.

"Do not be afraid of me," He began. Narvi was not convinced though; he stood stock still as a graven image between the sailor and Doran's son. Kastor did not feel he needed to gain anything from this creature but it was evident that he had quite an influence over Brandor. "Your father," Said Kastor, addressing the young man directly, "trusted me with his will and made me swear, by my own death, that it reaches your hands. There is no need for wariness, I'm your guardian, Brandor. As your father had wished---before he died."

Suddenly, the library door opened and a man entered and announced the arrival of Horatio. Kastor knew that one day they'd have to confront each other, if now was the hour, so be it. Hobbling over to a large cushioned mahogany chair with a high backrest, Kastor sat, waiting anxiously for Horatio to appear through the door.

"Welcome home, nephew! Come, sit you down and tell me of your venture. I trust it was lucrative? Of course! Where are my manners? Would you like tea? I've recently acquired a very aromatic blend from Umbar and a delightful herbal tea from the hillsides just west of the Misty Mountains, where there once stood an elven settlement, it is said."

"Heh. An unfortunate homecoming, this time, Uncle. I was just talking with Kastor here about my father. He wasn't dead when his first mate abandoned him, at least. What do you think we should do?" Brandor replied shortly. Kastor did not like the suggestion of abandonment but knew it was exactly how it appeared to anyone who would hear the tale.

"How came this to be in your possession, Kastor?" Asked Horatio, politely; "And how do I know this is not a forgery? I have been given no news of my brother's untimely demise and, believe me...I would have known."

Though the tone was polite and Horatio's face hid well it's true meaning, Kastor understood it completely and the malice that dripped through the words that had been spoken. Narrowing his eyes at the accusation against his honor, Kastor felt compelled to lash out against this pompous immitation of Doran.

However, something within the heavy curtains behind him moved, and at once his nerves were on the alert.

"Confounded scoundrel!!" Kastor exploded, standing up from the chair, his spear drawn and aimed at the newcomer. It was Dingo, and now that his presence had been laid bare the library felt like it was shrinking. Each one looking at the other with surprise and suspicion in their eyes.

[YayGollum]

After his mischievous grin and presenting the new outfit to Brandor, he blinked and scoffed at Kastor's reaction. "Scoundrel? I'm sorry to surprise you. It's just that these soft boots are so much more comfortable than those heavy ones, which, I'm sorry to say, are much louder." He glared at the spear for a beat, then threw his hands in the air to show that he was unarmed and casually took a seat of his own. With a nod to Horatio ---> "Forgive the servants for neglecting to announce me. I'm not one for such trivialities, anyway. Ah, but don't let me interrupt! Brandor, I hope that you find your homecoming gift useful. Should I have made it in black, though?"

Brandor's look of suspicion was merely a curious, "How did he get in without a door opening?" He accepted the clothes with an amused look, since Dingo's wares were usually too dressy for his tastes. He placed them to the side before waving calming hands at the others. "No, of course not! We have no reason to suspect that my father is dead. He is an experienced adventurer, right, Kastor? I'm sure that he's just taking his time coming back to us, as always."

Narvi's look of suspicion was also curious, but mixed with a lot more shock that he hadn't noticed the tailor approach. At Kastor's reaction, he ran a few scenarios in his head and didn't look it but was ready to step in and unarm the startled human. He did glance at the floor where Brandor had dumped his new clothes, though, and ordered himself to remember to chastise the kid for his lack of respect. Although Dingo was mysterious and eccentric, Narvi had known him and his reputation a lot better than Kastor's.

[chrysophalax]

News of a will other than the one locked in Doran's safe upstairs in his office surprised Horatio. With a raised eyebrow he looked at the dubious object lying on the table as though it offended him. "How came this to be in your possession, Kastor? And how do I know this is not a forgery? I have been given no news of my brother's untimely demise and, believe me...I would have known." As the two glared at one another, suddenly there was a movement of curtains and the flash of a spear. Dingo appeared with a grin and a bow with a gift for Brandor, which went barely acknowledged.

"I see you still remember the old passageways? To what do I owe this pleasure?" Horatio watched as the tailor took a seat, steepling his long, elegant fingers to observe the proceedings."You must forgive Kastor. It seems his nerves aren't what they used to be." He turned to the old sailor calmly. "Would you like to join us...after you've set aside your most unnecessary weapon...or would some fresh air do you good? I'm certain I can find someone to escort you outside for a brisk walk in the garden should you require it." His words were that of a politley concerned host, but the tone of his voice was silk over steel. Horatio was never to be challenged on his home ground.

[Narya]

"Scoundrel? I'm sorry to surprise you. It's just that these soft boots are so much more comfortable than those heavy ones, which, I'm sorry to say, are much louder." Dingo said, scoffing at Kastor's startled reaction.

"I see you still remember the old passageways? You must forgive Kastor. It seems his nerves aren't what they used to be. To what do I owe this pleasure?" Horatio greeted and that casual exchange of pleasantries did not escape Kastor's watchful eye.

Turning his attention to Horatio, Dingo continued, "Forgive the servants for neglecting to announce me. I'm not one for such trivialities, anyway. Ah, but don't let me interrupt! Brandor, I hope that you find your homecoming gift useful. Should I have made it in black, though?"

"No, of course not!" Brandor quippep. "We have no reason to suspect that my father is dead. He is an experienced adventurer, right, Kastor? I'm sure that he's just taking his time coming back to us, as always."

Kastor was torn between pity and annoyance at Brandor's remark however it was expected. Doran had warned him that the boy would not readily accept a claim unless he sees solid proof of it- which was the purpose of the written will that Doran had sealed. Kastor thought it would suffice. But his claim came with the sad news of Doran's death, and now he fears that Brandor would need a cold and rotting corpse before he'd accept it as fact. The issue of trust lies heavily between them; he had just met Kastor. You cannot tell a man to trust you; you have to earn it.

"Would you like to join us...after you've set aside your most unnecessary weapon...or would some fresh air do you good? I'm certain I can find someone to escort you outside for a brisk walk in the garden should you require it." Horatio offered.

That's right, that's where you want me, outside and far away. He unhinged the joint of the spear and it retracted into a small folded piece of steel, the pointed end tucked under a thick covering of yak hide. After placing it back neatly within the folds of his coat, Kastor said, "I've had my fill of clean air from the sea and I despise flowers. I would stay here, with my charge, as he had been assigned to me. I can assure you, Horatio, that the will is genuine; Doran's seal is upon it. Have you read it's contents? It has nothing to do with me. Doran left everything..." Kastor paused and cast a firm, but short glance toward Brandor before returning to Horatio with a smile of mockery in his face, and continued; "...to his son."

[YayGollum]

Brandor, never the best at gaining information from a tone that wasn't also in a person's words, frowned with confusion at his uncle. "Ah, I would really like to hear what Kastor knows, first. You might need to organize a crew to go out and rescue him, Uncle. Of course, I doubt that it's as serious as that. Perhaps he sent his best man back alone for a reason? I'd like to learn." At his first realization that Kastor felt obligated to stay in his service, he made a quick check for a jealous look on Narvi's face, but it hadn't changed much from its latest watchful one. At the news of what his father had left him, he fell back in his seat for a second with a worried look but quickly recovered with his usual carefree one.

Dingo sighed and rolled his eyes at his gift's reception, then tossed an innocent and receptive look at Horatio. "Oh, my shop isn't far, as you know, and I had been saving this gift for your nephew until his return. Nothing more. But, with this news, I would like to hear what Kastor has to say, as well. Forgive me, but Doran is missing and presumed dead? This will be most disheartening to tradesmen up and down the coast! A rescue team would certainly be called for, if we have reason to suspect that it would be of help."

[Narya]

"Ah, I would really like to hear what Kastor knows, first." Brandor interupted. Kastor's eyes remained glaring at Horatio. "You might need to organize a crew to go out and rescue him, Uncle. Of course, I doubt that it's as serious as that. Perhaps he sent his best man back alone for a reason? I'd like to learn."

At this, Kastor whirled in disbelief. A search party?

"I would like to hear what Kastor has to say, as well." Dingo added and with that remark Kastor threw a glance back at Horatio. However, his face remained unchanged. "Forgive me, but Doran is missing and presumed dead? This will be most disheartening to tradesmen up and down the coast! A rescue team would certainly be called for, if we have reason to suspect that it would be of help."

Return to the Dune? Kastor had to stop this from happening. There was no way he would return to that accursed place. Only with an army will they be able to withstand the Laminak. This is madness!

"The news is troubling, no doubt...but I can assure you it is true." Kastor insisted. "Sending a party to search for the dead is useless. Brandor, you must stay here and run the business as your father had wished."

[YayGollum]

Brandor swung back in his chair in horror at Kastor's assumption that he had even considered sailing into uncharted waters to look for a professional explorer who had gone too far. He quickly calmed himself only to look down at his hands with worry at the responsibilities that would be heaved onto his shoulders, if he stuck around. After a moment of thought, he looked back up at Kastor with his eyes bright and darting, as if he wished to escape. "You have no proof that my father is dead. Yes, you were convinced to leave him and deliver this will, but I have yet to hear why we should give up. Oh, I'm sorry. You wouldn't have left him if you thought that you could help, I'm sure, but, could you find him with a stronger force, maybe? Uh, I could stay here and try to become a good businessman. Uncle Horatio would be a great teacher, I think, but, hm, yes, I'd much rather leave this city, maybe give the business to him. Maybe he could help me with starting my own business on one of the trading routes on land? I'd like that very much! But I'm sure that there isn't anything to worry about. Father might have just been delayed, and you were sent ahead to meet me, maybe to keep me interested in the family business? Right?"

Narvi nodded with agreement that Brandor should start getting accustomed to running his father's business, then closed his eyes in pain and sympathy as the kid rambled and dodged. Dingo, on the other hand, stepped up and placed a hand on Brandor's shoulder to calm him. "That may yet be. Your father always was a rapscallion! You are certainly right not to jump to any conclusions regarding his presumed demise. Now, if you wish for a rescue team, why don't you organize it? That'd certainly show your doubters that you have the qualities of a leader, and your father might even be home by the time you're finished!" After a hesitant smile from Brandor, he turned to Kastor. "I wasn't there with you, so I can't be sure that Doran is dead. Why are you so certain? If there is any chance that he is still alive, you should be the first to volunteer for a rescue mission, I would think!"

[chrysophalax]

Fixing Kastor with an icy glare, Horatio cleared his throat. "I believe it's time to sit down and let calmer heads prevail. Please gentlemen, have a seat and let us rationally talk this through." Nimbly he plucked the will from ther table and carefully examined the seal. "It appears to be intact, but until I know for certain that my brother is deceased, neither will is going to be opened." Horatio then rang a silver bell which conjured Thomas from this air. "Thomas, will you be so good as to deposit this in the family safe? There is the possibility my lawyers will have to examine it later." With a bow, Thomas took the will and vanished as quietly as he had arrived.

"Now, Brandor. I greet with enthuiasm the knowledge that you wuld like to learn more of the family business, but even it gratifies me that you are willing to search for your father. Doran Enterprises can hardly function without him at the helm, after all!" he said, followed by a polite cough. He then turned to Kastor and smiled. "What my wise acquaintance, Dingo, says has merit, Kastor. You are the finest captain Doran's fleet possesses. Who better to bring him back...dead or alive? I can assure you that no matter what, I will continue to run my brother's business as I always have, with the family in mind. There is no reason for you to tell my nephew to assume leadership while there is a crisis as long as I am here! It is hardly your place to say so, as I believe you are a company employee, not I."

[Narya]

"You have no proof that my father is dead. Yes, you were convinced to leave him and deliver this will, but I have yet to hear why we should give up." Brandor contested.

Kastor would have told him, right then and there, what exactly happened. However, Horatio was there, pinning him with a glare as sharp as knives. He also distrusted the sudden appearance and somewhat friendliness Dingo had towards Doran's ambitious brother. The fact that Dingo knew the secret passageways of Doran's manor means only one thing: he is a frequent guest here, and since Doran is often out to sea, the invitation must have come from someone else who lived here.

"Oh, I'm sorry. You wouldn't have left him if you thought that you could help, I'm sure, but, could you find him with a stronger force, maybe?" Brandor continued. "Uh, I could stay here and try to become a good businessman. Uncle Horatio would be a great teacher, I think, but, hm, yes, I'd much rather leave this city, maybe give the business to him. Maybe he could help me with starting my own business on one of the trading routes on land? I'd like that very much! But I'm sure that there isn't anything to worry about. Father might have just been delayed, and you were sent ahead to meet me, maybe to keep me interested in the family business? Right?"

Kastor could see that Brandor sought assurance from him -- or maybe doubt. The Laminak spares no one, Nin warned. Kastor could still feel the searing pain of the poison as it ate his skin like living gangrene. Nin had to suck the poison out and that, too, was a pain almost too much to endure.

He was still deep in thought and regret, when Dingo came between them and said, "That may yet be. Your father always was a rapscallion! You are certainly right not to jump to any conclusions regarding his presumed demise." Presumed demise? "Now, if you wish for a rescue team, why don't you organize it? That'd certainly show your doubters that you have the qualities of a leader, and your father might even be home by the time you're finished!"

With that last statement of encouragement to the boy's deadly and foolish intention to search for Doran, Kastor's suspicion for the tailor grew greatly. He wants the boy out of the way. Looking at Horatio, cold and calm a satisfied expression on his face, Kastor was almost certain he had bought the werewolf's services. Another pawn playing in this deadly game.

"I wasn't there with you, so I can't be sure that Doran is dead. Why are you so certain? If there is any chance that he is still alive, you should be the first to volunteer for a rescue mission, I would think!" Dingo added.

Before Kastor could swipe at the tailor for what was obviously a sneer at the authenticity of his report and his honor, Horatio cut in, and said, "I believe it's time to sit down and let calmer heads prevail. Please gentlemen, have a seat and let us rationally talk this through."

Breathing hard through flared nostrils, Kastor slowly moved away from them and limped heavily towards the chair he earlier occupied. He did not wish to sit down, nor turn his back on them, rather from that distance he was able to get a very good look at all of them at once-- he decided to remain standing. Horatio had just taken the will from the table; examined it and nodded when he found it still sealed.

"It appears to be intact, but until I know for certain that my brother is deceased, neither will is going to be opened." He ordered his manservant, Thomas; another uncanny individual that Kastor could not place with any of the locals within Forodwaith. Perhaps from somewhere on the other side of the Litash port. They have strange looking people there he observed. "Now, Brandor. I greet with enthuiasm the knowledge that you wuld like to learn more of the family business, but even it gratifies me that you are willing to search for your father. Doran Enterprises can hardly function without him at the helm, after all!"

That smile was practiced well, Kastor thought. Looking at him beside the boy, with Dingo on the other side, Brandor looked like a lamb, about to be slaughtered, but was willingly going into the slaughterhouse.

Suddenly, Horatio approached him, and said, "What my wise acquaintance, Dingo, says has merit, Kastor." Wise? Foolish more like. "You are the finest captain Doran's fleet possesses. Who better to bring him back...dead or alive? I can assure you that no matter what, I will continue to run my brother's business as I always have, with the family in mind. There is no reason for you to tell my nephew to assume leadership while there is a crisis as long as I am here! It is hardly your place to say so, as I believe you are a company employee, not I."

"You are right," Kastor replied. "And as a dutiful employee, I have done all that my master ordered me to do. That was why I came here and gave Brandor the will and make sure it is executed. Those were my last orders from Doran." He took a deep breath before he spoke again. "And no, I have no proof with me nor on the Evertas of his death. You can doubt my report if you wish, but since none of you were there," casting a glance at the Tailor, "I believe my report is just as valid as your doubts. Although I was rather expecting, since the ship returned without him on board, you would realize that something had gone wrong. I would never abandon him and return to Forodwaith if I knew he was still alive." He then turned his attention to the boy who was keenly observing the conversation, although there was much confusion on his face. "If you really want to look for him, I will go with you and guide you for that was part of my orders. However, I have to warn you, Brandor, the journey is perilous and we may never again set foot in Forodwaith." Then with a knowing smile on his bearded face he turned to Horatio. "Which would serve your plans pretty well, I should think. Wouldn't it, Horatio?"

[YayGollum]

Of all of the expectations that he had been coming across recently, Dingo's sounded like the most fun. He'd be seen as trying to help the family business while he'd just be talking to people who wouldn't mind a good adventure. He figured Kastor to be too embarrassed to admit that he had abandoned his father and didn't really blame him, since he didn't know what the situation had been. He openly gasped when the guy seemed to be accusing his uncle of some ill will and looked back at him with more concern than disgust. This man obviously didn't like his uncle and had been ordered to guard his best friend's son, Brandor decided.

Might as well focus his energies on a better task, if he'd be stuck with him. "Now, now. There's no call for that, Kastor. I never volunteered myself for any rescue missions, but organizing one doesn't sound too hard. You can help me with that, then. I see nothing dangerous about that mission, at least!" After a grateful nod at Dingo, he stood and gathered his new clothes from Narvi. "I'm not signing up for any rescue missions yet, Uncle. I'm sure that I'd be useless on the sea. But scrounging up adventurers sounds like fun!"

Dingo winced with sympathy when Kastor glanced at him. Sensing that the guy wasn't an especially large fan of Horatio, he planned on speaking with him privately about what forced him to return without Doran, since the offer to tell anyone hadn't been made yet. At Brandor's eagerness to perform for the adults, he smiled and gave him an encouraging nod. "Good! Then it's settled. I can recommend a couple of places to start, actually."

[chrysophalax]

After an uncomfortable silence, Horatio stood and bowed to his company. "This has been a most instructive evening, gentlemen. I approve my nephew's noble mission to go in search of his father and, in addition, I will place at his disposal whatever supplies or manpower he may need...within reason." He nodded to both Brandor and Dingo, pointedly ignoring Kastor. "Brandor, I would like to speak with you privately before you embark. Sooner, rather than later and remember, if you have need of anything in the meantime, you have but to ask."

He crossed to the door, then paused. "Please, help yourselves to the refreshments Thomas has prepared for you in the next room. Can't have the books being soiled, now can we?" With that he swept from the room. leaving the others to ponder his proposition. Meanwhile, Horatio took the long way back to his apartment, his mind racing. Could Doran actually be dead? If so, why had he acted through Kastor? Why has he not trusted his only brother? The old jealousy rose like bile in his throat. I have done nothing to deserve this suspicion...nothing! However, if there must needs be a reason... Horatio's thoughts trailed off as he reached the sanctuary of his tower. The room was lit by a warm glow from the fireplace and his soft, deep bed was waiting for him. There would be time enough in the morning to discover the truth behind Kastor's animosity, then time enough for recompense.

[Ghorim]

Long, bony fingers, crisscrossed with veins, immune to trembling… sharp, shrewd eyes, able to discern the minute secrets of powder and wires… a probing mind, naturally drawn toward the perfection of symmetry… these were the heirlooms that came to Glauer by virtue of his race. With these gifts he crafted devices of great destruction, lethal mixtures of elements that shook the Ered Luin to the roots when deployed. All that power, and the riches and accolades that came with it, lay within Glauer’s nimble hands… and yet they had always felt empty. The dwarf’s eyes would ever turn upward from his base labors, to trace the elegant curves of the Ered Luin's subterranean domes, marvel at the indomitable thrust of the columns, and bow reverently before the towering statues of his folk’s ancient heroes.

These things had all been crafted long ago, when the Khazad were yet a young and sprightly folk. They were tributes to Mahal, every one of those creations a sprawling manuscript written in ode to His boundless powers. Glauer looked upon them as the pillars of a glorious past that he could never hope to touch. Those immaculate architectural lines cut at his personal sense of significance, the stony eyes of the statues bore into his spirit and questioned its merits. What were his petty explosives next to these immortal works? What had the dwarves of the Ered Luin become, now that he, Glauer, was regarded as their greatest creator? The dwarf fled these questions, fled the underground, rushing into the hot sunlight of the surface world.

Living at this mannish village was supposed to be temporary. Glauer felt tempted to travel to Khazad-dum, where it was whispered that great works were still being wrought well beneath the Misty Mountains. And yet the dwarf had assimilated into the fabric of this small town so completely, that he soon felt too entangled to pick up and leave it. Though of strange, secretive ways and peculiar appearance, Glauer’s works endeared him to the community. He had come into town with a sizable cart filled with all manner of building materials and chemical substances, and plenty of coin saved up from his years of service as the Minister of Demolition. Suddenly freed from the demands of the mining families, and faced with the seemingly boundless needs of his new customers, Glauer’s slumbering sense of creativity suddenly blossomed as it never had before.

The greatest beneficiaries of the dwarf’s personal rebirth were the children of the village, for whom Glauer fashioned the most elaborate of playthings. His wooden soldiers seemed to spring to life at the turn of a crank. He crafted other, less threatening dolls who could blink their eyes and turn a jig. Through intense trial and error, Glauer even created a bizarre, putty-like substance that could stretch into any conceivable shape without breaking, as well as bounce off of walls and transfer ink marks from one piece of parchment to another. Adults called it “silly,” but their juniors simply couldn’t get enough of the stuff.

And then there were the fireworks displays, magnificent tapestries of shimmering light that brought spectators into town from miles away. It was during one such exhibition that Glauer sat in his darkened tomb of a workshop, facing away from the small oval window as his creations burst into millions of dazzling embers outside. He no longer took joy from the sight and sound of those things, all empty noise and garish color. No, he did not take joy from much of anything these days.

He felt his own mind a fuse, fast burning down to its inevitable detonation. How much longer could he fritter away his years in this human settlement? He was avoiding his own kind, avoiding the investigation of those titanic questions that shrouded his waking thoughts and seemed to hover behind every dream. Perhaps it would sting him to leave his business and acquaintances, but it would be only a superficial wound. If he received only that in exchange for more knowledge of where his folk came from, and where they were headed, it would be more than worth it.

A knock at his door snapped Glauer from his reverie. It was one of the townsfolk, a young man peering meekly into the gloom and shadow of the dwarf’s workplace.

“Evening, Glauer. Some folks want to speak with you.”

“What about?” asked the dwarf, not yet stirring from his meditative pose, those bony fingers laced together in a delicate, pensive formation.

“They say they want to see the man who put the fireworks display out here together.”

“Hmm…” only now did Glauer open his eyes. “Fine. Send them in.”

The dwarf stood to make preparations for his guests. He produced a tinderbox from one of the two massive sets of shelves that stood guard over each side of the workshop. Everyone in the village used matches except for him. Moving with smooth, efficient steps, Glauer came to a hanging lantern that swung drowsily above the main workroom’s center. From its shade Glauer had cut the shapes of crescent moons, stars, and mountains. Once he lit the lantern, these forms projected all along the walls, giving the workshop an otherworldly appearance.

The room contained a staggering sprawl of equipment, but all of it neatly arranged by size and function. There was that pair of shelves first and foremost, stocked with various metal tools, cogs, nuts and bolts, wooden planks, sandpaper, and devious-looking contraptions that were by and large foreign to human eyes. Half-finished dolls gazed dumbly from wooden pedestals; others dangled limply from wires. A mighty oaken workbench, equipped with two attached vices, dominated the center of the room. There was a small but comfortable looking chair sitting just beneath the window on the far wall. Glauer’s meager and rarely-used bed lay in an attached room. A door on the far right wall guarded the stairs that descended into the dwelling’s basement. All of the dwarf’s most dangerous materials – the explosive powders and strange-smelling chemicals, his miles of wiring and his fiery forge, lay beneath the main room. Tellingly enough, the subterranean element of his home was far more extensive than the above ground level.

Glauer was just settling back into his chair when the door seemed to blow open from a gust of wind. In marched a peculiar group, with inquisitive and roaming eyes.

“Well,” said Glauer sharply, as if he needed to draw their attention from all of the workshop’s inanimate distractions. “I am the fireworks maker. Call me Glauer. And what would you have of me, now that you’ve succeeded in finding me?”

He sat back in the chair casually, folding his fingers together once again and drawing them to his chest. For an instant, he seemed to fade in with the various decorations in the room, becoming just another lifeless accessory of the workshop.

[YayGollum]

Having merely entered to generously express his gratitude for the entertainment before heading for the nearest inn to look for interesting travel companions, Brandor burst in with a grin. The shade's influence distracted him for a bit, producing a childlike look of wonder, but once he took in most of the room's inventory, he drew in an almost disgusted sounding breath. "Ugh!" was a quick musing to himself, "Is this man some sort of inventor? All of this equipment can't be for making fireworks! Why can't people just live like the elves did? Simply, harmoniously? This guy probably doesn't give a whit about the old stories! And what is that smell? Oo!"

Distracted yet again, this time by a doll, he stopped short when the strange little man called attention to himself. "Oh! Ah, Glauer, then. Greetings. I am Brandor, explorer extraordinaire. How are you? We just came in to thank you for your talents. I'm sure you are quite used to it, of course. I really have never witnessed a fireworks display as spectacular. Ah, and where is the nearest inn, by the way?" A bit embarrassed at how his enthusiasm had dimmed since talking his companions into coming with him, he scratched his arm and gave a far shakier smile at the guy.

Narvi, who hadn't seen much to appreciate about the entertainment, stomped grudgingly in. After scoping the place out, though, he nodded approvingly to himself at the level of skill that his host seemed to have. He jerked his head with surprise at the uncharacteristic distance that Brandor seemed interested in keeping with the guy, though.

[YayGollum]

After directing a belated bow at the door Horatio had rushed through, Dingo sighed and gestured in the direction of the dining room with a ---> "Ah, it's been months since my last taste of your cook's meals! You must be missing them, as well, Brandor. Shall we go?" Brandor looked up from his fingernails which he had been examining with nervousness at the idea of having a serious talk with his uncle, but he nodded and led the way. "Of course. We can plan on how to mount a rescue party there."

On the way through one of the old halls, he reflexively hunched his shoulders. He always imagined the house sucking his energy away, crushing him, the portraits of great men glaring down at him. He walked quickly with his head down, until they passed a window. He was startled out of his depression at the view of a black ocean in the distance, as it had gotten dark outside. After a nervous grin and an admiring shake of the head at Kastor, he pushed on to the dining room. Once there and settled, he focused on the food for long enough to be seen as rude for ignoring guests.

Dingo merely plucked at a few delicacies and waited for Brandor to slow down. "Exquisite, as always! It is a pity that you don't have much time to appreciate such skill. But, yes, to business. We shouldn't spread the news of your father's disappearance, for many reasons. So, if any volunteers that you might be hoping for are regular employees, they should be advised to keep this information to themselves. I suggest looking for help beyond your uncle's, or your father's, resources. Adventurers like yourself. Allow me to supply some suggestions, and to wish you good luck!"

[chrysophalax]

A blinding headache throbbed in Horatio's temples. What was Kastor up to? Was he trying to turn Brandor against him, and if so, to what purpose? While it was true that he and Brandor had never been close, it could never have been said that Horatio had ever failed to lend support (by whatever means) to his nephew's flights of fancy, or to his more ambitious ideas (few though those might be). Doran had failed (in Horatio's opinion) to encourage the young man in the development of his instincts, in honing his business acumen to the razor's edge this business required. Ruthlessness, attention to detail and a healthy dose of paranioa. Those were the qualities Horatio saw as sadly lacking in his nephew and they were just the qualities that he himself had in abundance.

A hint of movement caused Horatio to tense as he entered his sitting room. "It is I, my lord. I heard every word that was said. Shall I...have something arranged?" After a moment's hesitation, he replied. "Nay, Thomas. Not this time, at least...not yet. However..." A smile slid its way across his face. "I feel myself in need of another set of eyes and ears. If possible, much like your own. Brandor, it seems, will be going to sea in search of my hapless brother and as I can't spare you, well, you see the difficulty?" Thomas smirked. "Of course, my lord. I know just the man, an old acquaintance of mine. Is a meeting to your liking?" "I should trust your recommendation completely, but then, I never trust anyone completely." Horatio crossed to the wine cabinet. "No offence, of course?"

"None taken, my lord." came the practised reply. Thomas knew what side his bread was buttered on. Horatio turned with two full goblets in his well manicured hands. "Excellent! Come, Thomas, drink with me to Brandor and a successful outcome to his latest venture." He sipped his wine thoughtfully. "And to new alliances. May they be as profitable as the old ones!" A single perfect note sounded as goblets met in a toast between conspirators.

[Narya]

"Ah, it's been months since my last taste of your cook's meals! You must be missing them, as well, Brandor. Shall we go?" Dingo said, and Kastor noted a nod towards Horatio, before he continued, "Of course. We can plan on how to mount a rescue party there."

Uncertain and doubtful of this spontaneous plan to delve into the depths he left behind, Kastor reached into his pocket and felt soft small hands caress his thick thumb. Nin agreed. That was good. Dingo looked admiringly outside to the open sea then shook his head as his gaze landed upon Kastor's hulking figure. There was a time he intended to befriend this person finding his "other" side quite interesting. However, this ardent acquaintance with Horatio that has enabled him to master the secrets of Doran's house is troubling; there was no sense in founding such a relationship unless this conspiracy provided something both of them want.

"Exquisite, as always!" Dingo announced. Kastor's appetite, diminished greatly, accepted only bread and wine. "It is a pity that you don't have much time to appreciate such skill. But, yes, to business. We shouldn't spread the news of your father's disappearance, for many reasons. So, if any volunteers that you might be hoping for are regular employees, they should be advised to keep this information to themselves. I suggest looking for help beyond your uncle's, or your father's, resources. Adventurers like yourself. Allow me to supply some suggestions, and to wish you good luck!"

Suggestions? Kastor once again saw the edges of a net slowly surrounding both him and the boy. "The bleeding bastard does not know the peril he is in!" Kastor thought. Nin tried to weed her way up his shoulder but scuttled quickly back into his pocket, making Kastor look sharply to the left. The butler, Thomas, had come in, following him were two plump female helpers carrying white blankets.

"My lord asked me to provided you with these, and to guide you to your rooms once you have done with your dinner." He said.

It was too much for Kastor. He would never spend a night in Doran's house without Doran in it. "I'm afraid, I cannot stay here for the night. Brandor, if you still desire to search for a party, I will follow you. The ship will be ported here for the meantime while we search, and will be stocked as necessary before...we set out." He turned to Thomas, and sighed, "Please tell your...master, I will sleep in my cabin. G'night!" He nodded towards Brandor, whose open-mouthed objection was almost comical enough for a smile. He looked away. Then towards Dingo, who nodded back. Slightly. Then headed out the door.

The night air was chilly and Kastor drew his coat tighter around his body, rubbing his hands together then placed one inside his pocket to warm the shivering creature inside.

~~~~~

Kastor's drawn face felt numb with icy dew; the porthole stank of Gull droppings and his head seemed to have been pushed against it's slightly opened glass. He tried to move and a bottle fell loudly on the floor. His mouth was parched and his throat felt sore. He ran his swollen tongue around his mouth and felt a stinging pain in his lower lip. Grunting and groaning with the stiffness of sleep still deeply embedded in his joints and numb limbs, Kastor heaved his heavy body off the table and stumbled to the floor, hitting the wall so hard the room shook a bit. He struggled to get up; his head was swimming with alcohol, and his eyes were heavy with sleep. He leaned hard on the chair and pushed himself unto it and sat a while, gasping for air. A small voice peepped like the sound of a mouse and he realized that Nin was no longer in his pocket - She was lying on the table in a pool of Pöusse. He smirked, remembering their argument a few hours before midnight.

"Ol' girl!" He nudged. "We will head out in an hour and meet with Doran's son." She mumbled. "You may be right, Nin, we may be headed for death, following this fool, so much like his father. But I am tired of running away." She groaned.

But run away he did. The pang of guilt stripping away that hard, thick layer of numbed conscience that was Kastor's only saving grace. He shook his head, picked up the elf and placed her slowly into his pocket.

~~~

It didn't take long for them to see the first member of this search party. A small figure hobbled to a house of sorts while outside the sky was lit with colours and lights. Fireworks like nothing Kastor has seen before exploded in mid-air, sending children and adults into a frenzy.

He followed the boy, who seemed to know where he was headed, towards the house where the small figure had entered.

Brandor did not even attempt to knock, but merely lifted the door latch and pushed it open. Then, as flabbergasted as the man inside, Brandor gasped at the assortment of trinkets, and gadgets, and whatnots that welcomed his eyes.

"Is this man some sort of inventor? All of this equipment can't be for making fireworks! Why can't people just live like the elves did? Simply, harmoniously? This guy probably doesn't give a whit about the old stories! And what is that smell? Oo!" He said.

“Well,” said the small man, sharply; “I am the fireworks maker. Call me Glauer. And what would you have of me, now that you’ve succeeded in finding me?”

"Oh! Ah, Glauer, then. Greetings. I am Brandor, explorer extraordinaire." Brandor said. "How are you? We just came in to thank you for your talents. I'm sure you are quite used to it, of course. I really have never witnessed a fireworks display as spectacular. Ah, and where is the nearest inn, by the way?"

Inn? Kastor shook his head and grunted loudly. He went out of the room and signalled to Narvi that he would be close by. He didn't wait for a reply, and instead headed towards the edge of the crowd that huddled watching the display of colour and light above.

"I cannot stand such ridiculousness, Nin! We've travelled since dawn, and all we found is this bloody festival! Now he needs an Inn!" Kastor grumbled. "It will take us months before we can do the usual route again."

"Perhaps the boy will wisen up and decide against it, Kastor." Nin suggested, hiding herself behind the thickness of his dark hair.

"Perhaps..." Kastor replied. "Sooner is better than later; I want to leave this place."

[chrysophalax]

Morning dawned and Horatio was in an ill-tempered mood. Not only had he failed to get a good night's sleep, but what sleep he had had was plagued by images of conspiracy, of Kastor and what he might be trying to coax Brandor into. Testily, he rand for breakfast and in due course, the dutiful Thomas arrived with a full platte. One glance told him that conversation would be most unwelcome.

He therefore went about his usual routine of flinging open the heavy draperies, laying out Horatio's clothes for the day and, in general, tidying up. Horatio was thinking and when Horatio was thinking, it was best to go about one's business without a sound. Being of Elven heritage had its advantages. Yet, even with this advantage, today it wasn't enough.

"Must you do that just now?" Can't you see I'm..." "Thinking. Of course, how clumsy of me. Shall I retire for now, my lord?" Horatio sighed heavily. "No, no. The damage is done. What am I to do wbout Kastor? His machinations fill my dreams. I must somehow put a stop to it. To him!" Thomas cleared his throat gently. "Might I make a suggestion, sir? Might it not be possible to send me along on this rescue mission? In that way, I can verify indeed if he has spoken truly of your dear brother's death and if he is found to be false, I can, with your permission of course, make him see the error of his ways?"

*************************

Brandor entered his uncle's apartment with trepidation. He had never felt comfortable around the man, even though Horatio had always been of help to him. There was just...something, something a little dark and sinister there that he couldn't put his finger on. Kastor has insisted on being with him at this interview, but Brandor had waved away his concern.

"Good morning, nephew! Have a seat and help yourself to tea and refreshments." Brandor surveyed a table overflowing with small cakes, fresh fruit, sandwiches and a large silver pot of tea. After filling a plate, he sat down across from Horatio to hear what his uncle had to say.

Horatio sipped his tea and ate a couple of iced cookies, then he asked. "How are your preparations going for the venture? Do you need anything in the way of provisions...or cash? You know the ship's stores are always open to you and I can provide names of contacts you can rely on all along the coast should you find yourself in need of anything. So tell me what you require and how I might be of service...and why Kastor thinks my brother is dead."

[YayGollum]

Brandor had his mouth open and ready to answer with requests for money and supplies, but he closed it with shame when his father was brought up. He cheered himself up and cleared the negative emotion away by stretching luxuriously and taking a couple of nibbles of food. With a small sigh, he gave his uncle what he thought of as his best determined look. "Kastor hasn't told me much yet, but I'm sure to have that out of him by the time we return. He's just feeling bad about having to leave him somewhere, I hope. Ah, but, as to any help that you can give, I thank you, Uncle. The farthest I plan to travel on this trip is the Lonely Mountain. Dingo says that I could find a good loremaster there, but there are also a few detours that we might make, if we don't have much luck on the shortest route. You know, it's too bad that this family loves the sea so much! I'd love to have had towns farther inland that'd take care of me the way they do here. oh well. I'm sure that you can spare the funds for such an adventure."

[chrysophalax]

"The Lonely Mountain, you say? Fascinating. I must say, I've never known Doran to travel in the northern part of the world, but if you think there's a chance, well, you would never better than I you father's inclinations. Would you be needing a boat as far as Rauros for your men and supplies? That would save precious time. As to money, I'll have a strongbox of gold awaiting your departure and as to help along the way, I have many business partners, nephew. I can extend to you a line of credit you will be able to use along your journey. Take this." Horatio removed a ring from his left ring finger. "This is my personal cipher, see take you take good care of it. It should be all the proof you need of who you claim to be to my associates." He dropped it onto Brandor's hand and watched as Brandor turned it into the light.

"Interesting design, uncle. Why an eye?" Horatio carefully swallowed a mouthful of wine before answering. How much has Doran taught him of the family history? he wondered. "It was handed down to me by our father. He gave Doran his own signet ring and to me he gave this. I treasure it, but I have no true idea of its meaning. All I know is that it has brought many, shall we say...unlikely sources of revenue. I consider it a lucky piece."

He could see that Brandor was eager to be off, so he set aside his goblet and stood. "One last thing, Brandor. I will have a messenger bird sent with you. A hawk. If you will, you have keep me posted on your progress and let me know what you find out about Kastor." He drew closer, almost whispering. "I don't trust him, Brandor, so be careful. Take care in whom you let into your confidence!"

[Ghorim]

"Oh! Ah, Glauer, then. Greetings. I am Brandor, explorer extraordinaire," said the lead visitor, a lad who didn't strike Glauer as entirely trustworthy. "How are you? We just came in to thank you for your talents. I'm sure you are quite used to it, of course. I really have never witnessed a fireworks display as spectacular. Ah, and where is the nearest inn, by the way?"

With a barely audible grunt, Glauer stood, revealing his height to be little more than four-and-a-half feet. A wisp of a smile came and went. The praise of this young stranger had roused something in his heart, but only temporarily. He wandered absent-mindedly over to one of the expansive shelves, his words coming out mechanically.

"I do my best." That was how he always responded to compliments. "Now... an inn? The nearest one is clear on the other side of the village."

Glauer's thoughts were elsewhere. He dragged over a wooden stepping stool and climbed up it to reach one of the higher shelves. Down he came with a strange, winged model in hand.

"First thing you do is go out the way you came, make a left. Down that street 'til it branches in two..."

The fellow's hands worked on their own accord as his tongue droned on, reciting lefts and rights, signposts and landmarks to note, almost as if he were purposefully attempting to give incomprehensible directions. Glauer now had what looked like a set of pliers in hand, digging into the model's abdomen. It was a butterfly, its wings fashioned from a translucent blue material.

Brandor wasn't getting anything out of this strange man's instructions... if they followed these directions, they'd be headed in circles for hours. He would simply have to ask someone else. And yet he felt compelled to cut out of the little fellow's workshop as politely as possible. Just as Glauer was telling them about another fork in the road, Brandor cut in.

"Ah, excuse my curiosity, but what is that you're working on, exactly?"

Glauer didn't glance up, didn't put down his pliers, but simply adjusted what he was saying.

"This? It's for a client. Well, his daughter. The motor's given me fits all day."

He withdrew the pliers, grabbed a screwdriver and quickly sealed the abdomen once again.

"Let's give it a try, shall we?" he was muttering to himself, seemingly having forgotten his guests already.

He hurriedly wound up a crank attached to the right side of the abdomen, and once he let go, those lightning blue wings started to flap at a tremendous speed. With a gentle push, Glauer sent the model into the air. It hovered forward briefly, suspended in air for a few magic moments. The tinkerer's eyes held upon the model all the while, scrutinizing its performance. Soon, the engine lost steam and the butterfly drifted toward the floor, landing not far from Brandor's feet.

Glauer smirked a bit and shook his head. "Getting there," he said, walking over to where the model lay upon the floor. Only by directly approaching Brandor did he seem to remember the fellow's presence.

"Oh!" he remarked in surprise, as he rose from retrieving the plaything to find Brandor standing right in front of him. Suddenly Glauer felt compelled to say something. Why was this group in here, again? The fireworks... oh yes, and the inn!

"Eh... an inn you say?" asked Glauer, returning to his workbench hastily. "Travelers, then?"

Brandor nodded.

"Whence headed?"

"A fair question," responded Brandor with a curious-looking smile. "We intend to cover a lot of ground before all's said and done. We'll go as far as the Lonely Mountain, I believe."

Glauer froze, and in an uncharacteristic twitch nearly dropped the toy in his hands. "The Lonely Mountain?"

How silly! The first thought that came to Glauer was to ask to come along. Why, who knew what his kindred there were up to? Perhaps... perhaps they still lived honorably, as in times of old? Was there still a King Under the Mountain?

But no! Glauer shook his head sharply, trying to dislodge these useless, fanciful musings. He had business to attend to here. Why, he'd never traveled that far in his life, besides! Who did he think he was, planning to trudge all the way out to Erebor?

Brandor watched all of these movements curiously, attempting to discern the thoughts that lay beneath them. Clearly, the name of that place had struck a chord with this odd little bloke.

"Yes, the Lonely Mountain. Have you ever visited?"

"No, never," said Glauer quickly, trying to eradicate all doubt.

"Ah... well, we'll just be off to the inn, then." Brandor turned about. "Come along, Narvi."

Glauer's head shot up. Narvi?! The greatest creator his folk had ever known! Was this not a sign? A chorus of whispers urged him to seize the moment.

"Wait!" he called, just as Brandor was about to shut the workshop door behind him. The lad stuck his head back through the threshold inquisitively.

"Allow me to lead you," said Glauer, his voice suddenly choked with a strange sensation... it was that same desperation he had felt just before he fled the Ered Luin...

"Oh..." Brandor paused, wondering how badly the tinkerer would get them lost if he were to take the lead. But how could he refuse such a generous offer? "Certainly. Show us the way."

Glauer nodded, snatching up a ring of keys which jangled merrily as he marched out the door. There was a strange vigor in his step; it did not suit his dour features. He locked the door with a quick turn of the key, and sprung past a confused Kastor to seize the lead.

"It's not hard to find," he called back to the group as he proceeded onward, his movements jerky and nervous.

[YayGollum]

It was late, and the fireworks display had merely been a brief touch of excitement in an otherwise sleepy town. Brandor had been through this town before and had visited hundreds like it in his travels. Those facts combined with the promise of a close inn, and he couldn't help humming contentedly and stumbling once, due to increasingly weighty eyelids. Narvi quickened his pace to leave his customary and watchful rear guard position to give a sharp clearing of the throat noise and grip his shoulder in a not especially comfortable but effective haze-clearing manner.

Brandor squelched a small yelp and looked with hurt and confusion at his friend, but he missed the guy's earnest nod towards their guide, since he was awake enough to check on Kastor's convergence with the group. When he assured himself that the old sailor was following along, he only caught Narvi's exasperated sigh and rolling of the eyes. "What? Why'd you pinch me? I'm not a baby, Narvi. I think I can make it to the inn without injuring myself!" The sculpture removed his hand with a, "Pheh!" and nodded towards Glauer again. "I'd love to believe you, of course. Now, if you wouldn't mind, before you nod off again, I'd like you to introduce me to this craftsman."

It took Brandor at least another building's length to figure out why it had seemed necessary to ask him to help with such a trivial thing. Narvi attributed the dim-wittedness to a need for sleep and helped the kid along by rearranging his features to give what he thought was as close to a pleading look as he was comfortable with wearing. With a start and a grimace, Brandor patted the guy on the shoulder and sped up to Glauer. "Please forgive my negligence, sir! I was just reminded by one of my companions: Introductions! Kastor, an expert sailor, trusted right hand man of my father, a seasoned traveller who's had a bit of bad luck, actually. And Narvi, an interesting discovery of my own. Found him near a cave in the White Mountains. Nobody's really quite sure of how he got there, but we're always looking to find out. Ah, well, he's always very appreciative of fellow artisans, which he's sure he's one of the best of, although I've never seen him make anything. oh well. Heh. A bit scatter-brained, you know. You two could chat all night, I'm sure. He's just a bit shy." <--- This last bit with a wink.

[chrysophalax]

"I'm not at ease in my mind, Thomas." Horatio said as he paced back and forth in his spacious office. "Something just isn't right and I don't like it when all my instincts are telling me there's an ill-wind in the offing. I blame Kastor for this. It is my belief that he is the author of my brother's unlookedfor departure and it is he who will be made to pay!"

Thaomas watched patiently as his employer stalked about the room. It was more thna obvius to him what needed to be done, but far beit from him to suggest such a course of action. Besides, if he knew Horatio, the man would come to the same conclusion as he himself had. Indeed, even as these thoughts were wending their way through Thomas's mind, Horatio turned to him and fixed him with a particularly keen glance. "He has to go, Thomas. Kastor needs to "disappear" as it were. His influence over Brandor is alarming, to say the least, to say nothing of Doran's vanishing into thin air. There is only one problem..." Horatio moved to sit behind his desk. He was about to say something he had never imagined saying and for the first time in many a year, he felt regret.

"I can entrust this task to no one else, Thomas. I need the best and you, my friend, are the best. I know that you will rid me...and my family, of this troublesome man's interference in our business." A crease formed between his brows. "This will leave me vulnerable, I know, but I deem that ridding me of Kastor takes precedence over my own personal safety at this point."

Thomas raised one well-groomed eyebrow slightly. Never had he heard Horatio speak with such fervor and, dare one say it, concern? Nay, he must ahve been mistaken, surely. Thomas stepped forward confidently. "As ever, I am in your service, my lord. How soon shall I leave?"

[Ghorim]

Suddenly, everything was shot through with vivid color and life. The same avenues, once drab and uninviting, seemed to glow in Glauer's eyes, even in the light haze that hung in the air from the freshly-deployed fireworks. By Durin! How long had it been since he had left his workshop? Now the confines of that little tomb were exploded, and suddenly the whole of the world's great expanse seemed to sprawl before him. That silly idea was growing in might now... why not travel East? There lay not just Erebor, but other, strange vistas that Glauer's eyes had never seen... places he may never see if he allowed this opportunity to drift past.

Even with his stubby legs, Glauer set a demanding pace as the inn approached. The directions were no longer confused; the fog in his head had lifted. When Brandor approached him to introduce the others, Glauer found himself nodding along eagerly to each word, as if every minor detail about these two other fellows held some hidden but essential meaning.

"A sailor, eh?" "White Mountains, you say?" Glauer gave a quick glance back at this... Narvi. What a strange demeanor... devoid of a certain warmth... curious... aye, Glauer would have to talk with him.

When they reached the building, the tinkerer smashed open the door with his palm, having temporarily forgotten the strength that lay dormant within his well-worn hands. Smiling somewhat sheepishly at the surprised innkeeper who stood at his post behind the bar, Glauer rubbed those strange reedy hands together as he entered the main room. It was perhaps the most generic little establishment in the land, and yet being there only further served to excite Glauer. It smelt to him of the open road, of excitement and danger and the glorious discomfort of travel.

"Give these fellows your best room!" he boomed, as if he had the authority to command this proprietor. They had a passing knowledge of each other, Glauer and the innkeeper, but they had never socialized under any context. Still, the fellow knew right away that something was ignited in Glauer that had never caught alight before. No telling what the little fellow was capable of in a state like this... best to appease him.

"Of course, sir, right away, sir..." he said with the meek formality of a servant, moving up the stairs with a ginger limp to prepare a room. Before leaving, he tapped one of his assistants, a waifish lad whose voice was still straddling the line between youth and manhood.

"Drinks?" asked the boy, instinctively deciphering his master's non-verbal order.

"Aye!" Glauer pounced upon the invitation savagely. "A dark ale for me. Stout, if you have any!"

The tinkerer cautiously mounted one of the barstools as the travelers observed his rather... off behavior with some interest.

"Good brew here?" asked Kastor skeptically, trying to probe about at what had this little eccentric so excited.

"Oh... I'm not certain... I've never stopped here," said Glauer. "But my customers have only praise for the establishment."

"Ah... well, in that case..." Kastor turned with a broad motion toward where he thought the assistant would be standing, but found the young fellow had wandered off into the stock rooms in search of Glauer's request. Perhaps the lad wasn't overly familiar with the drink selection...

"Come," said Glauer, trying to temper his enthusiasm a bit, even though he was feeling prickly stabs of nervous excitement all over his body. "Sit a spell. I'd like to hear more of just what you fellows are traveling for."

Exchanging weary glances, the others drifted to stools, almost out of some unspoken obligation to humor this fellow.

"Narvi..." said Glauer thoughtfully as the stern fellow settled in to his left. "Nar-vi..." he pronounced each syllable with great care. "How does one come into a name such as that? And what's this matter... of Brandor 'finding' you?"

An intense curiousity shown in Glauer's eyes as he leaned forward to listen. If this Narvi character were indeed his divinely arranged sign to embark upon a lengthy journey with this group, Glauer had best learn all he could about the fellow.

[YayGollum]

Narvi's wish to speak with the little man forgotten, Brandor held an amused smirk at finding that he had unexpectedly come across what was normally a goal of his travels: eccentrics. "Oh, the name is nothing, really. He didn't come with a name, at least not that we knew, so I gave him one. I thought that he was kind of Dwarf-shaped, so I gave him an old Dwarvish name. Who knows if I'm offending any long-lost creators? Heh.

"But the story of how I discovered him is a bit more interesting. It was actually during my first adventure. My father dropped me off at the closest port to the wildest half of the White Mountains. I had heard tales of an ancient and primitive sort of man that still lived there and thought that it didn't sound like too dangerous of an adventure. Of course, the tales one hears in taverns seldom tarry on details like preparing for such a trip. Let me think. I had a sword that I didn't even know how to use because the hero always has a sword, right? A pack with a few days worth of food because much more would be too heavy, and, of course, I had always heard that the land was generous with adventurers. A waterskin, one change of clothes, poorly made shoes for hard travel, although they were fine for city life.

"Ah, luckily, Narvi has a bit more common sense than I did. I barely gave him a glance as I stumbled into his cave, looking for shelter from a storm. Lost and out of food, I was resigned to my fate and had begun writing my tale and leaving a warning for anyone who found my remains. This guy showed up and made me a fire, then left and returned with food. Of course, I was afraid, at first, but help like that is easy to warm up to. I talked to him for days, but he barely said a thing, and then only in some language that nobody seems to understand anymore. Kind of elfish, I'd say.

"Anyway, I must have talked enough that he learned a few things, because it didn't take him long to start talking back. Seemed kind of confused, didn't know who made him or why it hadn't occurred to him to do anything until I showed up. Only images of anything before that, most notably, the one where he saw what he's sure was a she-elf with some beautiful black weapon. He thinks that he knows her somehow. We've been looking for her and any Woses, who probably made him, ever since. You probably wouldn't know anything about that, living up here, would you?"

While Brandor favored Glauer with a look that informed that he didn't expect any help in that area anyway, Narvi glowered, annoyed that the kid didn't seem to mind talking about a time in their lives when they were both embarrassedly inexperienced. He also didn't think that enough was said about how great of an artist he was sure that he was, but the story had been told many times before, and he didn't try to amend it anymore.

[Ghorim]

"'Made him?'"

Glauer's face lit alive with the flame of sudden realization as he picked out that singular phrase from Brandor's tale. His strange, hairy face suddenly danced with peculiar glee as he leaned closer to Narvi, giving his nearsighted vision its first good look at the fellow. His breath faltered in his throat. No, this thing before him was not breathing flesh, but lifeless rock! And for an instant, the dwarf was as feverishly curious as a child discovering a new toy.

Unthinking, Glauer ran his fingers along Narvi's face. To his shock, the cold, dead stone reacted to his touch with a granite scowl. Glauer's drink came. He did not notice.

"Exquisite!"

Glauer's whisper was hushed, reverent to the astounding craftsmanship that had gone into this... well... was it merely a statue? No... it was a being as much as any, with thoughts and words at its disposal! He turned to Brandor, and then a queer noise arose from him, the sound of a snort and giggle smashed together. It took Glauer aback to hear it... he hadn't heard himself express such delight in what seemed ages.

"I... well, Brandor, it's been on my mind to tell you the whole walk over here... but this about cements it. I shall accompany you to Erebor."

Despite the foreign pangs of emotion that were bounding through him, Glauer's statement of intent came out sounding remarkably clean, each word polished, his meaning unmistakable. Brandor was looking to Kastor for a reaction, but Glauer was already hopping off his stool, moving with crisp efficiency.

"But I must pack. And there are many things to bring for such a lengthy journey. It will take some time. You fellows rest your legs, and I shall meet you here upon the dawn of the morrow."

He was marching for the door with this speech, ignoring every stray glance the other patrons sent his way. Their puzzled faces vanished in a mist, as Glauer's head flooded with calculations as he planned his schedule for that night. Each item fell into place...

"Ho now!" called Kastor angrily. "And what about settlin' your tab here?"

Glauer stopped in his tracks, and dug his nimble fingers into his coin pouch. He didn't particularly notice how much he produced from inside the purse. Distractedly, he tossed the gold piece at Kastor.

"And the drink?" asked the sailor.

"Try it for yourself," said Glauer curtly before exiting. And with short choppy strides he cut back into the night, thinking of the best way to store his explosives for travel...

He only returned to the inn just as the sun peaked over the hills in the East.

[chrysophalax]

Anxiety was not an emotion with which Thomas was accustomed and he was annoyed with himself for allowing such a petty thing ruin a perfectly good lunch. He had stationed himself early on in the day at a table by the window of one of the few pubs in town with decent food...and waited. Waited for any sign that Brandor and his "friends" would be actually setting out on this rescue mission. A dry chuckle escaped into his mug as he slowly drained it. That young man is barely capable of staying out of his own way, much less leading an expedition to... Thomas suddenly caught himself. It would never do to even allow the faintest glimmer of a thought to cross his mind, for he was playing an extremely dangerous double game. One that would bring him freedom and great wealth, or an agonising death.

The last he wanted was to be forced into the position of joining this motley crew, yet his patience was wearing thin and now, now that he had finally caught a glimpse of Brandor and company leaving...hmmmm, was that a dwarf? Interesting. He had to find a spy, someone that even he could trust. Did such a person exist?

Just as he was about to despair (having just glanced at the check, had he been here that long?) a faint movement in the corner caught his eye. A thin man in tattered clothing sat huddled near the fire, his eyes fixed greedily on the landlord's young daughter. Thomas's lip curled in mild distaste, but something about that look...where had he seen it before? He peered closer, trying pierce the gloom and then it hit him. Of course! Here was the answer! Now all that remained was to bag his quarry.

Whistling merrily, Thomas approached the bar to settle up and complimented the landlord on having such a charming child ( the words nearly gagged him). He slipped a gold piece from his money pouch and twirled it the length of the bar toward her. Her bubbly laugh grated on his nerves but he feigned delight as her greedy hand caught it. From the corner of his eye, he could now see he had the man's attention and he would have to act quickly, less he find himself short a limb or two. It never paid to fool with a creature like this.

Thoughts of caution came too late however. In the blink of an eye, his quarry had vanished, causing the hair on the back of Thomas's neck to rise. Forgetting the girl entirely, Thomas scanned t